The pains began at sunset.
Jin was returning from the fields, having completed both his hectare and Lin Mei's daily maintenance, when he found her doubled over in the courtyard. Her hands gripped the edge of the stone well, knuckles white with strain, her face pale and sheened with sweat despite the cool autumn air.
"It's time," she gasped. "The baby—it's coming."
Jin's carefully cultivated composure shattered instantly.
He had prepared for this moment. Had read every scroll on childbirth the sect library contained. Had spoken with experienced mothers among the agricultural disciples. Had arranged supplies, made plans, rehearsed scenarios until he could recite them in his sleep.
None of it mattered. Seeing Lin Mei in pain drove every rational thought from his mind.
"What do I do?" His voice came out higher than intended. "Should I carry you inside? Fetch a physician? Boil water? I read that you're supposed to boil water, but I can't remember why—"
"Wei Jin." Lin Mei's voice cut through his panic, sharp despite her obvious discomfort. "Breathe. You're not the one giving birth."
He forced himself to inhale. Exhale. Think.
"Inside first," he said, his voice steadier now. "Then I'll get help."
He swept her into his arms with the strength his level seven cultivation provided, carrying her across the courtyard and into their small home. The bedroom they'd prepared for this moment waited—clean sheets, stacked towels, a basin of water he'd filled that morning. He settled her onto the bed as gently as he could manage.
"Stay here," he said, immediately feeling foolish. Where else would she go? "I'll find the midwife."
"Overseer Huang," Lin Mei managed between contractions. "She said she knew someone—a woman named Grandmother Chen. Lives near the processing facilities."
Jin nodded and ran.
—————
Grandmother Chen was not what Jin expected.
He'd imagined a bent, elderly woman—frail with age, slow with experience. What he found was something else entirely.
She stood perhaps five feet tall, her body compact and sturdy despite the deep lines that marked her face. Her hair was pure white, pulled back in a simple bun that revealed ears decorated with small jade studs. Her eyes were sharp and dark, missing nothing, evaluating Jin with the practiced assessment of someone who had seen everything the cultivation world could produce.
She wore simple robes of undyed cotton, practical and clean, with sleeves rolled back to reveal forearms that were surprisingly muscled for her apparent age. A leather bag hung from one shoulder, bulging with supplies that clinked softly with each movement.
"You're the husband?" she asked, her voice surprisingly strong.
"Yes. My wife is in labor. Overseer Huang said—"
"I know what Huang said. She sent word this morning that the time was close." Grandmother Chen shouldered past Jin with the easy authority of someone who expected to be obeyed. "Show me."
Jin led her through the terrace's winding paths at a pace that left him slightly breathless, despite his advanced cultivation. The old woman kept up without apparent effort, her short legs eating distance with mechanical efficiency.
"First child?" she asked as they walked.
"Yes."
"How long has she been in labor?"
"The pains started perhaps an hour ago. Maybe less."
"Good. Plenty of time, then." Grandmother Chen's tone was businesslike, treating the impending birth as a routine event rather than the life-altering experience Jin felt it to be. "First births usually take longer. The body needs to learn what it's doing."
They reached the courtyard, and Grandmother Chen pushed through the door without ceremony. Jin followed, hovering uselessly as the old woman approached Lin Mei with the confidence of long experience.
"Let's see what we're dealing with," Grandmother Chen said, setting down her bag and beginning her examination. Her hands were gentle but thorough, probing Lin Mei's stomach with practiced precision. "Good position. Strong heartbeat—both of them. This should be straightforward."
"Should be?" Jin's voice cracked slightly.
"Nothing in life is certain, young man." Grandmother Chen shot him a look that mixed amusement with impatience. "But I've delivered more babies than you've harvested spirit rice. If something goes wrong, I'll handle it. Your job is to stay out of my way and provide whatever I ask for."
"What will you ask for?"
"Hot water, clean cloths, and occasionally your hand for her to squeeze." The old woman turned back to Lin Mei. "Now, dear, let's talk about breathing. The contractions are going to get worse before they get better, but if you work with them instead of fighting them…"
Jin listened as Grandmother Chen explained techniques for managing labor pains, her voice shifting from businesslike to something warmer, almost maternal. Lin Mei's face relaxed slightly as she focused on the instructions, finding comfort in the old woman's obvious competence.
