Strongest Family System

The last echoes of laughter still lingered in the halls when Robert closed his chamber door behind him. Silence pressed in, thick and heavy, so different from the roar of voices and clattering cups. He let out a long breath, shoulders easing as if only now he could admit how exhausted he was.

The James clan was gone. That danger had ended. But the Walker clan… That was another storm entirely. Robert knew one truth more clearly than ever: Their family was too small, too fragile, to stand against such power without preparation.

He sat on his bed and ran a hand through his hair. We need to grow. We need more warriors, more cultivators… Information above all else. Without it, we will always be blind before the next strike.

With a steadying breath, he summoned the one thing that gave him confidence—the system.

A faint shimmer lit the room, and before his eyes, a glowing screen extended across the air:

[System Status]

Name: Robert Osborn

Cultivation Realm: Spirit Root Realm – Level 1 (Mid-Stage)

Soul Power: 100,000

System Points: 130,420

Skills:

Shadow Step – Level 2: Breath Sync (Minor Success Achieved)

Twin Dragon Fang – Level 2: Coiling Scales Technique (Minor Success Achieved)

Mountain Fist – Level 1: Grounded Form Achieved

Soul Awakening Realm – Level 3: Soul Seed Formation Achieved

Quest:

Main Quest: Strengthen the Osborn Family – Progress: 0.5%

The sheer weight of the numbers made his pulse quicken. One hundred thousand soul power. More than a hundred thousand system points. By any standard, this was wealth and strength beyond imagining.

And yet… it still felt like nothing. Against Billy Walker, against the power of great clans that spanned continents, these numbers were pebbles tossed against mountains.

Robert clenched his hands. If information flows faster, if training spreads wider, if our clan grows beyond its shell—we can stand. We must.

He had his eyes glued to the progress bar of the main quest.

Half a percent… And already this much has happened. What will the other ninety-nine bring?

He closed the panel, the glowing screen fading into nothing. Steeled resolve inside him. He would talk to his father tomorrow. They had to fortify their foundation, enlist new members, and reach beyond the boundaries of the Magical City.

But tonight, he would focus on what only he could do.

With just one crystal lamp for illumination, Robert made his way to his cultivation room. There was a deep and still silence as he sat cross-legged on the mat. He became more focused, his breathing slowed, and he started to meditate.

The shadows shifted with his rhythm, his soul power coiling and unfurling within him like a dragon stretching its scales. Energy pooled in his Dantian, steady, unyielding.

The night deepened, and the Osborn compound finally slept. Yet for Robert, there was no rest. Only the endless climb upward.

Robert's breathing slowed as he settled into the posture of the Root Awakening cultivation art, his palms resting lightly on his knees. Threads of spirit energy circled him, fainting at first, then growing denser as the night deepened. Each cycle he drew through his meridians felt sharper, steadier—his body growing accustomed to a rhythm that mirrored the steady heartbeat of itself.

The Root Awakening was not like any other method he used. It required determination, complete mental clarity, and the fortitude to delve deeper within oneself. It was about foundation—about roots that could hold even the tallest tree in place—rather than power explosions. And Robert knew that if his roots were shallow, no amount of strength would keep him standing against storms like the Walker clan.

His system pulsed softly in the background, a reminder of what he had yet to claim.

Absorb soul points? The prompt shimmered in his vision.

He nodded without hesitation.

The essence of countless stars filled his heart as a surge of brilliant, fiery light flooded through him. His dantian flared, a vortex of energy simultaneously tightening and expanding. It was a sharp, almost painful feeling, but beneath it all was something more profound: his spirit hardening, his roots becoming thicker, his power being shaped.

The cultivation technique met the flood of soul power, shaping it and guiding it. Breath by breath, the tide steadied. Sweat broke across his brow. His teeth clenched. He had walked battlefields, felt blood splatter on his face, and faced death's edge more than once—those memories now fueled the circulation, tempering his spirit with the fire of lived combat.

Hours passed like moments.

And then—

Breakthrough achieved: Spirit Root Realm – Level 1 (Peak Stage).

The words carved themselves across his mind as a wave of energy expanded outward, rattling the walls of the cultivation room. His aura surged, deeper and heavier than before, like a tree whose roots had just driven another meter into stone.

Robert exhaled slowly, his breath carrying a faint trace of smoke. When he opened his eyes, he saw the dim light of dawn reflected through the window.

