Father Holds the Sword, Son Holds the Shield

Zhou Family Mansion

"Minghu, come here. Refine this."

Zhou Ping summoned Zhou Minghu into the study, then handed him the shield.

Zhou Minghu took it, eyeing the small shield, which was no larger than a palm. He asked in confusion, "Father, what is this?"

Zhou Ping had taught him only the basics of cultivation over the years, leaving him with little knowledge of the wider cultivation world.

"This is a Dharma Treasure, a weapon that only a cultivator can wield. By driving it with Spiritual Qi, one can unleash tremendous force," Zhou Ping said, his gaze sharp. "With this, even if the Wang and Sun clans dare to act in the shadows, we can easily suppress them."

"Refine it. Once done, you will be able to control it as if it were an extension of your own arm."

Zhou Minghu's eyes lit up with excitement. Knowing that such a treasure would ensure his family's safety, he immediately sat cross-legged and began to refine the item with his Spiritual Qi.

Dharma Treasures are typically used by Qi Condensation cultivators, as they possess not only sufficient Spiritual Qi but also the Divine Sense required to bind them. Though a novice's Divine Sense is faint and lacks edge, it is sufficient to imprint upon an artifact and prevent it from being easily seized by others.

As Zhou Minghu was only a practitioner at the Spirit Awakening Realm, he could not fully refine the shield. For now, he could only bathe the item in his Spiritual Qi to familiarize himself with its flow.

Were he to clash with a true Qi Condensation cultivator, the artifact would likely be seized and the seal broken in an instant.

However, in all of Qingshui County, only the Pingyun Huang Clan to the east was known to harbor Qi Condensation cultivators. The west was barren, with thin Spiritual Qi, and few practitioners of that level would choose to linger here, so there was little cause for concern.

Before long, Zhou Minghu opened his eyes, his face glowing with delight.

He poured his Spiritual Qi into the shield. In an instant, the artifact expanded, growing until it became a heavy, ten-foot-tall shield. Countless hideous, terrifying cracks marred its surface, and it exuded a faint, oppressive aura.

Had the study not been so spacious, the sheer movement would have caused a massive commotion.

With a flick of his intent, he swung the shield. It tore through the air, creating a gale that whipped the books, tables, and chairs into a chaotic mess.

"What a marvelous treasure!"

Zhou Minghu shouted in excitement. That single strike carried the weight of nearly a thousand jin; if it landed on a man, it would shatter his bones and liquefy his organs. It spanned over a zhang in width, capable of crushing multiple opponents in one swoop.

This was infinitely more powerful than his Golden Light Technique. Truly, this was the method of an immortal!

In the next moment, however, his expression faltered. He felt his internal Spiritual Qi drain away instantly, leaving him utterly exhausted. The shield rapidly shrank back to its original size, landing in his palm, though its surface now bore a few new, conspicuous cracks.

Zhou Ping chuckled from the side. Even though the shield was not as demanding as some, it was far beyond what Zhou Minghu could sustain. The boy had only seven strands of Spiritual Qi, and the shield consumed six just to activate. He had been reckless, failing to break his connection to the artifact, which had drained him dry.

Though both the shield and the small sword were damaged relics with limited uses, Zhou Ping did not count this as a waste. Giving Minghu the chance to familiarize himself with the artifact and prepare for battle was well worth the cost.

"This artifact is broken and cannot be used many more times. Each use is precious; do not activate it thoughtlessly," Zhou Ping warned. "When facing an enemy, do not dump all your Spiritual Qi into it at once. You may gain power, but if you fail to kill your foe, you will only leave yourself defenseless."

"I understand, Father," Zhou Minghu replied solemnly, ashamed of his wastefulness.

Zhou Ping continued, "Since I have returned, the Wang and Sun clans will not remain idle. They will act. When that time comes, we must strike with thunderous force to terrify them. Only by cowing them into submission can we live in peace."

"Father is right. Only when we are powerful enough that they dare not harbor designs against us will they truly submit," Zhou Minghu said respectfully.

Zhou Ping nodded. "I will begin teaching you and Xuanya the proper path and the common knowledge of the cultivation world. We aim to become a great clan, and we cannot afford to remain ignorant."

Zhou Minghu was puzzled. Their family had three cultivators now, but that didn't guarantee future generations would be so blessed. Still, he agreed that learning was necessary.

Zhou Ping smiled contentedly and turned to leave. He paused, then said, "Oh, one more thing."

"Yes, Father?"

"Clean up this mess. Do not let the servants see it."

Zhou Ping stepped out and pulled the door shut, leaving the flustered Zhou Minghu alone in the wreckage.

He had felt so grand and imposing just moments ago, but now he was left to tidy the mess he had created. He realized, however, that the Zhou family was still fragile. Their servants had been bought from slave traders, and many could not be trusted. They could not risk word of their true strength reaching the Wang and Sun families prematurely.

They needed to strike with such overwhelming brutality that their enemies would learn to fear the Zhou family above all else.

Men may not respect strength, but they will always fear the lash.

By the time Zhou Minghu stepped out, the room was restored. He glanced around to ensure no one was watching, then slipped toward the back courtyard.

Moments later, a servant walked from the front yard toward the side quarters, casting a quick, sideways glance at the study before continuing on as if nothing were amiss.

Since Zhou Ping's return, the Zhou mansion had undergone renovations, expanding into two large wings that gave the estate the appearance of a massive cross. They had hired many skilled craftsmen, turning the residence into a flurry of activity.

Zhou Dashan, observing this from his sickbed, felt a mix of relief and melancholy; the family's long-standing savings were being drained once more.

The Zhou family had built its reputation on benevolence, holding nearly three hundred mu of land, with forty percent of the villagers working as their tenants.

When Zhou Ping had first returned, they had owned only a few mu, barely scraping by. Even when they began to acquire more land, the other four local clans had not bothered them, as the estate was small.

Now, it was different. They held more land than the Wang and Sun clans, yet they were few in number and lacked the corresponding status.

Had the Zhou family held this much land a decade ago, the other clans would have surely joined forces to crush them. This was why Zhou Ping had hidden his strength after the Liu family was slaughtered-he feared the ruthlessness of the local clans, and he knew well that wealth invites disaster.

With little land, he could defend what he had. With so much land, greed was inevitable.

By building these new wings, he had intentionally made the household crowded and allowed outsiders access to the grounds. Scaffolding stood against the walls, offering an easy path for any thief to slip inside.

This was the bait he had laid for the Wang and Sun families.

One cannot guard against a thief for a thousand days, but if the enemies believed they had a chance, they would act. Only by drawing them out could he crush them in a single stroke.

Yet, despite this opportunity, he and his son had taken turns keeping watch for over a month with no movement. They were growing restless.

Late one night.

"Minghu, go to sleep. I will take the rest of the night," Zhou Ping said as he stood over his son.

He felt for his son's exhaustion, so he insisted the boy take the first watch.

Zhou Minghu, weary from straining his senses against the silence of the night, obediently lay down and drifted off.

Zhou Ping sat cross-legged, circulating his energy. He held the small sword in his palm, waiting for any sign of movement.

Night fell completely, shrouding the village in silence.

After a long while, a faint sound drifted from outside.

Crack!

Zhou Ping, who had been maintaining his focus, snapped his eyes open, staring into the darkness.

"Finally."

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