No one knew how long had passed before the sun within the cave heaven shifted to hang directly overhead.
Only then did the lingering violet mist slowly disperse, and stillness return to the realm.
Yet compared to when Jiang Yan had first stepped inside, the place was utterly transformed.
It was no exaggeration to call it a change of heaven and earth.
Jiang Yan sat cross-legged within the Grand Hall atop Tongtian Peak, the word Dao—vast, profound, and inscrutable—carved alone upon the great wall behind him.
His face was slightly pale, yet with spiritual energy continuously pouring into him, his strength was quickly returning.
From the highest summit, his gaze swept down across the landscape—mile upon mile unfolding beneath him.
Even with his normally composed temperament, he couldn't help but let a proud smile curl at his lips.
The seven most prominent peaks—the Seven Mount Shu Ridges—were no longer the barren, unsightly spires they had been before.
The ranges now towered majestically, peaks and ridges rising and falling like the strokes of a master's brush.
Beyond the seven tallest, many slightly lower peaks still held a beauty of their own—graced with bamboo groves, golden maples, and snow-laden plum blossoms.
Forests thick as green seas, waterfalls tumbling from sheer cliffs, strange rocks shaped by time's patient hand.
Some peaks lay cloaked in perpetual snow; others were lush with vibrant greenery.
Together, the contrasting scenes formed a wonder—an embodiment of Mount Shu's breadth of spirit and inclusiveness.
No visitor could look upon it and think Mount Shu wanting.
The Seven Ridges were linked, with six encircling Tongtian Peak in protective embrace.
Stranger, more extraordinary vistas brewed in the spaces between the mountains.
Rainbow bridges spanned the ridges, solid enough to walk upon and cross as though stepping between realms.
Endless seas of cloud coiled about the mountains' midsections, their rolling tides exuding grandeur.
At the base, a vast emerald screen of bamboo encircled the ridges like a living wall, whispering when the astral wind stirred, its rustle like the notes of a hidden zither.
There were moonlit terraces that only revealed themselves at night, and flying rays of crimson and gold that streaked the heavens at set hours.
Upon the ridges, Jiang Yan had raised grand structures: painted pavilions, jade towers, carved beams, and painted rafters—splendor without vulgarity, more akin to celestial palaces than earthly halls.
Even the immortal gathering places of Jueyun Karst seemed crude in comparison.
Each peak bore its own architectural character:
Tongtian Peak, the seat of the Sect Master, was dominated by upright, dignified palaces in perfect symmetry around the Grand Hall.
Xiaozhu Peak, inheriting a feminine elegance, scattered its graceful buildings among bamboo and streams.
Longshou Peak, home to the enforcers of sect law, rose with an awe-inspiring severity, its massive halls designed to impose.
Diversity within unity; unity without loss of identity.
The Seven Ridges—this was, for Jiang Yan, his proudest creation yet.
Far beyond the foot of the ridges—hundreds of li away—lay a quiet peach-blossom village.
Simple wooden houses stood there, built for the mortals who would one day live within the cave heaven.
Mount Shu did not practice the "ruthless Dao" of severing all mortal ties; cultivators, too, had families.
Yet the ridges were lofty beyond compare—mortals, and even Vision bearers, would find them hard to climb.
Between the village and the ridges sprawled a vast white-jade square, easily large enough to hold tens of thousands at once—reserved for future disciple recruitment trials.
North of the square, past the bamboo wall at the ridges' base, lay a forest of swords—each blade thrust into the earth, some corroded with age, others gleaming as if newly forged.
These were weapons Jiang Yan had casually crafted earlier—not equal to Zhongli's divine arms, but many rivaled the Lion's Roar.
In time, he would forge finer blades from rarer materials—treasures not inferior to Teyvat's finest artifacts—and weave them into a great sword formation as a place of trial.
Beyond the Seven Ridges lay varied landscapes—lakes and rivers, mountains and rainforests, plains and snowy wastes.
The cave heaven now bore the grandeur of a true miniature world.
No small feat—and worth the exhaustion.
Even his heavenly tribulation had not drained him as much as this creation had; his spiritual reserves were utterly spent.
Golden light flickered in his eyes as he surveyed his work.
The Mount Shu Cave Heaven was now whole—but not perfect.
The greatest flaw? Its lifelessness.
He could not yet breathe life into existence—that was beyond one who had not even ascended to true immortality.
Nor could a great sect exist without formations: the trial grounds needed arrays like the Heart-Refining Formation; each ridge required its own defenses.
These were massive undertakings—not the work of a day or two.
After that, he would need to devise sect techniques—Mount Shu's heritage could not be mere common spells.
The Five Elements Mantra was versatile but lacked uniqueness; he would draw from the boundless Huangting Jade View Classic, refining even a single section into a peerless method.
Then there were pills to aid cultivation, artifacts for disciples, and plans for their worldly trials.
Just thinking of it all made his head ache.
Without the system's help, simply imbuing life into beasts alone would tire him to death.
After a long silence, Jiang Yan exhaled slowly.
"Forget it. Step by step, as the old saying goes. Once I've recovered my energy, I'll tour Teyvat and gather more living creatures. Otherwise this place will remain a dead land."
"Especially cranes—what self-respecting cultivation sect has no immortal cranes? I hear Jueyun Karst has many… Hopefully Cloud Retainer won't be too upset when I take some."
With that, he closed his eyes, the Huangting Jade View Classic beginning its cycle.
The void of the cave heaven drew in Teyvat's spiritual energy—not from Liyue itself, which would cause too much disturbance, but from the depths of the Abyss and the far outer seas.
These places lay close to the primal essence of "Tree and the Sea," overflowing with energy, and any ripples there would cause no trouble.
At this pace, the cave heaven would be filled in minutes.
As for the so-called "imaginary energy" of the Tree and the Sea universe—just another name for spiritual energy.
All energies under heaven were but different faces of qi; their attributes might be dangerous to Teyvat's natives or even to Tree-and-Sea denizens, but to a cultivator like him?
Qi was qi. If it was qi, he could draw it in.
At worst, he would refine it more thoroughly.
As spiritual energy surged into the cave heaven, Jiang Yan's recovery accelerated; he even began his first cultivation session since stepping onto the true path.
The commotion in the abyss and outer seas? He couldn't care less.
First he had to train; then he had to gather beasts.
Time was tight—everything had to be ready before Zhongli and the others returned to decide whether to join Mount Shu.
Would they refuse? Hardly.
No one could reject the lure of immortality—not even Teyvat's own immortals.
And while Jiang Yan immersed himself in the joy of cultivation…
Zhongli and the others had already convened the Qixing and the adepti, preparing to open a long-dormant full Liyue Qixing council.
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