The descent from the mountain was both eerie and exhilarating for the four disciples. None of them had left the Restart Sect since their first day of arrival, and though they'd all been outcasts once—wanderers, slaves, shadows, and "failures"—this journey felt different. They weren't running from something this time. They were going *for* something.
Chen Yuan led from the front with the same sure-footed stride that had carried him through every strange new challenge since arriving in this world. His robe was patched, his walking stick crooked, yet the world seemed to make space around him.
Li An's Whisperwind Rod glowed faintly as they followed the narrow trail downward, illuminating the mist ahead. Behind him, Zhang Wei carried a crate of bottled medicinal salve and reinforced rope with the same quiet readiness of a mountain porter—without realizing how natural protection had become to him. Lin Mei kept pace beside him, her trowel swinging comfortably at her hip.
And Song Yu? She moved half-seen at the edges of the group—her Veilwalk Cloak drinking moonlight, presence slipping between the real and the unreal.
"Master," Lin Mei said as they reached the first switchback, "why do you think Mister Hua didn't come himself?"
"Because a good merchant never carries the same route twice when danger follows," Chen Yuan replied. "If he's asking for help, it's not for a bad trade. He's protecting something—or someone."
Song Yu's voice came from somewhere near the slope. "Assassins, thieves, bandits?"
"Could be all three." The old man smiled faintly. "The world's good at mixing flavors."
***
### The Village at Red Lantern Hill
By dawn, the fog thinned, revealing the valley village below—a scattering of wooden homes hugging terraced fields. At its center, the *Red Lantern Inn* flickered dimly, a single lantern hanging from its porch in the rhythm they had seen from the mountain... three long, two short.
Zhang Wei's eyes darkened. "That's Hua Ren's mark, right?"
"Yes," Li An said, tilting his rod toward the glow. "But look—no smoke from the chimneys, and the livestock pens are empty."
Chen Yuan slowed. "Trap or warning. Either way, we go carefully."
Song Yu scouted ahead, her cloak blending her into the hanging mist. When she signaled, the others approached.
The inn's front door hung open. Tables overturned, chairs splintered, the faint smell of scorched oil lingering in the air. On one wall, written hastily in charcoal:
**"Not the sect. Protect the child."**
Lin Mei's breath hitched. "Child?"
From the back room came a soft whimper.
They found a boy curled beneath a table, no older than seven, clutching a wooden charm identical to the ones Hua Ren carried on his belt. The charm's rune flickered faintly.
"Hey, little one," Chen Yuan said gently, crouching low. "You must be Hua's helper, hmm? We're friends of your uncle."
The boy hesitated, recognizing the sprout insignia on their robes. "He said… to wait for the green leaf people. Said you'd keep me safe."
Lin Mei carefully offered her hand. "What's your name?"
"Ping."
"Ping, you've done well waiting," Chen Yuan said, eyes soft. "Is Hua still here?"
The boy pointed tremblingly toward the road beyond the inn. "Bad men came. He ran out with the cart to draw them away. He told me to hide."
Song Yu's gaze darkened. "The trail's still warm."
***
### The Followers of the Blade
They followed the tracks west toward the hills, past burned shrubs and cart-wheel ruts gouged deep into the dirt. Before long, faint metal clinks reached their ears—armored figures in pursuit of something.
Song Yu crept ahead. When she returned, her cloak dripping with shadow, her tone was grim. "Pavilion agents. Whispering Blade, my old order… but they're disguised as traders."
Lin Mei's eyes widened. "Why would assassins chase a merchant?"
"Because the wrong song was sung to the wrong buyer, I'd guess," Chen Yuan muttered. "Hua must've carried something they wanted kept quiet."
He turned toward his disciples. "We won't fight to kill. No one here needs more blood memory. We intercept, slow them, and get Hua out."
Zhang Wei flexed his hands through his sash harness. "Understood."
***
### The Ambush by the Stream
They found the assassins—six in all—surrounding Hua Ren's overturned cart near a stream's edge. The merchant stood defiant, a small chest clutched to his chest.
