Strongest Family System

As the sun rose over the eastern horizon, it cast long shadows on the new Osborn training grounds. Robert stood in the middle, arms crossed behind his back, feeling the cool morning air filled with the sounds of steel clashing and fists hitting. His gaze was unwavering, sharp as a blade, while five figures moved purposefully before him.

Essie's sword whirled in controlled arcs—her Four-Direction Cleave striking from every angle, each swing balanced with her Drifting Leaf Shift footwork that allowed her to glide unpredictably across the field. She moved like a storm on a breeze, clear and precise.

Beside her, Sarah moved through the air with her twin blades, executing the Dual Serpent Fangs. Each strike shot forward like a viper's bite, intertwining in dizzying patterns, while her Featherlight Ascension let her leap and pivot with such grace, as if the ground barely restrained her.

Ronan's spear thrusts forward with booming force, his Heaven-Piercing Thrust carrying enough qi to rattle the practice dummies at the edge of the yard. Yet it was his mastery of the same Featherlight Ascension that allowed him to turn what should have been a heavy weapon into a darting, flexible tool of precision.

Emer's swordsmanship flowed more smoothly than anyone else's. His Azure Petal Flow—Blooming Form: Crescent Bloom Arc painted the training ground with a sense of grace, each strike unfurling like a flower, its beauty concealing a deadly heart. He moved across the ground like a gust of wind using his Windstrider Technique, always hitting from the most unexpected angles.

Next up was Taylen. He was the most reserved of the group, but when he threw a punch, it echoed like a drum. His technique—Stone-Breaking Fist—was raw, direct, and incredibly effective. Each punch he delivered cracked the air, his knuckles glowing faintly with the qi he had built up. He might not have had the finesse of a sword or spear, but his foundation was solid, and his strikes were dependable. His movement skill—Iron Step Shift—kept him grounded, allowing him to hold his own against faster opponents without losing his

Robert moved among them, silent but watchful. When a strike was overextended, he corrected it. When their qi circulation faltered, he guided them back to balance. And when they faced him directly, his blade became their wall. With just a single sword in hand, he unleashed his Twin Dragon Fang – Coiling Scales Technique, its twisting arcs effortlessly blocking attacks of all kinds. His Shadow Step – Breath Sync transformed him into a ghost, making him vanish and reappear between their strikes, compelling them to adjust their tactics.

They came at him together, five against one, and though sweat poured and lungs burned, none could bring him down. Robert's sword never aimed to kill, but every strike reminded them of their weaknesses.

"Again," Robert said calmly, his golden eyes gleaming.

And they obeyed.

The mornings were spent like this. Sweat and bruises, steel against steel, qi clashing with qi. Their coordination tightened, and their movements became more precise every day. They initially stumbled over one another, their skills clashing rather than enhancing one another. However, their sparring became layered under Robert's persistent yet patient hand. Essie's shifting footwork opened gaps for Sarah's blade, Ronan's spear locked opponents in place for Emer's blooming arcs, and Taylen's fists hammered through defenses once they were broken.

By the end of the first month, they no longer looked like scattered talents—they were a unit.

Evenings belonged to cultivation.

Robert distributed the Spirit Root Nourishing Pills equally among them, each disciple receiving the same chance to grow. After training, they would gather in the east wing, sit cross-legged beneath the glowing qi-rich air of the newly awakened array, and refine the medicine into their bodies. Their faces shimmered softly in the moonlight, with qi swirling around them like a gentle mist as their foundations became more solid and their roots grew stronger.

Robert joined them, his own presence a steady anchor. He refined his skills silently, his aura gradually sharpening with each passing day. The atmosphere in the chamber would pulse, saturated with qi and resolve, as if the heavens were keenly aware of their silent commitment to strengthen themselves.

Two months passed in this rhythm.

Morning sparring sharpened their blades, fists, and feet. Under Robert's constant guidance, they had to refine their techniques beyond simple shapes to reveal the hidden depth in their movements. He and Essie were at each other's throats until she finally snapped. Cleave honed his instincts, sharpening Sarah's two blades so they could strike together like a single, two-headed serpent, and pushed Ronan to use precision with his spears instead of just brute force.

