The rumor started as a joke in a village three valleys over and grew teeth by the time it reached the nearest proper town. Someone's cousin's brother's neighbor swore he'd seen a mountain glowing faintly at dawn, and that the wind had carried a strange phrase down into the fields: *"Restart Sect."*
By the end of the week, the story had become something else entirely. A sect of ghosts, some said. A nest of demons, said others. A place for the cursed and the talentless, where an old monster collected broken children the way a spider collected flies.
On the mountain itself, the supposed monster was arguing with a rock.
"No, you stubborn bastard, you don't go *there*," Chen Yuan grunted, heaving the boulder another few centimeters to the left. "You go where the runoff *won't* flood the training yard, not where it tries to drown my disciples in their sleep."
Zhang Wei crouched nearby, sweat running down his back as he held a supporting beam in place. "Master, you… could just ask me to move it."
"I *am* asking you. I'm also negotiating with the rock. It has very strong opinions."
Lin Mei snorted behind her hand. Li An, sitting on a nearby stump with his bad leg stretched out, tilted his head.
"Does the rock answer?" he asked.
"Not in words." Chen Yuan finally let go, satisfied with the angle the stone now took. "But if you put weight in the wrong place, it complains very loudly. That's still communication."
He straightened slowly, spine popping like firecrackers. The new arrangement created a shallow trench along the edge of the courtyard, redirecting rainwater away from the main hall and into a section he'd mentally labeled "future vegetable garden."
That thought made him glance at the System panel only he could see. The "Meditation Garden" option still glowed, mocking him with its fifty-point cost. The Restart Sect had finally reached 70 Sect Points after several days of training and one particularly heartfelt conversation about nightmares. The choice had been nagging at him.
*Do I spend nearly everything on one fancy upgrade,* he thought, *or keep surviving on improvisation?*
"Master?" Lin Mei's voice pulled him back. "We finished the breathing cycles you assigned."
"All of them?" He checked their faces—flushed, but not overtaxed; eyes bright, not glazed. Good. "Alright. Water break. Then we try something new."
They gathered at the stream that cut through the sect grounds, dipping wooden cups into the cold water. Tiny motes of energy danced on the surface, drawn to the three children as if recognizing them.
"You've all been working individually," Chen Yuan said, lowering himself onto a flat rock with a grunt. "Qi, body, movement. Good. That keeps you from falling apart the first time someone looks at you funny."
Zhang Wei's mouth twitched; he'd recently discovered how discouraging other sects could be about "talent."
"But this sect isn't about lone geniuses," Chen Yuan continued. "It's about how you fit together. So today, we try *shared training*."
Li An frowned. "Shared… how?"
"Like this." Chen Yuan pointed. "Mei, sit in the center, start your Breath of Beginnings. Wei, take horse stance behind her, back-to-back, and run Body of Stone. An, you walk around them using Flowing Water's footwork, watching their balance. Slow. Calm."
The three moved into position, awkward at first. Lin Mei's back met Zhang Wei's, her smaller frame leaning instinctively into his steady presence. His body adapted without thinking, stance widening just enough to support them both.
Li An circled them, step by careful step, his limp forcing him to pay attention to every placement of his foot. His eyes tracked their shoulders, the rise and fall of their chests, the subtle shifts that told him when someone was losing focus.
"Now," Chen Yuan said quietly, "breathe together."
They tried. The first attempts were clumsy—Zhang Wei's deep, slow breaths clashing with Lin Mei's quicker rhythm; Li An's own breathing hitching whenever the bad leg twinged. But slowly, with corrections and soft mutters from Chen Yuan—"Don't chase each other; meet in the middle"—the three patterns began to overlap.
The air changed.
Qi motes that had drifted lazily through the courtyard now spun in a slow spiral around the trio. Where before they'd hovered uncertainly near Lin Mei or avoided Zhang Wei's poisoned channels, now they moved with quiet purpose, like seeds caught in a gentle, guiding breeze.
Lin Mei's shoulders dropped from their habitual tension. Zhang Wei's stance stopped straining and simply *was*—solid, rooted, a pillar rather than a burdened mule. Li An's steps grew smoother, his limp less pronounced as he adjusted unconsciously to the rhythm of the others.
Chen Yuan watched, something warm and unfamiliar tightening in his chest. It felt like the first time he'd seen a bridge carry weight exactly as calculated, every cable and beam doing its part without complaint.
"Good," he murmured. "Very good. Remember this feeling. This is what it means not to be alone."
A whisper brushed his perception—System feedback again, but this time gentler, almost shy.
**[Sect Training Method "Symbiotic Growth" – Active]**
**[Group Resonance Achieved: Shared Qi Flow +12%]**
**[Host Realm Progress: Mortal Caretaker – 18%]**
He ignored the numbers and focused on the sight in front of him. Three children, all thrown away by their previous homes, now breathing as if they'd always meant to stand together.
*This* was why he'd chosen the sect name from his old world—a reminder of what he believed in.
