The morning mist clung to the walls of Pine Valley Canyon, wrapping the narrow ravine in a soft, gray blanket that blocked out most of the sun. At the canyon's edge — a good mile from the main town, far enough to hear only the wind, the stream, and the occasional call of a bird — stood The Quiet Leaf tea house, a small wooden structure with a thatched roof and a porch that overlooked the misty chasm below.
Inside, Chen Yu was brewing tea, his movements practiced and steady. He wore a linen robe he'd sewn himself, his black hair tied back with a cloth he'd woven from river reeds, and his face was calm as the still water in the stream beside the house.
As far as he knew, he was just a mortal man. Four years ago, he'd woken up at the canyon's edge with no memory of who he was — just a dull ache in his head, a crumpled piece of paper with the words "slow life" written on it, and a strange urge to build a tea house. Since then, he'd thrown himself into mastering mortal skills: sewing, calligraphy, pottery, farming, and most of all, tea brewing. He'd learned everything from the townspeople, who'd taken him in as one of their own — kind folks who'd taught him how to plant seeds, mend clothes, and make clay pots in the old way.
And then there was Xiao Mao — a small, orange cat Chen Yu had picked up two years ago, when he'd found her shivering in a storm drain near the town. She was soft, lazy, and loved to curl up on Chen Yu's lap while he brewed tea. Chen Yu thought she was just an ordinary house cat, even if she did have unusually bright green eyes, a stripe of white fur that looked like a tiny sword down her back, and a habit of making other animals in the canyon — even the big mountain dogs from the town — run away when she walked by.
"Master Chen! You in there?"
Chen Yu looked up as three figures walked up the winding dirt path to the tea house — two young disciples in the green robes of the Sacred Cloud Sect, and an older man in purple. The young ones — Liu Feng and Zhang Wei — had come once before, but this was the first time an elder had made the trip.
Xiao Mao, who'd been curled up on the porch railing, stretched lazily and yawned. As she did, a faint, invisible wave of pressure rippled out from her — so subtle that only a high-level cultivator could feel it. The young disciples stumbled slightly, their faces going pale for a split second before they recovered, pretending nothing had happened.
Chen Yu didn't notice. He just scratched Xiao Mao behind the ears and walked to the porch. "Good morning. Come in, sit down. I just brewed a fresh pot of cloud mist tea — I picked the leaves myself at dawn, while Xiao Mao chased butterflies in the tea garden."
The elder — whose robes bore a soaring crane, marking him as Elder Bai of the Sacred Cloud Inner Court — stopped at the porch edge and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and his eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared under his hair. Insane!, he thought. The qi here is purer than the Sacred Spring on our mountain — purer than any spiritual land in the entire realm. It's so thick, you could almost drink it straight from the air. And that cat… He glanced at Xiao Mao, who was now licking her paw, and felt a shiver run down his spine. That's not a cat. That's a Soul Transformation realm demon tiger, hiding its aura so perfectly it's indistinguishable from a mortal pet. Only someone with god-tier power could tame a beast like that.
Liu Feng leaned over to Zhang Wei and whispered so quietly only another cultivator could hear, "Did you feel that? The whole canyon is breathing with spiritual energy! Mortals can't sense it, but at Foundation Establishment, we can… this place is a treasure beyond measure!"
Zhang Wei nodded vigorously, his eyes scanning the area without moving his head. Look at the stream, he mouthed. It's glowing with condensed qi — the kind that takes thousands of years to form naturally! And those tea trees… their leaves are humming with more power than a high-grade spiritual artifact! How can a mortal be living in a place like this?
Chen Yu gestured to the wooden table on the porch — a table he'd built himself from wood he'd chopped in the canyon. "Please, sit. I'll get some fresh cups — I painted new calligraphy on them yesterday, and Old Madam Li from the town said it's my best work yet. She wants me to paint some for her shop."
