Young Master System: My Mother Is the Matriarch

Within the heart of the obsidian subspace, evening settled in like a silken veil dipped in moonlight. The valley's luminous mist rippled faintly around the central settlement, reflecting the many oil lamps that now illuminated the Liu clan's meeting hall.

The hall itself was recently expanded from its modest beginnings to a site that boasted dark beams of spirit-oak and polished stone floors that retained the mountain's natural warmth. Its lanterns cast a soft glow over the small gathering assembled there.

Leng Yue stood at the head of the long table, her posture straight, her expression carved from discipline itself. She wore no elaborate ornaments—only a midnight-blue robe tied with a thin silver sash. Yet her presence alone filled the chamber with an authority difficult to ignore.

Before her sat Ning Xue, Mei Yu, and Jia Lin, each carrying their respective composure: Ning Xue's serenity, Mei Yu's studious calm, and Jia Lin's sharp, military focus. The air pulsed faintly with qi, as though the mountain listened.

After a stretch of silence necessary to anchor the gravity of the meeting, Leng Yue finally spoke. "While Young Master Wei must walk the outer world," she began, her voice cool and clear, "we carry the weight of the Liu clan within these walls. It is our duty not only to preserve, but to ascend."

Her gaze cut through the hall like a blade honed over ice.

"We have decided," she continued, "to erect a sect—one rooted in the Liu clan's foundational techniques yet strengthened by Young Master Wei's cultivation arts."

The trio exchanged glances—even Jia Lin, who prided herself on being impossible to surprise.

Ning Xue offered a quiet nod. "A sect… created not merely for survival, but for posterity."

Mei Yu scribbled something on her scroll, lips parted slightly in awe. "A sect would unify our foundations, establish discipline, and give structure to future disciples… It is an excellent proposition."

Jia Lin leaned back slightly, arms folding, though she did not conceal the fire in her eyes. "If we intend to face cultivators from the empire, Blood Lotus zealots, and whatever lies beyond this valley, then we need discipline—and strength. A sect is the logical step."

Leng Yue accepted their responses with a faint inclination of her head.

"But hear this clearly—" Her eyes sharpened. "Only the most promising candidates from each of your camps may be permitted to cultivate Young Master Wei's techniques. His arts are potent—too potent for unrefined minds or frail temperaments."

Her fingers tapped once against the table.

"I cannot stress this enough."

Jia Lin spoke first, her tone crisp. "Then each of us must conduct assessments within our divisions. We cannot risk elevating incompetence."

Her blunt words hung in the air, though none refuted her.

Mei Yu lifted her gaze. "Agreed. And the assessments must be stringent. I will test mine in formation reading, talisman comprehension, breathing rhythm, and mental stability."

Jia Lin snorted softly. "You always drown them in scrolls first."

"And I always find the ones who endure," Mei Yu replied without malice.

Ning Xue smiled faintly, her voice soft as drifting petals. "My trials will include spiritual resonance and moral purity. A sharp blade is worthless in the hands of someone whose heart is clouded."

Jia Lin arched a brow. "Clouded hearts can be disciplined."

Ning Xue met her gaze gently. "Or cause needless death."

Leng Yue allowed the debate to simmer for a moment. She had wanted this—healthy friction among them, the kind that sharpened resolve and forged a functioning hierarchy. In a clan on the brink of resurrection, harmony without pressure would only breed stagnation.

Finally, she raised a hand.

"You may each assess your chosen candidates as you see fit," she declared, "but the final verdict shall be mine."

Her voice left no room for argument.

As always, none came.

Privately, Ning Xue thought to herself 'Young Master's judgment was correct. Leng Yue carries the heart of a leader. Fierce when needed, unyielding when necessary.'

Leng Yue continued, "The sect cannot form without a disciplined structure. Hierarchies must be earned, not granted." She stepped to the scroll laid across the table and unfurled it with a swift motion.

A detailed plan revealed itself as three tournament divisions, each tailored to one of the disciples' strengths. "The tournament will be split into three segments," Leng Yue said, "and any Liu clansmen who believe they possess the courage may compete."

