Deep within the Qin Residence, the family head's study.

The window was half-open, and the night breeze carried a rare trace of coolness, dispersing the day's oppressive heat. Inside, several glazed lamps cast their glow, illuminating the sumptuous room.

Qin Lu reclined lazily upon a spacious rosewood lounger, his posture indolent. He wore only a loose silk sleeping robe, its collar slightly agape. A pretty maidservant knelt beside him, her fingers deftly peeling chilled grapes and gently placing the pulp into his mouth. Another maidservant fanned him with a jade-handled round fan. On a side table rested a crystal-clear glazed bowl filled with fruit dew chilled with crushed ice.

Eyes half-closed, he savored the comfort. Having transmigrated so many years ago, from the initial struggle for survival to his present life of leisure, he had long since mastered the art of enjoyment. Power, wealth, beauty—these were the rewards he deserved.

Steward Qin Fu stood a few paces away, his hands hanging respectfully, reporting in a low voice.

"...The Young Madam is in good health; her pulse is steady and strong. However, due to the recent heat, her appetite has been somewhat poor. We've already instructed the kitchen to prepare lighter, nourishing dishes. This old servant has also repeatedly urged the Young Master to take the utmost care—the Young Madam must not be overworked, and she certainly must not be startled or disturb her pregnancy."

"Mm."

Qin Lu opened his eyes, still exuding an air of languor. "Go remind Wanlin once more. The child Qingxue carries is our Qin family's bloodline, of paramount importance. Any household trivialities that are not urgent can be temporarily handled by Wanchuan or Yuxuan, giving Wanlin more time to be with Qingxue."

"Yes, Master. This old servant will relay the message shortly."

Qin Fu paused, then continued, "There is another matter to report. This afternoon, the grain relief convoy was attacked on the main street by a refugee riot. Someone deliberately framed us, slitting grain sacks and stuffing them with sand and soil to incite the crowd to loot. The scene spun out of control for a time..."

Qin Lu's lazy expression receded a little, and he looked at Qin Fu. "Oh? What were the casualties?"

"Fortunately, the Second Young Master intervened in time! Among the rioters, some sought to harm the Third Miss during the chaos. The Second Young Master..."

"Wanchuan?" Qin Lu raised an eyebrow.

Qin Fu swiftly recounted the bloody yet awe-inspiring scene from the day.

"...The Third Miss was completely unharmed, all thanks to the Second Young Master's divine might. Within the city now... some already call the Second Young Master the Fierce Tiger."

Having finished, Qin Fu stood respectfully, awaiting Qin Lu's response.

The study fell briefly silent, broken only by the crackling of the glazed lamps and the faint rustle of the fan.

A meaningful smile slowly spread across Qin Lu's face, and he said with amusement:

"Interesting, very interesting. It seems my second boy has already achieved great success in his martial art. In a few more years, I'm afraid he'll have to venture out into the jianghu."

With that, he opened his mouth to accept another peeled grape from the maidservant, chewed it thoughtfully, his face still smiling.

"Then, Master, shall the disaster relief continue? The number of refugees grows daily, and our family granaries are running low..."

Qin Lu did not answer immediately. He picked up the glazed cup and took a sip of the cold fruit dew.

"To dare lay hands on my Qin family's grain carts in broad daylight—it seems this drought fiend's ravages have driven people to despair. Hearts are restless, the starving are boiling over... Merely distributing porridge and grain is like trying to stop water from boiling by skimming the surface."

Pausing, Qin Lu turned to look out the window. "Looks like a proper downpour is necessary."

A flicker of surprise passed through Qin Fu's eyes. "Master, you... you intend to pray for rain?"

Though he knew his master possessed profound, unfathomable means and had demonstrated extraordinary abilities in his early years, the matter of summoning wind and rain... seemed far too astonishing.

Qin Lu did not answer directly. He merely waved his hand.

"Enough. You may withdraw. Do as I instructed: remind Wanlin, and then investigate whether anyone is behind today's framing incident."

"Yes, Master."

