Gu Yanshu stepped into Area 904 and the first thing he did was smile a little.
Not because anything had become easier.
Just because he could feel the district trying to look at him without saying it out loud.
The roads were wider here than in the places before it. The buildings sat cleaner, the stones were smoother, and even the air had that strange polished feeling districts got when they wanted to look civilized. But Gu Yanshu had already learned that a clean city usually hid more pressure than an ugly one. Dirt was honest. Beauty worked harder.
He kept walking.
His tools had split off somewhere behind him after the White Chamber collapse. That was fine. They knew how to survive on their own by now, and he did not need to stand still waiting for them. A few of them would be resting, a few would be asking questions, a few would already be looking for the next route. That was enough.
He moved through the main line of Area 904 without stopping for the little messes people always liked to make in front of strangers.
A young cultivator was being shoved back by a couple of older men near a corner stair.
One of the older men barked something ugly. The kid nearly fell.
Gu Yanshu glanced at them once, then walked on.
Why should he help?
What did he gain?
Nothing.
If he stopped every time he saw someone getting bullied, then he would spend all day playing the role of a good person and get nowhere. A city like this ate soft hearts fast. He had no interest in becoming food for somebody else's drama.
The kid looked at him like maybe he wanted to ask for help.
Gu Yanshu did not turn his head.
He kept going.
That was the cleanest choice.
Then, after another street bend, he saw his tools again.
Not all at once. Just in pieces around the district like they had been dropped into the current and learned how to float on purpose.
Wen Zhaolin was standing near a recovery desk, calm as ever, speaking in a low tone to a clerk who looked like he had already been worn down by too many requests.
Lan Wuge was leaning near a rail, arms folded, watching the street with the kind of sharp eyes that noticed things before they became problems.
He Mulin sat under a shade awning, quiet and still, like he had no interest in the district unless it tried to touch him first.
Qiu Weiran was arguing with a cart owner over some route fee, which sounded exactly like something he would do even half dead.
Shen Tiaoran had disappeared into a small repair shop and was probably already asking about seal cord and route tags.
Seven tools total, though the rest were still out of sight.
Gu Yanshu counted them in his head one more time.
Wen Zhaolin. Lan Wuge. He Mulin. Qiu Weiran. Shen Tiaoran. Zhao Renhui. And one more who would likely turn up when the route got ugly.
He had not seen Zhao Renhui yet, but he knew the strongest one among them would show once the road got serious. The man was too proud and too useful to stay hidden for long.
Gu Yanshu moved on.
He already knew the road ahead.
Area 905.
The beast lands.
The place where the Stone Core Tyrant Beast, Shiyan Baxiong, lived.
He kept the route simple. No detours. No wasted turns. The land got rougher the farther he went. The nice streets of Area 904 gave way to broken stone lanes and half-maintained route markers. The whole city started looking older, less polished, more honest about the pressure built into it.
Then the chambers began.
Small ones first.
Low structures built into the route line, narrow enough to make a normal cultivator crouch or squeeze sideways through. They sat in rows like the district had laid them down just to slow people and make them feel small. Gu Yanshu stopped at the first one and looked up.
Then he smiled again.
He didn't need to go through.
He lifted himself with kiwei cultivation and flew.
Not high. Not dramatic. Just enough to rise above the chamber line and slide over the top of the route like the whole thing was beneath him. The little chambers stayed below, sealed and useless, while he crossed them from the air.
One of the reasons people died too easily was because they always thought they had to fight the wall in front of them.
Sometimes you just go above it.
He passed the first stretch that way, then the second.
Below him the ground became rougher, cracked in places, old scars from repeated movement and pressure. The air smelled more mineral now. Dry. Heavy. The kind of air that usually belonged near beast grounds and broken stone fields.
That was where the real route began.
He dropped back down to the earth once the terrain changed too much for casual flight. Area 905 was close now, and he wanted to see it properly.
The first thing he saw there was the beast.
Shiyan Baxiong.
Stone Core Tyrant Beast.
The thing stood on a ridge of cracked ground like the earth had grown a body and then gotten angry about it. Gray stone plates layered across its back and shoulders. Heavy limbs. Dense chest. A core bulge under the sternum that pulsed faintly with pressure. It was big enough to make the slope beneath it feel wrong.
It saw him at the same time he saw it.
The beast did not rush.
That was worse than rushing.
Rushing meant hunger. Stillness meant it already had a habit of surviving.
Gu Yanshu reached back and unwrapped the sword Xu Cangyuan had left him.
The blade came free in silence.
Black metal. Thin silver lines. A strange weight that always felt a little too calm for a weapon this dangerous.
