By the time the next dawn arrived, Heavenly Peak no longer felt like a forgotten ruin. It wasn't thriving—not even close—but there was a faint pulse in the air, something alive beneath the cracks.
Haoran stood at the edge of the courtyard, arms crossed, watching Ruolan guide Zhang through a very basic training exercise. She demonstrated a stance with slow, controlled movements. Zhang tried to imitate her and nearly fell on his face.
Ruolan frowned. "Relax your shoulders."
"I am relaxed," Zhang insisted, shaking visibly. "This is my relaxed face."
"That is not relaxed," Ruolan said flatly.
Haoran stifled a laugh.
The little dragon cub lay curled at his feet, its silver fur shimmering in the light. Every so often it woke up, pawed at Haoran's robe as if checking he was still there, then fell asleep again. The fact that the cub had chosen him of all people continued to feel surreal.
The System chimed.
[Host, you seem unusually content this morning.]
"I'm not content," Haoran said. "I'm… mildly less stressed."
[For you, that is equivalent.]
Haoran took a slow breath. Heavenly Peak wasn't much yet, but it was something. A beginning.
The System interrupted the moment.
[Host. New information detected.]
Haoran stiffened. "What now?"
[Multiple presences have entered the outer perimeter of the mountain.]
Ruolan straightened instantly, her eyes narrowing. "Intruders?"
Zhang perked up. "Bandits? Can I fight them? My stomach feels like punching something."
Haoran blinked. "…Your stomach?"
"It's my intuition spot," Zhang explained with complete seriousness.
Haoran decided not to unpack that.
Ruolan moved to Haoran's side. "Master, should we prepare?"
The System chimed again.
[No immediate threat. These are not enemies. Not yet.]
"Not yet?" Haoran said. "That doesn't sound reassuring."
[It wasn't meant to be.]
Ruolan looked toward the lower path. "Who would come here? No one knows this sect is active again."
"That's the problem," Haoran said. "Someone clearly knows."
A faint rustling of leaves drifted up the path. Haoran squinted, expecting bandits, mercenaries, or maybe a wandering cultivator looking for trouble.
Instead, what appeared was… a donkey.
A very old donkey, pulling a tiny cart piled with bundles of paper, brushes, dried goods, and something that looked suspiciously like pickled radish.
The donkey stopped. The cart driver hopped down.
He was an elderly man with a bushy mustache, squinting eyes, and clothes so patched it was hard to guess the original color.
"Ah," the old man said, shading his eyes. "Is this… Heavenly Peak Sect?"
Haoran nodded slowly. "It is."
The old man blinked rapidly. "Truly? Heavenly Peak has disciples again?"
Zhang stepped forward proudly. "Yes. We are disciples."
Ruolan added, "And he is our sect master."
The old man stared Haoran up and down. "You…? Sect master? At your age?"
Haoran grimaced. "Is that so strange?"
"Extremely," the old man said honestly.
Haoran wanted to walk into the nearest wall.
The System chimed.
[Host, statistically speaking, he is correct.]
"…Not helping."
The old man sighed, scratching his mustache. "Well, this is unexpected. I delivered supplies here decades ago, before the sect fell into ruin. Didn't think I'd ever see it revive."
Haoran exchanged a quick glance with Ruolan.
"Supplies?" Haoran asked.
"Aye," the old man said. "Used to bring ink, rice paper, food goods, herbs… Heavenly Peak owed me a bit of money, truth be told."
Zhang whispered, "Master, does that mean we're in debt already?"
Haoran whispered back, "Can you not say it out loud?"
The old man chuckled, hearing everything. "Bah, don't worry. Debt doesn't matter to an old man like me. What matters is…"
He stepped forward and lowered his voice.
"There's been talk in the villages. Rumors that a sect on Heavenly Peak woke up. Some say they saw light in the sky. Others say they heard something roar."
Haoran paled slightly.
The dragon cub chose that exact moment to peek out from behind Haoran's robes and squeak.
The old man froze.
"...Was that a child?"
Zhang stepped in front of the cub. "Yes. A very strange-looking child. Nothing suspicious."
Ruolan covered her face.
The System chimed.
[Host, your disciples are terrible liars.]
Haoran cleared his throat. "No roar here. Must've been the wind."
The old man looked unconvinced. "Even so… people have noticed. And once word spreads that Heavenly Peak is active again, other sects may grow curious."
Haoran grimaced. "Curious how?"
"Well," the old man said cheerfully, "either to make friends… or to crush you before you become a problem."
Zhang raised his hand. "Master, I vote we make friends."
Ruolan said quietly, "We can't avoid attention forever."
The System added:
[Host, consider this your warning. The world has begun to notice your existence.]
Haoran felt the breeze shift—cool, sharp, carrying a whisper of something else. Not danger yet, but possibility. Good or bad, he couldn't tell.
He straightened.
"Old sir," he said, "we'll take those supplies."
The old man grinned. "Knew you would. A sect always needs basics."
Haoran helped unload the cart. Ruolan organized the supplies. Zhang nearly ate the inkstones. The dragon cub bit Haoran's boot again.
And Heavenly Peak, for the first time in years, conducted a simple transaction with the outside world.
It felt strangely monumental.
Small beginnings.
Quiet steps.
But steps nonetheless.