The night stretched ahead of them, long and uncertain.
—————
The hours that followed were the longest of Jin's life.
Lin Mei's contractions intensified as darkness fell, each one drawing gasps and groans that tore at Jin's heart. He sat beside her, holding her hand, offering what comfort he could while Grandmother Chen managed the actual work of delivery with calm efficiency.
"Push now," the old woman would say when the time was right. "Good. Rest. Breathe. Again."
Jin's hand went numb from Lin Mei's grip, her fingers digging into his flesh with strength that surprised him. He didn't complain. Didn't pull away. Simply endured, because endurance was all he could offer.
The candles burned low. Midnight came and went. Jin's enhanced senses tracked every detail with painful clarity—the sweat on Lin Mei's brow, the strain in her voice, the subtle sounds of a body working to bring new life into the world.
"Almost there," Grandmother Chen announced, her voice carrying quiet triumph. "One more push, dear. Give me everything you have."
Lin Mei screamed—a sound of effort and pain and determination that Jin would remember for the rest of his life. Her hand crushed his with desperate strength. Her body arched against the bed.
And then, suddenly, a different sound filled the room.
A cry. High and thin and impossibly beautiful. The cry of a newborn greeting the world for the first time.
"There we are," Grandmother Chen said, her weathered face breaking into a genuine smile. "A boy. Healthy and strong, from the sound of him."
She held up the baby—red-faced, wrinkled, covered in fluids that should have been disgusting but somehow weren't. His eyes were squeezed shut, his tiny fists clenched, his mouth open wide as he announced his existence to anyone who would listen.
Jin stared at his son, and the world changed.
He had experienced many profound moments in his cultivation journey. Breakthroughs that transformed his understanding of spiritual energy. Techniques that opened new possibilities. Realizations that reshaped his perception of the world.
None of them compared to this.
"Would you like to hold him?" Grandmother Chen asked, having cleaned the baby with practiced efficiency and wrapped him in soft cloth.
Jin's arms moved of their own accord, accepting the small bundle with a care that bordered on terror. His son weighed almost nothing—a few pounds of new life that somehow contained infinite potential.
The baby's cries had quieted, replaced by snuffling sounds as he adjusted to his new environment. His eyes remained closed, his face scrunched in the universal expression of newborn confusion.
"He's beautiful," Jin said, his voice rough with emotion.
"He's chubby," Lin Mei said from the bed, her voice exhausted but filled with warmth. "Look at those cheeks."
She was right. The baby's face was round and full, his cheeks so plump they seemed to overflow. Even his tiny hands were padded with soft flesh, each finger a perfect miniature of what it would eventually become.
"Chubby is good," Grandmother Chen said, washing her hands in the basin of water Jin had prepared hours ago. "Means he's healthy. Strong. Ready to grow."
Jin carried his son to Lin Mei, settling the baby against her chest where he could feel her heartbeat. The infant nestled close, instinctively seeking the warmth and comfort of his mother.
"What will you name him?" Grandmother Chen asked, packing her supplies with the efficiency of long practice.
Jin looked at Lin Mei, a question in his eyes. They had discussed names during the months of her pregnancy, debating options without reaching a conclusion.
"Wei Feng," Lin Mei said softly, her hand stroking the baby's downy head. "After my father. And because feng means wind—something that moves freely, goes where it wishes, cannot be contained."
Wei Feng. Jin tested the name in his mind, finding it suitable. A name that honored family while promising freedom.
"Wei Feng," he repeated aloud. "Welcome to the world, little one. I promise to protect you with everything I have."
Grandmother Chen finished her packing and moved toward the door. "I'll return tomorrow to check on mother and child. For now, rest. Both of you." She paused at the threshold, her sharp eyes softening. "You did well tonight. Both of you. First births are always frightening, but you faced it with courage."
She left, and the small family was alone.
—————
The days that followed were a blur of exhaustion and wonder.
Wei Feng demanded attention at all hours—feeding, changing, comforting through the mysterious discomforts that plagued newborns. Jin and Lin Mei operated in shifts, one sleeping while the other tended their son, trading off with the efficiency of disciples accustomed to hard work.
