Strongest Family System

His body felt lighter than it had in days—no stabbing aches in his arms, no tightness in his chest. The pills and rest had done their work. Mana coursed smoothly through his core, balanced and full.

He pushed himself up with a deep breath, muscles stretching, joints loose but steady.

He sat for a moment in the rising glow of day, drawing in that calm. Then, as memory stirred, his brow furrowed slightly.

"There were two system notifications yesterday," he murmured. "I did not get the chance to check them."

He asks the system for an update on its status.

A faint, familiar chime echoed softly in his consciousness, and the screen formed before his eyes in clean projections only he could see.

STATUS

Name: Robert Osborn

Cultivation: Body Tempering – Level 9

System Points: 61420 points

Skills:

Shadow Step

Twin Dragon Fang

Mountain Fist

Soul Awakening Realm

Seeing the system points displayed before him, a smile crept across Robert's face. With 61,420 points at his disposal, he felt a surge of relief and excitement.

First on his mind was purchasing a rare pill for Elder Devlin-one he knew could turn the tide even more favorably.

Scanning through the system's inventory, he quickly found the Soul flare Pill, priced at 40,000 points.

It was exactly what he was looking for. Without a second thought, he used the points, which left him with 21,420 still in his account.

After that, Robert pondered the necessity of producing excellent three-line pills to strengthen his clan's support and secure alliances. He came to understand that to excel at this, he needed to focus on honing his alchemy skills.

As he made his way to the Alchemy tab, he stumbled upon a fresh option that allowed him to enhance his alchemy skills by spending system points.

He poured 21,000 points into boosting his alchemy skills, leaving only 420 points remaining in reserve.

Robert stood up from his chair and made his way to the alchemy hall, anticipation clear in his steps. He was excited to take everything he had learned and finally see the outcomes of his hard work.

As he entered the room, a well-known presence flickered in his mind—the system's voice, soothing and precise, informing him of an update.

"New quest: Increase the clan's strength. Select two cultivators and raise their power to the spirit root level. Reward: 80,000 system points."

Robert stood still for a moment, allowing the importance of the task to sink in deeply.

The clan's future relied on powerful cultivators—not just him, but also those who could stand beside him in both combat and leadership.

A thought crossed his mind: Emer and Ronan. They both had demonstrated their abilities while he observed, yet neither had experienced the chaos of real combat beyond the training fields.

If they could become stronger, enhance their battle skills, and ascend to the Spirit Root realm, the clan would have formidable pillars to support them.

He closed his eyes, searching his system's extensive archives for any pill that might hasten their cultivation.

His mental query brought up a familiar name: the Spirit Awakening Pill. This rare and highly sought-after pill was famous for its power to kickstart the journey from mere physical refinement to genuine spiritual growth—precisely what Emer and Ronan needed to move on to the next level.

With a fresh sense of purpose, Robert set out to gather the pills and kick off the training that would empower his comrades, leading the Osborn clan into a new era of strength and unity.

With renewed determination, Robert made his way toward the alchemy hall, his mind focused on the task ahead. As soon as he arrived, he sought out the attendant responsible, a steady young man who handled the daily tasks of the hall.

"I need to pick up some body-tempering herbs from the stores," Robert said casually. "Mind handling that for me?"

Without a moment's pause, the attendant nodded, clearly recognizing the significance. "I will have them sent over right now," he responded.

After about half an hour, the attendant returned carrying a carefully wrapped bundle. "We have eighty sets of the body-tempering herbs in storage," he reported, setting the supplies down with care.

"Good. Take everything to the special alchemy room where I can begin refining," Robert instructed.

The herbs were carefully delivered to a secluded room—one used only for precise alchemical tasks.

At the threshold, Robert stopped and murmured, "Let anyone who asks know I am engaged in refinement today. No interruptions."

The attendant inclined his head once, then left in silence.

In the quiet, controlled setting of the alchemy room, Robert was on his own, ready to dive into the intricate process of refining. With the ease of someone well-practiced, he combined the herbs with other ingredients, directing his qi to form the pills.

