The last thing Chen Yuan remembered from his old life was the taste of cheap instant coffee and the sound of his granddaughter's laughter over the phone. "Grandpa, you need to eat properly!" she'd scolded him, and he'd grumbled something about being sixty, not six, and that he could take care of himself just fine. Then the world had gone white, and the comfortable ache of his aging bones had vanished, replaced by a lightness that felt profoundly wrong.
Now he stood in a bamboo grove, wearing robes that smelled of mildew and ancient dust, while translucent blue text scrolled across his vision like a particularly aggressive pop-up ad.
**[Sect Master System Initializing...]**
**[Host detected: Chen Yuan, Age 60, Soul Compatibility 0.0001%]**
**[Error: Host cannot cultivate standard spiritual energy.]**
**[Compensatory Protocol Engaged.]**
"Well, that's just fucking perfect," Chen Yuan muttered, the swear word feeling strange in a mouth that wasn't quite his own. He'd been an engineer for thirty-five years; he knew when a system was giving him the digital equivalent of a pitying pat on the head.
The text flickered, then reorganized itself into something that looked suspiciously like a user agreement. He skimmed it—years of ignoring terms and conditions had made him an expert—and caught the gist. He couldn't absorb qi, couldn't break through realms, couldn't do any of the cool shit he'd read about in the wuxia novels his grandson used to leave lying around. Instead, he'd gain power by building a sect and nurturing disciples. Every breakthrough *they* made would feed back into him through this System thing.
It was the most convoluted retirement plan he'd ever seen.
[Please designate your Sect Name.]**
[Warning: Name cannot be changed after confirmation.]
Chen Yuan looked around at the crumbling stone foundations peeking through the undergrowth, the broken statue of some forgotten deity, the way morning mist clung to the mountain peaks like memory to an old man. He thought of his daughter's voice, his granddaughter's smile, the workshop he'd left behind where he'd taught young apprentices the value of patience and precision.
"The Restart Sect," he said quietly, then louder: "Chóngqǐ Zōngmén."
The characters burned golden in the air before dissolving into the mountain itself. The ground trembled—not with power, but with recognition, like an old dog waking up and realizing its master had finally come home.
[Sect Created: The Restart Sect]
[Current Disciples: 0]
[Sect Tier: Unranked]
[Special Trait: "Fresh Start" - All disciples begin with clean spiritual roots, regardless of past trauma or damage.]
Chen Yuan spent the morning exploring his new domain. The System had deposited him in what was clearly a failed sect's ruins—cracked training pillars, a library that had been reduced to mouse-chewed scroll fragments, and a main hall with a roof that let in more rain than it kept out. But the mountain itself was beautiful. Ancient pines, clear streams, the kind of quiet that made you remember what silence actually sounded like.
He was halfway through patching the roof with broad leaves and stubbornness when he heard the sobbing.
It came from the forest path below, faint and broken, like a child trying to be brave. Chen Yuan's old knees complained as he climbed down the slope, but the sound pulled at something in his chest. He'd always been a sucker for kids in trouble, much to his daughter's exasperation. "Dad, you can't adopt every stray cat and crying freshman," she'd say. He'd always replied, "Watch me."
The girl couldn't have been more than thirteen, dressed in rags that had once been fine silk, her hair matted with mud and blood. She clutched a broken spirit stone like it was a lifeline, her knuckles white. When she saw him, she scrambled backward, fear warring with exhaustion in her dark eyes.
"Easy, easy," Chen Yuan said, keeping his voice soft. He'd used that same tone on injured birds and terrified interns. "I'm not going to hurt you. What's your name, kiddo?"
She stared at him, this strange old man in patched robes with kind eyes and weathered hands. "Lin Mei," she whispered finally. "They said I have no talent. They threw me out."
"Who's 'they'?"
"My clan. The Lin family. They said my spirit roots are too weak, that I'm better off as a servant or..." She didn't finish, but Chen Yuan saw the bruises, the way she held herself. He'd seen enough broken things in his life to recognize a child who'd been told she was worthless.
