The east slope courtyard looked better in the morning.
The dust had settled under a night's worth of gentle nudging. The half-dead tree seemed slightly less pathetic, its remaining leaves no longer hanging quite so limply. The qi circulation in the yard flowed in an easy loop, like water in a shallow pond.
Shen Liang sat on the stone steps by the doorway, elbows on his knees, a cup of tea cooling in his hands.
He had slept well.
The bed in his assigned room was soft enough, the blanket clean, the ambient qi just dense enough to keep his meridians humming without pushing him toward a breakthrough he didn't want yet. For the first time in a long while, he had not woken in the middle of the night expecting killing intent.
It was a good start.
He took a sip of tea and listened to the sect wake up.
Distantly, outer disciples shouted forms in unison. Bells chimed from the main hall. A flock of sword-riding inner disciples cut across the morning mist like noisy birds, their laughter trailing behind them.
Closer at hand, nothing disturbed his courtyard.
He intended to keep it that way for as long as possible.
Footsteps approached along the path outside. Several sets, unevenly paced. One pair light and hesitant, one heavy and impatient, one crisp and measured, one almost too quiet.
Shen Liang let his awareness brush the boundary of the courtyard, tasting the qi signatures.
Four core disciples, as promised.
He rose, not quickly enough to be called eager, and opened the gate as the first figure raised a hand to knock.
Four young cultivators froze on the threshold.
The girl in front, slim and small, clutched her token with both hands. Her robes were neat but a little worn, patched carefully at the sleeves. Her qi felt like a thin but stubborn thread—weak on the surface, anchored deep.
Behind her, a broad-shouldered boy stood with arms crossed and chin lifted too high, as if daring the world to hit him. His aura pushed outward in little bursts, like a campfire that hadn't learned not to spit sparks.
To one side, another girl stood straight-backed, hands folded properly at her waist. Her robes and hair were immaculate, her gaze sharp and assessing. Her qi was tightly coiled, moving along familiar paths over and over as if drilled into marching.
The last boy half-hid behind the others, eyes flicking from Shen to the courtyard to the path they'd just walked. His qi quivered like a rabbit's nose, always on the edge of bolting.
Shen Liang took them in at a glance.
Quiet, brittle, loud, and anxious.
Problems, all of them. Potential, all of them.
"Good morning," he said.
The slim girl bowed quickly. "Disciple Lin Yue greets Instructor Shen."
The broad-shouldered boy cupped his fists with more force than necessary. "Zhao Han, core disciple, greets Instructor."
The proper girl bowed with textbook precision. "Mei Rulan pays respects to Instructor Shen."
The last boy hesitated a heartbeat too long, then ducked his head. "C-Chen Wei greets Instructor."
Shen nodded to each in turn.
"You're on time," he said. "That already puts you ahead of some people." He swung the gate wider. "Come in."
They filed past him, glancing around with the furtive curiosity of cats entering a new alley.
He watched where their eyes went.
Lin Yue's gaze lingered on the half-dead tree, then on the faint, almost invisible lines he'd coaxed into the ground around the training platform.
Zhao Han looked straight at the platform itself, then at the scuffed stone markers as if measuring how hard he could hit them.
Mei Rulan's eyes tracked the formation lines, then rose to the walls and roof, cataloguing the courtyard's structure.
Chen Wei checked the fence for gaps, the corners for shadows, the distance to the nearest escape route.
Not bad.
"This is your courtyard now," Shen said. "No one else will be training here unless I say so."
Zhao Han snorted softly. "Because nobody else wants to," he muttered.
Shen's gaze flicked to him.
Zhao stiffened, then pressed his lips together.
Mei Rulan shot him a warning look. Lin Yue's shoulders hunched, as if trying to disappear. Chen Wei tried to pretend he hadn't heard anything.
Shen decided to ignore the comment.
"You've all had instructors before," he said. "You know the standard speech. Work hard, obey the sect, strive for greatness." He waved a hand lazily. "Consider that speech given."
Lin Yue blinked. Mei Rulan's brows drew together almost imperceptibly. Zhao Han looked faintly disappointed, as if robbed of a chance to scoff. Chen Wei's shoulders loosened the tiniest bit.
"I am not here to make you legends," Shen continued. "If you want to burn your lives chasing glory, there are other instructors who will happily help you along." He let his gaze rest on each of them in turn. "I am here to make sure you live long enough to decide what you actually want."
That got their attention.
"The sect calls you 'difficult,'" he said. "Some of that is your fault. Some of it is theirs. Doesn't matter. You're here now." He gestured at the courtyard. "This place is your punishment and your chance. I don't care which one you treat it as, as long as you don't waste my time."
Zhao bristled. "We're not—"
"Zhao Han," Shen said mildly.
The boy shut his mouth, jaw working.
Good. He could learn.
"We'll talk about each of you in turn," Shen said. "But first, I want to see how you move." He nodded toward the training platform. "One by one. Basic form set. Don't show off."
Their expressions varied from wary to offended, but they obeyed.
Lin Yue went first. Her steps were careful, measured. Her strikes lacked power, but her transitions between movements were smoother than her qi should have allowed. She moved like someone afraid of making a mistake who had still memorized all the steps.
