Zhang Wei sighed as he took in his surroundings. The courtyard was vast but hollow, lined with many dark, empty rooms that stared back at him like silent watchers. Their stillness pressed upon him, and for a brief moment he felt as if he were wandering through the abandoned halls of an old memory.
He rubbed the back of his neck and muttered to himself.
"I should probably light this place up before I lose my mind in the dark."
Before doing anything else, he turned his attention inward. His hands ran across the fabric of his clothes. They were loose, flowing robes of a style he had only ever seen in wuxia dramas. Black as night, with gold trimming along the edges, the outfit gave him an air of gravitas he had never possessed in his old world.
His gaze dropped to his hair. Black, long, and soft, it cascaded down his back until it brushed against the backs of his thighs. Zhang Wei lifted a handful and let it slip between his fingers, chuckling under his breath.
"So this is what it feels like to look like a proper cultivator… not bad, not bad at all."
He imagined how impressive he must appear at that moment, robes swaying gently in the evening breeze, hair shimmering like silk. Just as he was about to let his imagination run wild, the heavens themselves seemed to answer with a rude reminder.
A heavy sack thudded onto his skull with merciless weight. Rice spilled against his shoulders as his knees buckled, followed by the crash of clay vases, pots, bowls, utensils, and even a small wrapped box tumbling down in a heap.
"Ahg! My head, my poor head!" he groaned, staggering as the ten-kilogram bag of rice buried him under its indignity.
The dizziness made him sway like a drunkard. He sat down hard on the ground, clutching his crown as curses slipped from his lips.
"System! Do you deliver supplies or do you plan to attempt a murder? Couldn't you have dropped them beside me instead of on top of me?"
The mechanical voice of the system did not answer. Only the faint ringing in his ears gave him company.
Slowly, Zhang Wei forced himself to stand. He dusted off the powdery traces of rice from his robes, muttering complaints under his breath, before turning his attention to the pile.
It was his first daily reward. Crude, simple, but undeniably real. A sack of rice, jars of water, worn cooking tools, wooden utensils, and a bundle of herbs and spices wrapped in faded yellow cloth. His hands trembled as he looked at them, not from awe but from the weight of practicality. These were survival tools, nothing more, yet to him they were proof that this strange new life was tangible.
Exhaling, he scanned the houses flanking the courtyard. They were silent and empty, but one would need to become a kitchen. After some thought, he chose the western wing.
"Rice first," he told himself, hoisting the sack over his shoulder with visible strain. His body, though dressed like a hero, lacked the strength to match. He staggered across the courtyard, each step dragging his feet against the stone tiles, until he reached the short wooden stairs of the western house.
He pushed open the sliding lattice door, and darkness rushed to greet him. Inside, the room was plain but sturdy, with smooth wooden planks for flooring and brick-lined walls. A few built-in tables clung to the edges, while tall red pillars rose toward the ceiling, lanterns dangling silently from their beams.
"Yes… this will do," he said with a nod.
One by one, he carried the supplies inside, tucking them into the corners and arranging them with the clumsy care of someone who had never in his life thought about storage. As he set the last pot down, his hand brushed against a small box. He opened it to find a pack of matches, old but serviceable.
His lips curved upward. "Finally, some light."
He struck the first match, its flame flaring to life with a hiss, and brought it to a lantern. Warm light spilled across the wooden walls. He lit another lantern, then another, until one by one the courtyard began to glow. The eastern and western wings, the main hall, the smaller side rooms, even the posts by the outer courtyard, each lantern came alive under his hand.
By the time night had fully fallen, the siheyuan no longer looked abandoned. It was still empty, devoid of beds or furniture, yet the soft golden glow of the lanterns gave it warmth.
Zhang Wei stood beneath the twisted autumn tree in the main courtyard, gazing at the small houses illuminated by firelight. Despite their emptiness, despite the cold stone beneath his feet, he felt a spark of satisfaction. This was not luxury. It was not even comfort. But it was his.
Lifting his head, he stared at the sky. Stars scattered themselves across the heavens in glittering constellations, and the great white moon loomed above, serene and whole. A long breath left his lips, easing the tension in his chest.
Dragging the wooden rocking chair from the main hall, he placed it near the front steps and sat down. The chair creaked as it rocked gently back and forth. He pulled his robes around himself and smiled faintly.