Emer's petals bloomed brighter, his sword flowing like art, while Taylen's fists became mountains that no opponent could easily topple.

Cultivation came in the evening. Their roots grew stronger every day as the pills melted into their meridians. Every night, the room was alive with their development, with subtle qi pulses resonating in time like a collective heartbeat.

Robert honed himself during it all. With each breath, his Shadow Step became smoother, faster, and nearly silent. His Twin Dragon Fang technique was no longer rigid but alive with intent, coiling and uncoiling like a predator. He was molding himself and them, getting ready for the impending storm.

One night, as the group dispersed after cultivation.

Robert stood alone in the courtyard, the night wind tugging at his cloak. His gaze lifted to the stars, sharp and unwavering. The competition loomed closer every day, and with it, the judgement of the city.

However, he was no longer alone in bearing that burden. He had stoked a fire within his clan, shaped siblings, and formed allies.

The east wing of the Osborn clan was alive with a rhythm of growth. Morning after morning, the clang of weapons and the thud of fists echoed across the new training grounds. Evening after evening, the chamber filled with the glow of qi-rich air and the slow burn of Spirit Root Nourishing Pills being refined into marrow and meridians.

Two months passed in this steady cycle, and the results were no longer subtle.

Sarah was the first to erupt. During one sparring match, her twin blades crashed against Robert's guard, and qi flared violently around her. Her aura swelled, sharp and fierce like coiling serpents ready to strike. When she landed, both swords buzzing in her grip, Robert's eyes narrowed with satisfaction.

"Spirit Root—third level, peak stage," he murmured. Her face flushed with sweat and triumph; Sarah bowed quickly before returning to her stance, eager to test her new edge.

Not long after, Essie's advance came like a storm. While she was training, her Four-Direction Cleave suddenly hit with such force that the practice dummy broke apart into tiny splinters.

A dense, almost suffocating aura rippled out from her body. She steadied herself, her chest rising and falling as qi coiled tighter than ever before.

Robert smiled faintly. "Fourth level, peak stage."

His sister had not only caught up but surpassed Sarah, her battle-hardened experience giving her an edge that the others admired. Emer's progress was more graceful but no less impressive. His blade's arcs had grown smoother, the petals of his swordsmanship blooming brighter each day. One evening, as the qi array pulsed beneath their meditation, his aura broke free, steady and calm. Spirit Root—third level, mid-stage.

Ronan and Taylen came along shortly after, making strides that, while not as flashy, laid down strong groundwork for their futures. Ronan's spear grew firmer, his thrusts sharper, while Taylen's fists grew heavier, their impact ringing like war drums. Both had reached Spirit Root—third level, low stage—and though their progress lagged slightly behind, neither wavered in determination.

And then there was Robert.

His growth was like the steady rise of a tide—unshakeable, inevitable. Each pill refined, each spar won, each night spent stabilising his foundation pushed him further than before. By the second month's end, the qi around his body grew dense enough that the others felt it pressing on their chests when they stood too close.

His Shadow Step flickered between sight and silence, and his Twin Dragon Fang coiled with lethal precision.

When he finally exhaled one evening, a wave of pressure spread through the chamber, forcing the others to straighten unconsciously. His father, watching from the entrance, allowed himself a rare, proud smile.

"Spirit Root—fifth level, low stage," Robert declared quietly, his golden eyes glimmering in the candlelight.

For a long while, the chamber was silent, the disciples staring at their leader, their friend, their brother. Even though they were miles apart, it didn't feel discouraging at all. Rather, it stoked a fire inside their hearts. A strong resolve, an unspoken bond between them, surfaced in the silence: they would rise together, one step at a time.

The Osborn clan were always ready to stick by Robert's side, no matter where he went.

And together, they would not be overlooked again.

The Osborns would rise—not as scattered embers but as a blaze no one could ignore.