After that, Xinuo sketched out Yumigawa Sumeragi’s situation for Yumigawa Nozomi, her voice calm like moonlight on water. Nozomi’s heart snagged like a thorn; her favorite brother turned Servant felt hard to swallow. But since it was Xinuo holding the reins, acceptance came like a slow thaw.

In the hush after, Nozomi asked, worry fluttering like a caged sparrow, “Sister Xinuo, how long till Brother becomes a Sword Wielder and strong enough to go out? I don’t want him leaving too soon.”

“That’s a maybe,” Xinuo said, steady as winter bamboo. “It depends on the Servant’s pace.” She weighed his conditions like stones in the hand. “If he wants to travel, he needs Sword Aura. That depends on insight. At most two months, with his talent.”

“Two months…” Her breath eased like a gentle rain. Two months felt like a gift pressed warm into her palms.

“Will you go with Brother?” she asked, hope rising like dawn mist.

“Of course,” Xinuo replied, bored as a cat in an empty hall. “There’s nothing fun in the Mizumi Clan. Better to take my Servant out to roam under open skies.”

She said it as if it were natural, looking at the clan’s chill corridors like frost on stone. Long stay? No interest.

“That’s great!” Nozomi’s relief spilled like tea over the rim. “I was worried about him going alone. With Sister Xinuo, there’s no problem.”

Knowing Xinuo would go with Yumigawa Sumeragi, Nozomi let out a soft sigh, like wind through pines. She planned to spend the next two months with Brother, then convince Father later to let her seek him.

“Looks like you really love the Servant, little sis,” Xinuo teased, hand landing on Nozomi’s head like a feather.

“Hehe, my brother raised me,” Nozomi said, eyes squinting like a lazy cat in sun. “Oh, Sister Xinuo, come to Brother’s room. There are lots of sweets! All baked today.”

“Mm, I’m craving a bite,” Xinuo said, appetite blooming like a red peony.

“Okay, follow me!” Nozomi’s steps were quick, like sparrows hopping on a path.

They slipped into the main estate and headed for Yumigawa Sumeragi’s room, the halls quiet as a temple at dawn.

Inside the room, the air felt clean and bright, like a sky after rain. That was Xinuo’s first impression. Everything sat in order, tidy as stacked tiles. The dustless surfaces shone, and sky-blue wallpaper cooled the walls like lake water. In that wide space, comfort spread like shade under a plane tree.

But what caught Xinuo wasn’t the calm decor. It was the round table in the center, and the plate upon it—several pastries glowing with a warm, sweet scent, like bread straight from a hearth.

“Could the Servant be good at cooking?” she wondered, appetite tugging like a fish on a line.

She picked up a piece and let it melt on her tongue, surprise bursting like a firework. She reached for another, hand moving like habit.

“Brother’s cooking is the best in the Mizumi Clan!” Nozomi chimed, pride rising like a banner. She puffed out her modest chest, earnest as a little soldier.

“Why?” Xinuo asked, brows lifting like willow leaves. “He’s the young head. Cooking shouldn’t be his craft.”

“Because, as you see,” Nozomi said, voice skipping like stones over water, “it’s boring here. Nothing to do. So Brother started cooking as a kid to pass time, and he fell in love with it. He kept at it till now. He’s also great at cleaning and sewing—household chores flow from him like a clear stream. He’s truly a household all-rounder.”

“I see. The Servant learned useful skills in idle hours,” Xinuo said, approval blooming like spring grass.

With another crisp picture of Yumigawa Sumeragi in mind, Xinuo felt her choice wise, like a good blade chosen by hand.

Looking to kill time, Xinuo strolled to the bookshelf, steps light as a breeze. She found stacks of novels and manga, and curiosity tugged like a kite string. “Little sis, where did these come from? When the Mizumi Clan was founded, there weren’t books like this.”

“I’m not sure,” Nozomi said, memory foggy like mist over fields. “I think I have an uncle who loves wandering outside. Every year he brings back all kinds of random things. Thanks to him, life here isn’t as dull as before.”

“So the manga and novels all came from that uncle?” Xinuo asked, thoughts drifting like clouds. Entertainment probably bloomed once peace grew roots.

“Should be,” Nozomi said, nodding like a sleepy sparrow.

“Are there many people like your uncle who love going out?” Xinuo flipped open a novel, surprise lighting her face like lantern glow. First contact made it fresh as new snow.

