《Divine Usurper: Reborn from the Ashes》

Chapter 5 The Crippled Magic-Martial Prodigy

As Qin Mufeng pondered silently, the maid named Xiaoya spoke to comfort the woman: “Madam, please don’t worry. Even High Priest Dawo’er said the young master’s life isn’t in danger. Judging by his appearance, he’ll surely wake up soon.”

Her words startled Qin Mufeng. This girl’s sharp—can she tell I’m already awake? But then he smirked inwardly, mocking himself. She’s just saying that to ease the madam’s mind—a well-meaning guess that happened to hit the mark. I’m only flustered because I feel like a thief caught in the act.

Hearing Xiaoya’s reassurance, the madam reached out with soft hands, brushing them across Qin Mufeng’s forehead. Surprised, she exclaimed, “Xiaoya, you’re right! Feng’er’s complexion looks much better than before!”

Encouraged by the madam’s words, Xiaoya boldly touched Qin Mufeng’s forehead as well, then chimed in excitedly, “It’s true, Madam! The young master’s forehead isn’t as hot anymore. It won’t be long before he wakes up!”

Her confirmation brought a relieved laugh from the madam, filling the room with a sound of pure ease. Qin Mufeng, sensing the hidden worry that had laced with her earlier words, felt an unexpected warmth well up inside him. Though he knew this concern was for someone else, he—an orphan rarely shown such care—couldn’t help but feel touched.

He longed to hear more of the madam’s soothing laughter, but it cut off abruptly, as if something had silenced it. Qin Mufeng yearned to peek at this woman who’d brought him a flicker of comfort, to see what had changed, but he didn’t dare. He hadn’t yet figured out what to say if he “woke up.”

A soft, mournful sigh followed, plunging the room back into a heavy stillness. Xiaoya, cowed by the madam’s quiet lament, held her breath, no longer daring to offer words of comfort. Lying there, Qin Mufeng listened to the helpless, sorrowful sighs, and a faint sting pricked the corners of his eyes.

“Xiaoya, that woman couldn’t hold back in the end. For the sake of the family head’s position, she still made a move against Feng’er!” the madam said.

From her tone, Qin Mufeng detected a fiery rage, yet beneath it simmered a deep well of resignation. Her words sparked a thought in his mind: What’s this about? Is someone targeting the original owner of this body I’m in?

Before he could unravel the mystery, the madam sighed again, not waiting for Xiaoya’s reply. “It’s all my fault. I never trained in martial arts with my father, always thinking everything would be fine as long as he was around. Now look—since something happened to him, I can’t even protect Feng’er!”

“Madam, don’t fret. The old master will be fine. He’s the mightiest ninth-rank powerhouse in our Frey Kingdom—no one can touch him. Besides, there’s still the family head. The young master is his eldest son; he won’t let the second madam do as she pleases,” Xiaoya replied, her voice gentle and cautious as she tried to ease her mistress’s burden.

Family head? Ninth-rank powerhouse? Frey Kingdom? Where am I, and what’s going on? Qin Mufeng’s mind churned into chaos, tangled by their conversation. As he sifted through the jumbled details, the madam spoke again—this time, her tone no longer soft but laced with bitter resentment.

“Him? He couldn’t care less about Feng’er’s life! His heart’s set only on the Qin family. Anything that benefits the family’s revival, he’s eager to do; anything that doesn’t, he ignores completely! Feng’er’s a magic-martial cripple—useless to the Qin family and nothing but a burden. Now that I’m of no value to him either, why would he spare a thought for us mother and son?”

Her words dissolved into sobs, a heart-wrenching sound that pierced the air. Hearing her gut-wrenching cries and Xiaoya’s soft consolations, Qin Mufeng couldn’t hold back any longer. He let out a faint cough.

That small sound worked wonders. The madam, who’d been weeping like a rainstorm, stopped instantly at the noise. She rushed to his side, grabbing him in a frantic embrace, her voice trembling with incoherent joy: “Feng’er, my Feng’er! You’re awake—you’re finally awake!”

Before opening his eyes, Qin Mufeng had already resolved to observe more and speak less. Still “ill,” he could use his condition as an excuse to gather clues about where he was. Struggling to lift his lids, he faced the tear-streaked madam. After a long pause, he mustered a hesitant word in a language he somehow knew: “Mother.”

That single word—“Mother”—was one he’d rehearsed countless times in secret as an orphan. Though now it was just a ploy to navigate this awkward moment, it carried a trace of genuine emotion. Hearing it, the madam’s tears flowed anew, a mix of grief and joy. She clutched his hand tightly, her tears falling like broken pearls down her pale face.

Through those glistening drops, Qin Mufeng saw her clearly. She was a delicate, refined woman—not strikingly beautiful, but graced with a rare, tranquil charm. Her fair skin, framed by soft black hair, exuded a scholarly air, her poise elegant and composed. One glance stirred an instinctive pity in anyone who saw her.

This must be the mother of this body’s original owner, Qin Mufeng thought. What a blessing to have such a gentle, caring mother. But then it hit him: Wait—she’s my mother now, isn’t she?

He knew that speaking too much risked exposing himself—one wrong word could betray him. Caution was key. Yet, with his throat parched, he rasped, “Water… water… I need water.”

At his faint plea, the madam snapped into action. “Xiaoya, quick—fetch water! Feng’er’s thirsty!”

Xiaoya hurried to obey, handing a silver cup to the madam. Only then did Qin Mufeng get a good look at the maid.

Her brows arched like spring hills, her hands soft as tender shoots, her skin smooth as cream. A melon-seed face framed by vibrant green hair gave her a fresh, captivating allure. Her eyes, fringed with thick lashes, shimmered like a moonlit spring, rippling with light and color. In an instant, Qin Mufeng’s heart turned to a pebble, sinking into that dazzling pool with a plop. He hadn’t expected this maid to outshine the madam—whom he now called “Mother”—by a full seven measures of beauty!

But he had no time to linger on her looks. Moving his lips weakly, he gulped down the water from the cup. Noticing the anxious hope in the madam’s eyes, he saw her face glow with an irrepressible love—a warmth like soft sunlight, soothing and serene. Yet Qin Mufeng couldn’t bask in it. Better to faint again, he decided.