The Restart Sect entered a quiet rhythm after the wall-building, the kind of steady hum that comes when fear settles into preparation rather than panic. Chen Yuan noticed it in the way his disciples moved now—not with the frantic energy of survival, but with the deliberate care of people investing in a future they could almost see.
One evening, after a day spent refining the slope's "petty inconveniences," he gathered them in the Meditation Garden. The stream murmured softly; fireflies danced like living lanterns. Each disciple sat on their favored stone, the air thick with the garden's gentle qi resonance.
"Tonight," Chen Yuan said, settling onto his own rock with a familiar groan, "no drills. No stances. Just talk. You've all been carrying weights heavier than crates lately. Time to set them down for a bit."
They exchanged glances, uncertain. Zhang Wei shifted first.
"Master," he said slowly, staring at his calloused hands, "the System... it gives weapons, right? Like Mei's trowel. When do we get ours?"
Chen Yuan nodded. He'd been waiting for this. "Soon as you're ready. Not for fighting—for you. The Four Foundations include weapon principles, but the tool chooses the person as much as the other way around. Tomorrow, we do it properly. But tonight... think about what fits. What helps you grow, not just hurt."
He looked at each of them. "And while you think, tell me about before. The Lin clan. The Iron Fist. The Silent Cloud. No hiding the ugly parts. This sect only works if we know what we're restarting from."
Silence stretched, broken only by the water. Lin Mei spoke first, her voice small but steady.
## Lin Mei's Reflection: From Discarded Seed
"I was... nothing, back then." Lin Mei's fingers traced the edge of her trowel, the sturdy gardening tool that had become an extension of her hand. Its handle was worn smooth now, etched faintly with the Restart sigil. "The Lin clan tested spirit roots at seven. Mine flickered—earth affinity, they said, but too weak. Like bad soil. They laughed. Said I'd be a servant girl, scrubbing floors while real disciples flew."
She swallowed. "They made me watch the talented ones train. Sword dances, qi bursts. I carried their dirty robes, cleaned their vomit after breakthroughs. One elder said, 'You're the dirt they grow in, girl. Stay underfoot.' I believed him. Every night, I'd cry into my mat, feeling the qi slip through me like water through cracked earth."
Her eyes lifted to the garden around them, glowing faintly. "Here... it's different. The qi doesn't slip away. It waits. Like you said, Master—I'm the soil now, not underfoot. This trowel?" She held it up, the blade catching firefly light. "They'd laugh. A servant's tool. But when I dig with it during Breath of Beginnings, roots follow. Stones shift for me. It's not a sword, but it *grows* things. Me included."
Chen Yuan nodded. "Tomorrow, it'll evolve with you. Something for the gardener who turns wastelands into homes."
Lin Mei smiled, faint but real. "Before, I was waiting to be stepped on. Now... I'm planting where I stand."
## Zhang Wei's Reflection: From Burden to Pillar
Zhang Wei stared into the stream, his broad shoulders hunched as if still testing an invisible load. "Iron Fist... they found me at twelve. Orphan, strong back. 'Good porter stock,' the elder said. Fed me spirit herbs—bitter sludge that burned going down. Made my muscles swell, but the poison built up. Black veins. Couldn't cycle it out. No talent."
He flexed his hands, scars faint now under the sect's gentle qi. "Days blurred. Crates from dawn to dusk. Three hundred jin felt light at first, then like chains. Fell once—crate split, stones scattered. They whipped me till I blacked out. Woke carrying double. 'Learn to bear it,' they said. I stopped dreaming. Just... endured. Told myself if I broke even once more, I'd throw myself off the cliff."
His voice roughened. "That day they came here? Seeing that crate... it was like looking at my old cage. But your words, Master—'Who are you?'—they snapped something. I lifted it, yeah. But I set it down *mine*. Not theirs."
Chen Yuan watched him closely. "You've earned your tool, Wei. Tomorrow."
Zhang Wei met his eyes. "Before, I was a mule—strong till spent, then meat. Now? I'm the one choosing the load. Feels... free. Heavy, but free."
## Li An's Reflection: From Silence to Whisper
Li An sat last, his bad leg extended, fingers trailing ripples in the water. His calm cracked slightly, voice a thread. "Silent Cloud Temple... they took me at five. Foundling with 'quiet potential.' Shaved head, white robes. Rules first: silence during meditation, obedience above breath. I asked why the qi flows unevenly. Elder struck me. Broke my leg on the meditation stone. 'Stillness through pain,' he said. Healed crooked. I learned not to ask."
He paused, water coiling faintly around his fingers—a trick from Flowing Water he'd been practicing in secret. "Novices whispered mantras till our throats bled. Seniors tested us—'endure the lash without sound.' I did. Became invisible. They forgot me. Fed scraps, mended robes. Thought that was peace—erasing yourself till nothing hurts."
Li An's eyes sharpened, reflecting the garden's glow. "Here... silence isn't erasure. Your oaths? They *hear* me. The mountain listens when I map paths. No beatings for questions. Just... answers. Tools to think with."
Chen Yuan grunted approval. "You've been mapping more than paths, An. Tomorrow proves it."
Li An nodded, a rare spark in his gaze. "Before, I was a shadow—gone before noticed. Now? I'm the one choosing when to speak. The mountain... it echoes me back."
## The Tools Take Shape
Dawn came misty, the garden humming expectant. Chen Yuan led them to the main hall, where the Four Foundations scrolls lay open on the table. The wooden tokens from Lin Mei's initiation had multiplied—three now, plain but warm under their palms.
"Breathe together," Chen Yuan instructed. "Symbiotic Growth. Feel what calls to you."
They sat in triangle, breaths syncing. Qi motes swirled, drawn inward.
Lin Mei's token first. Light bloomed green; her trowel reshaped—blade widening into a short-handled hoe-spade hybrid, edge qi-infused for tilling stone or flesh. *Earthturner's Spade: Grows barriers from soil, reinforces roots with qi threads.* She swung it experimentally; nearby dirt mounded into a tiny wall, thorns sprouting.
Zhang Wei's dissolved into iron-gray motes. A thick leather harness formed, straps etched with load-bearing runes, central clasp a stone-carved sigil. Not flashy—a *Burdenbinder Sash: Distributes weight evenly, converts strain to body-tempering qi.* He slung a practice boulder into its loops; his stance deepened, effortless.
Li An's token shimmered silver-blue. A slim bamboo staff emerged, hollow segments whispering with captured wind, tip a coiled serpent-head that uncoiled into a signal-flare. *Whisperwind Rod: Maps terrain in fog, sends qi-echo warnings, binds loose stones into traps.* He tapped it; courtyard paths lit faintly, hazards glowing.
The System chimed in Chen Yuan's vision:
**[Disciple Armaments Unlocked]**
**[Sect Harmony: 85/100]**
**[Host Progress: Mortal Caretaker – 25%]**
"Perfect," Chen Yuan said, pride rough in his voice. "Not for glory. For you."
The disciples tested their tools in the courtyard, laughter mixing with grunts—Lin Mei's spade hurling dirt clods, Zhang Wei hauling twice his weight without strain, Li An's rod whistling alerts that made pebbles skitter.
Before, they were broken tools themselves. Now? They built.
Chen Yuan watched from the hall steps, granddaughter's face flickering in memory. *These kids... they're restarting better than I ever taught back home.*
The Restart Sect felt solid now—weapons not of conquest, but continuation. Roots deepening, one reflection at a time.