Mei Yu's brows lifted. "Any?"

Leng Yue nodded. "Weak or strong, young or old, cultivator or not. Ambition is not bound by cultivation stage. But only one victor may rise from each of your segments."

Jia Lin grinned. "Finally something interesting. I will forge my trials from combat—real combat. No theory, no grace. Those who enter should expect bruises—and perhaps broken pride."

Mei Yu dipped her brush in ink. "And my division will challenge their minds: formations, practical arrays, and endurance of concentrated qi."

Ning Xue closed her fan gently. "Mine will test balance—physical and spiritual. Reflection pools, focus mandalas, and trial chambers imbued with gentle illusions."

Leng Yue looked approving.

"You understand your roles well. Good."

She gestured toward the far pillar.

"At first light, I will begin construction of the arena halls. You each will have time to circulate the announcement and finalize your trials."

The trio bowed their heads.

"This," Leng Yue finished, "shall be the first step toward our ascension."

When she dismissed them, the three disciples departed in different directions. They were each already absorbed in plans and calculations, Ning Xue drifted first into the misty courtyard nearby with contemplative eyes .

Jia Lin strode out like a general walking toward a battlefield, while Mei Yu remained momentarily at the threshold, touching the scroll lightly before departing with timidness in her steps.

When the hall finally fell silent, only Leng Yue remained.

She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, gazing toward the valley through the wide archway. Lanterns flickered down below where the Liu clansmen bustled through nightly duties. And above them all, the great altar began to shine with faint spiritual resonance. This was a sign the mountain had tolerated their work.

Yet none of that calmed her mind. Leng Yue allowed her posture to loosen slightly, as a soft sigh escaped between her lips.

"Young Master Wei…" she whispered to herself. "You burden me with trust heavier than steel." She remembered the moment he had chosen her with unwavering confidence, without hesitation. No bias on lineage, lofty titles or sentimental ties. Simply trust born from the competence that was exhibited in the past

Yet trust was a price.

And she knew hers was still being weighed. 'To lead is to bleed,' she murmured, recalling an old saying. 'To bleed willingly is to lead truly.'

Her gaze rose to the heavens, an unbroken expanse of shadow and faint stars.

"Let this sect be worthy of your return," she whispered. Her expression steeled once more and with that aggression anchoring her spirit, she extinguished the lanterns and stepped into the night.

By the next morning, the announcement had already spread through the settlement. Excitement rippled through the ranks; whispers moved like wildfires.

"A sect? Under Lady Leng Yue's leadership?"

"They say Young Master Wei's arts are to be passed on only to the most gifted…!"

"Three trials… three victors."

"The altar blessed our work—surely this is a sign!"

Some were fearful. Some arrogant. Many were hopeful.

But all were stirred.

Under the mellow light of dawn, Leng Yue personally oversaw the construction of the arena halls. She inscribed formations into the ground, her qi sharp and steady as she carved each glowing line.

The mountain hummed faintly, as if offering its solace.

Meanwhile, Ning Xue gathered her acolytes. Patiently teaching soft-spoken lessons of clarity and heart, Mei Yu prepared stacks of scrolls and arranged formation plates by difficulty tier. Jia Lin barked orders at her group, drilling footwork and reflex until sweat soaked the earth.

For the first time since their exile… the Liu clan did not merely survive.

They built something of themselves.

And the valley, alive with voices and qi, felt like the shell of a sect waiting to hatch. As evening fell again, the trio returned to their quarters with exhaustion but renewed purpose.

Leng Yue lingered once more in the meeting hall.

She lit a single lantern. Its flame flickered on her face veiling partially with shadow, half light. "That boy," she murmured, thinking of the distant outside world, of villages burning beneath Blood Lotus banners, of Li Wei flying on a carpet to save lives where the empire would not.

Her lips curved slightly, though it was not a smile. Something fiercer, more feral. "He risks himself for us. For them. For all." She touched the table lightly, fingers tracing the outline of the sect formation diagram.

"Then I will build him an army worthy of his cause." The flame rose as if responding, as the night deepened and in the heart of the obsidian subspace, the birth of a sect quietly began.