Strongest Family System

The sound of Robert's knuckles hitting the heavy wooden door reverberated through the hallway like a heartbeat. The silence was long and tense with unsaid tension.

"Enter."

His father's voice carried a weight that made Robert pause. The clan head's tone had changed, something that hinted at storms brewing on far horizons.

The study felt different as Robert stepped inside. John Osborn sat behind his desk, but his normally calm expression had a few cracks in it. His fingers drummed a restless rhythm against the gleaming wood as shadows gathered beneath his eyes.

John signaled to the chair across from him and said, "Sit."

Robert lowered himself slowly, every instinct screaming that whatever news awaited would reshape everything. "Father, what troubles you?"

For a moment, John said nothing. His gaze drifted to the window where the last traces of daylight bled crimson across the sky. When he finally spoke, his words fell like stones into still water.

"Elder Delvin brought word from Celestial Brook City. The Four-Clan Competition approaches." John's eyes found Robert's, and in them burned something fierce and dangerous. "We have been invited."

The words hit Robert like a physical blow. He straightened, his mind immediately racing through the implications. The Osborn clan had never been strong enough to participate in such prestigious gatherings. Their invitation could only mean one thing.

"Billy Walker," Robert said quietly.

John nodded grimly. "His death has forced their hand. The Walker clan cannot strike us openly without losing face, so they have chosen this path. Three months from now, disciples under twenty-two years of age, Spirit Root Realm level five and below." His jaw tightened. "They mean to crush us publicly."

Robert felt something cold and sharp unfold in his chest. The competition would be a stage for their enemies to destroy the Osborn name while maintaining the pretense of honor. Every clan would be watching, waiting to see how thoroughly they could be humiliated.

But beneath the danger, he sensed opportunity.

"We need stronger disciples," Robert said finally. "Better training methods. Our people have grown, but they lack the refinement of the great clans." He leaned forward, his mind already working through possibilities. "Spirit Root Nourishing Pills would help—high-quality ones that can push cultivation speed without damaging foundations."

John's eyebrows rose slightly. "Such pills require considerable skill to craft properly."

"I can handle it." Robert's voice carried quiet confidence. "But there is something else." Knowing that his next words would betray his father's confidence, he paused. "I want to visit Celestial Brook City by myself in disguise.

The reply came immediately. John's hands slammed against the desk, his chair scraping backward as he surged to his feet. "Absolutely not! That city crawls with Walker clan members and their allies. You would be walking into a nest of snakes."

"Exactly." Robert remained seated, his voice steady despite his father's fury. "If I go openly, I learn nothing. However, if I sneak in undetected, I can observe their followers, learn their methods, and identify their shortcomings."

His eyes met John's unflinchingly. "Knowledge is power, Father. Right now, we are fighting blind."

John paced behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back, his mind clearly warring with itself. Robert's suggestion that intelligence could tip the scales in their favor was wise, and the logical part agreed. However, the idea of putting his son in such danger made the father shudder.

Long minutes passed in heavy silence. Finally, John stopped pacing and fixed Robert with a penetrating stare.

"If you go," he said slowly, "you go alone. No backup, no support if things go wrong." His voice dropped to a whisper. "If they discover who you are..."

"They will not." Robert stood, matching his father's intensity. "I can change my appearance, alter my qi. Two months in the city, then I return with everything i have learned."

John looked more closely and saw the resolve in every line of his son's face. He nodded slowly and reluctantly. "When?"

"Tomorrow. Before dawn. Tell the clan I am in secluded cultivation—no one should know the truth."

The weight of the decision settled between them like a living thing. John moved around the desk and placed a heavy hand on Robert's shoulder. "Come back alive, son. Whatever you discover, it means nothing if you do not return."

"I will." Robert's voice carried absolute certainty. "But first, I need to prepare something for our disciples."

John's grip tightened briefly, then released. "Go. Do what you must."

Robert bowed deeply and turned toward the door. As his hand touched the handle, his father's voice stopped him.

"Robert." John's tone had shifted, carrying something vulnerable beneath its surface. "I trust you know what you are doing."

"I do, Father. The Osborn clan will not fall. Not on my watch."

Standing at the eastern edge of the estate, the alchemy building showcased its unique spiral tower, which soared toward the starry sky.

His mind already set on the task at hand, Robert's footsteps reverberated across the courtyard as he approached. He needed to give them every advantage because the competition would expect their disciples to do their best.

