Strongest Family System

The sun had only just climbed over Celestial Brook's outer walls when Tom Walker arrived at the Carr compound.

The estate, once bustling with swaggering disciples and proud laughter, was now an echo of itself. Its gates hung half-open, one broken on its hinges, and the courtyard smelled of blood that had already gone cold. Crows perched on rooftops, silent and watchful, as if guarding a battlefield no one dared to claim.

Tom Walker stepped inside, his robes sweeping the dust as his eyes swept over the scene. The walls bore scorches, and the ground had cracks where qi had exploded in fury. And yet, no voices, no living presence. Only silence.

Moments later, one of his guards approached, his face pale. He bowed deeply before speaking.

"Elder Tom, the report is clear. Every member of the Carr clan is dead. Not a single survivor was found."

Tom's jaw tightened. His voice came low and heavy.

"And the treasury?"

The guard hesitated. "Emptied, Elder Tom. Whoever did this not only killed them but stripped their wealth clean. There is nothing left."

For an instant, the air seemed to darken around Tom Walker. His aura surged, scattering the crows into the sky with panicked cries. His eyes burned with rage.

"Find the one responsible," he hissed. "No matter where they hide, no matter what mask they wear. Find them, and bring me their head!"

The guards knelt, trembling under his killing intent. "Yes, Elder Tom!"

Tom lingered only a heartbeat longer, taking in the ruin, then turned sharply on his heel. He mounted his horse, the beast neighing in fear of his aura, and rode hard toward Celestial Brook's heart. Dust rose in his wake, carrying his fury with it.

By midday, he strode through the gates of the Walker compound. As his presence weighed down on them like a storm, both servants and disciples moved aside. He proceeded immediately to the tallest pavilion, where Zalker Walker, the leader of the sect, was waiting.

Zalker was no ordinary man—his presence radiated power, the air itself bending under his calm control. He stood at the balcony, overlooking the city below, when Tom entered and bowed.

"Clan head," Tom said, his voice taut with suppressed anger. "The Carr clan… has been annihilated."

The sect leader turned slowly, his sharp gaze cutting like a blade. "All of them?"

"Yes. Every last one. Men, women, disciples, elders, even Tom Carr himself. No survivors. And their treasure vaults were looted clean."

Zalker's expression hardened visibly. His voice dropped into a dangerous register.

"Someone dares to strike at a clan under the Walker flag? In my city?"

Tom straightened, his anger finally breaking into words. "This was not just vengeance against Carr's arrogance. This was a provocation against us.

The Carrs may have been arrogant fools, but they were ours. Whoever did this challenges the Walker name itself."

Zalker's aura rippled, sharp enough to make even Tom step back.

"Then you will find them. No matter what it costs. Tear this city apart stone by stone if you must. But bring me the name of the one who dared to provoke us."

Tom bowed deeply, his voice like iron. "As you command."

The news spread faster than wildfire.

By dusk, every teahouse, inn, and market stall whispered the same story: the Carr clan had been wiped from the city overnight. No witnesses, no survivors, and no trace of the killers except the silence they left behind.

In the outer city, merchants and common folk muttered behind their hands, some with fear, others with grim satisfaction. The Carrs had long been hated for their arrogance, their cruelty to the weak, and their abuses justified only by Walker's protection. Though no one dared to speak aloud, many were glad to see their reign end.

In the inner city, the reactions were sharper.

The Brooks clan gathered their elders in secret, their patriarch smiling faintly. "The Walkers bleed now. One of their claws has been cut away. Let them rage; we will grow stronger in their shadow."

The Clark clan raised cups of wine behind closed doors, celebrating quietly. "The Carrs' fall is a blessing. One less rival strutting in our city."

Even the Brooks and Clark disciples whispered about it with glee. "If the Walkers weaken, perhaps the balance will finally shift."

The annihilation of an entire clan without witnesses meant only one thing: a power capable of moving unseen and striking with ruthless precision.

Whoever it was had not merely acted out of vengeance—they had made a statement.

