After stepping out of the Zhou Residence, Su Ming didn't waste a single moment lingering in Qingshi Town. He headed straight down the dirt path that led to Su Family Village.

This road—he had walked it countless times back when he was striving for scholarly honor, trying to carve out a livelihood for his family. Even with his eyes closed, he could still remember every pothole, every dirt ridge along the way.

But now, the road had changed.

What used to be a muddy, knee-deep quagmire after every rain was now packed flat and smooth. Near the village entrance, it had even been paved with a layer of fine gravel, clearly bearing the marks of heavy carts passing through repeatedly.

Su Ming walked at a steady, unhurried pace, but Zhou Wenhai's words involuntarily surfaced in his mind—

“Your family moved back to Su Family Village a couple of years ago.”

Su Ming remembered the slight pause in his hand as he gripped the spoon when he heard that.

“Your second brother has too much pride. After two years in town, even though life was stable, he always felt like he was living on someone else's charity—it made him uneasy.” Teacher Zhou had stroked his beard as he spoke, a hint of emotion in his voice. “Plus, with the heat from Yongchang Marquis cooling down these past few years, he made the call on his own and moved the whole family back.”

Su Ming had fallen silent for a moment, but inside, he understood completely.

He knew Su Yang's temperament better than anyone. On the surface, his second brother seemed honest and unassuming, but deep down, he carried the stubborn pride of a man who had tilled the earth his whole life. Living off someone else's goodwill for too long—even if that someone was a benefactor like Teacher Zhou—was worse than death for him. Moving back had only been a matter of time.

Teacher Zhou had paused briefly before adding, “The paper-making operation you left behind is still running, and it's only grown bigger. Now, thanks to that paper mill, every household in Su Family Village has prospered. Everyone in the village respects your family. Your second brother? His word carries more weight around there than the Village Chief's. No one dares to bully them.”

Thinking back to that, a faint smile tugged at the corner of Su Ming's lips.

Second Brother was still Second Brother. No matter where he went, he never let himself be taken advantage of.

But then…

Su Ming lifted his head, staring at the outline of the village growing closer ahead, and a complex surge of emotions swelled within him.

Five years.

He didn't know what his second brother—the one who had once dared to venture into the deep mountains to fight for his sake—had become now. He didn't know if his parents were still healthy. He didn't even know if returning in his current identity would bring them trouble instead of fortune.

Whenever a cultivator got involved in mortal affairs, what followed was rarely blessing—it was disaster.

Su Ming took a deep breath and quickened his pace.

The old tree at the village entrance was still there, only thicker than he remembered from five years ago. Though its branches and leaves had turned withered and yellow, the gnarled trunk exuded a tenacious vitality.

Beneath it, several smooth bluestone slabs were occupied by a few old men smoking pipe tobacco and chatting as they soaked up the sun.

Su Ming didn't slow down. He walked past them at an even pace.

“Hey, that young man looks unfamiliar. Which village is he from?” One old man tapped his pipe, squinting his blurry eyes as he studied Su Ming's back.

“Who knows? Probably another assistant working for some merchant who's come to buy paper. How many unfamiliar faces have passed through our village these past few years?” Another old man waved dismissively and went back to puffing on his pipe.

No one recognized him.

Su Ming pressed down on his bamboo hat, a faint, barely perceptible smile curling at his lips.

Su Family Village really had changed.

Stepping onto the gravel path and entering the village, the scene that unfolded before him made even Su Ming's breathing slow for a moment.

The main village road was no longer the muddy track of years past. It was now paved with neatly laid bluestone slabs. On both sides, most of the rundown thatched huts from back then had disappeared, replaced by over a dozen newly built houses with gleaming blue roof tiles. The courtyard walls were taller and far more imposing now, and from behind them, he could faintly hear the clucking of chickens, the quacking of ducks, and the cheerful, scolding laughter of women.

In the air, there was a faint scent of fermented paper pulp.

Everything was silently telling him: over the past five years, the villagers' lives had improved far more than before.

And the source of it all—was the Su family. It was the paper-making technique he had left behind, combined with the brilliant scheme of binding the entire village's interests together.

Su Ming walked east, heading toward where the old family home should be.

The old house sat at the easternmost edge of the village, right next to a lush bamboo grove. From a distance, Su Ming stopped.

The original low earthen walls had been torn down, replaced by tall, sturdy walls of bluestone brick. Two thick, black-lacquered wooden doors stood tightly shut. Above the lintel hung a brand-new plaque with a black background and gold characters, reading "Su Residence" in bold calligraphy. The strokes were balanced and peaceful, clearly the work of some scholar from town.

Su Ming stood ten paces from the courtyard gate and took a deep breath.

His aura—the one belonging to a Foundation Establishment cultivator—momentarily became unstable.

From within the courtyard came the sound of children running, accompanied by laughter as clear as silver bells—giggles full of carefree joy.

Then came the voice of a young woman, laced with a hint of anxious affection: "Shitou! Don't run so fast! Watch your feet, you'll fall!"

"Let him run. Boys are better when they're tough—falls build strong bones."

This voice belonged to a man. Rough, full of vigor, carrying that particular weight of years spent in hard labor.

Su Ming's body stiffened.

Second Brother.

That was Su Yang's voice.

The young man who had once dared to venture into the deep mountains to scrape together travel money for him—now his voice carried such brimming confidence.

Su Ming slowly raised his foot. One step, two steps, until he stood before the black-lacquered wooden doors.

He reached out his hand—but now it was trembling slightly.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

His knuckles struck the wooden door, producing a dull, heavy sound.

"Who is it?"

The woman's voice came from inside the courtyard, followed by footsteps approaching.

"Creak—"

The heavy door was pulled open just a crack.

The one who opened it was a young woman. She wore a clean, flower-print padded jacket, her hair tied up in a neat bun without any hairpins or ornaments, yet it made her look remarkably brisk and efficient. A friendly smile was on her face, but when she made out the gray figure in a bamboo hat standing outside, she couldn't help but freeze for a moment.

"Sir... are you a merchant here to discuss business with my husband?" the woman asked tentatively.

Su Ming looked at her, saying nothing. He simply raised his hand slowly and took off the bamboo hat.

Thin-faced, fair-skinned, with sharp, defined features. His eyes were as deep as an ancient well, yet they reflected the courtyard before him.

She didn't recognize him immediately. She just felt that this face... looked familiar. The subtle details around his eyes and brows bore an indescribable resemblance to the man she lived with every day.

She stared blankly at Su Ming, and suddenly a thought struck her.

Could this be...?

The woman whipped her head around and let out a piercing, trembling shout toward the courtyard:

"Husband! Husband, come quick! Hurry!"

"What is it? Yelling like that—you'll scare the children!"

Heavy, hurried footsteps followed, and a tall figure strode out of the main room.