The Immortal Courtyard was quiet.
Clouds flowed beneath its stone railings in slow, layered currents, as though the sky itself had learned patience. The pale eaves cast long shadows across the courtyard floor, unmoving despite the wind.
Qingshi arrived without summons.
He stepped onto the courtyard stones as if he had always been meant to be there, his robes untouched by cloud or air. This time, he did not remain standing.
He inclined deeply.
It was not the bow of a messenger awaiting instruction—but the acknowledgment of a mandate fulfilled.
"Stillwater has completed integration," Qingshi said.
His voice was calm. Finished.
"No resistance was encountered. The Cloudwatch Sect has been established. Heaven's rules have been delivered. The boundary is stabilized. The time differential is locked."
He paused, then added one final line.
"The region is secure."
The Lord of the Heaven of Resting Peaks listened in silence.
There was no surge of authority. No pressure followed the report. Heaven did not celebrate its own functioning.
Only when Qingshi straightened did Lin Yuan speak.
"Cloudwatch Sect?"
The question was simple—but it carried surprise.
Qingshi met his gaze without hesitation. "Yes."
"I didn't authorize that," Lin Yuan said.
"No," Qingshi replied. "Heaven required it."
Lin Yuan exhaled softly and leaned back against the stone railing, eyes drifting toward the clouds below.
"Explain."
"A region without an observing structure becomes unstable over time," Qingshi said. "Records fracture. Boundaries blur. Authority diffuses. Cloudwatch does not rule Stillwater. It observes, records, and maintains Heaven's perimeter."
Lin Yuan considered that.
Then he asked the question that had been forming since the name was spoken.
"Why not Resting Peaks Sect?"
Qingshi answered without pause.
"Because the name of the Heaven must never be used by its servants."
The clouds shifted beneath them.
"A servant who bears the Heaven's name," Qingshi continued, "will eventually mistake himself for it."
Lin Yuan let out a quiet breath—and laughed once.
"That does sound like a problem."
Qingshi tilted his head, uncertain why that was amusing, but said nothing.
Lin Yuan's gaze moved outward then—past the courtyard, past the familiar peaks.
"Stillwater lies beyond the main mountains," he said. "I can feel it. But I can't step there."
"You cannot," Qingshi agreed. "The region exists beyond the Heaven's internal boundary."
"But you can."
"Yes."
Lin Yuan frowned slightly. "And time?"
Qingshi's answer was measured.
"Time within Heaven is unified. Regions beyond the boundary experience relative flow. Stillwater will age slower than the core peaks—but it will not be frozen."
He paused, then added the principle as Heaven understood it.
"Heaven does not control time. It sets distance, and time follows."
Lin Yuan absorbed that.
After a moment, he asked, "Will every future region be like this?"
Qingshi's reply left space rather than certainty.
"It depends on the region's weight."
The answer satisfied him more than any calculation could have.
Silence followed.
Not awkward. Not empty.
Lin Yuan rested his hands on the stone railing and looked down at the endless cloud layers below, at a Heaven that had expanded beyond what he consciously understood.
"People are revering something I barely comprehend," he said quietly.
Qingshi did not respond.
"I have authority," Lin Yuan continued. "But I don't have knowledge. Cultivation. Immortality. Failure. Success. All of it existed long before me."
He turned back.
"Stillwater's knowledge belongs to Heaven now," he said. "So where is it?"
Qingshi lifted one hand.
The clouds parted.
Not violently. Not suddenly.
A peak emerged where none had been visible before.
It rose higher than the Immortal Courtyard's mountain, its stone face carved with ancient terraces and spiraling steps that vanished into mist above. The air around it felt heavy—not with pressure, but with accumulation.
"This is the Record Peak," Qingshi said.
Lin Yuan felt it immediately.
Not power.
Memory.
"Each integrated region contributes what it was," Qingshi continued. "Techniques. Histories. Dead paths. Broken breakthroughs. Philosophies that failed—and those that endured."
Lin Yuan's eyes narrowed. "Does it teach?"
"No," Qingshi said. "It contains."
Understanding settled in Lin Yuan's expression.
Heaven did not guide hands.
It provided ground.
After a long moment, he straightened.
"Then I'll start there."
Qingshi bowed once more.
"Heaven records."
The clouds closed gently around the Record Peak, and the Immortal Courtyard returned to its quiet.
But Heaven was no longer the same.
End of Chapter 23