Wei Ji walked through the misty path leading back to his courtyard, his steps slow but steady. His robe fluttered softly as a gentle breeze swept through the Han Family's inner grounds. His expression was calm, though his eyes carried a faint exhaustion from the battle he had just concluded.

The demonic cultivators that had been secretly anchoring their curses upon Lu Shaohua were now no more.

Their sect would soon crumble, and their schemes would be buried with them.

He exhaled slowly, feeling the faint echo of their death in the threads of his spiritual sense. "That's one less burden on her," he muttered quietly. "The future Celestial Demon Empress should never be weighed down by such filth."

When he reached the gate of his courtyard, however, his steps came to a halt. His brows slightly furrowed.

The sight before him was unlike anything he remembered.

The courtyard had transformed completely. It looked nothing like the quiet garden he had left behind. Blossoms of every color filled the space, their petals glittering with faint traces of Spiritual Qi. Even the walls were coated with vines of light pink flowers that pulsed as if they were breathing.

"What…" he whispered softly, lifting his gaze around. "What happened here?"

Then his eyes fell upon Lu Shaohua.

She was standing near the flower-covered fountain, her hair glimmering under the sun. Her face, however, was tense. Her brows were drawn together, and her hand clenched slightly at her side.

Standing opposite her was a man in shining sword robes—one of the Sword Shandian Sect. His aura rippled faintly, pressing against the flowers around him.

Wei Ji's gaze darkened. His voice echoed calmly through the air. "Who goes there?"

The man turned at once, his expression briefly surprised. Lu Shaohua's head snapped toward him too, her lips parting slightly. "Young master Han Ji—" she started, but her voice carried a trace of panic.

Wei Ji's eyes softened slightly when he saw her face, but he did not move closer. He simply asked in a low, calm tone, "Who are you?"

At the same time, he made a subtle hand sign behind his back. Invisible spiritual petals scattered into the air, spreading like a thin mist. Their presence was faint, undetectable even by most cultivators.

The man from the Sword Shandian Sect turned fully toward him now, the arrogance returning to his face. He smoothed his robe, his voice composed yet carrying a faint edge of superiority. "I am Fang Ren, inner disciple of the Sword Shandian Sect's third inner disciple of the third wlder. I happened to be investigating an abnormal surge of Spiritual Qi nearby and found myself here. It seems…" he paused, glancing at Lu Shaohua, "this courtyard is the source."

Lu Shaohua was about to speak, but Wei Ji lifted a hand slightly. "Let me handle this," he said softly.

Fang Ren smiled faintly, the kind of smile that did not reach his eyes. "So, who are you young man? To carry such authority. But I didn't expect someone like you to claim such a beauty's courtyard."

Wei Ji's gaze sharpened slightly. "Courtyard of my wife," he corrected calmly. "You didn't answer what you are doing here."

The words made Fang Ren blink once, then laugh. "Wife? You mean to say you are her husband?" He looked from Wei Ji to Lu Shaohua, his eyes mocking. "Surely, you jest."

Wei Ji said nothing. He simply stood there, his face calm, unreadable.

Fang Ren smirked again, then raised his hand dramatically, as if reciting from a script. "Ah, the moon shines over the jade petals, yet none can rival her glow. Such grace, such charm—why should a flower bloom unseen in the mortal soil?" His tone was poetic but oozing arrogance.

Wei Ji blinked slowly. "Are you done?" he asked, his tone dry.

Fang Ren chuckled. "Do you not see what I mean? This woman is extraordinary. Her Spiritual Qi is so pure, so refined. I can feel its resonance in the air. Such a talent should never be confined here."

He began pacing slowly around the flowers, his tone becoming proud, almost lecturing. "You see, her Qi flows like crystalline water. Its cycle is complete, smooth, without any trace of impurity. Most cultivators need years, decades, to reach such balance. Yet she… she naturally emanates it. It's a sign of divine constitution, perhaps even one of the ancient physiques long forgotten in our sect's records."

Lu Shaohua frowned. "Please stop—"

But Fang Ren ignored her, still absorbed in his own voice. "If I were to compare it to a sword, it would be a blade tempered in the breath of heavens itself. It is soft, yet impossibly sharp. It hums with life and light. Tell me, how could such a being be tied down to a mortal life here, playing with flowers?"

Wei Ji looked at him silently for a long moment. Then, slowly, a faint smirk appeared on his lips. "So you're saying she shouldn't stay here."

Fang Ren lifted his chin. "Exactly. A talent like hers should be brought to our sect, nurtured, refined. She deserves to stand above countless mortals and cultivators alike."

Wei Ji's smile deepened slightly. "And who will teach her then? You?"

Fang Ren's expression stiffened slightly. "What are you implying?"

Wei Ji stepped forward slowly, his tone quiet but cutting. "You know what I'm implying."

The air shifted. The flowers trembled. The playful arrogance on Fang Ren's face faded, replaced by a shadow of irritation.

"Be careful with your words, little junior husband," Fang Ren said coldly. "I respect courtesy, but I will not tolerate insolence."

Wei Ji tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming faintly. "What if I overstep?"

Fang Ren's jaw tightened. "Then you will regret it."

Wei Ji chuckled softly. "You sound scared."

The faint smile vanished from Fang Ren's face. His aura suddenly flared, rippling like storm waves across the courtyard. The air thickened as spiritual pressure bore down, making the flower petals tremble violently. "Do not mistake my patience for fear," Fang Ren snapped. "I never bully the weak. You are merely at the fourth stage of Qi Infusion Realm. You should be grateful that I am even speaking to you. But do not push me."

He stepped closer, his gaze sharp. "You think yourself clever, little cultivator? You hide behind your wife's talent and call yourself her husband, yet you do not even have the power to protect her. The gap between us is vast. If I wished, I could crush your dantian with a flick of my finger."

Wei Ji's expression didn't change. "You talk too much," he said quietly.

Fang Ren's nostrils flared. "Don't be too much, junior!" he snapped. "You are nothing before me. Nothing!" His hand rose, gathering Spiritual Qi into his palm. The light around him shimmered, forming the shape of a sword made of pure energy.

Lu Shaohua gasped softly. "Stop! Don't!"

But Fang Ren ignored her, his rage breaking his restraint. "I'll teach you what happens when you insult—"

His words cut off abruptly. His eyes went wide.

He trembled. His sword of light flickered out. Then, without warning, he collapsed to the ground.

The flowers swayed silently around him as his body hit the earth with a soft thud. His face was pale, sweat beading his forehead, his Qi scattering uncontrollably. He tried to lift his head but failed.

Wei Ji stood still, his expression unreadable, the faint smile gone from his lips. The invisible petals he had released earlier slowly drifted back toward him, unseen by anyone else.

Lu Shaohua's eyes widened as she looked between them. "Young master Han? What did—"

He turned his head toward her and said softly, "Nothing much. I just told him to stop talking."

Then he looked down at Fang Ren, his voice calm but heavy. "Next time, choose your words carefully, worm…"

The courtyard fell silent. Only the sound of the wind moving through the flowers remained.

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