Lin Yuan did not speak at once.
He merely observed the old man reclining beneath the twisted tree, the empty wine jar, the dirty robe, and the way that, even pretending to be utterly worn down, the old man kept one hand hidden inside his sleeve. It was not the posture of a truly helpless beggar. It was the posture of someone used to surviving even half-asleep.
"I didn't come to rob you," Lin Yuan said at last.
The old man opened the same eye as before, just a slit.
"Then you came to ask for something. That's worse."
Lin Yuan stepped closer.
"Maybe. Or maybe I just came to look."
"Well, you've looked. You can leave now."
That answer would have been enough for most people. Lin Yuan, however, had an ancient voice in his head identifying the man as a damaged living inheritance. He was not leaving so easily.
"You're on my mountain," he said.
The old man let out a rough laugh.
"Your mountain? Boy, if you can claim it, then congratulations. You chose a barren, windy rock forgotten by the heavens."
Lin Yuan crossed his arms.
"I still claim it."
The old man opened both eyes then and studied him properly.
There was no drunken haze in that gaze.
It was sharp.
Clear.
Far too quick.
"So," he murmured. "You're one of those."
"One of what?"
"Those who still own nothing but already speak as if the world owes them space."
Lin Yuan held the man's gaze without wavering.
"It doesn't owe me anything. That's why I'm taking it."
A brief silence followed.
Then the old man slowly pushed himself upright and picked up the empty jar beside him. He was taller than he had looked while lying down. Thin, yes, and worn by years, but not fragile. His fingers were stained, his nails rough, and old scars marked his wrists in ways that did not fit the image of a simple drunk.
"That sounded better than I expected," he admitted. "What's your name?"
"Lin Yuan."
"Decent name. And what exactly are you, Lin Yuan? Because you don't smell like a sect, you don't dress like a clan, and you certainly don't look like a merchant. You smell like recent blood, ruin dust, and problems you don't understand yet."
Lin Yuan almost smiled.
"Founder."
The old man stared at him.
Then he laughed so loudly that he had to lean against the tree.
"Founder of what?" he asked between bursts of laughter. "A hut with wind?"
"The Primordial Firmament Sect."
The laughter slowly faded.
Not because the old man was impressed, but because he understood Lin Yuan was not joking.
"That," the old man said, tilting his head, "is more interesting."
Lin Yuan decided to play a risky card.
"And the system thinks you're useful."
The old man's eyes narrowed.
The change was slight, but very real.
"System?" he repeated, his voice lower.
Lin Yuan did not answer immediately. He watched the old man with the same caution the old man was using on him.
"So you do understand that word."
The silence between them sharpened.
For three breaths, only the wind in the branches could be heard.
At last the old man snorted and looked away.
"Understand is a large word," he said. "Let's say I've lived long enough not to be completely surprised when the world decides to become strange."
"So I'm not mad."
"I didn't say that," the old man replied. "Only that you may be a less common kind of mad than usual."
Lin Yuan let the comment pass.
"The system identified you as a damaged living inheritance."
The old man went still.
Very still.
Too still.
Then he slowly lifted the empty jar, shook it as if he still hoped to find wine inside, and dropped it again.
"That is offensively accurate."
Lin Yuan felt a small pulse of victory.
"Then come with me."
The old man raised an eyebrow.
"That was direct."
"I don't have time for circles. My sect has just been born. The mountain has ruins. The system detected you. You understand at least part of what that means. I need resources, knowledge, and someone who doesn't flinch when strange words appear. You need…" He glanced at the empty jar. "…something better than waiting beneath twisted trees until you rot completely."
The old man examined him for a long time.
He did not grow offended.
He did not laugh.
He simply weighed him with a seriousness he had not shown before.
"You speak with too much firmness for someone who has barely begun to gather qi."
Lin Yuan felt a sharp flicker of alertness.
"You can sense it."
"I can sense many things, boy. A few of them still."
The system's voice appeared in his mind.
System suggestion:
— High probability of acceptance if curiosity is invoked rather than pride.
Lin Yuan resisted the urge to sigh.
"Then come look," he said. "I'm not asking for an oath. I'm not asking for blind loyalty. Just look at the mountain and tell me whether I'm wasting my time."
The old man stroked his beard with stained fingers.
"And what do I gain?"
"That depends on whether you still prefer bad wine to shelter."
The old man studied him for one more breath.
"I still prefer wine," he said at last. "But I admit curiosity has always been the worse vice."
He picked up the jar, stood fully, and pointed with his chin.
"Show me your so-called sect, Founder."
The climb back up was slow. The old man walked like someone tired, but he did not truly seem weak. Sometimes he stumbled too dramatically. Other times he crossed difficult rock with an ease that did not fit the image of a washed-up drunk. Lin Yuan noticed and kept the thought to himself.
When they reached the summit, the old man stopped.
He did not speak right away.
He looked at the ruins.
The broken pillars.
The buried slab.
The dilapidated main hall.
And for the first time, all mockery vanished from his face.
He moved to the buried formation behind the hall and knelt with much more care than he had shown during the entire walk. He touched one engraved line with two fingers. Then another. Then he went still, as if he were listening to something hidden beneath the stone.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Lin Yuan did not interrupt him.
The old man rose slowly and looked out over the mountain from the hall's platform.
"Very interesting."
"Do you know what this place is?" Lin Yuan asked.
"I know what it is not," the old man replied. "It is not an empty mountain. These are not random ruins. And that hall…" He examined the damaged building with renewed attention. "That did not appear here by chance, did it?"
Lin Yuan went silent for a moment, then said:
"No."
The old man looked at him sideways.
"Good. At least you have enough judgment not to tell me everything on the first day."
Then he entered the hall without permission and inspected the inside. He touched a broken shelf. Knocked on a cracked beam with his knuckles. Examined the raised platform at the back. Then he stepped outside again and stopped in front of the entrance.
"This is bad," he said.
"I noticed."
"No, boy. I mean truly bad. The base structure exists, but qi circulation is uneven. There are remnants of an old peripheral formation buried and inactive. The water is poorly channeled. The main entrance bleeds energy. And if it rains hard, half of the western wall will collapse."
Lin Yuan kept silent.
The old man looked at him.
"And you chose it anyway?"
"The system recommended it."
"Then your system has ruthless taste."
"I already knew that."
The old man gave a small humorless laugh.
"Good. Because serious things are rarely built on comfort. They are built on what others discard and fail to understand."
The phrase hit Lin Yuan strangely hard.
For a moment, he saw the man not as a drunk, but as someone who had known something much greater and had fallen very far from it.
"I never asked your name," Lin Yuan said.
The old man turned his gaze to the horizon.
"Gu Tian."
The interface flashed at once.
Useful presence confirmed:
— Gu Tian
— Potential value: very high
— Current status: degraded / low trust
Lin Yuan read the notification and looked back up.
"So, Elder Gu Tian… will you stay?"
The old man snorted.
"Don't call me elder as if I've already accepted you."
"Does that mean no?"
Gu Tian looked again at the ruins, the buried formation, and the half-broken hall.
Then at Lin Yuan.
"It means I'll stay for a while," he said at last. "Only to see how long this idea of yours takes to collapse."
Lin Yuan nodded.
He did not smile too much.
He did not celebrate.
But something inside his chest settled a little more firmly.
The Primordial Firmament Sect was still a miserable ruin on a forgotten mountain.
Now, however, it had something it had not possessed the day before.
An old man who could listen to stone as if the past still beat inside it.
And for a sect born from nothing, that was already a true beginning.