Jin's automatic cultivation proved invaluable during this period. While other new parents might have seen their practice suffer from interrupted sleep and constant distraction, his advancement continued unabated. The Azure Harmonization Method drew in spiritual energy whether he focused on it or not, refining his meridians while he changed diapers and prepared meals.
But as the weeks passed and Wei Feng settled into something approaching a routine, Jin began to think about other applications for his mysterious advantage.
Lin Mei's cultivation had stagnated for years. Her spiritual roots were similar to Jin's—three-colored, low grade, statistically unlikely to ever reach Foundation Establishment. She had reached level four through years of dedicated effort, then plateaued at a stage that blocked most disciples of her talent.
What if his method could help her?
—————
"I want to try something," Jin said one evening, after Wei Feng had finally fallen asleep in his cradle.
Lin Mei looked up from the cultivation manual she'd been studying—an advanced agricultural technique she hoped to master for the coming season. "That sounds ominous."
"Potentially transformative, actually." Jin sat beside her, organizing his thoughts. "You know that I cultivate faster than I should. That my progress has been unusual since I arrived at the sect."
"I know you've been hiding the details."
"I have. But now…" He paused, weighing the decision. "Now I think it's time to share them. Or at least, to share what I can."
He explained the Azure Harmonization Method—not the mysterious tracker that showed his efficiency, which he still didn't fully understand, but the optimized version of the technique he had developed over years of refinement. The adjusted breathing patterns. The personalized circulation routes. The subtle modifications that had pushed his efficiency to perfect levels.
Lin Mei listened with growing amazement.
"You redesigned your cultivation technique?" she asked when he finished. "From scratch?"
"Not from scratch. I started with the standard method and made improvements. Small adjustments that accumulated into significant advantages." Jin reached out to take her hands. "I want to share it with you. Teach you the optimized version and see if it helps your cultivation."
"Why would it work for me? Our bodies are different. Our spiritual roots have different characteristics."
"I don't know if it will work," Jin admitted. "But I don't know that it won't, either. And if there's any chance it could help you advance…"
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. Lin Mei understood what he was offering—the secret that had defined his cultivation journey, shared freely with the woman he loved.
"Teach me," she said.
—————
The first session was frustrating for both of them.
Jin guided Lin Mei through the modified breathing patterns, adjusting her posture, explaining the visualization techniques that directed energy flow. She listened attentively, followed his instructions precisely, and produced results that were… underwhelming.
"Something's wrong," Lin Mei said after an hour of practice. "I can feel the technique working, but it's not—" She struggled for words. "It's not fitting properly. Like wearing robes cut for someone else's body."
Jin considered this. She was right—the optimized technique had been developed specifically for his physical structure, his meridian layout, his unique spiritual signature. Of course it wouldn't transfer perfectly to someone with different characteristics.
But imperfect wasn't the same as useless.
"Try it again," he suggested. "But this time, don't follow my instructions exactly. Adjust the circulation where it feels uncomfortable. Find the path that works for your body, not mine."
Lin Mei closed her eyes and resumed her practice. Jin watched with his enhanced spiritual perception, tracking the flow of energy through her meridians.
She was adapting the technique, he realized. Not copying his version exactly, but using it as a foundation for something new. The breathing patterns shifted slightly. The circulation routes curved where his ran straight. The visualization emphasis changed to match her natural inclinations.
When she opened her eyes an hour later, her expression held wonder.
"It works," she breathed. "Not as well as I think it does for you, but—it works. I can feel the difference."
"What's your efficiency?" Jin asked before remembering that she didn't have his mysterious tracker.
"My what?"
"Never mind. Just—how does it compare to your old method?"
Lin Mei was quiet for a moment, assessing her internal state with the precision that years of cultivation had developed. "Significantly better. Maybe fifty or sixty percent more effective than what I was doing before."
Sixty percent improvement. Not the perfect efficiency Jin had achieved, but a massive advancement nonetheless. With this enhanced method, Lin Mei's cultivation speed would nearly double. Breakthroughs that might have taken years could be accomplished in months.
