The courtyard stopped feeling spacious once the number passed fifty.
At first, everything had felt light and exciting. Small groups formed naturally as people talked over one another, laughed, and tested their surroundings. Newly arrived figures stretched their arms, waved at strangers, and looked around like tourists stepping into a new attraction.
Then more arrived.
Qi gathered in the air again and again, condensing into human shapes. Each arrival added another voice, another body, another presence.
"Okay, this is insane," NeonWolf said, slowly turning in a circle.
"Where's the settings menu?" PixelFang muttered, tapping at empty air.
"I swear this place keeps getting bigger," RoofRunner said, climbing onto a crate to get a better look.
Lin Yuan stood at the edge of the courtyard and watched.
He had chosen this area carefully—open ground, clear visibility, nothing fragile. Even so, numbers changed everything. Paths formed where people walked repeatedly. Corners became gathering spots. Empty ground quietly turned into claimed space.
By the time the count crossed eighty, the noise had thickened.
By one hundred, excitement had turned into pressure.
New arrivals kept coming, and those who had arrived earlier began explaining things to them. Most of those explanations were guesses, half-truths, or confident nonsense.
"Dying's free," QuickRespawn said loudly.
"Yeah, just don't do it twice," EdgeTester laughed.
A small group drifted toward a stack of materials Ironroot had placed earlier as a boundary. Without thinking, RoofRunner stepped onto one of the beams.
Ironroot noticed immediately.
"Get down from there," he said calmly.
RoofRunner glanced over. "Relax. It's solid."
"It's not anchored," Ironroot replied. "You're standing where the load isn't supported."
RoofRunner hesitated, then hopped down. A second later, the beam shifted and sank slightly into the soil.
"…Okay," RoofRunner admitted. "Fair."
Ironroot crouched and pressed his palm against the ground, frowning.
"This soil drains poorly," he said quietly. "If it rains, this area softens first."
No one argued. Not because they fully understood, but because Ironroot spoke like someone used to being correct.
A short distance away, Warbound remained silent. He barely moved, but his eyes never stopped tracking the crowd—who talked the most, who others listened to, who was ignored. When Ironroot spoke, Warbound noted how quickly nearby IGNs adjusted their behavior.
Unbroken positioned himself near the edge of the courtyard, his back to a low wall. He didn't threaten or posture. His presence alone changed how people moved. When HotHead88 and ClanLordX began arguing loudly over space, Unbroken stepped closer.
The argument died without a word.
Gachagami nearly tripped over LagSpike and flailed wildly, arms windmilling.
"Sorry! Sorry!" he shouted, heart pounding.
He backed up, bumped into CrateHopper, froze—and then, somehow, the crowd shifted. A gap opened. Gachagami slipped through and ended up standing alone near the edge, unharmed.
"…Why am I sweating?" he muttered.
Lin Yuan saw everything.
As the number climbed, behavior shifted again.
People stopped treating the place like a novelty. It became shared space, and shared space created friction.
StoneJay dragged a crate closer and claimed it as a seat.
WindPath moved tools without asking.
A group led by ScoutZero wandered too far down a path and had to be guided back.
Then the first death happened.
It wasn't dramatic.
HighView climbed onto a stack of materials to look over the crowd. The stack shifted. He fell awkwardly, struck his head, and went still.
The courtyard went quiet.
HighView's body dissolved into drifting Qi.
"What—?" EchoLine whispered.
A moment later, HighView reappeared several steps away, pale and breathing hard.
"…That really hurt," HighView said.
Some people laughed, but the sound was thinner than before.
Pain had weight now. Death wasn't permanent—but it wasn't funny either.
Lin Yuan remained silent.
He needed to see who adapted.
By the time the number reached one hundred and forty, the courtyard felt full. Not dangerously packed, but dense enough that every movement mattered. Voices overlapped. Instructions contradicted one another. People began looking around—not for entertainment, but for direction.
Warbound felt it immediately.
This was the tipping point.
Ironroot had already begun grouping materials logically without being told. Unbroken adjusted his position to manage foot traffic. Louder IGNs tried to pull attention toward themselves and failed.
Authority was forming.
But it wasn't centralized.
Then the final shimmer appeared.
Qi gathered more slowly this time. The last figure formed, looked around, and said, "Did I make it?"
The system updated in Lin Yuan's vision.
Earth Disciples Connected: 150 / 150
Entry complete.
Lin Yuan stepped forward.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't project force. He walked to the center of the courtyard and waited.
At first, only a few noticed.
Then QuietPing nudged MapNerd. Conversations lowered. The hush spread outward until even the loudest IGNs paused.
"My name is Lin Yuan," he said.
The calm certainty in his voice carried.
"This place exists because of me."
Some reacted immediately.
SaltBlade scoffed under his breath.
DeepCalc frowned.
Others went completely still.
"You arrived suddenly," Lin Yuan continued. "You will leave just as suddenly if you are careless. This land is not gentle."
He let the words settle.
"I will not explain everything," he said. "What you need to know is simple."
"You may stay. You may work. You may explore within reason. You may die, and you will return."
A ripple passed through the crowd.
"But," Lin Yuan continued, gaze steady, "if you endanger others, damage what you do not understand, or ignore warnings—there will be consequences."
No threats. Just fact.
Silence followed.
Warbound nodded once.
Ironroot crossed his arms.
Unbroken didn't move.
Gachagami leaned toward NoodleKing and whispered, "Why does this suddenly feel serious?"
Lin Yuan lowered his hand.
"That is all," he said. "Rest. Observe. Once every one is here, we begin properly."
He stepped back.
This time, the crowd didn't erupt into noise. Conversations resumed quietly. Fewer jokes. More whispered questions.
Authority had settled.
Not through force.
Through timing.
Lin Yuan turned away as the system interface surfaced.