Harry took the token in his hand.
Ironwood Training Token Made of hardened ironwood, a spiritual tree with natural Qi resistance. It was Carved with the clan's silver leaf crest and infused with a trace of formation Qi.
It was a pass—when slotted into a stone stele at the training grounds, it activates a basic formation.
Harry remember using it all the time, back then he used to get 3 day pass in a week. but now it was only for six hours.
Harry shifted his gaze to Lyria. Her behaviour towards him was changing. She no longer felt indifferent from his actions.
She could feel love.
He put the bag of resources on the small wooden table.
Lyria sitting beside him, still frowning. "Master, you shouldn't have gone yourself. Those people… they look at you like..."
"Like I'm already dead?" Harry finished with a laugh. "Let them. Dead people Haunts the most."
He tapped his chest. "From now on, believe me I have a way to heal."
Lyria stared at him for a moment. This confidence… it wasn't the same Harry she knew. But her heart beat faster just hearing him say it. She knew this guy better than anyone. He was a generational talent if he got his ability to cultivate back then there was nothing that could stop him.
"Rest yourself," she said, quickly turning away. "I'll prepare the dinner."
In some time The smell of warm stew filled the house. Harry leaned on the table, his chin resting on his palm, watching Lyria move around the kitchen.
Her hands were quick. She hummed softly while cutting vegetables.
"You look beautiful when you cook," Harry said out of nowhere.
The knife slipped in her hand almost dropping it. "M-Master!" Her face turned red instantly. "Don't joke like that…"
"I'm not joking." He smirked. "I was blind before. Now I can see clearly."
Harry knew the strange relation between Previous Harry and Lyria. She did gave Harry some chances to claim her but with the time his aloffness and indifference had affected her.
Now she no longer saw him in that way but it was something that Harry needed to break. It was a slow process perhaps not so slow.
Lyria's ears burned. She put the bowl of stew down in front of him, refusing to meet his eye.
"Eat before it gets cold."
Harry picked up the spoon but stopped. Instead, he leaned forward and said, "Feed me again."
Her eyes widened. "What? No, you can eat by yourself—"
"Didn't you feed me yesterday?" Harry teased.
It was positive sign that she was shy.
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Finally, with a small pout, she sat beside him and scooped a spoonful of stew.
"Fine… open your mouth."
Harry leaned close, opening his mouth slowly.
"Mmm," he said, licking a bit of stew from the edge. "Tastes even better when you feed me."
Lyria's cheeks turned crimson. Her hand trembled as she brought the next spoonful, and this time, a drop of stew slid down his chin.
"Ah, sorry—" She quickly wiped it with her fingers.
"Didn't I tell you not to apologize?"
Before she could move, he leaned forward and licked the stew from her fingers.
Her whole body froze. Her face was as red as fire. "M-Master…!"
Harry's eyes locked with hers. His voice dropped, low and warm.
"Call me Harry. Not Master. Not when it's just us."
She couldn't answer. Her chest rose and fell quickly, the clothes clutching to her breasts was mistifying but he controlled himself.
The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing. The stew sat forgotten on the table.
Harry moved closer, his forehead almost touching hers. "Lyria… thank you. You stayed when no one else did. Without you, I'd have been nothing."
Her eyes sparkled. "I… I only did what I had to. You've always been…" She bit her lip. "…important to me."
Harry brushed her hair back, his fingers brushing her cheek.
"Then don't be just my caretaker." His voice was steady, serious. But he stopped before saying anything else. He let her imagination run wild.
Her heart beat so loud. she thought he could hear it. Her lips parted, trembling.
"I…"
But she couldn't finish. She lowered her head, face burning, yet she didn't move away. Her small hand stayed in his, warm and soft.
Harry smiled, satisfied. The bond wasn't complete yet, but the first spark was there.
His hands brushed against her breasts by mistake while retreating. Lyria flinched the stew splashed down Harry's chest, hot and sticky. He cursed under his breath and tore off his robe.
The atmosphere died down bringing her permanent servile character back. "Sorry Master, I was careless. Come, i'll clean you."
She fetched warm water, her hands steady as she wiped his chest. To her, this was nothing unusual—she had cared for his body many times when he was weak. Her fingers moved with experience, sliding the cloth over his skin.
But Harry's eyes followed her this time unlike allof Harry. Every touch, every movement of her hand made his gaze sharpen.
"You've done this a lot, haven't you?" Harry asked softly.
"Yes," she replied simply, clutching the cloth.
Harry chuckled. "Maybe. But it feels different now."
She blinked at him, confused, but went on cleaning. When her hand dipped lower across his stomach, Harry didn't look away like before. Instead, he leaned back slightly, watching her with an unreadable smile.
The stew had went to his private parts making a mess.
"Come I have to bathe you" she said as if it was nothing special or awkward.
Soon she led him to the bath. Steam rose as the tub filled, the water rippling in the dim light.
Harry sank in with a sigh. "Better already."
Lyria knelt beside him, sleeves rolled up, and began washing him as she always did. Her hands moved without hesitation, sliding over his arms, chest, back. She was focused, almost professional. Her breast danced in symphony with every move.
Harry's eyes lingered, He noticed the way her wet hair clung to her neck, the way her lips pressed together when she concentrated.
"You really don't see what you're doing, do you?" Harry asked feeling uncomfortable himself.
How could someone touch other person intimately and that with straight face.
"What do you mean?" she tilted her head.
"You touch me like it's nothing."
Her hands paused for a moment, then resumed. She tried to brush off his words, but her cheeks warmed.
She just realised that things were changing between them. There was expectation somewhere in her heart.
Her hands were trembling showing that it was no longer just routine, there was a spark in between. She gathered all her strength and reached lower, cleaning his thighs and then moved upper private places as she always had, Harry's gaze darkened. Before, he would have sat in silence, embarrassed or ashamed. But now, it wasn't old Harry.