Shen let his domain seep into the platform, barely more than a whisper. The air around her steadied, the qi beneath her feet smoothing into an even current.
Her shoulders relaxed halfway through the form. Her last strike landed with more confidence than the first.
"Stop," Shen said. "Good enough." He caught her faint flinch and filed it away. "You overthink. We'll deal with that."
Zhao Han stomped onto the platform next.
Where Lin Yue had been cautious, Zhao was all force. His steps thudded against stone. His punches cracked the air. He drove his qi through his meridians like a battering ram, forcing power into each strike.
It looked impressive. It was also full of holes.
Shen thickened the air around Zhao by a fraction, adding a bit of weight to each movement.
Zhao's next punch landed half a beat late. His brows furrowed. He gritted his teeth and pushed harder.
Sweat beaded on his forehead by the end of the form. His final kick landed slightly off-balance.
"You mistake noise for strength," Shen said. "You'll learn the difference."
Zhao opened his mouth, thought better of it, and stepped back.
Mei Rulan's form was a textbook demonstration.
Her stances were perfect. Her transitions were crisp. Her qi moved on the exact routes prescribed in sect manuals. She was, Shen had to admit, pleasant to watch.
She also left no room whatsoever for adaptation.
He shifted his domain, nudging the qi under one foot ever so slightly sideways as she stepped.
Her balance wobbled. She corrected instantly, forcing her muscles to compensate rather than adjusting the flow.
"Again," Shen said.
She ran through the form a second time, expression tightening with each tiny, inexplicable misalignment.
"You have control," Shen said when she finished. "But you're chained to your diagrams. We'll loosen those chains."
Mei Rulan's jaw clenched, but she bowed. "Yes, Instructor."
Chen Wei stepped onto the platform like a man approaching a cliff edge.
His form was… uneven.
Some strikes were surprisingly sharp, others pulled, as if he were always half-ready to dodge instead of commit. His footwork was better than his upper body, quick and light, constantly adjusting.
His qi twitched along nervous, flexible paths, ready to divert at a moment's notice.
Shen let his domain push very gently against Chen's back, a subtle pressure urging him forward.
Chen's next step overshot. He stumbled, recovered with a quick shuffle, and turned the almost-fall into a low sweep that wasn't in the basic form at all.
He froze, eyes wide, as if expecting to be scolded.
"Interesting," Shen said.
Chen swallowed. "S-sorry, Instructor. I—"
"Don't apologize," Shen said. "That was the first movement you made that belonged to you."
Chen blinked.
"You four are what the sect calls 'problems,'" Shen said, looking at all of them. "To me, you're a collection of bad habits built on top of useful instincts. We'll strip away the habits and keep the instincts." He raised his cup, realized the tea had gone cold, and set it aside. "But before that, I want to hear why you're here."
Lin Yue stiffened. Zhao scowled. Mei Rulan's fingers tightened on her sleeves. Chen Wei's eyes dropped to the ground.
"We were assigned," Zhao said. "What other reason—"
"Zhao Han," Shen said. "Why did your last instructor recommend you for expulsion?"
The boy's nostrils flared.
"He said I was disruptive," Zhao muttered. "That I picked fights."
"Did you?"
"Sometimes," Zhao said, defiant. "They started it."
Shen believed him. Hotheaded types rarely started all their fights, but they were always the ones people blamed for finishing them.
"Good," Shen said.
Zhao blinked. "Good?"
"It means you're not lying to me yet," Shen said. "We'll revisit the 'who started it' later. For now…" He glanced at Mei Rulan. "You."
"My performance plateaued," she said, voice clipped. "Three years with no breakthrough. My previous instructor concluded that my talent did not justify continued investment of sect resources. He recommended I be reassigned to outer sect duties."
Her knuckles whitened.
"I declined."
Shen nodded.
"And Lin Yue?" he asked.
The small girl hesitated.
"My talent is poor," she said quietly. "I fall behind in group classes. I… make others uncomfortable."
Shen tilted his head. "How?"
Her fingers tightened on her token. "Sometimes I say things," she murmured. "About… where techniques will fail. Or where formations feel… wrong. They think I'm cursing them."
Ah.
Domain sensitivity, in embryo. No one had taught her how to articulate it, so it came out sounding like doom.
"And Chen Wei?" Shen asked.
Chen flinched at the sound of his name.
"I… run," he said, voice almost inaudible. "In training. In… fights."
Zhao snorted. Mei Rulan's mouth thinned. Lin Yue's gaze flickered with sympathy.
"So your instructors call you a coward," Shen said.
Chen hunched in on himself.
"I don't like pain," he whispered. "Or… dying."
"Reasonable preferences," Shen said.
Four pairs of eyes snapped to him.
"The sect lumped you together because you annoyed them in different ways," he said. "Lack of progress, too much progress in the wrong direction, inconvenient instincts, inconvenient honesty." He shrugged. "They want you either fixed or out of sight."
"And what do you want?" Mei Rulan asked. There was a challenge in it.