The exhaustion in his limbs was real, but so was the strength humming beneath his skin.

"Peak stage," he whispered to himself. A small smile flickered across his lips.

He rose, steadying himself, and left the cultivation room. He dressed in a new black robe, tied the belt securely around his waist, and washed his face with the cool water that was waiting in the sink. For a moment, he gazed into the mirror stone; the same young man's face was there, but there was something more steady and piercing in his eyes.

The clan needed strength. He would give it.

By the time Robert made his way through the Osborn ground, the sun had risen fully. Warriors already bustled through the courtyards, some carrying weapons, others tending wounds, a few sweeping the remnants of last night's feast. The compound was alive again, though the air still carried a mixture of triumph and grief.

He paused in front of his father's massive wooden doors. From within, he could faintly hear the soft rustle of papers. He lifted a hand and knocked.

"Enter," came John's voice, measured but firm.

Robert pushed the door open. Scrolls and documents were piled high around his father, who sat at a heavy oak desk inside. Faint traces of ink and Magical City seals were visible in the morning light that spilled across the papers.

John raised his head. The weariness around his eyes was obvious, but his aura still pressed steadily and unyielding. When he saw Robert, he leaned back slightly.

"Morning, Father," Robert said, bowing his head respectfully before taking a seat opposite the desk.

John nodded in response, studying him for a moment. "You have grown stronger again."

Robert did not deny it. He simply inclined his head.

John's gaze lingered, then returned to the document in his hands. "So—what brings you here at this hour?"

Robert's jaw tightened. He had been turning the words over all night.

Finally, he spoke the straight.

"Father, the James clan may be gone, but the Walker clan remains. They will not let this matter rest. We might still face danger—greater than anything yet."

The only sound for a heartbeat was the scratch of a quill being put down.

John folded his hands, his expression unreadable. Then, at last, he nodded once.

"You are right."

John's fingers tapped once on the desk before he leaned back, the leather of his chair groaning with the motion. His gaze hardened, not with anger but with the weight of a patriarch shouldering more than his clan could yet see.

"Robert," he said in a measured tone, "you have become sharper." After a victory like that, most people would celebrate mindlessly. But you understand that only one battle is over, and the war is not. The Walker clan… They will not forget Billy's death. Their hand may not strike openly, but it will strike."

He reached for a scroll tied with crimson thread and unfurled it across the desk. "Still, we are not without gains. Yesterday's harvest was no small matter. From the James estate, we seized nearly eight chests of spirit stones—low and mid-grade.

Enough to sustain our cultivators' progress for years if rationed properly. Their weapon stores are ours now, too: over sixty spirit-forged blades, a dozen bows, and nearly two hundred spears. Crude, but useful for training the younger generation."

John's eyes flickered, a faint gleam of satisfaction surfacing. "We uncovered their hidden vault as well. It contained a treasure trove of herbs, simple pills, and gold coins. The coins alone number close to thirty thousand.

The herbs will bolster our healers and alchemists, and the pills—though

common—will serve our disciples well. Every drop counts."

Robert listened carefully, absorbing each detail. For the first time since the battle ended, the weight of what they had gained began to take shape. The Osborns had not only survived—they had inherited the James clan's wealth.

"Even so," John continued, his voice dipping low, "wealth without strength is a carcass waiting to be torn apart. We must turn this harvest into walls, steel, and loyalty before word spreads too far. Already, eyes in the Magical City will turn toward us. Too much sudden growth draws envy, and envy breeds schemes."

He rose from his seat, pacing to the window. Beyond the study, the compound's walls loomed in the distance—strong, but not unassailable. "First, the walls. The James clan's stones and timber will not go to waste. We will raise our defenses, higher and thicker. If the Walker clan tests us, they will find no easy entry."

Robert nodded, his mind already racing ahead. "And people, Father? We cannot defend walls without men."

A faint smile curved John's lips. "You think as a leader should. Yes, we must recruit—but carefully. A flood of strangers could poison us from within. We will begin with those who have long served as vassals to the James clan. Many will be rootless now, and rootless men look for a tree to shelter under. Offer them a place, offer them stability, and they will come."

He turned, meeting Robert's gaze with a rare, piercing sharpness. "But only bring in those you can trust. The Osborns cannot afford another blade pointed at our back. You have a good eye for character—use it. Test them. Earn their loyalty, and we will grow."

The words settled heavily in the room. Robert bowed his head, absorbing both the command and the trust his father was placing in him.