Qin Fu bowed respectfully and withdrew. The two maidservants, highly perceptive, also curtsied silently and slipped out of the study.

Now alone, Qin Lu rose and walked to the window. Gazing out at the deep night, he sighed softly after a long while:

‘I'll have to act after all. At worst, I'll be bedridden for a few days…’

He approached the bookshelf, casually triggered a hidden mechanism, and the shelf slid open soundlessly to reveal a concealed compartment. Qin Lu retrieved a palm-sized, dusty-looking cloth pouch. This was something he treasured above all: a Storage Bag.

Focusing a thread of spiritual energy at his fingertip, he probed into the Storage Bag. Instantly, a magical tool the size of a palm, resembling a paper kite in shape and dull grayish-white in color, appeared in his hand. Its surface gleamed with a dim spiritual light, clearly severely damaged.

Qin Lu caressed the cracks on the kite, a little helpless.

‘Ah... it's been too long since I used this Wind-Tattered Kite. I wonder if it still works…’

No longer hesitating, he mobilized the pitifully scant spiritual energy within his dantian and injected it into the kite.

The dusty paper kite gave a faint tremor, then swiftly grew in response to the wind, expanding until it was large enough to carry two people, hovering in the center of the study. However, its light was dim, and its flight seemed sluggish and unstable.

Taking a deep breath, Qin Lu stepped onto the slightly swaying Wind-Tattered Kite. With a thought, the kite carried him silently out the open window and glided into the night sky.

The night wind instantly turned biting, whipping at his sleeping robe. Standing on the kite, Qin Lu looked down at the slumbering Qingyang City below, where scattered lights twinkled like faint stars against the darkness, sketching the city's blurred outline. Further out, shrouded in the dark, were the parched, cracked fields. A long-forgotten feeling surged into his heart. The last time he had ridden an object in flight like this must have been seven or eight years ago.

"Time indeed flies," he mused briefly, then pushed aside his thoughts and controlled the kite, soaring high above the clouds. In the night sky, stars were sparse, and vast expanses of dry clouds piled up lifelessly.

Hovering at a high altitude, Qin Lu's expression turned solemn. He formed hand seals with both hands, concentrating spiritual energy at his fingertips. For a cultivator at the Qi Refining Stage to cast a spell was difficult enough, let alone a wide-area Cloud Rain Technique. Muttering incantations under his breath, his finger seals changed, and barely visible wisps of pale blue spiritual light flew from his fingertips, disappearing into the silent cloud mass above.

"Clouds gather! Moisture condenses! Rain falls!"

As the spiritual energy infused it, the cloud mass seemed to be imbued with a certain vitality, beginning to churn and coalesce, its color gradually shifting from grayish-white to deep gray. When the spiritual energy for one Cloud Rain Technique was exhausted, the effect remained minimal. Gritting his teeth, Qin Lu formed the seals again, forcibly squeezing the last remnants of spiritual energy from his dantian as he cast the spell twice more in succession! Three times! He cast the Cloud Rain Technique a full three times!

By the time the final dregs of energy were drained, Qin Lu's face was as pale as paper, his forehead beaded with fine cold sweat. He felt as though his dantian had been utterly hollowed out, a sharp stabbing pain emanating from it.

"Huff... huff..."

Panting heavily, he looked up at the cloud layer that had finally been stirred into motion with faint flickers of lightning within, a weary, bitter smile crossing his pallid face.

‘This... will have to do…’

Daring not to linger, he forced himself to control the equally dim, depleted kite, swaying unsteadily back toward the Qin Residence. Upon landing, the kite nearly fell apart and was barely stowed back into the Storage Bag.

Back in the study, with the windows closed, Qin Lu felt as if every bone in his body had come loose. Leaning on the side table, his face still pale, a faint relief gleamed in the depths of his eyes.

"The rest... should be fine now..."

Muttering to himself, he staggered to the recliner, collapsed heavily onto it, too drained even to summon the maidservants. Exhaustion washed over him like a tide, and closing his eyes, he soon sank into a deep sleep.