## **Chapter 352 — The Sound of Wood Splitting**
Yang Lin spent the morning chopping firewood.
The axe was dull. He kept it that way.
Each strike landed imperfectly. Wood split along its own decision, not his intent. Splinters bit into his palm. He did not seal the wound.
Su Qinglan watched from the doorway.
> **Su Qinglan:** "You could do this without effort."
> **Yang Lin:** "Then it wouldn't warm the house."
She said nothing more.
By noon, the pile was uneven but sufficient.
Winter would pass.
That was enough.
---
## **Chapter 353 — A Cultivator Who Forgot His Name**
A man arrived at the clinic near sunset.
He remembered techniques. Meridians. Breath cycles.
But not his name.
Yang Lin listened as the man spoke, calmly unraveling centuries of mastery without identity attached.
> **Man:** "Am I broken?"
Yang Lin shook his head.
> **Yang Lin:** "You're unburdened."
The man slept deeply for the first time in decades.
When he woke, he chose a new name.
It did not echo through history.
It fit him anyway.
---
## **Chapter 354 — Mu Ruyan Tries Baking**
Mu Ruyan attempted to bake bread.
She failed spectacularly.
The dough collapsed. The heat was wrong. The result was inedible.
She stared at it in silence.
Then laughed.
A sound she did not recognize at first.
Yang Lin tasted it anyway.
> **Yang Lin:** "Too much salt."
> **Mu Ruyan:** "I know."
She baked again the next day.
Failure, repeated without threat, softened her more than any victory ever had.
---
## **Chapter 355 — A Night Without Dreams**
That night, Yang Lin did not dream.
No memories resurfaced.
No suppressed truths clawed upward.
No echoes of former selves whispered.
Sleep came. Sleep went.
He woke rested.
Somewhere beyond comprehension, an entity designed to deliver revelation waited endlessly—its purpose untriggered.
It would wait forever.
---
## **Chapter 356 — The Argument About Nothing**
Li Yueyin argued with Su Qinglan over herbs.
Not their use.
Not their rarity.
Their placement on the shelf.
Voices rose. Gestures sharpened.
Yang Lin listened from outside, smiling faintly.
The argument ended with laughter and mild embarrassment.
No one was right.
No one needed to be.
Later, Yang Lin realized this was the first conflict in his presence that did not orbit him at all.
He considered it a success.
---
## **Chapter 357 — The Visitor Who Expected Awe**
A powerful cultivator arrived unannounced.
His aura pressed down instinctively.
The city reacted—then adjusted.
Children kept playing.
Merchants kept arguing.
Yang Lin met him at the gate.
> **Cultivator:** "You're him."
Yang Lin waited.
> **Cultivator:** "Say something."
> **Yang Lin:** "You're blocking the road."
The cultivator stepped aside, confused.
For the first time in centuries, his presence did not reorder reality.
He left without challenging anyone.
Power unused felt heavier than defeat.
---
## **Chapter 358 — Rain That Was Just Rain**
It rained all day.
Roofs leaked. Streets flooded slightly.
No one interpreted it.
Yang Lin repaired the eaves with Mu Ruyan. They worked in silence.
Water soaked their sleeves.
Cold seeped in.
They finished anyway.
When night came, the rain stopped without apology.
Nothing was learned.
Everything continued.
---
## **Chapter 359 — The Child Who Asked for a Story**
A child tugged Yang Lin's sleeve.
> **Child:** "Tell me a story."
> **Yang Lin:** "About what?"
The child thought hard.
> **Child:** "About someone who didn't become anything."
Yang Lin told him about a man who woke up, worked, loved poorly, failed often, and died unknown.
The child listened, rapt.
> **Child:** "Was he happy?"
Yang Lin considered.
> **Yang Lin:** "He was present."
The child nodded, satisfied.
That night, the child slept without dreaming of greatness.
---
## **Chapter 360 — The World That Stopped Checking**
Days passed.
Nothing announced itself.
No calamity probed the boundaries.
No prophecy stirred restlessly.
No hidden realm aligned.
The world stopped checking if Yang Lin still existed.
It assumed he did.
And moved on.
Yang Lin watched the sunset with the others, warmth at his back, ground solid beneath his feet.
No ascension waited.
No conclusion approached.
Just another tomorrow.
And he chose it—again.
---
## **Chapter 361 — The Morning That Didn't Ask**
Morning came quietly.
No one remarked on it.
Yang Lin woke before the others, not out of habit, but because his body had finished resting. He sat on the edge of the bed for a while, listening to the city breathe—footsteps on stone, a vendor calling out prices, a door opening too loudly and then closing more gently.
He washed his face with cold water.
It was colder than yesterday.
He accepted that.
Outside, the sky was pale, undecided. Not promising rain. Not denying it either.
Li Yueyin eventually joined him, hair unbound, eyes still half in sleep.
> **Li Yueyin:** "Is today important?"
Yang Lin thought, then shook his head.
> **Yang Lin:** "Not more than yesterday."
She smiled and leaned against the doorway, satisfied.
They ate simply. Rice. Vegetables. Tea that had steeped a little too long.
Mu Ruyan complained about the bitterness. Su Qinglan drank it anyway.
After breakfast, everyone drifted off to their own small tasks. No plans were announced. No roles were assigned.
Yang Lin stepped outside and stood in the street for a moment, unsure where to go.
The feeling did not trouble him.
Eventually, he walked.
Somewhere, far beyond the city and far beyond relevance, something ancient marked another day of waiting.
Here, a man crossed the street to help a neighbor lift a broken cart.
The morning did not ask what he would become.
And he did not answer.