"Elder Wen won't pay for mercy," one assassin sneered. "Give it up."
"Tell your elder," Hua snapped, "some things aren't for sale."
The leader raised his blade.
Then the fog rolled in thicker than before.
A flicker of movement—Song Yu's cloak flaring into mist. One of the assassins spun too late as shadow seized his wrist and redirected his swing into the stream.
Zhang Wei emerged next, spine straight, lifting a broken wagon plank. "Sorry, trade embargo," he said dryly, and swung. The impact sent two men sprawling.
Li An tapped the Whisperwind Rod once. Sound rippled outward, confusing footwork, making every direction echo wrong.
Lin Mei stamped her spade into the ground. The earth lurched; roots sprang up, tangling ankles but never rising high enough to kill.
Chen Yuan watched from the hilltop, hands clasped behind his back, murmuring corrections like a teacher during an exam. "Mei, gentler on the flow—don't strain it. Wei, breath, not anger! Yu, let light *filter*, not vanish—you'll suffocate your own steps. Good."
Moments later, the mercenaries broke formation. The leader barely saw the blur of Zhang Wei's shoulder before the earth buckled under him. His sword clattered uselessly beside him.
Chen Yuan approached at last, calm amidst chaos. He looked down at the dazed leader and sighed. "Let me guess. Someone paid you to silence anyone carrying evidence of corruption in the Whispering Blade Pavilion?"
The assassin spat mud. "Old fool—you don't scare us."
"Oh, I'm not the scary one," Chen Yuan said lightly, turning slightly as the earth grumbled at Lin Mei's feet. "The mountain's just a bit protective."
***
### Hua Ren's Gift
With the attackers bound and disarmed, Hua Ren sagged with relief. "Ah… I knew I'd pick the right mountain to trust."
"You always bring trouble as souvenirs?" Chen Yuan asked, half-stern, half-smiling.
Hua chuckled. "You'd get bored without me." Then he gestured to the chest. "They wanted this."
He opened it, revealing small carved wooden seeds covered in script. When Chen Yuan leaned closer, his breath caught.
"These aren't just curios," he murmured. "They're spiritual seeds—prototype devices for capturing environmental qi and redistributing balance. Old-world tech meets cultivation."
Hua nodded. "Stolen research. They wanted to weaponize it. I wanted to plant it."
Chen Yuan's expression softened. "Then we'll help you finish that work. On the mountain, where growth feeds life, not ambition."
The merchant exhaled, exhaustion finally overtaking him. "You owe me tea for this, old friend."
"You nearly brought assassins to my doorstep," Chen Yuan replied, smirking. "You're paying *me*."
***
### New Seeds, New Family
They returned to the sect as the next dawn broke. The mountain greeted them with rustling branches and faint golden light. When Hua Ren saw the garden, he stopped short, eyes wide.
"You truly made this place alive."
"It made *us* alive first," Lin Mei said, smiling.
Chen Yuan clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll stay a while, Hua. Help carve the seedwork into formations. In exchange, my disciples will learn merchant's code and roadcraft."
Li An nodded eagerly. "We'll trade knowledge for care."
Zhang Wei added, "And we'll fix whatever parts of your cart you didn't break yourself."
Song Yu's lips curved faintly. "That feels like everything."
They laughed, the sound light and tired and utterly human.
Above them, the mountain's saplings swayed in greeting. Within days, Hua Ren's carved seeds were planted in the garden's corners, binding a new layer of formation to the Sect.
**[Sect Upgrade: Resource Network Established]**
**[Function: Converts natural qi flows into restorative currents during crises.]**
As golden morning spilled through the clouds, Chen Yuan looked over his disciples—mud-splattered, triumphant, whole—and smiled.
"Remember this, kids," he said quietly. "Every storm, fight, or journey you survive should leave behind something that grows."
The Restart Sect's walls glittered faintly in the sun, roots humming in response.
And somewhere beyond the ridges, rumors were already spreading again—this time of a mysterious sect on the mountain that made assassins surrender and the earth itself answer their call.