By the second morning, the east slope courtyard felt less like a forgotten corner of the sect and more like a pocket of quiet carved out of the mountain.
The dust no longer hung in the air. The half-dead tree held its remaining leaves a little higher. The training platform, once just a slab of stone, now sat at the center of subtle lines and currents only a handful of people in the sect could have noticed.
Shen Liang had arranged it that way without ever lifting a broom.
He stood in the middle of the platform with his hands tucked into his sleeves, gaze resting somewhere between his four disciples and the sky. Morning light softened the hard edges of the courtyard. The ambient qi moved in an even, unhurried loop, guided along channels he had nudged into place.
Lin Yue, Zhao Han, Mei Rulan, and Chen Wei stood in a rough line facing him.
They already looked slightly different from the day before.
Lin Yue's eyes were less shadowed, as if a night of sleep had not been spent entirely worrying about expulsion. Zhao Han's jaw still held its habitual clench, but his shoulders sat a fraction lower. Mei Rulan's hair was as immaculate as ever, but there was a stiffness to her posture that spoke of muscles used in unfamiliar ways. Chen Wei's gaze flicked around less frantically, pausing more often on the exits than on Shen himself.
Progress, in its own way.
"We'll start with something simple," Shen said. "Philosophy."
Zhao made a face.
"We're cultivators, not scholars," he muttered.
"Philosophy is just the reason you do things," Shen said lazily. "If you don't know your own reasons, other people will happily give you theirs. That rarely ends well."
He let that sink in for a breath.
"The sect teaches you that effort is sacred," he went on. "Work hard, cultivate harder, push until you vomit blood, and Heaven will reward you." He tilted his head. "How has that worked out for you so far?"
Silence.
Lin Yue shifted her weight. "I work hard," she said in a small voice. "I still fall behind."
"I train until my muscles seize," Mei Rulan said stiffly. "My cultivation has not moved in three years."
Zhao snorted. "I put in more effort than half the inner disciples," he said. "They still call me trash from a minor clan."
Chen Wei said nothing, but his fingers dug into the edge of his sleeve.
"Effort is not useless," Shen said. "But effort without sense is just flailing. You can drown in an ocean of your own sweat and still be standing in the same place."
He lifted one hand and snapped his fingers.
The air around the training platform thickened by a barely noticeable fraction. Light bent a little more slowly. The ever-present taste of qi on the tongue deepened.
"This," he said, "is my domain. A small one." He glanced at them. "Don't look impressed. I'm being lazy."
Lin Yue's breath hitched. Her gaze flicked up and around, trying to follow currents her eyes weren't made to see.
"When you step onto this platform," Shen said, "you are stepping into a space that listens more to me than to the rest of the mountain. I can make it easier to move. Or harder. I can help your bodies remember correct forms. Or make you feel like you're wading through mud if you insist on doing things the stupid way."
Zhao bristled. "Stupid?"
"Wasteful," Shen corrected. "Loud. Impressive to children. Interesting to elders for about five minutes, until you tear something and they have to find another replacement." He let his gaze rest on Zhao until the boy looked away.
"Effort has its place," Shen said. "But in this courtyard, we value something else first: efficiency. Doing exactly as much as needed and no more." He tapped a knuckle lightly against the stone at his feet. "The mountain does not strain to stand. It simply stands. That is the kind of stability you're aiming for."
Mei Rulan's brows drew together. "If we do the bare minimum," she said, "how are we to compete with those who give everything?"
"You misunderstand," Shen said. "Efficiency is not doing less. It is not wasting what you do. If you pour a jar of water onto the ground, you get mud. If you pour the same water into a channel, you can turn a wheel. The effort is the same. The result isn't."
Lin Yue's eyes brightened faintly at that.
"Then what does that have to do with…" Zhao gestured vaguely at the courtyard. "Breathing. Standing on a rock."
"Everything," Shen said. "Right now, your foundations leak. You push qi and strength into your forms and half of it spills into the air around you. Then you get proud of the noise and wonder why your realm doesn't move."
He pointed at the platform.
"Today, we patch leaks."
He stepped back, motioning for them to move onto the stone.
"Lin Yue, center," he said.
She obeyed, hands clasped in front of her, shoulders hunched.
"Relax," Shen said. "You're not being judged. Much."
A nervous little laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
"Walk to the edge," he said. "Stop when I say."
She took a tentative step.
Shen nudged the domain at her feet, smoothing the qi ahead of her into a gentle current.
"There," he said. "Feel that?"
