Grand Return System-Chapter 68: A Walk Beneath Watchful Eyes
A Walk Beneath Watchful Eyes
Harrier turned to him directly.
"Elder White, prepare several precious gifts. Deliver them personally to the Amethyst Summit Division. Our offerings may not impress an expert like Respected Leon, but they will be useful to his students."
Harrier sat once more in the hall, thinking carefully.
"Prepare a Seven petals spirit Lotus," he instructed to a servant. "And a mid-grade spiritual core enhancer."
He paused.
"And several protective artifacts suitable for young cultivators. Leon’s students are said to be talented."
Maria added gently, "And include fine silk from our southern trade route. Even immortals appreciate courtesy."
Harrier nodded.
"Yes. Presentation matters."
He leaned back, eyes distant.
Leon had not merely frightened his son.
He had corrected him.
Such a man—
Was worth respecting.
And perhaps— Worth aligning with.
A faint smile curved along his lips—measured, calculating, yet sincere.
"This is not merely gratitude. It is goodwill."
Elder White bowed deeply.
"Alright, Family Head. I’ll get it done right away."
He turned and left the hall with steady steps, robes brushing softly against the polished floor.
He had no objections.
He had stood before Leon once. He had felt that invisible pressure—calm, restrained, but overwhelming. Becoming enemies with such a figure would bring no benefit. Showing respect, however... that might secure the Taylor family’s future.
After giving the order, Harrier and Maria left the hall together.
The corridor outside was quiet, sunlight filtering through lattice windows, dust motes drifting in warm air. They walked slowly toward Harry’s courtyard.
Through the half-open window, they saw him inside.
Seated cross-legged.
Back straight.
Mana circulating steadily around him.
No servants. No wine. No idle chatter.
Only focused cultivation.
Harrier stopped.
For a long moment, he simply watched.
His son’s breathing was measured, his expression solemn. There was no trace of the old arrogance—no impatience, no laziness.
Maria’s fingers tightened slightly at her sleeve.
"He truly has changed..." she murmured softly.
Ever since Harry returned, he had barely stepped outside. He trained at dawn. He trained at night. Even his meals were simple.
Was it pressure?
Was it fear?
Or was it awakening?
Inside the room—
Harry’s thoughts churned beneath his calm expression.
Leon’s face rose again in his mind.
That steady gaze.
That quiet confidence.
If I don’t grow stronger... I will forever remain a joke.
He clenched his jaw inwardly.
He had seen true strength.
And once someone sees a mountain, they can no longer pretend a hill is impressive.
Mana surged through his meridians. His spiritual core trembled under the strain.
I cannot let Father down again.
Outside, Maria’s eyes shimmered with both pride and worry.
"Honey," she whispered, "ever since he came back, he has been hiding in his room to cultivate almost every day. Will he... fall ill from holding everything inside?"
She was a mother before she was a strategist.
Harrier pondered for a moment. His stern expression softened.
"You are right. Cultivation cannot be forced in a single breath. Walking the world broadens the heart."
He pushed the door open.
The sound of wood shifting snapped Harry from meditation instantly.
He opened his eyes and rose without hesitation.
"Father. Mother. Why are you here?"
There was no annoyance. No impatience.
Only respect.
Harrier studied him carefully.
This was not an act.
"Harry," he said gently, "cultivation requires balance between effort and rest. You cannot progress simply by locking yourself inside. Go out. Walk the city. See the geniuses of the world. Understand your own shortcomings."
Harry’s heart trembled.
In the past, he had begged to go out—and was denied.
Now his father encouraged him.
It meant trust.
It meant recognition.
"Yes, Father," he replied with a sincere smile. "I understand."
Maria stepped forward, adjusting his collar slightly—an old habit from childhood.
"Don’t push yourself too hard," she said softly. "Strength without health is meaningless."
Harry nodded.
"I’ll remember."
Harrier waved a hand lightly.
"Go. I’ll have Elder Black accompany you."
Harry did not refuse.
Truthfully, he had been avoiding the streets.
Ashford City once belonged to him—at least in his mind. But after that humiliation... he feared running into Leon again.
But now—
He straightened his back.
A few minutes later, he stepped out in a red silk robe, elegant but understated. A folding fan rested in his hand. His black hair was tied neatly behind him, green eyes sharper than before.
Elder Black followed quietly.
The streets of Ashford City bustled with life.
Vendors shouted. Children laughed. The scent of roasted meat and fresh tea lingered in the air.
Harry walked slowly, no longer strutting.
People noticed the change.
"That’s Young Master Taylor..."
"He seems... different."
He heard the whispers.
He ignored them.
Each step felt lighter.
Maybe Father was right.
The world was larger than pride.
They passed through the central avenue where banners fluttered lazily above tiled rooftops.
Harry’s gaze lifted.
Ahead stood a grand structure—two stories tall, carved wooden balconies, red lanterns swaying.
The Whitelist Restaurant.
He stopped.
"Whitelist Restaurant?" he murmured, fanning himself lightly.
Elder Black glanced at him.
"Young Master?"
Harry’s lips curved slightly.
"Let’s eat here."
But inside—
His thoughts were far more complex.
If I am to grow... I must observe the world calmly.
Strength isn’t just about Mana.
It’s about control.
On the street— Harry stepped toward the entrance of the Whitelist Restaurant.
The noise of the city faded slightly as he paused beneath its shadow.
For the first time in his life—He did not enter a place to flaunt status.
He entered quietly.
Changed.
And determined.
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