"We'll keep refining it," Jin said. "Adjusting for your specific needs. The technique I shared is optimized for my body—we need to find optimizations that work for yours."
Lin Mei threw her arms around him, her joy infectious. "Thank you. Thank you for trusting me with this."
"I should have shared it years ago."
"You weren't ready. Neither was I." She pulled back, her eyes bright. "But now we have Wei Feng. Now we're building something together. It's time to stop keeping secrets."
Jin thought about the efficiency tracker, still pulsing in his awareness, still unexplained even to himself. Perhaps someday he would understand it well enough to share. For now, he had given Lin Mei everything he could.
It would have to be enough.
—————
A year passed.
Jin marked the anniversary of Wei Feng's birth with a small celebration—special food procured from the sect kitchens, a few decorations crafted from spirit plants, gifts of carved wooden toys that the baby was still too young to appreciate.
So much had changed in twelve months.
[Azure Harmonization Method - Current Efficiency: 100%]
The tracker pulsed with its familiar certainty as Jin watched his son toddle across their courtyard on unsteady legs. Wei Feng was walking now—had been for nearly two months, his chubby frame somehow finding balance despite its unwieldy proportions. He lurched from the stone well to the garden wall to his father's outstretched arms, giggling with each successful journey.
"He's getting faster," Lin Mei observed from the covered porch, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea. Her cultivation aura had strengthened noticeably over the past year—she had broken through to level three using the modified technique Jin had shared, and level four seemed within reach. "Yesterday he almost caught one of the beetles."
As if summoned by her words, Wei Feng spotted a spirit beetle crawling across the courtyard stones. His round face lit up with predatory delight, and he immediately changed course to pursue the insect.
The beetle, possessing the survival instincts of its species, scuttled toward the garden with impressive speed. Wei Feng followed, his toddler's waddle accelerating into something that almost resembled running. His arms windmilled for balance. His chubby legs pumped with determination.
The beetle escaped into the vegetation. Wei Feng stood at the garden's edge, staring after it with the profound disappointment only a one-year-old could muster.
"Better luck next time," Jin called out, scooping up his son before he could launch himself into the plants after his prey. Wei Feng squirmed in protest, his attention still fixed on the garden where the beetle had vanished.
"Bug," he said firmly—one of his dozen or so words. "Bug bug bug."
"Yes, bug. But that bug lives in the garden now. We'll find you another one."
Wei Feng considered this, then apparently decided that his father's arms were an acceptable consolation. He settled against Jin's chest, his tiny hand clutching the fabric of Jin's robes.
Jin carried his son back to the porch, settling beside Lin Mei with the comfortable ease of long partnership. Their small courtyard had become a home over the past year—filled with the accumulated evidence of family life, from Wei Feng's toys to Lin Mei's cultivation scrolls to the herb garden Jin had planted along the eastern wall.
"I reached level eight last week," Jin said quietly, once Wei Feng had dozed off against his chest. "I didn't want to mention it until I was certain the advancement was stable."
Lin Mei's eyes widened. "Level eight? Already?"
"The automatic cultivation keeps working even when I'm focused on other things. My progress hasn't slowed at all."
"You're going to reach Foundation Establishment," Lin Mei said, the words carrying the weight of prophecy. "Actually reach it. Despite your spiritual roots, despite everything the statistics say is possible."
"Perhaps." Jin was cautious by nature, reluctant to claim victories before they were achieved. "There's still level nine to accomplish. And the Foundation Establishment breakthrough itself is supposed to be extraordinarily difficult."
"But possible. For you, it's actually possible." Lin Mei leaned against his shoulder, her presence warm and reassuring. "When you first arrived at the sect, did you ever imagine you'd be here? Level eight cultivation, a wife who loves you, a son who chases bugs across the courtyard?"
Jin thought about the frightened, clumsy child who had stumbled through the sect's gates seven years ago. Who had stumbled over everything, really—his own feet, his words, his attempts to understand a world so different from the village he'd left behind.
That child felt like a stranger now.
"No," he admitted. "I imagined surviving. Maybe advancing enough to help my family. Nothing like this."
"And yet here we are."
"Here we are."