"Well, Lin Mei," he said, extending a hand that was calloused from decades of real work, not spiritual nonsense. "My name is Chen Yuan, and I happen to be the Sect Master of the Restart Sect. We specialize in second chances. You interested?"
She looked at his hand like it might bite her. "I can't cultivate. They tested me."
"Good," Chen Yuan said firmly. "Because I can't either."
That got her attention. Her tear-streaked face tilted up, confusion replacing some of the pain.
"See, here's the thing." He sat down on a mossy log, patting the space beside him. When she hesitantly joined him, he continued. "Most sects, they want you to be perfect from day one. Perfect roots, perfect talent, perfect everything. But that's like expecting a machine to run without ever oiling it, or a kid to do calculus without learning arithmetic first."
Lin Mei sniffled. "I don't understand."
"You will." He stood, brushing off his robes. "The Restart Sect does things differently. We don't care where you started. We care that you're willing to try again."
The System pinged in his vision.
[Disciple Candidate Detected: Lin Mei]
[Talent: Initially Negligible]
[Potential: Unknown (Hidden)]
[Compatibility: 94% with Sect Philosophy]
Chen Yuan smiled. "How about this? You come up the mountain, have a hot meal—well, once I figure out how to cook with whatever the hell spirit rice is—and we'll see what we can do. No promises, no pressure. Just... a place to breathe."
She followed him. They always did.
The main hall looked even worse up close, but Chen Yuan had the girl sit on the least-broken bench while he rummaged through the System interface. It had a "Sect Resources" tab that was currently showing a big fat zero across the board, but there was a starter package glowing insistently.
[Welcome Gift: Basic Cultivation Package x1]
He accepted it, and four scrolls materialized in his hands, along with a small wooden token.
"Okay, Lin Mei. In most sects, they'd spend weeks testing you, then give you one technique that matches your 'element' or whatever. We're not doing that." He laid out the scrolls. "This is the Four Foundations. Qi breathing, body strengthening, movement, and basic weapon forms. You learn all of them."
Her eyes widened. "All of them? But that's—"
"—how you build a foundation that won't crack under pressure," Chen Yuan finished. "Look, I spent forty years building bridges. You don't build a bridge by focusing on just the cables or just the deck. You build it all, together, so each part supports the others. Same principle."
He handed her the wooden token. "Pick your weapon. The System—er, the sect's spiritual formation will manifest something suited to you."
Lin Mei held the token like it was made of glass. A faint light enveloped her, and the token dissolved into motes that reformed as... a gardening trowel. A small, sturdy thing that looked more suited to planting flowers than fighting cultivators.
She stared at it, crestfallen. "It's just a trowel."
Chen Yuan laughed, a warm, genuine sound that echoed in the empty hall. "Kiddo, everything is a weapon if you know how to use it. And something that helps things grow? That's the most powerful tool there is."
He placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling the thinness of her frame, the way she flinched before leaning into the touch. "Welcome to the Restart Sect, Lin Mei. Your old life is over. This is your new beginning."
The System chimed softly, not with a blaring announcement, but with a gentle chime, like a bell in the distance.
[First Disciple Accepted: Lin Mei]
[Sect Harmony +10]
[Host Progress: Mortal Caretaker Realm - 1%]
[New Technique Unlocked: "Gentle Guidance" - Disciples learn 15% faster when you personally teach them.]
Chen Yuan looked at the girl, at the trowel in her hands, at the hole in the roof where sunlight streamed through like a promise. He thought of his granddaughter's laugh, of the apprentices he'd trained back on Earth, of all the things he'd thought he'd left behind.
"Alright," he said, rolling up his sleeves. "First lesson: how to patch a roof. Second lesson: how to cook something that won't kill us. Third lesson—" He grinned at her, and for the first time, she smiled back, small and hesitant. "—we'll figure out how to make that trowel the most feared weapon in the province."
The mountain was quiet, but for the first time in decades, it felt like home.
And somewhere in the spiritual energy of the world, a new sect flickered to life—not with a roar of battle, but with the quiet sound of an old man and a broken girl deciding to try again, together.