It had been two months since Solana’s visit.

  Almost five months since he saw his came to this world

  Two quiet months of slow, careful cultivation.

  Adam had continued strengthening his skin, drawing Qi to the surface layer of his body—but only when he was alone. He’d quickly realized something important: people could sense Qi movement. So he trained in secret, cautiously. Quietly. Patiently.

  He spent his days pretending to be a normal baby, while his mind was anything but.

  His mother often cultivated in the same room, completely unaware that her son was mirroring her breathing. He watched her for hours, memorizing every inhale and exhale—every pause. He noticed how different patterns affected how the Qi flowed, and began testing those on himself.

  With enough effort, he perfected one. It allowed him to circulate Qi more efficiently through his skin, strengthening it without needing to draw it deeper into his body.

  It’s slow, but it’s working.

  After all that time, he finally reached a small breakthrough. His skin felt denser, sturdier. It wasn’t indestructible, but it was tougher than before.

  I can feel myself nearing a bottleneck. Soon, I’ll start with muscle tempering soon enough.

  Adam had already come up with a naming system for the stages he’d follow:

  Skin Strengthening.

  Muscle Tempering.

  Bone Densening.

  Organ Reforging.

  Each one would take time—but time was something he had.

  Alright. I should rest for the night.

  He closed his eyes, letting the last currents of Qi settle across his body. His breathing slowed into that perfected rhythm. His tiny body relaxed in the cradle, and silence returned to the room.

  Morning came, and with it, the sound of distant voices.

  Adam stirred, blinking to the sight of his mother in front of a mirror, putting on makeup and adjusting a high-quality dress. Her aura was calm—but slightly excited.

  Hm? Is there something important going on?

  Irina noticed his gaze and smiled, walking over to scoop him up gently.

  “Ready to see your father again?”

  Oh, he’s back? That’s nice. He’s been gone a while. Mother said he was at a war.

  A knock echoed from the door. “They are approaching, Lady Irina.”

  Irina nodded to the maid. “Thank you.”

  She stepped out with Adam in her arms. The halls were buzzing with movement—maids, guards, workers, all rushing to prepare.

  It seems like everyone is getting ready.

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  Eventually, they made their way to the entrance of the castle, where many had already gathered—guards, servants, nobles, and family alike. A soft tension was in the air, like everyone was waiting for something.

  That’s when Adam noticed him.

  An old man stood near the front, his beard long, his posture regal. He wasn’t trying to flaunt his power, but the air around him was heavy. Suppressed, yes—but unmistakably vast.

  Irina walked over and bowed slightly.

  “It’s good to see you, Elder Wise.”

  “Good to see you, young mistress,” he replied with a smile. “It’s not like you to join these ceremonies.”

  “True,” he chuckled. “But in my old age, I’ve grown nostalgic. Besides—I'd like to see how one of my personal disciples is doing.”

  Oh? Father is his disciple... interesting.

  Before Adam could think more on it, a thunderous sound tore through the air.

  A war horn.

  Loud. Ancient. Reverberating like a mountain’s roar.

  And then, the warriors arrived.

  Marching in perfect formation, their armor glinting under the sun. Some broke off from the group, heading toward loved ones. Others went to report to their superiors. Each moved with practiced ease—seasoned, hardened by battle.

  Among them, one man stood out.

  Lake.

  Adam’s father.

  He walked with a casual strength, the type that didn’t need to be flaunted. His eyes scanned the crowd—until they locked onto Irina and Adam.

  He smiled.

  Irina walked toward him, and Lake bowed respectfully to Elder Wise.

  “How was the battle?” the elder asked with a grin.

  Lake shrugged. “No one was even a challenge,” he said, half-joking.

  They talked for a while, sharing a few war stories and idle comments. Then Lake turned to his family.

  He walked with Irina and Adam back into the castle. The three of them moved quietly through the halls, a peaceful moment wrapped in soft conversation and tired laughter.

  Later that night, in the dim candlelight, Irina and Lake sat together with Adam nestled between them.

  They shared a quiet, romantic moment—simple but warm. A few soft words. A gentle hand on the other’s. A shared look that said: I missed you.

  They leaned over to say goodnight to their son.

  “Goodnight, Adam,” Irina whispered.

  “Sleep well, little warrior,” Lake added with a grin.

  Then Adam smiled faintly, eyes still closed.

  “Goodnight,” he replied.

  The room froze.

  Irina blinked. Lake leaned closer.

  “…Did he just—?”

  They both stared at their son in disbelief.