THE REAL PROTEGE

"Otako called just before I could consult the heavens," she said evenly, though her tone carried a barely masked urgency. "He reported disturbing news." She paused, her eyes sweeping the table.

"Pharsa has been targeted by an individual known as 'Enchanted Dale.' He's a martial arts practitioner obsessed with mastering the elements.

According to intelligence from Otako's First Shah, 'Enchanted Dale' believes that by consummating and sacrificing three women who meet specific mystical criteria — forty-two years of age, born in the Year of the Dragon, possessing wind and water attributes at level five, and remaining virgin — he can unlock unparalleled power."

Everyone

"!!!!"

Gasps stirred at the table. Even the eldest servant bowed his head in alarm.

Pharsa's face had gone pale. Her lips trembled, and she lowered her gaze as though shame and fear had suddenly become tangible weights.

Chatty, sitting beside her, clenched his fists, eyes locked protectively on her profile.

"What should we do?" Madam Li asked, her voice thin and desperate, fingers wringing the edge of her silk scarf.

Ling Li closed her eyes briefly, as though reviewing every spiritual calculation, every risk and route across the tapestry of fate. When she opened them, her gaze had hardened.

"Let Chatty and Pharsa marry immediately," she declared, voice resolute.

"They must consummate their bond tonight."

The words landed like thunder.

Pharsa blinked in shock. Her brows furrowed, and her lips opened to object, but she couldn't speak, only showing disbelief and a slight recoil of her shoulders. Though she was beginning to accept Chatty, her feelings hadn't reached the point of marriage, nor had they moved toward consummation. Her mind whirled, and she almost felt dizzy about the case.

Chatty, however, brightened visibly. His hand instinctively reached for Pharsa's, though he paused when he felt her hesitation.

"I think that's the only way, too," Old Master Li said gravely, his voice thick with decades of wisdom and the quiet power of a man who'd seen fate twist too many times to trust it. "We must seal her elemental balance. If she is no longer untouched, this 'Enchanted Dale '—and his vile ritual —will collapse before it can ever begin."

His words were more than a decision; they were a decree carved from ancestral stone. The weight of lineage pulsed behind them, echoing through the generations he carried.

He paused, eyes darkening as he leaned forward, fingers tightening around his porcelain cup.

"It's not every generation that produces someone who fits such cursed criteria," he muttered, voice low but burning with intensity. "If we cannot stop him outright, then we must at least delay him —hinder his madness long enough to trap him like the predator he is. We'll drag him out from whatever shadows he's skulking in."

Then, like a sudden flame surging through calm wind, Old Master Li struck the table with his palm —not violently, but firmly, a heartbeat of fury behind restrained composure.

"How dare he touch my people!" he declared, eyes blazing. "Let him come seeking power... we will meet him with legacy and wrath."

"Call Shinsei," he added. "We need his guidance on how to protect Pharsa further. After all, he is Pharsa's adoptive father, and we must hear his opinion on this."

"I'll contact Shinsei," Mushu said, already standing and pulling out his phone, thumbs flying across the screen.

Ling Li exhaled softly, finally allowing the tension in her shoulders to ease. "Alright. Let's at least try to eat. We'll need our strength for what's ahead."

The clinking of plates resumed, though half-heartedly. Pharsa sat silently, the pressure of destiny thick around her. She felt trapped between survival and sacrifice, agency and ancient law.

Across the table, Chatty leaned in, whispering, "I'll make it gentle, Pharsa, only if you say yes. We can't let your life be in danger."

"...."

Pharsa didn't reply — but her grip tightened around the spoon, as if grounding herself for what came next.

A heavy silence had settled over the dining hall like an unwelcome fog. The stirrings of breakfast had long been forgotten, replaced by an invisible weight that pressed into every shoulder and heart.

Old Master Li finally broke the silence, his voice gravelly and uncertain.

"Shouldn't we also inform Murphy's parents? This is an important matter."

The words hung in the air, hollow and haunting. Several heads turned, but one pair of eyes moved with unmistakable intensity — Ling Li's.

She raised her gaze slowly and looked toward Four Eyes, her expression laced with a genuine question and a faint trace of regret. Her brows knit together.

Why hadn't she heard anything about Murphy's parents? That absence echoed louder now, a void wrapped in implications.

Four Eyes, already feeling the heat of Ling Li's unspoken question, hesitated. The room watched him closely. He tensed, his shoulders slightly stiffening. His lips pursed — not in annoyance, but with the delicate restraint of someone shouldering an invisible burden.

There was pain there. A story unsaid. And it is not his story to tell.

Ling Li shifted in her seat, suddenly unsure. Had she overlooked something? Had she asked too carelessly? The uncertainty rippled through her composure like a stone dropped into still water.

Chatty also opened his mouth, but no words came out. He doesn't know how to say it.

The silence threatened to fracture until Mrs. Xu spoke, her voice composed but tinged with sorrow.

"In-laws…" she began gently, clasping her hands together on the table.

"Murphy is an only child. His parents passed away long ago — long before you arrived in our lives. The grief left deep marks, ones that never quite healed. Chu Yan and Quan Ye… they have been his only family since. And so are we."

Her gaze drifted toward Chatty and Four Eyes as she spoke, as if offering silent comfort, and then to Ling Li, firm and kind.

A breath passed through the hall, bittersweet and weighted. Ling Li lowered her eyes briefly, nodding once, not in apology, but in acknowledgment.

The air shifted slightly. It didn't lighten, but it settled, like a tapestry being smoothed after a tear.

From his seat, Chatty reached for Pharsa's hand beneath the table. She accepted it this time, her grip tentative but warm.