"A quiet life," Shen said. "A comfortable courtyard. A small class that doesn't explode." He paused. "I am willing to help you become the kind of cultivators who can give me that."
Confusion flickered across their faces, followed by something like reluctant curiosity.
"Here is how this will work," Shen said. "You will follow my instructions inside this courtyard. Outside, sect rules still apply, and I will not save you from the consequences of your own stupidity." He let his tone stay lazy, but his gaze sharpened. "If you try to impress me with empty bravado or pretend effort, I will know. If you do the work properly, I will make sure your foundations are solid enough that idiots cannot break you easily."
Lin Yue swallowed.
"What kind of work?" Zhao asked warily.
"The kind that looks too simple to be useful," Shen said. "Which is why most people never do it long enough." He gestured at the platform. "Today, we start with breathing."
Four faces fell in unison.
"I know how to breathe," Zhao said.
"You know how to gulp air and shove qi through your meridians," Shen said. "You do not know how to breathe so your domain doesn't collapse the first time someone shouts near you." He jerked his chin at the platform. "Sit."
Reluctantly, they obeyed, settling cross-legged in a rough square.
Shen stepped onto the platform as well, standing at its center. He let his domain spread just enough to encompass the four of them, a soft, invisible sphere.
The air cooled. The light softened. The ambient qi smoothed into an even, gentle flow, like a slow tide.
Lin Yue's head lifted slightly, eyes widening.
"Close your eyes," Shen said. "Inhale on a count of four, exhale on a count of six. Follow the flow around you. Do not force your own qi to move. Let it be carried."
They obeyed, some more gracelessly than others.
Zhao's shoulders fought the rhythm at first, wanting to fill every breath with strain. Mei Rulan tried to match the count exactly, her jaw tightening whenever her lungs didn't line up with the numbers. Chen Wei's breaths came too shallow, as if afraid of drawing attention.
Lin Yue, though…
Her breathing stumbled once, twice, then settled. Her qi, fragile as it was, began to drift along the currents of Shen's domain, carried rather than driven.
Her brow smoothed. Her shoulders eased.
"Feel where your qi wants to go," Shen said quietly. "Not where you think it should."
Minutes passed.
The sun climbed a little higher. Somewhere beyond the courtyard, an elder shouted at a group of disciples to stop slacking. A bell chimed the change of training periods.
Inside the domain, the world narrowed to four sets of lungs and the slow, steady pulse of the mountain.
Eventually, Zhao's breathing lost some of its defiant edge. Mei Rulan stopped chasing the count and let it carry her instead. Chen Wei's breaths deepened by fractions.
Lin Yue's qi traced a complete loop through her meridians without a single hitch.
Shen let the domain thin, then recede entirely.
"Open your eyes," he said.
They did, blinking as the ordinary harshness of daylight returned.
"What did you feel?" Shen asked.
"It was…" Lin Yue searched for words. "Like standing in a river," she said slowly. "If I moved with it, everything was easy. If I tried to fight it… I slipped."
"Heavy," Zhao said, rolling his shoulders. "But… stable."
"The flows were… cleaner," Mei Rulan said. "My routes felt… wrong in comparison." The admission came out grudgingly.
"I didn't feel like I could run," Chen Wei muttered. "But I didn't feel like I needed to."
Shen nodded.
"This," he said, "is the difference between training in a random patch of ground and training in a place that doesn't fight you." He let his gaze sweep the courtyard. "This courtyard is now my domain. When you are here, you will use that fact."
"Is that allowed?" Mei Rulan asked, frowning. "Other instructors say relying on external support weakens discipline."
"Other instructors are welcome to run laps around the mountain while balancing rocks on their heads if it makes them happy," Shen said. "I prefer using the tools available."
Zhao snorted, half a laugh.
"You will still train outside," Shen added. "You'll need to function in messy conditions. But here, we build the base."
He stepped off the platform.
"For today," he said, "you will cycle between breathing and running basic forms slowly. Not to build muscle, but to feel how your meridians and body move when you're not rushing." He looked at each of them. "If you feel pain, you stop and tell me. If you feel stupid for doing something so simple, you keep doing it."
Zhao grimaced.
"What about…" Chen Wei hesitated. "What about techniques?"
"Techniques are easy," Shen said. "Any half-decent manual can teach you hand movements. Foundations are hard. That's why most people never fix them." He folded his arms into his sleeves. "We will add techniques later. For now, we are scraping rust."
They did not look excited.
That was fine. Excitement was overrated.
As they began their slow, awkward cycles of breathing and basic forms, Shen returned to the steps and reclaimed his cooling tea.
He watched Lin Yue's qi try and fail to follow his domain's residue, then correct itself a little faster each time.
He watched Zhao's shoulders gradually drop as he realized brute forcing his way through slow forms was impossible.
He watched Mei Rulan's perfect lines crumble and reform into something looser, less pretty, more alive.
He watched Chen Wei's footwork smooth out as the urge to flee had nowhere immediate to go.
The sect had thought they were sending him problems.
He took another sip of tea and let a small, private smile curl the corner of his mouth.
What they'd actually given him were four very good reasons for everyone else to leave his quiet courtyard alone.
He could work with that.