She paused, eyes closing briefly.
"It's… easier," she murmured.
"That is what it feels like when you move with the flow," Shen said. "Again."
He shifted the currents, adding a tiny snag where her next step would land.
She stepped—and faltered, her foot catching on nothing.
"And that," Shen said, "is what happens when you ignore it."
He let the domain settle back into its even loop.
"Your 'talent is poor' because no one taught you that your instincts were worth listening to," he said quietly. "Here, you will learn to listen first."
Lin Yue swallowed and nodded.
"Zhao Han," Shen said. "Stance."
Zhao took his place, feet planting with familiar force.
"Punch," Shen said.
Zhao drove his fist forward, qi surging.
Shen let the domain push back just enough to catch the excess.
The impact felt heavy but dull, the force dissipating around him.
"Again," Shen said. "But this time, push only enough to move your arm. No more."
Zhao frowned. "That's not—"
"Humor me," Shen said.
Zhao exhaled sharply and punched again, deliberately holding his qi back.
Shen adjusted the domain, letting the smaller burst of power slide along a more efficient path.
The impact cracked the air.
Zhao stared at his own fist.
"How…" he began.
"You've been trying to drown the stone," Shen said. "All you needed was enough water to smooth the cracks. Remember that feeling."
Zhao flexed his hand slowly, expression torn between confusion and reluctant respect.
"Mei Rulan," Shen said. "Forms. Slowly."
She stepped forward, spine straight. Her first movement was as precise as ever, arms and legs exactly where the manuals dictated.
Shen twisted the domain a fraction.
Her next step landed on a slightly softer patch of qi, her weight sinking more than expected.
She corrected instantly, forcing her muscles to compensate to keep the line perfect.
"Stop," Shen said.
She froze mid-transition.
"Again," he said. "This time, when the ground shifts, let the form shift with it. Don't chase the diagram in your head."
Her mouth tightened. "That will make the form sloppy."
"It will make it alive," Shen said. "If you cannot adjust a form to uneven ground, it will get you killed the first time you fight anywhere that isn't a practice yard swept by an obsessive elder."
After a heartbeat, she nodded and began again.
This time, when the domain nudged her step, she let her foot slide a little farther, adjusting the angle of her stance. The line wasn't perfect, but her center of gravity stayed stable.
"Better," Shen said. "You are not a painting. You are a person."
Mei Rulan's lips twitched as if she wanted to argue, then flattened.
"Chen Wei," Shen said.
Chen jumped a little at the sound of his name.
"Up," Shen said. "Walk the edge of the platform."
Chen stepped up, eyes flicking to the ground below as if calculating the fall.
"You are allowed to imagine this is the top of a cliff," Shen added.
"I already was," Chen muttered.
"Good," Shen said. "Now walk. No running. No looking for escape routes. Just… walk."
He wrapped the edge of the platform in a faint band of domain, making the stone feel narrower than it was.
Chen's steps shortened. His shoulders hunched. His gaze dropped to his feet.
Shen watched tension gather in his spine.
"Look up," Shen said softly.
Chen flinched. "I'll fall."
"You won't," Shen said. "Because if you do, I'll catch you before your face hits the ground, and that would be irritating for both of us."
Zhao snorted. Lin Yue hid a smile behind her hand. Even Mei Rulan's eyes warmed by a degree.
Chen swallowed and lifted his gaze.
His steps wobbled, but he didn't fall.
"Your instinct is to assess danger," Shen said. "Useful. But if you stare only at your feet, you'll never see the saber swinging at your neck. We'll teach you to look and move at the same time."
He let the domain widen slightly, making the edge feel less precarious.
Chen exhaled, some of the rigidity in his shoulders easing.
Shen let the moment stretch, then clapped his hands once.
"That's enough playing with metaphors for now," he said. "Sit."
They gathered at the base of the platform, settling onto the cool stone.
"Here is the core of my so-called philosophy," Shen said. "One: your bodies are not disposable. Anyone who treats them as such is a fool or a sadist. Two: your time is not infinite. You cannot afford to spend it fixing problems you could have avoided by doing the boring work properly once. Three: you will not reach your potential by copying other people's paths. Your instincts are data, not inconveniences."
He ticked the points off on his fingers.
"Inside this courtyard," he went on, "that means three rules. One: if something hurts in a way that feels wrong, you stop and tell me. You do not grit your teeth and push through to prove you're tough. Two: if something feels unexpectedly easy, you tell me that too. That's where progress hides. Three: you do not lie about your effort. Not to impress me, not to impress each other, not to impress the voices in your own heads."
