The clouds moved slowly.
Lin Yuan stood on the mountain path, his footsteps quiet against stone that felt older than memory. The terrain rose gently, winding along the spine of the only mountain that felt reachable in the Heaven of Resting Peaks.
Behind him, the mist rolled lazily through valleys he could not yet reach. Ahead, the path continued upward.
He walked without urgency.
The air here was different from the city—cleaner, thinner, carrying a faint coolness that settled in the lungs without resistance. Breathing felt easier. Not lighter. Just… correct.
As the path curved, the landscape began to change.
Stone tiles appeared beneath his feet.
Not placed abruptly—no sudden transition—but as though the mountain itself had chosen to refine this stretch of ground. The rock smoothed. Edges aligned. The slope eased.
Lin Yuan slowed slightly.
Ahead, through drifting cloud, a structure emerged.
A courtyard.
It stood near the peak, balanced naturally against the terrain, neither imposing nor hidden. Its walls were pale stone, weatherless and unmarked, as though time had passed over them without leaving a trace.
No carvings.
No symbols.
No banners.
Just form.
The gate was open.
Lin Yuan stopped a few steps away and looked at it in silence.
"This wasn't here before," he said.
There was no answer, but he did not expect one.
He stepped forward.
Crossing the threshold felt no different from stepping onto another stone tile. No resistance. No pressure. No sense of permission granted or denied.
Inside, the courtyard was quiet.
A wide open space stretched before him, paved in pale stone that reflected the sky faintly. To one side stood a main hall—simple, dignified, its structure balanced and complete. On the other side, a smaller auxiliary building rested in symmetry.
At the center, an old tree grew.
Its leaves were a soft, muted green, unmoving despite the breeze beyond the walls. The ground beneath it was clean, untouched by fallen leaves.
"This is… a place to stay," Lin Yuan said after a moment.
The words felt accurate.
Not a palace.
Not a residence meant to impress.
Just a place that existed because it was needed.
As he took another step forward, he noticed movement.
Someone stood beneath the eaves of the main hall.
The figure had not appeared suddenly. Lin Yuan was certain of that. He simply had not noticed him before—like realizing a mountain had been there all along.
A man.
Young in appearance. Calm in posture.
He wore pale ash-white robes with faint cloud-gray patterns that caught the light only when viewed directly. His long black hair was half-tied with a simple jade clasp, the rest falling straight down his back.
He stood with hands folded within his sleeves, head slightly inclined.
When Lin Yuan stopped, the man bowed.
Not deeply.
Not ceremonially.
Just enough.
"Welcome, Lord of the Heaven."
The voice was steady. Neither loud nor soft.
Lin Yuan regarded him quietly.
"You live here?" he asked.
"I am bound here," the man replied. "As this Courtyard is."
Lin Yuan nodded once, accepting the answer without pressing further.
"What should I call you?"
The man lifted his gaze.
For a brief moment, something subtle shifted—not in the air, not in the surroundings, but in definition, as though a name had been waiting to settle into place.
"This one is named Qingshi," he said.
The name was plain.
And yet, it felt complete.
"Alright," Lin Yuan said. "Qingshi."
"Yes."
Lin Yuan looked around the courtyard again.
"It appeared because I came here," he said, more observation than question.
"Yes."
"And you followed."
"I was already present," Qingshi replied. "It is simply that you have arrived."
Lin Yuan accepted that as well.
He walked forward, stopping near the old tree. Up close, its bark was smooth, uncracked, untouched by age. He reached out and placed his hand against it.
Warm.
Not alive in the way flesh was alive—but steady.
Behind him, Qingshi remained still.
"You don't need to follow me everywhere," Lin Yuan said.
"I will remain where I am needed," Qingshi answered.
"That might be nowhere for a while."
"Then I will wait."
Lin Yuan exhaled softly.
He turned toward the main hall, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.
The interior was simple.
A clean space. A low table. A place to sit. A place to rest.
Nothing excessive.
Nothing lacking.
"This will do," Lin Yuan said.
"Yes."
He sat.
For the first time since entering the Heaven of Resting Peaks, he felt no urge to continue walking.
Beyond the courtyard walls, the clouds continued to drift. The mountains remained distant, unreachable—for now.
But here, at the peak, the Heaven had given him a place to exist.
And it had acknowledged him as its lord.
Lin Yuan closed his eyes briefly.
Outside, Qingshi stood beneath the eaves, silent and unmoving, as though he had always been part of the mountain itself.
The Heaven of Resting Peaks remained vast.
Lonely.
And finally—inhabited.
End of Chapter 10