Initially, the outcomes seemed quite encouraging—he ended up with twenty-two-line pills and sixty-three-line pills. His knack for refining gave him the confidence to explore the potential of producing three-line pills.

He understood that crafting four-line pills would be a much tougher challenge, pushing his alchemy skills to a whole new level.

From the break of day to the fall of night, Robert poured his heart and soul into his work. In the quiet of the room, he meticulously adjusted the temperature and timing over and over, determined to perfect every little detail.

The heavy stone walls blocked the sunlight, but he did not need a clock—his attention never left the task at hand.

By the time the sun set, he emerged from the alchemy chamber, his limbs feeling heavy with exhaustion, but a strong sense of satisfaction bubbled up inside him.

The batch was complete, and the future steps lay clear.

The journey ahead is going to require a lot more skill-building and determination. But with these pills in their possession, the Osborn clan is set to become stronger than ever before.

Robert was feeling the weight of fatigue after those long hours in the alchemy hall, but a sense of pride kept him steady on his feet. With the bottles of freshly refined pills in hand, he wound his way through the Osborn estate's twisting halls, looking for his father. He paused at the door to John Osborn's private chamber and knocked lightly.

"Come in," his father's familiar voice called.

Robert stepped inside, closing the door behind him. John Osborn was seated at a low table stacked with scrolls, his face drawn but alert as ever.

When he saw Robert, his expression warmed, though fatigue lined his features. He gestured to the cushion across from him. "Sit, Robert," he said, setting his brush aside with deliberate care.

Robert sank onto the cushion, placing two bottles on the table between them.

Each one was sealed up snugly, with the glass reflecting the gentle glow of the lamp.

"what is going on here?" John asked, his curiosity piqued by the calm confidence radiating from his son.

Robert silently opened the bottle and angled it slightly, revealing a precise row of twenty polished pills, each marked with two clear lines.

He then placed the second beside it, where forty-three-line pills, each glimmering with a faint energy, waited. Even before John spoke, Robert could see the flicker of disbelief in his father's eyes.

"Who gave you these?" John finally asked, voice low and serious—almost fearing the answer.

The Osborn clan had always struggled to get even a handful of two-line pills, let alone three-line pills, in such quantity.

Robert met his father's gaze without hesitation. "No one gave them to me. I refined these myself, with the body-tempering herbs from our clan storehouse."

For a long moment, John was silent. He stared at the jars, weighing Robert's word.

Only the muffled sound of distant evening bells filtered in from outside. Then, slowly, John nodded, the beginnings of a smile forming on his lips.

There were questions lingering, and perhaps he would ask them another day, but tonight was not the night for doubts.

Stillness lingered in the room—a new sense of trust settling between father and son. Robert broke the silence. "Father, distribute these to the most loyal among our people. Use them wisely. We must focus our strength on those who stand with the Osborn name first and foremost."

John let out a slow breath, eyes glistening with both gratitude and a fierce sort of pride. "You have given us a gift, Robert.

This is more than medicine—it's hope and a chance to shift the balance." He reached across and squeezed Robert's shoulder with a steadiness that said all the words needed. "I will see to it personally."

"Thank you, Father," Robert replied softly. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel the weight of what he had accomplished—not for personal ambition, but for the future of everyone whose faces he had grown up seeing in the halls and training grounds of the estate.

Outside the window, the last rays of sunlight stretched their gold across the flagstones and rooftops. For the first time in many weeks, there was a sense that things might truly change—that with the right choices and courage, the long shadow that had hung over the clan could lift.

John was there, holding the bottles firmly in both hands, and you could see a new spark of determination in his movements.

His father lingered at the doorway, eyes resting on Robert. "Rest well tonight. Tomorrow, we begin shaping what you have set in motion."

Robert gave a firm nod as the door closed behind him. A quiet sense of purpose settled in.

He turned toward the lamp's steady flame, letting his thoughts drift—not to fights or rivals, but to growth. Quiet, patient growth. The kind that runs deep before anything ever rises.

The Osborn clan's future was no longer just something they hoped for. It was something Robert now held, solid and real, in the palm of his hand.