The birthing room was hushed, the air heavy with the scent of herbs and candle wax.
Betty had just given birth, her strength spent after bringing their newest child into the world.
Dorothy, ever the commanding matriarch, ordered the maids to swiftly clear away the afterbirth, ensuring the room was pristine.
Only then did she allow Paul to enter, her stern nod a silent approval.
Stepping inside, Paul's eyes immediately found Betty, resting on the bed, her once-rosy cheeks now pale as moonlight.
The toll of childbirth had drained her vitality, leaving her fragile yet radiant in her quiet strength.
"Betty," Paul said softly, his voice thick with emotion, "you've worked so hard."
He crossed the room in three strides, his heart aching at the sight of her exhaustion.
Betty's lips curved into a faint smile, warmed by his concern. "It's not hard at all."
Her voice was soft but steady, her eyes meeting his with a spark of affection.
They exchanged tender words, their voices low, the intimacy of the moment wrapping them like a warm cloak.
Paul's gaze then shifted to the newborn cradled in a soft blanket nearby.
This child was a girl, their sixth, and already something extraordinary.
Average-grade heirs, it seemed, were a breed apart.
Most newborns emerged wrinkled and red, like tiny old men, needing weeks to soften into their true form.
Not this one.
Paul's daughter was a vision—her skin smooth and alabaster, her cheeks flushed with a delicate pink glow.
She was adorable, delicate as a porcelain doll, her tiny features already hinting at future beauty.
"Well, aren't you just perfect," Paul murmured, a grin spreading across his face as he reached out to tickle her tiny hand.
The baby, as if sensing her father's delight, responded with gusto.
Her little arms flailed, her fingers grasping Paul's with surprising strength, a bubbly giggle escaping her lips.
Betty watched the scene, her pale face softening with a warm, radiant smile, her heart swelling at the bond between father and daughter.
Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, she propped herself up slightly. "Paul, you haven't named our daughter yet!"
Paul paused, stroking his chin, his eyes flickering with pride as he gazed at the child.
"Bellatrix," he declared after a moment. "Bellatrix Brown."
The system had rated her Battle Aura aptitude as medium—leagues above his own modest talent.
This girl was destined to become a formidable swordswoman, a warrior to make the House Brown Family proud.
The name Bellatrix, meaning "female warrior," was perfect for her future.
As if sensing her father's grand expectations, Bellatrix let out a bright, gurgling laugh, her tiny face alight with joy.
"Hmph, look at you, already stealing hearts," Paul chuckled, his chest swelling with pride.
Months passed in a blur.
Raising an Average-grade heir, it seemed, took a heavier toll on Betty than her previous pregnancies.
Her body, though still vibrant, had been pushed to its limits, the strain more pronounced than before.
Paul spared no expense to ensure her recovery, spending nearly half a year's worth of the manor's income on a single vial of premium Elixirs.
The cost—hundreds of gold coins—put a strain on the House Brown Family's coffers, leaving their finances precariously tight.
But Betty's health was worth every coin, and Paul wouldn't hear otherwise.
To offset the expense, he turned to the wilds, venturing into the forests near their estate to hunt Manabeasts.
With his Tier 6 Warrior strength and mastery of the 5-Star Gale Blade Technique, the low-tier creatures lurking in the forest's outskirts were no match for him.
A single slash, imbued with swirling Battle Aura, could fell a beast in an instant, their bodies crumpling like paper.
In just half a month, Paul's hunts yielded a haul: three Wind Wolves, four Aqua Arrow Hares, and five Earthspike Beetles.
These were mere Tier 1 to 3 Manabeasts, but their hides, bones, flesh, and Mana Cores fetched a tidy sum.
Each beast sold for a dozen or so gold coins, netting Paul over a hundred in total after a quick deal with a traveling merchant.
The thrill of the hunt—and the gold—hooked him.
When he wasn't doting on Bellatrix or tending to Betty, Paul roamed the forest, his blade flashing under the canopy, seeking the next prize.
His days were full, a whirlwind of family, duty, and the rush of the hunt.
A year later, things had shifted.
Betty, weary from years of near-constant pregnancy, had put her foot down, insisting on precautions during their intimate moments.
No new children meant no new system rewards, and Paul's cultivation had stalled, his strength unchanged from the previous year.
But Paul wasn't one to sit idle.
Drawing on knowledge from his past life, he'd launched a bold venture: a brewery in Oakleaf Village, the heart of their estate.
Using his understanding of distillation, he crafted a beer with a bold, unique flavor—affordable yet irresistible.
With savvy marketing, the brew became a sensation, spreading like wildfire through neighboring towns.
The brewery didn't just line their pockets; it transformed Oakleaf Village into a bustling hub of trade.
In less than a year, the House Brown Family's wealth had multiplied several times over, gold flowing like a river.
Of course, such a lucrative enterprise couldn't be monopolized by a mere baron family.
To secure distribution, Paul shared the beer's sales rights with powerful nobles in nearby towns, forging a web of alliances.
This network of shared profits catapulted the House Brown Family's influence, elevating them from obscurity to a rising force in the local aristocracy.
No longer were they overlooked in noble circles—Paul's name carried weight now.
Still, his ambitions stretched beyond wealth and status.
The memory of the system's rewards for Bellatrix's Average-grade aptitude—a tenfold surge in Battle Aura and the Gale Blade Technique—burned in his mind.
He craved more, eager to unlock greater rewards with another high-aptitude heir.
Betty, now rested after a year's reprieve, was open to the idea.
She'd seen the fire in Paul's eyes, felt his unwavering devotion, and knew how much their growing family meant to him.
After months of preparation, fueled by love and shared purpose, Betty conceived again.
To boost their chances of producing another high-aptitude heir, Paul spared no expense.
He scoured markets for the finest Elixirs, each vial designed to nourish Betty's body and the growing fetus.
From shimmering potions that glowed with faint starlight to tonics infused with rare herbs, he ensured she had the best, no matter the cost.