Morning in the Restart Sect arrived with the sound of rain dripping through the hole in the main hall's roof and onto Chen Yuan's forehead. He'd spent the night on a pile of moldy cushions that smelled like regret and ancient dust, dreaming of his old apartment's reliable ceiling and the way his granddaughter would roll her eyes when he complained about his back.
"Grandpa was right," he muttered, sitting up and wincing at the stiffness in joints that were technically sixty years old but felt brand new and utterly unprepared for sleeping on stone floors. "Sleeping on the ground is for camping trips and bad decisions."
Lin Mei was already awake, curled in the corner like a feral cat, her eyes wide and watchful. She'd found a relatively dry spot under a collapsed beam and had spent the night clutching her gardening trowel like a talisman.
"Morning, kiddo," Chen Yuan said, keeping his voice soft. He'd learned long ago that sudden movements and loud noises made traumatized kids flinch. "Sleep okay?"
She nodded, but the dark circles under her eyes told a different story. "The spirit energy here is... different," she whispered. "It's not like the Lin clan's training grounds. It's quieter."
"Good," Chen Yuan said, stretching until his spine popped. "Quieter is better for thinking. Now, first order of business: food. Second order: fixing that damn roof. Third order: figuring out what the hell spirit rice actually is."
The System helpfully pinged in his vision, displaying a recipe for "Basic Spiritual Congee" that required ingredients he didn't have, a cooking vessel he lacked, and a technique called "Flame Control" that he definitely couldn't perform. He dismissed it with a mental swipe.
"System's great for big ideas," he told Lin Mei, who was watching the empty air where his interface appeared with wide-eyed fascination. "Terrible for practical details. We'll figure it out the old-fashioned way."
He led her outside into the misty morning. The mountain air was crisp and clean, carrying scents of pine and wet earth that reminded him of hiking trips decades ago. The sect grounds were small—a main hall, a few collapsed outbuildings, and what might have been a training courtyard now overgrown with weeds that glowed faintly with spiritual energy.
"Alright, lesson one of the Restart Sect: improvisation." Chen Yuan knelt by a stream, cupping his hands to drink. The water was cold and sweet, with a subtle tingling sensation that made his fingers feel more alive. "Spirit water, I guess. Better than tap water, worse than my daughter's filtered stuff."
Lin Mei mimicked him, drinking cautiously. Her eyes widened. "It... it doesn't hurt. The clan's spirit spring always burned."
"Probably because they were forcing it," Chen Yuan said, his engineer's mind already working through the problem. "Too much pressure, wrong flow rate. Like trying to run a high-voltage current through a small wire. You don't force growth; you guide it."
He stood, brushing off his robes. "Speaking of guidance, let's see what we're working with."
The Four Foundations scrolls had materialized on a stone table in the main hall, each one sealed with a faint golden light. Chen Yuan unrolled the first: "Breath of Beginnings - Qi Circulation Technique."
The text was in characters he somehow understood, describing breathing patterns and energy pathways that would have made his old tai chi instructor weep with joy. But the diagrams showed something unusual—instead of forcing qi through specific meridians, it suggested a gentle, cyclical flow that adapted to the practitioner's natural rhythm.
"Lin Mei, come here." He pointed to the diagram. "Try this. Don't force it, just... breathe. Like you're trying to calm down after a nightmare."
She looked skeptical but obeyed, sitting cross-legged and closing her eyes. Her breathing was ragged at first, panicked little gasps that spoke of nights spent crying silently. But slowly, under Chen Yuan's quiet instructions—"slower," "deeper," "imagine you're floating"—it steadied.
The morning sun broke through the mist, painting the courtyard in gold. And there, in the light, Chen Yuan saw something that made his breath catch.
Tiny motes of spiritual energy, barely visible, were drifting toward Lin Mei like fireflies. They weren't forcing their way into her body; they were... waiting. Hovering. Respecting her pace.
"Well, I'll be damned," he whispered. "The System wasn't kidding about 'Fresh Start.'"
The scroll had mentioned that the technique would reveal hidden potential, but Chen Yuan had assumed that was marketing fluff. Yet as he watched, those motes of energy began to spiral around Lin Mei, forming patterns that looked suspiciously like the growth rings of a tree.
Her eyes snapped open. "I can feel it," she breathed. "Not inside, but... around me. Like it's listening."
"Good," Chen Yuan said, his gruff voice hiding his excitement. "That's your garden, kiddo. You're not a vessel to be filled; you're soil to be tended. The energy grows with you, not in spite of you."
The System chimed softly.
[Disciple Lin Mei: Qi Sensitivity Unlocked]
[Progress: 3% of Foundation Stage]
[Host receives 5 Sect Points]
[New Building Unlocked: Meditation Garden (Cost: 50 Sect Points)]
"Fifty points," Chen Yuan muttered. "We're five points rich and forty-five points poor. Story of my life."
Lin Mei tilted her head. "Sect Master?"