“No idea,” Nozomi said, counting on her fingers like beads. “Only Father, Mother, Serenemoon, Brother, me, and two or three maids live here at the main estate. Besides Qianji Sister, who drops by sometimes, I haven’t seen others.”

“So the main house is truly quiet,” Xinuo said, the emptiness spreading like bare winter fields.

And after centuries, the Mizumi Clan held barely a hundred people—too few, like seeds not taking root.

“No helping it,” Nozomi sighed, shoulders drooping like wilted petals. “On the Central Continent, it’s only the Mizumi Clan. Most don’t want to stay here and live a leisurely, boring life.”

She wished the house were livelier, like a market at noon.

“Are you satisfied with your life?” Xinuo asked, the thought cool as night air.

Being born in the Mizumi Clan might not be a blessing. Born with everything, you stop chasing, like a boat tied to shore. Comfort dulls the blade. Luckily, most didn’t love idleness. Otherwise the main estate wouldn’t be this empty.

“Satisfied! At least I can stay by Brother’s side,” Nozomi said, joy bubbling like a spring. She grabbed a few unread manga, slipped off her shoes, and climbed onto the bed like a cat.

“That’s good,” Xinuo said, sitting with quiet grace. She opened a novel, curious like a traveler at a crossroads. How had minds changed in this era? It would kill time too, two birds with one stone.

After a while, pages whispered like leaves.

“Sister Xinuo, is it really okay to leave Brother in the Sword Realm?” Nozomi asked, worry peeking out like a fawn.

“It’s fine,” Xinuo said, voice even as a still pond. “The Servant won’t grasp the basics right away. Watching a rookie swing a blade is dull and painful, like chewing bark. I’m not staying for that.”

“Oh, then when will you bring him back?” Nozomi’s eyes gleamed like stars.

“When he nails the basics… no,” Xinuo said, shifting like wind at a turn, “I’ll check his progress tomorrow.”

“Got it,” Nozomi said. The room settled again, the only sound the soft rustle of pages, like rain on paper. Both sank into their books like stones into water.

Time moved quick, like shadows chasing light. With the first spear of dawn gilding the world, the second day arrived.

After an afternoon and a night, Xinuo had devoured over ten novels and manga, thoughts drifting like cranes. People’s ideas felt more open than a thousand years ago, imaginations rich as a harvest. Maybe with the Mizumi Clan as weight, the other four continents grew culture like vines.

“Time to check the Servant’s training,” she murmured, setting down the book like a folded fan. “Don’t disappoint me.” She gently pinched Nozomi’s sleeping cheek, soft as a peach. Without a flicker of warning, Xinuo vanished, like dew under sun.

Sword Realm.

Exhaustion swamped me like midsummer heat. Sweat soaked me, breath ragged, legs shaky as reeds. Still, I drilled the basic forms again and again, like waves washing a shore.

Pain pooled through me like lead, but the results stood bright as a polished blade. At first I couldn’t even hold the sword right; my swings were stiff and awkward, like a puppet’s arms.

Now it wasn’t perfect, but the motion flowed and felt free, like wind through grass. With each repetition, familiarity sharpened like a whetstone. Full mastery felt close, a lantern just ahead.

“Servant, not bad,” came Xinuo’s voice, cool as evening rain.

I stopped, head turning toward the sound like a bird to a whistle.

“Xiao Nuo, when did you come?” Relief slid through me like water, and then the world spun. I nearly toppled like a cut sapling.

“Ten minutes ago,” she said, steady as stone. “You’re diligent. You’ve almost finished the basics.”

“Really?!” Her praise warmed me like fire in winter, and the ache eased a shade.

“Your talent is fine, and you grind hard,” she said, eyes giving me a nod like sunrise. “Mastering basics in a day isn’t strange. Now, reorder the knowledge in your head, and tie it to how your body felt.”

“Right now?” My voice frayed like an old rope. I was at my limit and craved rest like shade.

“…No.” She shook her head, gentle as a willow. “Forced fruit tastes bitter. In this state, pushing will backfire.”

“What should I do then?” I let out a breath, bones heavy like iron.

“Simple,” she said. “Take a bath. Eat breakfast. Sleep well. Continue when you’re back at peak. You’re a breath away from finishing.”

As she spoke, a door of space bloomed beside her, shimmering like heat over stone.

“Don’t just stand there. In you go,” she said, stepping through like a swallow into sky.

I gritted my teeth, forced my body to move like an ox under yoke, and went in fast—

Darkness wrapped me like velvet. Nothing to see, like a blindfold over eyes. In a blink, I was back in my room, the familiar air settling like a quilt.