They sat together in comfortable silence, watching the afternoon shadows lengthen across their courtyard. Wei Feng snored softly against Jin's chest, exhausted from his beetle-hunting adventures. The spirit rice in the distant fields swayed gently in the breeze, their silver luminescence visible even from this distance.
"Da Feng is preparing for his breakthrough," Lin Mei said eventually. "To level nine. The terrace has been buzzing about it for weeks."
Jin nodded. He'd heard the rumors—impossible to avoid, given Lin Mei's information network. Da Feng had been at level eight for years, carefully accumulating the strength needed to assault the final barrier of Qi Gathering. His attempt was scheduled for next month, when the spiritual energy in the valley would reach its seasonal peak.
"Do you think he'll succeed?" Lin Mei asked.
"He has a good chance. Better than most." Jin considered the massive, scarred man who had become something approaching a friend over the years. "His spiritual roots are four-colored, but his cultivation technique is excellent. And he's been preparing for this attempt for a long time."
"Number one reaching level nine." Lin Mei's voice held a mix of admiration and something else—perhaps envy, or perhaps just the awareness of how far she still had to go. "That would make him one of the strongest outer disciples in the entire sect."
"It would open doors for him. Opportunities that are closed to those at lower levels."
"Doors you'll eventually reach yourself."
Jin shifted Wei Feng slightly, adjusting the sleeping baby's position. "Perhaps. If my progress continues."
"It will continue." Lin Mei's confidence was unwavering. "You've been advancing steadily for seven years. Nothing has stopped you yet."
"Nothing has tried very hard," Jin countered. "The higher levels are supposed to be different. Bottlenecks become more severe. Breakthroughs require more than just accumulated energy—they require insights, transformations, fundamental changes in how one understands cultivation."
"And you think you'll fail to find those insights?"
Jin was quiet for a long moment, considering his answer. The truth was, he didn't know. His efficiency tracker had guided him through every previous advancement, showing him exactly what adjustments would improve his progress. But would that guidance continue at the highest levels? Would there come a point where perfect efficiency wasn't enough?
"I think I'll face challenges I can't currently predict," he said finally. "And I think the wise course is to prepare for difficulties rather than assume continued success."
Lin Mei smiled—that warm expression that still made his heart skip despite years of familiarity. "Cautious as always. That's one of the things I love about you."
"Only one of them?"
"There's a list. It's quite long." She leaned over to kiss his cheek. "But we can discuss it later. For now, I think our son needs to be put in his actual bed rather than used as a chest ornament."
Jin looked down at Wei Feng, still sleeping peacefully against him. The baby's face was relaxed, his chubby cheeks slightly flushed, his tiny breaths coming slow and steady.
A year ago, this child hadn't existed. Now he was the center of Jin's world—a responsibility more precious than any cultivation advancement, a motivation more powerful than any personal ambition.
"He's perfect," Jin said softly.
"He's covered in dirt from chasing beetles."
"Perfectly dirty, then."
Lin Mei laughed—that bright, unguarded sound that had first drawn Jin to her years ago—and rose to take Wei Feng from his arms. She carried their son inside, her movements careful despite her cultivation strength, treating the sleeping baby with the tenderness he deserved.
Jin remained on the porch, watching the sunset paint the agricultural terrace in shades of gold and amber. His mind drifted to the future—to Da Feng's upcoming breakthrough attempt, to his own continued advancement, to the life he was building with Lin Mei and Wei Feng.
Seven years ago, he had been a burden to his family—a child with mediocre spiritual roots, unlikely to ever achieve anything significant. Now he was approaching heights that most disciples with his talent could never reach. Had a wife he loved. Had a son he would die to protect.
The burdens he carried were heavier than ever. But somehow, they felt lighter.
Perhaps that was what family meant—not the elimination of burdens, but the sharing of them. The knowledge that you weren't carrying the weight alone.
[Azure Harmonization Method - Current Efficiency: 100%]
The tracker pulsed its steady confirmation, and Jin smiled into the gathering darkness.
Whatever challenges lay ahead, he would face them. Not alone, as he'd faced his first years in the sect, but surrounded by those he loved.
That made all the difference.
—————
End of Chapter Twelve