Oh no! My grandmother made me shoulder the responsibility for eight households!

Chapter 584 Orderly Succession

Lin Nian'er is now 125 years old and has the cultivation level of a True Monarch in its early stages.

Dressed in white, her long hair loosely tied back with a silver hairpin, as the tip of her sword pierced the dawn, silver sword energy was pushed out from her palm, like an arc of light cutting through the air.

The old osmanthus tree in the courtyard was pulled by the sword energy, and its petals fell down with a rustling sound. Halfway down, they were caught by her sword wind and circled around her again and again, like a group of gentle butterflies circling around a lamp.

Someone clapped twice at the entrance of the courtyard.

Lin Nian'er sheathed her sword and turned around. Liu Ruyan was leaning against the door frame, still holding a teacup in her hand.

"You've been practicing for an hour, let's take a break."

Lin Nian'er sheathed her sword, walked over, took the handkerchief Liu Ruyan handed her, and wiped her face.

"When my father taught me this move, what did he say again? He said that you can only master a sword if you can stop it. Those who only know how to thrust it outwards are just reckless fools."

Liu Ruyan chuckled: "Eighty out of a hundred things your father says are nonsense."

"What about the remaining twenty lines?"

"Those twenty sentences are nonsense."

Lin Nian'er was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter: "Mother, you've become naughty."

"You learned it from your dad."

The mother and daughter walked out side by side. When they reached the moon gate, Lin Nian'er suddenly turned around and glanced at the old locust tree.

The wind blew, the leaves of the trees rustled, and a few new leaves on the treetops were still trembling gently.

"Mother," she suddenly said, "what do you think Father is doing at the top of the tower right now?"

Liu Ruyan also glanced back at the northwest direction.

"Just sit there, like when you were practicing kung fu as a kid. Sit with your eyes closed and don't move at all."

"Sit there for a hundred years?"

"Your father, well..." Liu Ruyan took a step forward.

"He's never been one to sit still. Now that there are external threats, he has a heavy burden on his shoulders, and it's tough on him."

Lin Nian'er hummed in agreement and followed her toward the main courtyard.

She took a couple of steps, then turned her head to look in the direction of the Tower of Babel, before quickly catching up with her mother.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The Flame Empire, the Imperial Palace.

Lin Nianhuo, dressed in a red dress, sat on the main seat in the hall, with a fire unicorn spewing sparks at her feet.

She raised her hand and flipped it over, condensing a ball of crimson-gold flame in her palm. She tossed it toward the top of the hall, and the flame exploded in mid-air, illuminating the entire hall like a giant lamp.

"Dismissed, dismissed." She waved her hand. "Today's court assembly is over. Those with matters to report, please submit your memorials; those without, please leave the assembly."

All the civil and military officials stood up in unison, bowed, and left without lingering.

Everyone knows that this young empress has a fiery temper, and if you stay even a moment longer, she might pelt you with fireballs.

After everyone had left, Lin Nianhuo leaned back in her chair and stretched.

The fire-breathing qilin rubbed its head against her calf, only to be slapped on the forehead by her: "Stop rubbing, it tickles."

Footsteps suddenly came from outside the hall; the sound arrived before the person even entered.

"Oh, Your Majesty looks quite well today."

Lin Nianhuo looked up and saw Lin Nianlang walking in gracefully, wearing a peach-colored long dress.

Lin Nianhuo raised an eyebrow: "What brings you here?"

"Just passing by." Lin Nianniang strolled around the main hall, looking left and touching right. "The Flame Palace is quite impressive."

"Isn't your Hehuan Sect impressive?"

"It's grand, but not as warm as here." Lin Nianniang sat down next to her.

"Your place is like a giant furnace all year round, while our Hehuan Sect enjoys spring-like weather all year round. It's a bit lacking."

"Your Hehuan Sect disciples, both male and female, wear thin gauze even in the dead of winter, and you call that spring-like all year round?"

"That's called good manners."

The two were arguing when a dark shadow suddenly fell from the roof of the palace.

A golden Gu worm the size of a palm fell from the beam and landed right on the table between the two people, tumbling twice before regaining its footing.

Lin Niangu's voice came from outside the hall; she was still far away, but her words arrived first:

"You two fight every time you meet. Aren't you tired of it?"

She stepped inside, dressed in black, with a cold expression, a spitting image of her mother, Chi Meng.

The golden Gu worm jumped off the table and flew back to her palm, then burrowed into her sleeve.

Lin Nianniang pouted: "She was the one who said first that my Hehuan Sect was dressed scantily."

"I'm telling the truth."

"You call that telling the truth? You call that exposing someone's shortcomings."

Lin Niangu sat down between the two and said slowly:

"You two are evenly matched, neither of you can say anything to the other. One of you has a fiery temper, and the other has a sharp tongue. When you get together, you're like oil and water."

The three of them looked at each other and then laughed at the same time.

Lin Nianhu kicked the fire qilin at her feet half an inch away: "Seriously, it's the old lady's birthday next month, are you going back?"

"Yes." Lin Nianlang nodded. "I've already had a birthday gift prepared: a landscape painting, which I embroidered myself."

"You embroidered this yourself?" Lin Nianhuo looked at her suspiciously. "The phoenix you embroidered last time, everyone said it looked like a pheasant."

"That's because they have no taste! This time is different; I've been training for three years!"

Lin Niangu said calmly, "I have been raising a longevity Gu for eighty years to celebrate the old lady's birthday, hoping to ensure she lives for another five hundred years."

Lin Nianhuo and Lin Nianlang looked at her simultaneously: "That was a bit too much of a gift."

"What, you're not satisfied?"

"I give up, how could I not?" Lin Nianlang sighed. "If I had known, I would have raised Gu worms too."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Eastern Regions, Dayan Dynasty.

Zhao Kun stood by the window of the imperial study, looking at the layers of palace eaves outside.

He has been on the throne for nearly eighty years and has reached the late stage of True Lord cultivation. He has governed the Dayan Dynasty well and the harvests have been plentiful.

He was constantly busy, reviewing countless memorials and meeting with endless court officials.

But every month he would make a trip to Dongshan Villa without fail.

He went again this month, bringing three large boxes full of things: spirit stones, pills, spirit fruits, and silk.

Zhao Lingyang was sitting in the courtyard basking in the sun when he saw him come in and smiled: "You brought so much stuff again."

Zhao Kun put down the box and dusted off his hands: "A son doesn't give his mother much."

Zhao Lingyang glanced at the three boxes, then at him: "You always bring three huge boxes every time you come. Do I really need that many by myself?"

"If you don't need it, just keep it. It makes me feel at ease if you keep it."

Zhao Lingyang paused for a moment, then smiled: "You're just like your father. You don't say nice things, but the things you do are all heartwarming."

Zhao Kun sat down next to her: "Mother, I probably won't be able to come next month. Something happened in Donghai, and I have to go there myself."

Zhao Lingyang glanced at him: "Something important?"

"It's nothing serious." Zhao Kun smiled. "It's just a few small factions causing trouble. I'll take a look and come right back."

Zhao Lingyang didn't ask any more questions. She reached out and patted Zhao Kun's hand, the warmth of her palm seeping through the fabric.

"Go ahead, be careful, and don't forget to kowtow to the Old Madam and your grandmother later."

Zhao Kun nodded.

He stood up to leave, but turned back at the gate and saw his mother sitting alone in the yard, basking in the sun, her hand on the armrest, staring blankly at his three boxes of things.

His throat moved as if he wanted to say something, but he swallowed the words back down.

He turned and walked out, his steps slower than when he came in.