Strongest Family System

As Robert finished his last preparations, the early morning mist held the Osborn estate like a protective cover. He took his time transforming into someone entirely different within the privacy of his chambers. With a careful touch, he used powders to add years to his youthful appearance, while a vial of alchemical dye turned his signature golden hair into an ordinary brown. He smoothed a flesh-toned paste over the scar on his left temple, a reminder of his early training.

His clothing told a different story now. Gone were the fine robes that marked him as young nobility. Rather, he was dressed in the basic attire of a traveling merchant: a patched cloak that had seen better days, a belt pouch that jingled with just enough coins to avert suspicion, and sturdy leather boots worn at the foots.

When he changed his qi signature, he suppressed his actual cultivation level until he seemed to be just a Body Tempering Realm cultivator, able to defend himself on the roads but unremarkable among the innumerable cultivators that populated the cities. This was the end of the transformation.

Robert paused before his mirror, studying the stranger who stared back. Even his own mother might have a hard time recognizing him with all these careful changes. Feeling pleased, he collected his few belongings—his storage ring cleverly concealed under a plain silver band, a map of the nearby lands, and just enough gold to keep him going for months without raising any eyebrows.

As he slipped through hallways he had known since childhood, the estate slept all around him. Even the ever-watchful Elder Zak stayed in his chambers, relying on the silent embrace of the night, while servants continued to sleep in their quarters and guards moved in predictable patterns along the walls.

Robert moved like a ghost through shadows he had memorized long ago, his footsteps making no sound on familiar stones.

He stopped at the eastern gate of the estate. There was a sense of unease beyond these walls—a venture into hostile territory where getting caught could mean death or something even worse.But he could not afford to be hesitant. The future of the Osborn clan was at stake, and the only things that could turn the tide in their favor were power and knowledge.

The gate's lock yielded to his touch with barely a whisper. Robert closed the opening behind him, leaving no sign that he had passed through. In the early morning gloom, the city in front of him loomed ahead, its streets deserted except for the occasional patrol or early-morning merchant getting ready for market day.

He moved through the winding paths with purpose, avoiding the main thoroughfares where guards might remember a lone traveler departing at such an unusual hour. Instead of taking the main road, he wandered through the winding backstreets, glancing at the boarded-up stores and slumbering homes, his senses heightened for any trace of unwanted attention or a potential pursuer.

Ahead, the ancient stones of the city's outer wall, charred by centuries of weather and conflict, loomed. There were fewer night guards here, and they were more concerned with possible dangers outside than with people moving inside their own boundaries. Robert located the little poster gate he had scouted months before; it was a work crew maintenance entrance that most people had forgotten about.

The lock was older than the main gates, its mechanism crude but effective. Robert's cultivation-enhanced strength made short work of it, and moments later, he stood beyond the city's protection, breathing the cool air of the open countryside.

Dawn was still hours away, but he could feel its approach in the subtle shift of qi that accompanied the world's daily awakening. Time was precious—every moment brought him closer to discovery or salvation.

Preparations had placed it—a sturdy mountain species with the endurance needed for long journeys and the intelligence to remain calm under pressure. The animal brayed softly as he approached, recognizing the scent of the treats he had used to train it over the past weeks.

"Easy, friend," Robert murmured, running his hand along the horse's neck.

"We have a long road ahead."

The saddle was well-crafted but unremarkable, the sort that any successful merchant might own. He had kept extra supplies in the saddlebags, including water, dried food, basic medical supplies, and a change of clothes in case his disguise needed to be adjusted. Everything suggested careful preparation as opposed to a last-ditch escape.

As the first light traces of dawn began to paint the eastern horizon, Robert mounted and urged his horse into motion. They saw a narrow strip of dense earth winding through rolling hills and dotted farmsteads, the road leading to Celestial Brook City. Other travelers would join this path as the day progressed—merchants, pilgrims, and cultivators on missions of their own—providing perfect cover for one more unremarkable figure making his way toward the great city.

The rhythm of hoofbeats settled into his bones as they rode. Robert's mind was still working, capturing every detail of the journey.

But as the morning wore on, the road stayed quiet. Children played in the village streets, farmers came out to work their fields, and life carried on according to its timeless patterns, unaffected by the clan political currents that molded the world of farmers. Even as he acknowledged the need for his own more convoluted path, Robert could not help but envy their straightforward way of life.