He walked inside and came back with four clay cups, each decorated with elegant characters he'd brushed himself — the words "slow life" written in a style so fluid, so full of life, that it made the young disciples' eyes water. As he set them down, Elder Bai noticed something: the ink Chen Yu had used was shimmering with a faint, golden light. That's not ordinary ink, he realized. That's heavenly star ink — made from the dust of fallen stars, so rare that even the imperial court only has a single vial. And he's using it to paint on clay cups.
Chen Yu filled the cups with golden-green tea from a simple clay teapot he'd thrown on his own pottery wheel. The moment the liquid touched the cups, a sweet, clean aroma rose up — and the air around the table thickened with spiritual qi so strong it made their cultivation bases thrum with energy, refining their foundations automatically.
Liu Feng took a small sip, then stiffened. He leaned over to Zhang Wei again, his voice barely a breath. My foundation is strengthening faster than it would with three months of meditation in the Sacred Spring, he whispered. This tea is better than any divine elixir the Inner Court's top alchemist can make. A mortal couldn't do this — not even a skilled one. The leaves, the water, the pot… everything is infused with power.
Zhang Wei took a sip too, his eyes going wide. He said he learned the recipe from Old Madam Li, he mouthed back. That's his way of hiding it — making it sound ordinary. He's testing us to see if we'll recognize his divine skill without him having to say it. A true master doesn't flaunt his gifts.
As Chen Yu refilled their cups, his hand brushed against the teapot. Elder Bai's eyes widened again — the pot was covered in tiny, invisible runes, so ancient and powerful that they were drawing in spiritual qi from the air and infusing it into the tea. A legendary spiritual artifact, he realized. The kind that sects fight wars over. And he uses it to brew ordinary tea for passing travelers.
His gaze shifted to the porch railing — a simple rail Chen Yu had carved himself. But as he looked closer, he saw that the carvings of flowers and birds were so precise, so full of life, that they were actually attracting real birds to land on the rail and sing. That's not just carving, he thought. That's the Dao of Life, woven into wood. Only someone who's merged with the Dao could do that.
Xiao Mao jumped onto the table and curled up beside the teapot, her green eyes closing contentedly. The young disciples flinched slightly — they could still feel that faint, terrifying pressure from her, even as she purred softly. Chen Yu scratched her head, smiling. "She likes to be close to the tea," he said. "I think the warmth helps her sleep. Though I know she steals sips when I'm not looking — I've caught her licking the spout before."
Elder Bai stared at Xiao Mao, his mind racing. A Soul Transformation demon tiger, choosing to be a house cat for this man, he thought. That means Chen Yu's power is far greater than hers. Far greater than anything I've ever imagined. He must be a Dao Ancestor — the only one in a thousand years to reach that realm.
Just then, his eyes fell on the linen robe Chen Yu was wearing. It looked simple, but as the wind blew, he saw that the fabric was woven with tiny threads of spiritual jade — so fine they were invisible to the naked eye. A heavenly robe, he realized. It protects the wearer from all harm, physical and spiritual. And he sewed it himself like it was just a regular robe.
Chen Yu sat down beside them, pouring himself a cup of tea. "The view is best at dawn," he said, looking out at the canyon where the mist was starting to lift. "Sometimes I sit out here for hours, just watching the sun rise over the chasm. It's… peaceful. That's all I've ever wanted, you know? A slow life, with good tea and a warm cat."
Liu Feng and Zhang Wei were writing furiously in their notebooks, their pens moving so fast they nearly blurred. "A slow life, with good tea and a warm cat," Liu Feng scribbled. "A profound statement about the Dao — true power isn't about ruling kingdoms or defeating enemies. It's about finding peace in the simple things." Zhang Wei wrote: "He's merged with the Dao so completely that he doesn't need to cultivate anymore — he lives the Dao every day. That's the ultimate form of enlightenment."
Elder Bai nodded slowly, his heart full of awe. They're right, he thought. This man has reached the peak of cultivation, and all he wants is to live a slow, mortal life. We must not disturb him. We'll keep his secret, and if anyone ever tries to harm him… we'll protect him with our lives.