He looked at them, one by one.
"Can you do that?" he asked.
Lin Yue nodded immediately.
"Yes, Instructor," she said.
Mei Rulan hesitated. "I will try," she said.
"Trying is acceptable," Shen said.
Zhao shifted, arms folding.
"I don't lie about effort," he said. "I just… don't like quitting."
"You don't like losing," Shen said. "Different problem. We'll deal with that when we reach sparring." He held Zhao's gaze. "For now, if I tell you to stop, you stop. Not because you're weak, but because I'm telling you anything beyond that point is waste."
Zhao's jaw worked, then he gave a short nod.
Chen Wei swallowed.
"What if…" he started, then trailed off.
"What if you're afraid before anything happens?" Shen asked.
Chen nodded, cheeks coloring.
"Then you tell me that too," Shen said. "Fear is a kind of sense. It warns you of cliffs. It also lies sometimes. Part of our work is teaching you how to tell the difference."
Chen's shoulders loosened a fraction.
"Why are you telling us this?" Mei Rulan asked quietly. "Most instructors say pain is part of growth. That we should be grateful for it."
"Pain is part of life," Shen said. "You don't need to go looking for extra. The world will bring enough to your door on its own." He leaned back against the platform, letting his head tip toward the sky. "My goal isn't to make you suffer. It's to make you efficient. Efficient cultivators survive their enemies and their own stupidity. They also leave me with fewer messes to clean up."
A knock sounded at the courtyard gate.
All four disciples flinched in unison.
Shen didn't move.
"Continue breathing," he said. "Count to four in, six out. If whoever it is has legitimate business, they'll still be there when you're done."
He waited, listening to the rhythm of their breaths as he extended a sliver of awareness toward the gate.
A familiar qi signature waited outside: clipped, controlled, carrying a faint edge of annoyance.
Instructor Wei.
Shen rose at last and strolled to the gate, unhurried.
He opened it to find Wei standing there with a bamboo slip in hand.
"Instructor Shen," Wei said. His gaze flicked past Shen's shoulder, taking in the four seated figures and the soft-edged feel of the courtyard. "I see your class has reported."
"They have," Shen said.
"I'm here to confirm the transfer," Wei said, holding up the bamboo slip. "And to remind you that while you've been given latitude, the sect will still expect results."
"Results take time," Shen said.
"We've given you problem cases," Wei said. "If they stabilize, that's already a result." His eyes narrowed slightly. "If they become worse, we'll have a different conversation."
Shen smiled. "If they become worse," he said mildly, "you're welcome to send someone else to teach them. Assuming you can find anyone willing."
Wei's lips twitched, almost hidden.
"There is also the matter of class placement," Wei said. "Other instructors have expressed concern that your… unconventional methods may interfere with the broader sect curriculum."
"Other instructors are free to be concerned," Shen said. "As long as they stay out of my courtyard."
Wei exhaled through his nose, not quite a sigh.
"For now," he said, "your class will be exempt from certain joint sessions. You'll submit a progress report in one month. The sect master will review it personally."
"A month," Shen said. "Generous."
Wei gave him a long look.
"Do not mistake lenience for indifference, Instructor Shen," he said. "People are watching."
"They always are," Shen said. "I just prefer to make them work for a good view."
For a moment, the corner of Wei's mouth lifted.
"See that you don't turn your garden into a battlefield," he said. "We have enough of those elsewhere."
He turned and left, boots tapping a steady rhythm against the stone path.
Shen closed the gate and returned to the platform.
His disciples had not moved, but their eyes tracked him, curiosity and apprehension mingling.
"Was that—" Lin Yue began.
"Senior Wei," Shen said. "He came to remind me that other people have opinions about how you should be taught." He sank back onto the platform edge. "Fortunately for us, I don't work for their opinions. I work for my own comfort."
"And we're part of that?" Zhao asked skeptically.
"If you break yourselves, I have to deal with the fallout," Shen said. "If you grow strong and stable, people will think twice before asking me to take on more students or attend every little sect event. You're my shield against extra work." He spread his hands. "So yes. Your well-being serves my laziness."
Chen made a strangled sound that might have been a laugh.
"Now," Shen said, "back to practice. We've talked enough about philosophy. Time to let your bodies learn it."
He let his domain settle fully over the courtyard again, cool and steady.
"Forms," he said. "Slow and precise. Breathe with the flow. If it feels easy, good. That means you're finally doing something right."