By the time the sun slipped behind the horizon, Heavenly Peak felt strangely alive. Not thriving yet, but no longer a silent tomb on a forgotten mountain. Haoran stood at the courtyard edge, looking at the sky turning a soft amber, wondering how long it had been since anyone at this sect had looked at a sunset without feeling hopeless.
Ruolan swept debris into piles with controlled motion. She still handled everything with that same cautious restraint—like at any second, her strength might break something she didn't mean to. Haoran watched her carefully shift a cracked beam aside, her breath held the whole time.
"You can relax a little," Haoran said.
Ruolan paused. "If I relax, I'll break the mountain."
"That's… a fair point," he admitted.
Zhang Iron-Eater was sitting cross-legged near the well, gnawing on a scrap of metal he'd insisted on keeping. The metallic crunching echoed through the courtyard like some bizarre background music.
Haoran called out, "Zhang, can you maybe not eat the tools we're trying to fix the sect with?"
Zhang blinked. "Master, this is just a nail."
"That's still a tool."
"It's a small one," Zhang argued, as if that improved the situation.
The System chimed in with a tone that somehow combined approval and disdain.
[Host, your disciples possess a unique combination of talent and lack of common sense.]
Haoran muttered, "Wonder who they learned that from."
[If you're implying yourself, that is correct.]
Haoran looked away before he said something he'd regret.
They worked in companionable silence for a while, and the mountain wind swept through the courtyard, cool and steady. The cracked spirit well hummed faintly, releasing wisps of thin qi. Not much, but enough to feel like a heartbeat.
Ruolan straightened, brushing dust from her clothes. "Master… I never thanked you."
"For what?"
"For not being afraid of me," she said quietly. "Most people were."
Haoran shook his head. "I'm afraid of everything. I'm just good at pretending."
Her expression flickered, almost a smile.
The System chimed in lazily.
[Host's emotional honesty detected. Mark the calendar. It may not happen again.]
Haoran ignored it, mostly because it was probably right.
They finished cleaning what they could. It wasn't impressive—half a courtyard cleared, a few broken boards sorted, a chicken temporarily bribed with grain so it would stop trying to attack Haoran—but the difference was undeniable.
Ruolan exhaled softly. "It feels… peaceful."
"Peaceful is good," Haoran said. "Let's enjoy it while it lasts."
As if offended by the idea, the System chimed.
[Host, enjoy your peace. It won't last. The next phase of sect development begins soon.]
Haoran frowned. "Next phase? Already?"
[Yes. The sect will require food, resources, and a stable qi flow soon. Also stamina training for disciples, formation repair, and—]
"Stop," Haoran said. "One disaster at a time."
The System clicked its metaphorical tongue.
[Your rate of improvement is slow, Host. But expected.]
Ruolan stepped closer. "Master, the sect may be small… but it feels like it has a future."
Haoran paused.
He looked around—the cracked stones, the half-ruined halls, the egg tucked carefully near the pillar, the slightly humming spirit well, Zhang crunching metal like it was a life philosophy, and Ruolan's steady, fragile hope.
He nodded.
"It does," he said. "It really does."
A breeze swept through the courtyard, stirring dust and lifting the corners of fallen leaves. The mountain seemed to breathe with them, as if acknowledging its new inhabitants.
Zhang spoke up suddenly. "Master, the egg moved."
Haoran jolted. "What?"
"It twitched," Zhang said. "Just once."
Ruolan turned sharply toward the alcove. "Is it hatching?"
The System chimed, almost amused.
[Host, your guardian beast will awaken soon. Prepare yourself mentally.]
Haoran swallowed. "Is it dangerous?"
[Depends. On how it feels about your cooking.]
"…System, I swear—"
[Be prepared, Host. The sect's next step is coming.]
Haoran looked toward the alcove where the egg lay quietly glowing in the dim light.
Something was definitely beginning.
And it wouldn't be small.