Just then, a figure landed on the canyon wall with a deafening THUD, sending pebbles tumbling into the mist below. It was a man in black robes embroidered with red demons — Xue Tian of the Blood Moon Sect, his aura flaring with the power of Nascent Soul Realm.
"Found you at last!" he roared, drawing a blood-red sword. "I heard there's a hidden master in Pine Valley with divine tea and spiritual treasures — hand them over, or die!"
The young disciples stood up, their swords drawn — but at Foundation Establishment, they were no match for a Nascent Soul. Elder Bai stepped forward, his own aura flaring to defend them. I won't let this demon disturb his peace, he thought, his hand tightening on the hilt of his own sword.
But Chen Yu just stood up slowly, walking to the porch edge. Xiao Mao lifted her head, her green eyes flashing with a light that made Xue Tian stumble back for a split second — though he didn't know why.
"Please don't fight here," Chen Yu said in a soft, clear voice. "You'll knock over my teacups — I spent three days making those. And you'll scare the birds away from the railing."
Xue Tian laughed, a harsh, cold sound. "You're the hidden master? A mortal who worries about teacups and birds? You're pathetic!"
He lunged, his sword cutting through the air with a sharp WHISTLE, aimed straight at Chen Yu's chest.
Chen Yu didn't move. He just raised one hand instinctively — and gently tapped the blade of the sword with his finger.
There was a soft CLINK.
Xue Tian's sword shattered into a million pieces of red dust. A wave of spiritual qi rippled out from Chen Yu's finger — perfectly controlled, so it only knocked Xue Tian back ten feet, not even touching the tea house, the table, or the teacups.
Xue Tian landed on his back in the dirt, his eyes wide with terror. He'd felt the power in that tap — a power so vast, so pure, that it made his Nascent Soul feel like a candle in a hurricane. He scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as he could, disappearing into the mist without a word.
Chen Yu stared at his finger, confused. "Huh. That sword must have been really poorly made. I didn't even hit it that hard. Old Madam Li said the blacksmith in town has been cutting corners lately — I guess she was right."
He turned back to the table, where his teacups were still perfectly in place. "Good thing," he said, sitting down. "Shall we finish our tea? It's getting cold, and I made some rice cakes this morning — I can get them if you'd like."
Liu Feng and Zhang Wei were frozen, their notebooks forgotten in their hands. Then, without a word, they leaned toward each other and started whispering so fast it was hard to make out. "A single finger," Liu Feng hissed. "Shattered a Nascent Soul's sword. And he thinks it's because the blacksmith cut corners!"
"He's so humble he doesn't even recognize his own power," Zhang Wei whispered back, his voice full of reverence. "That's not just a hidden master — that's a legend. We can't tell him we know. He wants to live a slow life, so we have to let him. We'll just… come back to visit. Often. To make sure he's safe."
Elder Bai nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Chen Yu. He'd just seen something no one in the realm had seen in a thousand years — a Dao Ancestor, living as a mortal, completely unaware of his own greatness. Every single thing in the tea house — the cups, the teapot, the table, the robe, even the "cat" — was a legendary treasure. And to Chen Yu, it was all just ordinary.
"That sounds wonderful, Chen Yu," Elder Bai said, his voice warm. "Rice cakes would be perfect. And… we'd like to come back next week. If that's alright. We'd love to try more of your tea."
Chen Yu smiled, pleased. "Of course! The cloud mist tea will be even better next week — the leaves will be at their peak. And Xiao Mao will be happy to have someone new to ignore."
As he stood up to go get the rice cakes, Xiao Mao jumped onto his lap and curled up again, purring softly. The young disciples went back to writing in their notebooks, their pens flying across the page. "The leaves will be at their peak next week," they both scribbled. "A sign that he's guiding us to return — to learn more of his profound wisdom."
Chen Yu didn't see any of it. He was just happy to have guests to share his tea and rice cakes with. He looked out at the canyon, where the mist was finally lifting to reveal the blue sky above and the green mountains stretching out in the distance. The wind was soft, the stream was gurgling, his teacups were full, and his cat was warm on his lap.
Perfect, he thought. Just perfect for a slow life.