"Nothing, kiddo. Just talking to the voices in my head. Perfectly normal for sect masters, I'm sure." He rolled up the qi scroll and moved to the second: "Body of Stone - Physical Tempering."
This one was more straightforward—stretches, stances, and progressive resistance training. But again, it emphasized adaptation over rigid form. The practitioner was supposed to find their own body's natural strength and build from there.
"Alright, Lin Mei. Time to see what you've got. Try this stance." He demonstrated a simple horse stance, his old knees protesting the movement. "Hold it as long as you can. Don't push into pain, just... find your balance."
She copied him, her thin legs trembling almost immediately. But she didn't complain, didn't collapse. She simply breathed through it, her face set in determination that reminded Chen Yuan of his daughter learning to ride a bike—wobbling, falling, but always getting back up.
While she held the stance, Chen Yuan examined the third scroll: "Flowing Water - Movement Technique." It was basically parkour meets tai chi, emphasizing fluid motion and reading the terrain. The fourth scroll, "Empty Hand - Weapon Foundation," was interesting—it didn't teach a specific weapon style but rather the principles behind all weapons: balance, extension, intent.
"System," he muttered, "you're either brilliantly designed or completely broken. Not sure which."
[Answer: Both. Like all good teachers.]
Chen Yuan snorted. "Smartass."
Lin Mei held the stance for three minutes before her legs gave out. She collapsed gracelessly onto the moss, panting but smiling. "I did it," she whispered, like she couldn't quite believe it.
"You did," Chen Yuan confirmed, helping her up. His old back complained, but her smile was worth it. "Now, let's talk about that roof. The Body of Stone technique includes carrying heavy things. I figure patching holes counts."
They spent the afternoon gathering broad leaves and weaving them into a patch that Chen Yuan wedged into the hole. It wasn't pretty, and it probably wouldn't last a week, but when the next rain came and only a few drops made it through instead of a waterfall, Lin Mei cheered like he'd built a palace.
That night, Chen Yuan cooked their first meal. The System had provided a small bag of "Spiritual Millet," which looked like regular rice that had been left in a disco—glowing faintly and humming with energy. He had no pot, no fire, and no idea how to cook it.
So he did what his grandmother had taught him sixty years ago. He found a flat stone, heated it in the sun, ground the millet between two rocks, and mixed it with water from the stream. The result was a lumpy, lukewarm paste that tasted like nothing and everything at once. It filled the belly and left a warm tingling sensation that wasn't quite satiation but wasn't hunger either.
Lin Mei ate it with the focus of someone who'd known real hunger. "It's good," she said solemnly.
"It's terrible," Chen Yuan corrected. "But it's *our* terrible. Tomorrow, we'll make it better."
As darkness fell, they sat in the main hall, the patchy roof showing stars through the gaps. Lin Mei practiced her breathing while Chen Yuan watched the System interface, now showing a slowly filling bar labeled "Sect Harmony."
[Sect Harmony: 15/100]
[Effects: Disciple recovery speed +5%, Host's back pain -10%]
Chen Yuan stretched and was surprised to find his spine didn't scream at him. "Huh. The System's good for something after all."
"Master?" Lin Mei's voice was small in the darkness.
"Yeah, kiddo?"
"Why did you choose me? The Lin clan said I was worthless. That I'd never amount to anything."
Chen Yuan looked at her, this broken child who held a gardening trowel like it was Excalibur, who'd been told she was trash but still got up when she fell. He thought of all the kids he'd mentored, the ones who'd been told they weren't smart enough, fast enough, good enough. He thought of his own daughter, who'd struggled in school until someone—him—had told her that slow progress was still progress.
"Because," he said, his voice gruff with emotion he didn't try to hide, "the best things I've ever built weren't made from perfect materials. They were made from broken parts that just needed someone to see how they could fit together."
He gestured at the scrolls, at the patched roof, at the lumpy millet paste cooling between them. "The Restart Sect doesn't fix people, Lin Mei. We just give them a place where they can fix themselves. You're not my disciple because you're strong. You're my disciple because you're willing to try again. That's worth more than any spirit root."
She cried then, quiet tears that she didn't try to hide. Chen Yuan didn't offer empty comfort. He just sat beside her, a grumpy old man and a broken girl, while the mountain wind sang through the holes in their roof and the stars watched a sect being born from patience and kindness rather than ambition.
The System chimed one last time before Chen Yuan dismissed it for the night.
[Host's Empathy Resonance detected.]
[Sect Harmony +5]
[New Passive Unlocked: "Grandfather's Patience" - Disciples are 20% less likely to develop cultivation deviation.]
Chen Yuan smiled into the darkness. "Not bad for day one, eh, kiddo?"
Lin Mei was already asleep, her breathing steady and deep, her trowel clutched to her chest like a child's favorite toy. Outside, the mountain was quiet, but within the ruins of the Restart Sect, something ancient and new was taking root.
It wasn't powerful. It wasn't impressive. But it was theirs
And for Chen Yuan, who'd spent a lifetime building things that lasted, that was enough.