"Good night, Zhang Wei," he whispered to the silence.
His eyes closed, and for the first time since his death, he surrendered himself to rest.
While Zhang Wei slept in peace, the mountains beyond his secluded courtyard trembled beneath a different rhythm. Trees bent and cracked as something massive surged through them. Rocks shuddered loose from their crags, rolling down steep cliffs into the valleys below.
The beast moved like a shadow split from the earth itself. Its scales were black as obsidian, each one edged with veins that glowed like molten metal. Under the silver light of the moon, the glow spread across its entire body, painting it in fire and darkness. This was an earthbound drake, ancient and merciless, its serpentine form slithering over stone ridges with terrifying speed. Wherever it passed, the mountain seemed to break apart in protest.
It was not moving without reason. Its golden, molten eyes fixed upon prey.
Four figures fled across the peaks, desperate to outpace death.
At the front ran a young man dressed in flowing white robes. His brown hair, tied neatly in a ponytail, streamed behind him as he carried a woman in his arms. His face was handsome by nature, but strain twisted his expression, and his hazel eyes darted frantically toward the beast that followed.
The woman he held was radiant even through her tears. Her skin was pale as porcelain, her long black hair cascading freely, styled with delicate care. Her green eyes shimmered with grief as sobs escaped her lips. The pink folds of her hanfu clung to her as she trembled against the man's chest.
Behind them, two more women kept pace. Both wore close-fitted dark attire meant for speed and combat. Their steps were swift, their movements sharp, yet their expressions betrayed the fear knotting their hearts.
The first had short black hair, cut unevenly around her shoulders, her eyes as dark as the void. Her face was sharp, her beauty carried in severity rather than softness. The second had hair of bright yellow, braided into twin ropes that bounced as she ran, her pale gray eyes glinting beneath the moonlight.
The mountain roared beneath them as the drake closed in.
"Damn it!" the short-haired woman spat, glancing upward as a massive shadow blotted out the stars. "Dodge, now!"
The warning left her lips just in time.
The man shifted, clutching the woman in his arms tighter as he leapt aside. The blonde woman threw herself to the right. A thunderous crash followed as the drake slammed into the ground where they had stood.
Stone shattered, rising into the air as fragments. Dust and smoke clouded the peak, swallowing the four within a suffocating haze. When it cleared, the beast loomed before them, its body coiled within a crater of crushed stone. Each movement of its massive form scraped against the earth, and the glow of its molten veins cast a sickly light across the survivors' faces.
Its head lowered, golden eyes gleaming with hunger.
The short-haired woman's chest heaved. She forced her voice to remain steady, though her knuckles whitened around the twin blades in her hands.
"Jian Feng! Take her and run. Ling Yue and I will buy you time."
The man's name echoed in the air like a command. Jian Feng gritted his teeth, his jaw trembling as he glanced at his companions. For a moment, guilt and fury warred in his eyes. Finally, he nodded, his voice sharp with restrained pain.
"Damn it… stay alive. I swear I'll bring help!"
The short-haired woman managed a crooked smile, though her eyes never left the drake. "Just hurry."
Beside her, Ling Yue, the blonde, forced a shaky laugh. "We'll hold. We always do."
With that, Jian Feng bolted, arms tightening around the trembling woman he carried. His speed was unlike that of a mortal man, his robes fluttering as he pushed his body to its limit.
In his arms, the noblewoman clung to him, tears streaking her face. Her voice broke as she spoke between sobs.
"I'm… I'm nothing but a burden. If not for me, none of you—"
"Enough!" Jian Feng cut her off firmly. His breath was ragged, yet his tone held no hesitation. "It is our duty to protect you. There is no shame in that, and no blame should befall upon you."
Her lips trembled as she buried her face against his chest, though her voice slipped out once more, weak and uncertain.
"Ling Yue… Jing Hua… will they survive?"
For a heartbeat, Jian Feng hesitated. He forced his face into determination, his eyes hardening as he delivered the lie without faltering.
"They will. They have to."
The woman's sobs quieted, though despair lingered in her gaze. She clung to his words as if they were the only thing left she could believe.
Behind them, the mountain shook again as the drake unleashed a guttural roar, its molten veins pulsing brighter with the hunger of pursuit.