The crushing weight of the system's pronouncement, the blunt assessment of his "mortal" aptitude, seemed to settle upon Ye Wushang like a leaden cloak. Ye Wushang had never thought himself exceptional, not in his previous life and certainly not now, but to be labeled so unequivocally… it rankled.
He paced up and down in the confine of his courtyard, the rhythmic clicking sound of his boots on the stone path contrasting with the turmoil in his mind. The Ye Family had long taken pride in their own lineage, in the strength of their bloodline, passed down from generation to generation of dedicated cultivators. To be told that he, the last scion of that line, was but a possible ordinary man. it seemed a betrayal of their inheritance.
**"[Warning: Host is displaying extreme mood swings. The host is cautioned to stabilize emotions for optimal integration.]
Thankfully, it remained silent.
His gaze wandered to the corner of the courtyard, where a scrawny old plum tree stood guard. It was, in fact, a testament to time passing and to endurance: the very branches were twisted and scarred, thrust toward the heavens as if it dared the stormy skies that they had assailed for centuries. There, under its shade, his father spent hours instructing and telling stories of the storied past of the Ye Family.
A wave of sorrow was sharper and more unexpected as it hit him. His father, Ye Batian, stood for unwavering convictions, a beacon of strength in an unpredictable world. He had the aura of power: physical and spiritual; a symbol that earned respect and loyalty from whoever served him. He never knew what happened to his brothers, but now he had lost himself in there with the man, and the uncertainty had been left hanging out like an open sore in Ye Wushang's life.
The system, it seemed, had felt enough was enough at that moment.
**"[Analysis: Playing off of the host's emotional lead, it is very probable that the host is grieving over an aspect of bereavement at the loss of a parental figure. Understandable as this may be, however, it must be remembered at all times that the best interests of the host currently lies in seeing to the continuation of the family line by having a child or children with a good potential for development.]
"Enough!" Ye Wushang bellowed, his voice a crash in the quiet courtyard. "My father and brothers are gone, vanished into thin air, and you dare to lecture me about producing heirs? Have you no sense of decency, no understanding of loss?"
The system, for once, seemed to hesitate.
**"Explanation: The plan is devised to allow survival of the lineage as well as prosperity for the host only in the long run. Though the system understands that emotional and psychological strengths have been developed through recent happenings, its primary role is to ensure the production of offspring with extraordinary cultivation talent."
"Cultivation talent?" Ye Wushang snorted. "You make it sound so easy as if it were anything but a combination of chance and circumstance. What do you know of the intracies of relationships, of the ties that bind families? Do you even understand the idea of love?
**" "[Analysis: The system knows there are emotional bonds existing, and they do influence human action. However, statistically speaking, having offspring with higher cultivation value is exponentially increased when…"]**
Ye Wushang tuned out the drone of the system's voice. He had heard enough. This system-with all its cold calculations, its zealous focus on offspring and cultivation potential-had no understanding of the nuances of human emotion, of sacrifice for family, of love that bound people together despite unimaginable loss.
He remembered the face of his mother, with lines of worry on it, the effervescence of spirit soured by sorrow. He remembered the grave countenances of the elders of the Ye Family. Now, all their hopes squarely rested on his shoulders. He remembered the loyalty of servants, never wavering for a moment amidst the tragedy that had befallen their masters.
He would not let them down. He would not allow the Ye Family to crack under the pressure of this disaster. He would be a credit to his father's name, not by acting out some set of dogmatic rules of some uncaring, hopeless institution, but by redeeming their heritage himself, by making his own path in this land of agricultural posterity.
The system, he thought, could wait. He had other things he needed to do-he had a family to console, a future to plan, a destiny to defy.