The city came alive in vibrant hues of green and gold as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

The countryside had been gently touched by spring, which brought with it wildflowers that covered the hillsides and filled the air with the delightful aroma of fresh growth. Robert might have appreciated the journey's beauty in a different setting. As it was, he could only appreciate it as the backdrop for his dangerous mission.

An hour's hard riding brought the first glimpse of Celestial Brook City rising from the morning haze. Even from a distance, its magnificence was undeniable. Towering spires reached toward the sky, their surfaces gleaming with defensive formations and architectural artistry that spoke of centuries of accumulated wealth and power. The city walls stood twice as high as those protecting his hometown, their surfaces marked with cultivation arrays so complex that simply studying them made his eyes water.

Robert reined his horse at the crest of a hill, taking his first proper look at the place that would either make or break his mission. Even at a distance, you can easily spot the different districts of Celestial Brook City, spreading out over the terrain like a sparkling gem draped in green silk.

With its mansions and clan compounds arranged around the central palace like courtiers attending their emperor, the noble quarter occupied the highest ground. The merchant districts, teeming with activity despite the early hour, stretched out below them. Moreover, the ordinary people living in the outer rings made a significant contribution to the city's beauty with their modest homes.

As the morning light danced on its surface, the brook that inspired the city's name flowed gracefully through the center of the settlement, looking like a ribbon of liquid silver.

Across the waterway, Robert could see bridges—not just stone arches, but artistic creations that integrated flowing qi patterns into their very design.

It struck him that the river was a key element of the city's defenses, its currents shaped by design that could easily convert calm waters into raging torrents when required.

But what really struck him was the place's sheer size. Despite its recent expansion, Magical City could be contained within one of this city's districts. Here was power made manifest—the accumulated strength of generations of powerful clans working in concert to create something greater than any could achieve alone.

The Walker clan, nursing their wounded pride and making plans to destroy the Osborn family, was waiting somewhere inside those walls.

Robert urged his horse forward, joining the stream of traffic that flowed toward the city's main gates. Merchants drove loaded wagons, their goods covered by canvas tarps that hinted at valuable cargo within.

Cultivators in the robes of a dozen different sects moved with the confident grace of those accustomed to deference. Common folk hurried about their daily business, eyes downcast in the presence of their betters.

He was just another face in the crowd—exactly as he had intended.

The gates themselves were feats of combined engineering and agricultural skill. Robert could sense the concealed mechanisms that could quickly seal the massive steel-reinforced doors that stood open to accept legitimate visitors. Each arrival was scanned by guard tower occupants trained to spot trouble as they stood on either side of the entrance. The subtle pressure of defensive formations, poised to activate at the first hint of hostile intent, pervaded everything.

A line had formed before the gatehouse where entry fees were collected. Robert guided his horse into position, studying the guards while maintaining the slightly bored expression of a merchant who had made this journey many times before. The toll-takers were professionals—their cultivation levels were respectable without being intimidating, their manner efficient without being friendly.

When his turn came, Robert presented himself with the casual confidence of someone who belonged.

The guard looked down at his ledger and said, "It will cost you ten gold coins to get in. What brings you here?"

"Trade negotiations," Robert said with ease, pulling the necessary cash out of his belt pouch.

"I am trying to create new supply agreements as a goods representative in the eastern provinces."

The guard's eyes flicked up briefly, taking in Robert's appearance with practiced assessment. Satisfied by what he saw—a successful but unremarkable merchant—he waved him through.

"Of course," Robert nodded respectfully and guided his horse through the gates.

The moment he walked through the door, the sheer grandeur of the city overwhelmed him like a powerful wave. With their surfaces inlaid with cultivation arrays that maintained their cleanliness and levelness, the streets were lined with stones that shone as though they had been polished by innumerable feet. On either side, buildings rose, their architectural designs fusing artistic beauty with functional necessity, their walls adorned with carvings that appeared to move and flow in the distance.

The air itself felt different—charged with the qi of thousands of cultivators living and working in proximity, yet somehow refined and purified by the city's massive formation.

More people than Robert had ever seen in one place, representing every level of society and cultivation. Street vendors called out their wares in a dozen different dialects, while elegantly dressed nobles glided past in sedan chairs carried by Spirit Root Realm. Children darted between the legs of adults, their laughter bright against the deeper sounds of commerce and conversation.