Soon, my mother returned to my room.

Born an adventurer, Mom never cared for noble pretensions. She preferred roaming landscapes, hunting Monstrous Beasts on her travels, or catching plays at the theater. Her lively, outgoing nature clashed completely with Father Sir’s quiet depth—I still wonder how that tight-lipped man ever won her over. She’d been out shopping today but rushed back the moment she heard the news.

I’d just calmed down enough to face my sister when my window flew open. Mom somersaulted inside. The sight startled me so much I momentarily forgot my troubles, my only thought: *Can’t you use the door? Don’t I get any privacy? At least knock if you’re climbing through windows!*

Less than ten minutes had passed since my sister left and Mom arrived. Normally, my commute from town took half an hour. Clearly, she’d reverted to her old profession—leaping across rooftops to race home. If I recalled correctly, Mom held the classes Ranger, Brawler, and Shadowmancer.

Now this beautiful Bishop’s wife stood before me. To any onlooker, she’d look like a commoner girl—Mom appeared no older than sixteen. Dressed in a plain yellow linen dress for low-key errands, her usual blue hair, often pinned up, flowed loose around her shoulders. She could’ve walked into a doll shop without turning a head.

A prodigy since childhood, Mom had been legendary in her adventuring days. Though she rarely took missions after marriage—her Adventurer’s Guild rank likely frozen at S-rank—I had no doubt her strength had only grown. While lifespans varied by class, a typical S-rank lived at least four centuries.

Rumors said she’d stopped aging at twelve after a power breakthrough. When she met Father Sir, she was still in a loli form. During one infamous rivalry clash, a bosomy aunt mocked how her figure could never satisfy him. Humiliated, Mom unleashed her growth—only halting again after marriage, when victory was secure.

She’d remained in this youthful state for decades. If she ever joined Father Sir in the Divine Realm of Breath of the Sun, she might never age again.

But right now, Mom had no patience for nostalgia. Her expression turned grave as she studied me. Seeing my face unharmed, she sighed in relief. Yet her doll-like features and simple dress stripped all authority from her stern attempt.

Well, at least my mood lifted slightly, the pain fading for a moment.

“Xiao De, your sister told me…”

She chose her words carefully, trying not to upset me further.

“This is serious, but nothing we can’t handle. Don’t be afraid.”

“Mom, I know our family can bury this. But I’m scared of Father Sir. If he hears about it, he’ll break my legs.”

“As long as you’re not panicking, it’s fine. I’ll shield you—your father won’t break anything. And if he does? There’s the Empire of Aifei nearby. Their doctors excel at mending bones.”

“Mom! You can’t just watch him break me!”

Suddenly, the air around her shifted. Gone was the forced sternness. Now, a bloodthirsty Demon stood before me.

“Brat,” she growled, “what madness possessed you today? Since when do you kill people? You used to flinch at slaughtering chickens!”

“I… I didn’t do much. My friends and I just had drinks, then…”

I recounted the events slowly. With every sentence, Mom’s face darkened like gathering storm clouds. By the end, I feared my legs wouldn’t survive until Father Sir’s return.

“Good job! Making the family proud!”

Her roar shook the walls.

“Harassing girls? Killing them when they refuse you? Planning to have your way with her next? How many times have I told you not to drink? It ruins health, ruins judgment! You wouldn’t listen. Look at you now! I said avoid shady friends—you only learn bad habits! If you’re so capable, why not harass the princess instead of commoners?”

*Oof.* That “princess” was the third daughter of the Empire of Aifei’s emperor—three years younger than me. Mom tutored her; they were closer than sisters. If I ever tried anything with her, Mom would kill me before Father Sir got the chance.

Head bowed, I stayed silent while Mom raged for nearly two hours. Her fury escalated until curses in multiple dialects spilled out.

Just as she paused for breath, Weihui slipped in with a tea tray—likely eavesdropping until the perfect rescue moment.

“Rest a while. Try this premium Eastern flower tea, a gift from Cleric Jigger last time.”

She set a cup before Mom and poured. Exhausted, Mom accepted the peace offering, sipping slowly. Weihui then poured one for me too.

“Fine. I’ll rest in my room,” Mom finally said, setting down her cup. “Brat, pray to Breath of the Sun your father isn’t furious. Even I might not save you then. Weihui, help me.”

With that, she left with my sister. I’d survived the first trial.