The Grey Shadow Hall, ever watchful, chose silence. Their elders neither condemned nor celebrated, but the weight of their silence was a reminder that they were listening, calculating.

By nightfall, Celestial Brook City thrummed with unease. Every clan whispered, every tavern buzzed, and every dark alley filled with speculation.

Some claimed the killer was a rogue cultivator with ancient techniques. Others swore it was an outside clan testing the city's defenses. Still others whispered of demons or forbidden arts.

No one spoke Robert's name. No one even guessed the truth.

At the heart of this storm, Robert himself had already returned quietly to his own clan. He arrived under the cover of night, his face calm, his steps measured. No one suspected where he had been, what he had done, or what shadows he had left behind in the ruins of the Carr.

The city shifted silently around him. He had forced it, and yet, his name remained hidden in the dark.

For now.

The Osborn compound slept under the cloak of night, lanterns dimmed, and guards yawning on their rounds. Robert slipped through the gates without a sound, his presence masked, his steps as weightless as drifting mist. No one stirred; no one saw him.

His room welcomed him with stillness. He shut the door behind him, leaned back for a moment, and let out a long breath. The journey had been long, the risks sharp, yet he carried what he had gone to find—the truth about the competition. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, his mind replayed every word Tom Carr had choked out, every name of the rival disciples who would stand against the Osborn clan.

"They're all strong," he murmured to himself, eyes narrowing. "But strength can be measured, matched, and surpassed."

Yet something nagged at him. He had seen it in Celestial Brook already—the density of qi in the air was thin, a faint trickle compared to what one would need to break through the bottlenecks of cultivation truly. The Carr clan's arrogance had masked their weakness, but it also revealed a truth: here, growing too quickly would be a challenge for anyone.

Robert tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. If I want my clan to rise… if I want to meet the Walkers, Brooks, and Clarks head-on… I need more than time. I need an advantage.

His thoughts drifted inward, calling upon the familiar voice that resided within him.

"System," he muttered to himself, calm but firm.

"Is there anything in the store that can increase the flow of qi? Something to quicken cultivation—not just for me, but for the entire clan."

The reply came immediately, cold and clear.

[Item available: Qi Gathering Array Stone. Capable of condensing and stabilizing ambient qi in a set radius. When placed at a sect or clan ground, the cultivation speed of all members will double. Cost: 50,000 system points.]

Robert's lips curved in the faintest of smiles.

"So it exists…"

He opened the interface in his mind's eye, his status unfolding in neat columns.

System Status

Name: Robert Osborn

Cultivation Realm: Spirit Root Realm – Level 2 (Low-Stage)

Soul Power: 978,000

System Points: 300,420

Companion

Shadow Reaper Assassin – Soul Manifestation Realm Level 5 (Peak Stage)

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

Quests

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

Robert's smile deepened as the figures settled before him. His soul power had swelled in response to the Carr clan massacre, and the system points glittered like a treasury waiting to be spent.

"Three hundred thousand…" he whispered, fingers curling into his palm. "Enough for the array stone, enough for much more."

He thought of his father, his clan, and the disciples who trained day and night in the courtyards. With the Carr clan's hidden wealth now sitting within his system space, he had more than personal gain—he had the foundation to lift his clan.

He leaned back on the bed, exhaling slow, steady breaths.

"The Carr's arrogance gave me their fortune," he muttered, almost amused. "And their deaths gave me power. I will use both to carve a future for Osborn."

The night outside was silent, but his mind burned with motion. The competition loomed closer each day. Rival names echoed in his memory: Harvey Walker, Max Brooks, and Rachel Clark. Each was a wall he would have to climb, each a threat that would not hesitate to crush him if given the chance.

But he had the system. He had the Shadow Reaper. And now, he had the Carr clan's entire treasure, folded neatly into his grasp.

Robert closed his eyes, not in rest but in calculation. The path ahead was dangerous, perhaps fatal, yet every danger sharpened his will.

He would not bow. He would not wait.

The Osborn clan would rise, and when they did, all of Celestial Brook would know the name Robert had hidden until now.