Morning in Ling Village. Yes they named the village using my name.
Thin, plae threads of it rose from kitchen chimneys, curling lazily into the cool dawn air. Rooster crowed without cultivation enhanced lungs. Children ran barefoot across dirt paths, laughter echoing where once only wind had passed. Somewhere, a mortar thudded rhythmically as grain was ground, slow, patient, human.
I stood at the edge of the village square, hands folded behind my back, and breathed it all in.
This was the Dao I had choosen.
Not the roaring Dao of Lightning tribulations, not the ruthless Dao of Slaughter and ascension, but the Dao of Living.
Ling Yang's body still felt foreign to me at times. At eighteen, he was too light, too fragile, his mucles thin from years of poor meals and illness. When the morning wind cut through my robes, my bones felt it immedately. No qi shield rose instinctively. No Instinctive circulation answered my will.
Yet... I smiled.
Because for the first time since reincarnation, the village felt ready.
And so was I.
The wooden bell at the center of the square rang out, three steady knocks. Not a sect bell. Not a spiritual artifact. Just iron and wood, struck by Elder Jack's weathered hand.
Villagers gathered one by one.
Farmers with soil-stained sleeves. Hunters carrying bows worn smooth by years of use. Gatherers with basket woven from river reeds. Even the children lingered at the edges, eyes bright with curiosity.
At the front sat the elders.
Ria, the oldest among them, leaned on her cane, her silver hair tied neatly behind her back. Her eyes were sharp-sharper than many cultivators I had once met.Elder Meng sat beside her, calm and broad-shouldered, his breathing steady like a mountain that had learned patience. Elder Jack, ever restless, stood rather than sat, arms crossed as if daring the world to disagree with him.
And me.
Ling Yang.
Or Xu Yan, wearing his skin.
When Elder Jack cleared his throat, the square quieted.
"Alright," he said gruffly. "You all know why we're here."
Eyes turned to me.
I stepped forward.
For a brief moment, a flicker of doubt passed through my heart.
Eighteen years old. Mortal. No cultivation.
In my past life, even my outer disciples would have laughed at such a figure standing where I stood now.
But then I remembered the Dao's Voice.
Show me more.
I bowed.
Deeply.
"To everyone here," I began, my voice steady despite the frailty of my lungs, "Thank you for coming."
No grad speech. No immortal rhetoric.
"This meeting," I continued, "Is not about command. It is about direction."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
I gestured toward Elder Ria. 'Elder Ria will oversee the gatherers." The old woman nodded once, cane tapping the ground. "Herbs, firewoods, wild fruits. We will take only what we need." She said. "And we will replant what we take.
The last sentence carried weight.
Balance.
"Elder Meng," I said nect, turning.
He stood. 'Farmers,' he addressed calmly. 'We wil rotate fields this season. No more draining one patch dry. The young ones will learn soil care. The old ways will be written down."
Written.
Knowledge preserved, not hoarded.
"And Elder Jack." I said.
Jack grinned. "Hunters and guards," he barked. "No unnecessary killing. Traps over blades. Eyes open at night."
He paused, glancing at me. "And anyone who thinks this village is weak because we don't cultivate?"
His grin sharpened. "They're welcome to test that idea."
Soft laughter broke the tension.
I raised my hand, letting silence fall again.
"There will be no sect ranks." I said. "No inner or outer disciples. No Spiritual discrimination."
Some brows furrowed.
"But" I continued. "There will be responsibility."
I looked around, meeting their eyes one by one.
"Those who which to learn will be taught. Those who wish to lead will serve first. And those who wish to leave... May do so freely."
Freedom.
A dangerous word in cultivation worlds.
Yet here, it felt right.
As the meeting continued, rolse were assigned. Kitchens organized. Storage counted. Partol routines mapped. Even children were given simple-tasks, watering seedlings, cleaning tools.
The system stirred quietly within me.
Not intrusive.
Observant.
[Mortal Sect Foundation Progress: 18%]
[Village Unity Detected]
[Natural Dao Essence 0.3+]
I could feel it.
The air itself felt warmer. Not in the temperature, but in intent. Threads of something ancient and subtle wove through the village, not qi, not spiritual energy, but something purer.
Natural Dao Essence.
The Dao's own breath.
When the meeting finally dispresed, the sun had climbed higher. Villagers returned to their tasks with renewed purpose, voices animated, steps lighter.
Xiao lingered beside me.
He pretended to adjust a basket strap, eyes lowered, but I felt it, the quiet pulse beneath his skin. Dormant spiritual roots, coiled tight. Hidden beneath layers of self-denial.
"You did well." He said finally.
"So did you." I replied.
He blinked. "I didn't do anything."
"You watched." I said gently. "That is not nothing."
He flushed slightly and nodded, then hurried off to help Elder Meng.
I watched him go.
One day, he would stop hiding.
But not yet.
Timing mattered.
I turned towar the small administrative hut, sect hall felt too grand for now, when Elder Ria called out.
"Ling Yang."
I stopped.
Her Gazr was thoughtful. "Leadership is not cultivation." She said. 'But it can exhaust you faster."
"I know." I answered.
She smiled Faintly. "Good."
As I stepped inside the hut, the system interface unfolded before my mind like a quiet scroll.
[Host Porfile Unlocked.]
Name: Xu Yan (Ling Yang)
Path: Mortal - Foundation
Authority: Natural Dao Essence(Dormant)
Growth Tree: Rooted
Branches shimmered faintly, paths not of power, but of influence.
Teaching. Sustennce. Harmony. Legacy.
No sowrd techniques.
No immortal arts.
Yet I felt... Content.
Then-
A knock.
Elder Jack entered, holding a sealed envelope.
The paper was fine. Too fine for mortals.
My heart stilled.
"This arrived moments ago." He said."courier left without a word."
I took it,
The seal bore a familiar mark.
A flowing cloud over a River.
The Cloud River Sect.
Slowly, I broke the seal.
The word inside were polite.
Too polite.
We have heard of unusual activities near Dry village, or should I say, Ling Village.
I exhaled softly,
The heavens had noticed. And this time, i would not retreat.
Nor ascend.
I folded the letter carefully and looked at out of the village, alive with quiet purpose.
"Let them come." I murmured.
Because this Mortal Sect
Was already walking a Dao they could not understand.