Arlen’s attempt to rescue me turned into a battle almost immediately.
The moment he started walking away from the meeting hall, at least thirty people stood up and followed. The old man didn’t even make it ten steps before stopping.
A collective groan spread through the crowd. Apparently everyone already knew what was coming.
Arlen slowly turned around and looked at the procession trailing behind us.
Nobody seemed particularly ashamed. Several people even smiled.
One man had the audacity to wave. For a few seconds, neither side spoke.
Then Arlen sighed.
"I am taking him home."
"We know."
"Good."
His expression remained perfectly calm.
"Then you should also know that following us defeats the purpose."
A woman folded her arms.
"We aren’t following you."
"You are literally standing behind me."
"We’re walking in the same direction."
"There are three hundred possible directions."
"We like this one."
Several people nodded in agreement.
Arlen closed his eyes. I got the distinct impression this wasn’t a new experience.
Eventually he pointed toward the crowd.
"Go away."
"No."
"Go away."
"No."
The argument continued for another minute before Arlen finally resorted to threatening everyone. The reaction was immediate and people vanished.
Not gradually.
Vanished.
One moment there were dozens of them standing around us. The next there were perhaps four.
Arlen nodded with satisfaction.
"Much better."
I stared.
"What exactly did you threaten them with?"
"Physical activity."
His expression was so stiff that I couldn’t tell whether he was joking. The terrifying part was that I wasn’t sure he was.
We left the meeting hall behind and continued deeper into the district.
Without the crowd surrounding us, I finally had the chance to properly observe everything around me.
The area nearest the gathering hall was clearly the busiest part of the district. Families occupied every street. The deeper we traveled, however, the more the atmosphere changed.
The streets widened. The buildings became older. These weren’t residences built recently by younger generations looking for space.
These were homes that had existed long enough to become part of the district itself. I found myself studying the architecture as we walked.
No two buildings looked alike.
Some resembled ancient estates from old history books.
Others seemed designed by people who had looked at conventional architecture and decided it was merely a suggestion.
"Nobody ever considered planning regulations?"
Arlen followed my gaze.
"They tried."
"What happened?"
"Dean."
I nodded like that explained everything.
We walked in silence for a while after that.
Unlike the awkward silence that often appeared between strangers, this one felt comfortable. Arlen didn’t seem like a man who spoke simply because empty space existed in a conversation.
I found that I preferred it.
Eventually the old man glanced in my direction.
"You’ve been looking around since we left."
"Can you blame me?"
"No."
A faint smile appeared.
"The first time is usually overwhelming."
"I think that’s an understatement."
The old man nodded toward the distant hills.
"What you’ve seen so far is only our lineage district."
I nearly missed a step.
"Only?"
"Only."
I stared at him.
The district already felt large enough to be considered a small city.
Arlen looked entirely unbothered.
"The settlement contains multiple major branches. Some are larger than ours. Some are smaller."
The scale of the Ironhart family had already exceeded anything I considered reasonable.
Apparently I hadn’t reached the unreasonable part yet.
Fortunately, before my brain could spend too much time contemplating the logistics of managing several thousand immortal relatives, we arrived at our destination.
The residence sat atop a gentle rise overlooking much of the district. Unlike some of the extravagant homes we had passed earlier, this one felt surprisingly ordinary.
The entire place radiated warmth. For reasons I couldn’t quite explain, it immediately felt different from everywhere else.
Arlen pushed open the gate.
"We’re here."
Before I could ask where exactly "here" was, the front door opened.
A woman emerged.
She wasn’t what I expected.
After meeting Dean and Arlen, I had unconsciously assumed the older generations of the family would possess the same sort of overwhelming presence that powerful cultivators often developed.
Instead, the woman walking toward us looked remarkably ordinary.
Not weak.
But approachable.
Silver hair framed a face lined by countless years of laughter rather than hardship, and her eyes immediately settled on me with an intensity that somehow felt warmer than any smile.
Then she looked at Arlen.
"Move."
The old man blinked. With the dignity of a man who had lost the argument long before it started, he stepped aside.
The woman ignored him completely. Her attention returned to me. For several seconds she simply studied my face. The way somebody might look at an old photograph they never expected to see again.
Then her smile widened.
"Oh, he’s definitely one of ours."
I blinked.
"How can you tell?"
"The expression."
"What expression?"
"The one you’re making right now."
That explained absolutely nothing to me. Unfortunately, she appeared completely satisfied with the answer.
A moment later she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me.
The hug was so sudden that my brain temporarily stopped functioning. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged me without warning.
The woman released me a few seconds later and nodded to herself.
"Good."
Apparently that settled the matter. Arlen rubbed his forehead.
"Jess."
"What?"
The old man gave up immediately. Judging by his expression, experience had taught him the futility of resisting.
Jess turned back toward me.
"Come inside."
Then she paused.
"No."
She frowned thoughtfully.
"Actually, wait."
She looked toward the house.
Then toward me.
Then back toward the house.
A dangerous realization appeared in her eyes.
The speed at which she disappeared through the front door should have been physically impossible.
I stared after her.
"What just happened?"
Arlen sighed.
"You’re about to discover one of the fundamental laws of this family."
"And that is?"
"No matter how old you become, Jess will eventually decide you aren’t eating enough."
"I don’t actually need—"
"It doesn’t matter."
The certainty in his voice immediately killed the argument.
Apparently this battle had already been fought. Many times. We entered the residence a few moments later.
The interior was exactly what I would have expected after seeing the courtyard. The furniture showed signs of actual use. Family photographs and historical portraits decorated the walls. Shelves overflowed with books accumulated across countless years.
It felt like a home.
An actual home.