Inside, the familiar scents of dried herbs and simmering compounds wrapped around him like an old friend. Several attendants looked up from their work, bowing quickly when they recognized him.

"Young Master Robert," one of them addressed him, approaching with a respectful caution. How may we be of service to you this evening?

Could you provide me with the ingredients for Spirit Root Nourishing Pills? I need enough to make a large batch—at least five hundred pills.

Robert's tone brooked no delay. "Bring everything to my personal chamber."

The attendant bowed without question, though his eyes widened slightly at the quantity. Yes, Young Master

Robert ascended the twisting stairs to his personal chamber, which he had thoughtfully set up for maximum efficiency. His Moon-white cauldron, with its immaculate surface shining in the light of the cultivation lamps, was the focal point.

The attendant walked in, arms overflowing with a stunning array of meticulously sorted herbs: Thousand-Year Ginseng roots that seemed to pulse with a powerful qi, Jade Essence flowers that appeared to glow from the inside, and Ground Dragon bones that exuded a strong earth-element energy. Each of these ingredients was a treasure, worth a small fortune to the average cultivator.

"Leave them here," Robert instructed, already examining the quality. "No interruptions until dawn."

Once the attendant walked away, Robert got down to business with a serious attitude. Making Spirit Root Nourishing Pills was not merely about throwing ingredients together—it called for exact timing, meticulous temperature management, and a close familiarity with how qi moved through different substances.

He set the flame beneath his cauldron alight, carefully tweaking the intensity until it was perfect. If it were too hot, the delicate essences would be ruined, and if it were too cool, the ingredients would not mix as they needed to.

The first batch entered: paper-thin slices of ginseng root, each of which released a sliver of golden energy upon coming into contact with the hot metal. His movements became smooth and confident as the well-known cadence of alchemy descended upon him.

No one noticed for hours. One batch turned into two, then five, and eventually ten. Robert's hands moved with unwavering confidence, never stopping or hesitating.

The four distinct lines on the surface of each pill that came out of the cauldron were a sign of superior quality that most alchemists only attained after decades of practice.

As it channeled and refined the raw energies within, the Moon-white cauldron sang with power, its surface warming. With every batch, Robert sensed that the pills' potency was growing, their concentrated power sufficient to speed up a cultivator's progress by weeks or even months.

By the time pale light began creeping through the chamber windows, Robert had completed the pills ' refinement. Five hundred and thirty-seven pills lay arranged in neat rows, each one gleaming with internal qi. The exhaustion in his bones was nothing compared to the satisfaction of knowing these would give their disciples a fighting chance.

He selected one hundred and fifty of the finest pills, storing them in his personal storage ring. These would accompany him to Celestial Brook City—not just for his own cultivation, but as emergency resources if anything went sideways.

The remaining pills went into a specially crafted jade container, its preservation arrays ensuring they would maintain their potency for months. Robert sealed it carefully, then made his way back through the estate toward his father's study.

John was already up, holding a steaming cup by the window. As Robert walked in, he turned to look at his son, his clothes rumpled from the night's work, his eyes bright with achievement despite his weariness.

"Is it done?" John asked quietly.

Robert placed the jade container on the desk between them. "Three hundred and eighty-seven pills, all four-line quality. Distribute them to our competition participants—one pill every three days should accelerate their cultivation significantly without damaging their foundations."

As John lifted the container, he could feel the weight of all that untapped potential inside. "What about the rest?"

"With me." Robert's hand briefly touched his storage ring. "Remaining, in case I need to break through quickly or trade for information."

John set the container down carefully, his expression troubled. "You should rest before—"

"No time." Robert was already moving toward the door. "I leave within the hour while the city still sleeps. The less attention my departure draws, the better."

He hesitated at the entrance, turning back to take in his father for the final time. John Osborn was a silhouette against the bright morning, appearing older than he was but still standing tall under the pressures of leadership.

"Two months," Robert promised. "When I return, we will know exactly how to win this competition."

The door closed behind him with finality, leaving John alone with his thoughts and the jade container full of hope.

Outside, the Osborn estate was beginning to stir. Soon, guards would discover that Robert had vanished like morning mist, leaving behind only whispered instructions about secluded cultivation. But by then, he would already be miles away, racing toward a city where enemies waited and secrets lay buried beneath layers of clan politics.