"Alright," he said after several minutes. "Break. Don't push past comfort. I'm not raising martyrs; I'm raising stubborn survivors."
They separated slowly, blinking as if waking from a pleasant dream. Lin Mei wiped sweat from her brow, cheeks flushed. Zhang Wei rolled his shoulders experimentally. Li An tapped his bad leg with his knuckles, surprised by how little it hurt.
"It felt…" Lin Mei searched for words. "Like the air was thicker. Not heavy, just… there."
"Like I was carrying something big," Zhang Wei added, "but it didn't hurt."
Li An's gaze was distant. "Like praying with people who actually mean the words."
"Exactly," Chen Yuan said. "You three are each missing something. Mei's confidence, Wei's safe outlet for his strength, An's trust. When you train like this, you lend those things to each other."
He stood, stretching until his back cracked in a way that made all three disciples wince in sympathy.
"Now," he added, "I think we've earned something special."
He called up the System panel and, after one more mental wince at the cost, confirmed the purchase that had been hovering at the edge of his thoughts for days.
**[Meditation Garden – Construct? Cost: 50 Sect Points]**
"Yes," he said aloud. "Right here. Around the stream."
The mountain responded.
Stone shifted with a low, grinding murmur beneath their feet. The scraggly weeds along the bank straightened, then unfurled into proper grasses and small wildflowers that glowed faintly green at the edges.
Flat rocks rose from the earth in a natural ring, forming seats and stepping stones. The stream's flow slowed slightly, deepening in places to create small pools where light could gather.
By the time it stilled, the rough patch of dirt and scrub had become something serene—a small, imperfect, but undeniably *living* garden.
Lin Mei gasped, hands flying to her mouth. Zhang Wei just stared, eyes wide, as if afraid that moving would break the illusion. Li An reached out with careful fingers, touching a blade of grass that responded by leaning into his hand.
"It's…" Lin Mei's voice shook. "Beautiful."
"It's yours," Chen Yuan corrected gently. "Ours. A sect isn't just training grounds and fancy halls. It's the places where your heart finally unclenches and remembers what peace feels like."
He walked to one of the stones and lowered himself onto it with a soft grunt. The moment he sat, the faint hum of the garden wrapped around him, soothing a tension in his shoulders he hadn't even realized was there.
"From now on," he said, "when things get too loud in your head, you come here. Not to run away from training, but to let it sink in. Growth doesn't only happen when you're sweating."
The three disciples approached the garden with the cautious reverence of children entering a temple for the first time. Lin Mei chose a stone near the water, trowel laid across her lap like a sleeping pet. Zhang Wei sat on a larger rock that could easily double as a weight later. Li An settled on the flattest stone, fingers trailing through the stream.
"Close your eyes," Chen Yuan said softly. "No fancy technique this time. Just… breathe. Listen. Feel what the mountain is saying."
They obeyed.
A stillness settled over the garden—not empty, but full in a different way. The rustle of leaves, the murmur of water, the distant call of some spirit bird together formed a quiet song that even untrained hearts could hear if they were willing to listen.
For a few precious minutes, none of them were discarded disciples or untalented porters or crippled novices. They were simply people sitting by a stream, sharing silence without fear.
When the moment finally broke, it did so not with an explosion or shout, but with a very human sound: a growling stomach.
All eyes turned to Zhang Wei.
He flushed. "Sorry."
"Never apologize for being hungry," Chen Yuan said, getting to his feet. "It means you're alive and your body still wants to grow. Besides, it's the garden's fault. Places like this always make you notice your needs."
As they walked back toward the main hall, Li An hesitated, glancing over his shoulder.
"Master," he asked quietly, "this place… other people can't take it from us, can they?"
"Physically?" Chen Yuan shrugged. "They can try. Spiritually?" He smiled, a small, fierce thing. "No. This garden exists because of how you three are learning to live. As long as you carry that, no one can erase it completely."
He paused, then added, almost offhand, "Besides, anyone who tries will discover just how terrifying a gardener with a stubborn streak can be."
Lin Mei's eyes sparked at that. Zhang Wei's jaw set. Li An's shoulders straightened by a fraction.
They didn't know that, in the valleys below, the rumor of their existence was already taking on a darker tone—that people whispered of a faceless sect atop a forgotten mountain, led by a strange old master who stole the unwanted and twisted them into something new.
They didn't know that the Iron Fist Sect had noticed Zhang Wei's absence, or that Silent Cloud Temple had quietly marked Li An's name as "resolved."
All they knew was that their roof leaked less, their bowls were getting rounder, their garden was beautiful, and for the first time in their lives, the future felt like something they could walk toward instead of away from.
Back in the main hall, Chen Yuan stirred a pot of spiritual millet with a carved wooden spoon, watching it thicken. It still smelled vaguely like cardboard, but now there was a hint of something else beneath it—fresh water, green leaves, and the sharp, clean promise of a place that was finally starting to deserve the name it had been given.
The Restart Sect was no longer just a name floating on the wind.
It had a garden, three disciples, and a stubborn old man who had no intention of letting the world break them again.