The hour was late, the night sky vast and bright with the full moon, its silver light cascading down to drape Cloud Capital in a veil of shimmering white. It should have been a tranquil evening, yet the arrival of the Tian Yuan Empire's massive army cast an unspoken, heavy peril over the city, making even the usually bustling pleasure quarters appear strangely desolate.

In the rear courtyard of the Duke Zhen Guo’s residence, Ye Jingyu reclined casually in a rattan chair, dressed in a flowing white changshan. Before him sat a low, crimson tea table laden with perfectly ripe purple grapes. Luo Ling'er sat close beside him, her slender, pale, and delicate hands gently peeling the skin from a grape before offering the sweet orb to Ye Jingyu’s lips.

Ye Jingyu closed his eyes slightly, savoring the moment, as if afraid such peace would never return.

Just then, Luo Ling’er paused in her task. Ye Jingyu blinked, opening his eyes to find her large, luminous gaze fixed intently upon him.

“What is it?” he asked with a gentle smile, meeting the intensity of her wide eyes.

“Little Ye Zi, promise me, no matter what happens this time, you will return safely. Can you?” Luo Ling’er spoke softly, her eyes imploring.

“Yes, I promise you. I will certainly come back…” Ye Jingyu nodded firmly, his gaze radiating confidence, though only he understood the grim reality: this venture might very well lead to disaster.

“Then I believe you. The child and I will wait right here for you, until you return…” Luo Ling’er lifted her head, her large eyes locking onto his, speaking with a tone he had never heard before.

“Mmm…” Ye Jingyu naturally affirmed, but then his expression froze, staring hard at Luo Ling’er: “What… what did you just say? You said… said… said child?”

“Yes, our child. The imperial physician visited today; he said it has been over a month now…” As she finished, Luo Ling’er shyly lowered her head. She and Ye Jingyu had long since crossed that boundary, yet there had been no sign of conception, which had always weighed on her heart. In this world, continuing the lineage was paramount; a woman bearing no child for the man she loved was a lifelong regret.

Ye Jingyu’s face instantly bloomed with ecstasy. A child? He had a child? He was going to be a father? Was he finally going to know fatherhood? Overwhelmed with emotion, Ye Jingyu pulled Luo Ling’er into a fierce embrace, his whole frame trembling, suddenly incapable of finding words to articulate his feeling.

Sensing the tempest of his excitement, a wave of pure happiness washed over Luo Ling’er.

After an indeterminate time, the fervor within Ye Jingyu slowly subsided. Yet, thoughts of the impending frontline, and the formidable Lord Fang Zhu Guo, hardened his resolve. He silently swore he would never allow Fang Zhu Guo to harm his beloved or their unborn child. No matter the cost, he must stop him; he had to stop him.

“Ling’er, this is our first child. When he is born, you must teach him well, understand?” Holding Luo Ling’er with one arm, his other hand slipped beneath the silk of her robes, gently stroking her lower abdomen as if trying to sense the life stirring within.

“Yes, with both my teachings and yours, our child will surely be the cleverest in the world!” Feeling the heat of Ye Jingyu’s breath against her neck and the tenderness of his touch, Luo Ling’er’s eyes grew hazy with longing.

“Yes, he will be the smartest child, the best child…” Ye Jingyu murmured, drawing his lips toward hers. Luo Ling’er, oblivious to the undercurrent of sorrow in his voice, naturally met his kiss.

Their four thin lips pressed together, two tongues engaging in a perfect, intricate dance. Simultaneously, the crescent moon-like mark on Ye Jingyu’s forehead emitted silvery streams of light that slowly permeated Luo Ling’er’s body. In moments, even while locked in the kiss, Luo Ling’er drifted into a deep sleep.

Opening his arms, Ye Jingyu lifted her, gazing at her sweet face and the still-flat curve of her belly. In his eyes flickered rays of profound helplessness and sorrow.

“Ling’er, I am sorry. Perhaps after this time, I truly cannot be with you again. But you must live well, understand? For our child, you must find the strength to survive…” With a soft kiss upon her forehead, Ye Jingyu looked once more toward her abdomen. “My child, I apologize. Your father might not be there to see you born. I yearn to stay with your mother, with you, to watch you grow together. But I am a man. A man living in this world has duties beyond just protecting those he cherishes—duties he is forced to perform. If you are a boy, you will understand your father’s burden someday. If you are a girl, you will surely forgive me, won’t you?” His gentle voice dissolved into the night air, a single crystalline tear tracing a path down his cheek.

His eyes were filled with resentment, steeped in helplessness. He practiced the world’s most potent technique, the Ba Yuan Jue. Given enough time, he could dominate the entire world. He clearly recalled the words of the ancestor who passed the Ba Yuan Jue to him: once this discipline reached its zenith, even immortals could be instantly obliterated. At the time, he had been nonchalant, but as he delved deeper into the cultivation, he had come to deeply believe this claim. But he needed time.

Even the most potent technique in existence required time.

The Ba Yuan energy erupting within him instantly evaporated the tear stain on his cheek, and the bitterness in his eyes swiftly receded. He was the God of War of the Southern Cloud Empire; he was the Duke Zhen Guo. Though his soul did not originally belong to this realm, years of desperate struggle and weathering countless storms had forged an unbreakable bond with this nation. Now, facing its greatest crisis, how could he possibly stand idly by?

Gently lifting Luo Ling’er, he walked step by step toward the far reaches of the courtyard. When he arrived at the central square of the rear garden, Chi Yi Xiu, Hu Yan Qi, and the others were already assembled and waiting.