Li An slid open the paper-screen door of his modest dwelling, the faint creak of its wooden frame breaking the quiet of the peak. The wood was weathered from years of wind and rain, yet it held the weight of memory—of a boy who once rose every morning before dawn to cultivate, and of the silence that followed after his roots were shattered.
A gust of crisp mountain air swept across his face as he stepped outside, cool and refreshing, carrying with it the fragrance of pine, bamboo, and damp earth. Somewhere in the distance, a bird cried, its wings cutting against the morning light.
For a moment, he didn't move. He simply stood at the threshold, the worn stone beneath his feet grounding him in this world as the wind tugged gently at his sleeves and hair.
Then he lifted his gaze.
And his breath caught.
Above him stretched the heavens of the cultivation world—vast, unbroken, endless. The sky was a canvas of dawn: pale gold bleeding into lavender, streaks of crimson painting the edges of drifting clouds. The light seemed sharper here than in the mundane world, each hue more vivid, each breath more alive. The clouds themselves drifted lazily like strokes of silk, shifting and curling with a grace that no mortal brush could ever imitate.
Li An's lips curved faintly. "The air… it's cooler," he murmured. He drew in a long breath, filling his lungs. The qi in the air pressed against him—not forcefully, but like the gentle brush of countless invisible threads across his skin. Delicate. Tingling. Tempting. Even with his crippled roots, even with his body half-abandoned by heaven, he could feel it. The world's energy, rich and boundless, whispering promises of strength.
He stepped forward at last, the stone path groaning faintly under his sandals. Gravel crunched softly beneath each step as he descended into the silence of the Miscellaneous Peak. Bamboo groves lined the slopes, their slender stalks swaying in the breeze, shadows striping the ground in uneven patterns. Courtyards appeared along the terraces, some overgrown with moss, others filled with cracked training dummies and forgotten tools.
The peak was beautiful in its own way—quiet, tranquil, untouched. But it was a beauty of abandonment.
He knew why.
Unlike Sword Peak, where disciples honed their blades until they could split mountains… unlike Pill Peak, where cauldrons burned day and night to refine elixirs that could change fate… unlike Formation Peak, where talismans and arrays painted the air with light and mystery… the Miscellaneous Peak had no such purpose.
Here, sword drills mingled with alchemy practice. A beast pen sat beside a withered herb garden. The library contained scattered fragments of techniques that belonged nowhere else. It was a peak without an identity—everything, yet nothing. A place for the unfocused, the discarded, the forgotten.
No wonder few disciples ever came here.
"Master should be gone again," Li An muttered, his eyes flicking toward the higher pavilion perched against the ridge. His teacher was a strange man, a recluse who wandered off for months at a time, leaving only cryptic notes behind. It would be a miracle if he was actually present today. "As always."
There was no bitterness in his tone. If anything, there was the faint trace of amusement. Solitude was a blessing. No curious eyes. No pitying whispers. Only him, the system, and the future he would carve with his own hands.
His gaze shifted.
From the peak's edge, the Evergreen Sect revealed itself in full splendor. The valley below opened like a scroll painting: pavilions rising like jade towers, roofs glistening green beneath the morning sun, banners snapping proudly in the breeze. The main stairways were rivers of disciples in emerald robes, flowing endlessly as they climbed or descended. The air itself thrummed with life—chants echoing across training fields, the clash of blades, the pulse of qi as disciples tested their strength.
It was alive. It was grand. It was the true cultivation world.
Li An's heart quickened, a faint thrill dancing in his veins.
"Then…" He clasped his hands behind his back, his expression calm, but his eyes alight with sharp determination. "…let me visit the main sect and take a proper look around."
His footsteps fell in steady rhythm against the mountain stone, each one unhurried, deliberate.
The descent wound along a path framed with moss-grown lanterns, faint runes etched into their sides flickering gently in the morning light. Blossoms from flowering shrubs drifted across the steps, their fragrance mingling with the mountain air. The world here seemed calm, almost idyllic—until voices began to stir.
"Eh? Isn't that Senior Brother Li?"
The words carried through the air like a spark. Several disciples, pausing mid-practice in a nearby courtyard, turned to look. Their eyes widened, recognition flaring instantly.
"Yeah, it's him," another whispered, his voice tinged with pity. "Such a pity… after what happened, his spirit roots were shattered."
"I know," said a third, lowering his voice as though afraid the words might wound. "If not for that, he would already be the young sect master."
But whispers spread quickly. One voice became two, then ten, until the tide could no longer be contained.
"Senior Brother Li!"
"Brother Li, it's been too long!"
"Your deeds that day… if not for you, many of us would have perished!"
One after another, disciples came hurrying toward him. From practice fields, from garden paths, from pavilions lining the stairways—they converged like streams feeding a river, faces bright with admiration.
Some carried gifts clutched tightly in their hands.
"Please accept this herb, Brother Li—it might aid in your recovery."
"This talisman may be crude, but it could shield you in battle!"
"If you need help, even if it means facing those who wronged you, I'll follow without hesitation!"
The air around him swelled with warmth and respect. Not one gaze held disdain. Not one word carried scorn.
Li An blinked, momentarily stunned. He had braced for mockery. For avoidance. Perhaps even hostility. But what he found was sincerity. Loyalty. Even love.
Dozens of hands tugged at his sleeves. Dozens of smiles crowded around him.
He managed a smile of his own, raising his hand to wave them off. "Enough, enough. Your kindness… is already more than I deserve."
He refused every gift with gentle words, unwilling to take advantage. Only with effort—and no small measure of tact—did he finally extricate himself, slipping away down a quieter path that wound toward the main gates.
When silence finally returned, he slowed. His smile lingered, faint and soft, but his eyes had grown distant.
"Li An… you really were a good person," he murmured. The man whose body he now inhabited… one who had fought, bled, and sacrificed without hesitation. One who had earned genuine admiration—not through arrogance, but through selflessness. And in the end… had lost everything.
He let the thought weigh on him for a long moment. Then he shook his head, as though brushing it away, and a crooked smile tugged at his lips.
'What surprises me most,' he mused dryly, 'is that in a cultivation world like this, not a single cliché has struck me yet. No jealous rival. No arrogant fool. No one mocking me while I'm down.'
The gates of the Evergreen Sect loomed ahead—an archway of flawless jade, dragons carved in intricate coils, their eyes glimmering faintly with protective wards. Twin lion statues stood sentinel at its base, their gazes sharp, their presence oppressive. Beyond, disciples streamed in and out, emerald robes flowing beneath banners that snapped like thunder in the mountain wind.
'Even the disciples are too nice,' Li An thought, his smile twitching. 'Almost… suspiciously so.'
And then—
A loud, jeering voice tore through the bustle like a blade, dripping with venomous scorn.
"Well, well, if it isn't the almighty Li An! How the mighty have fallen!"
The crowd stirred, whispers rising like a tide. Disciples turned their heads as a group emerged from within the gates, their leader striding arrogantly at the front, voice carrying with deliberate cruelty.
Li An's steps slowed. His smile thinned, cold and sharp.
'…And there it is.'