Xu Cangyuan's face flashed in memory for half a second.
The traveler had looked tired when he handed over the sword.
Not weak. Tired.
He had said, with that intense kind of calm some people only get when they already know they're near death, "Only use it when there's no other road."
Gu Yanshu had never forgotten that.
Now the sword was in his hand again.
The Stone Core Tyrant Beast moved first.
A heavy shoulder strike, body low, stone weight crushing forward.
Gu Yanshu stepped aside at the last moment and cut across the beast's outer seam. Not deep enough to split it open. Just enough to make it notice. The blade bit in clean and sharp, sending a spray of stone chips into the air.
The beast twisted and slammed a forelimb down.
The ground cracked under the blow.
Gu Yanshu was already moving.
He cut again, this time higher, the blade sliding under a ridge plate and through the line where the armor overlapped. That forced the beast to turn awkwardly, and the third strike landed under the shoulder bone while it was still correcting itself.
It roared then.
Deep. Ugly. Heavy.
Then it charged.
This was the part where lesser cultivators would try to block and get crushed. Gu Yanshu didn't. He leaned low, shifted his body angle, and let the beast's momentum pass just enough that the edge of its strike missed his vital line. The sword cut upward under the chest seam and split the stone layer there.
A pulse of dense mineral energy spilled out.
That was what he wanted.
The core line.
The place where the beast carried its strongest material.
The beast stumbled, then forced itself forward again, furious now. Gu Yanshu stepped under it and cut across the lower body line. Another seam opened. Then another. He wasn't hacking wildly. He was reading the beast's body as a structure. Each swing found a weak line, each cut made the next one easier.
The Stone Core Tyrant Beast was strong.
That was obvious.
But it wasn't smart enough to stop being a beast.
Gu Yanshu was.
One more cut landed at the chest. Another at the neck seam. Then a clean vertical slice split the chest core line and the beast finally gave way.
The body dropped with a loud, heavy thud.
Stone marrow pressure leaked out in a dull glow.
Gu Yanshu stood there a moment, breathing steady, sword low in his hand, then stepped forward and began taking the materials.
Ridge plates first. Then the stone marrow. Then the core dust. Then the rib-fiber threads hidden in the inner seam.
He moved with care, not speed. The materials had to stay stable if he wanted to use them later for the sect. Strong beasts made strong foundations, but only if you handled the corpse right. Waste would ruin half the value.
After the first beast, more showed up.
Not one.
Several.
Some smaller stone gnashers. A couple of ridge-backed ones that moved in pairs. One heavier body with a cracked shoulder and an ugly mouth that opened too wide. He killed them one by one, not with panic, not with noise, but with the same same cold rhythm.
See the line. Read the line. Cut the line.
The sword from Xu Cangyuan did the killing when Gu Yanshu gave it the right angle.
And whenever one beast got too close, he made sure it did not stay close for long.
That mattered.
If a Stone Core Tyrant Beast got one real hit on him, it could still turn his bones into a problem he couldn't fix quickly. So he kept moving, kept reading, kept using the sword only when it gave him the cleanest end. The rest of the work was in his body, his timing, and the little shifts of pressure he had learned to see ever since Area 901.
By the time he was done, he had more than enough material.
Not just enough to make a building.
Enough to make a real sect frame.
He looked at the beast parts once more, then wrapped them and turned back.
Area 905 was not the place to sit and admire itself. It was the place to take what you came for and leave before the district decided to become sentimental.
So he went back.
The flight over the lower chambers was easier the second time. He already knew which parts were meant to slow him and which were meant to catch people who thought they were clever. He ignored all of them. Just rose over the sealed structures, crossed the dead routes, and moved back through Area 904.
The guard at the boundary looked up when he returned.
He saw the blood. The wrapped beast materials. The sword. The calm face.
That was all he needed to see.
He stepped aside.
Gu Yanshu didn't even stop.
Area 902 was waiting when he returned.
This part of the work was different.
The sect wasn't built by force alone. It needed positioning. It needed a place with just enough distance from the new family banners and just enough access to the route flow. Too far out and nobody would come. Too close and the district would start poking it too early.
He picked a site with enough space to work and enough traffic to matter.
Then he laid the beast materials out.
The ridge plates. The marrow. The core dust. The rib-fiber threads.
And then he brought the seven tools in.
This time all of them were there.
Zhao Renhui stepped in first. He had a strong back, a blunt kind of confidence, and the look of someone who didn't waste words because he'd already learned words only mattered when they changed something.
Wen Zhaolin followed, quiet and exact.
Lan Wuge came next, sharp-eyed and hard to read.
He Mulin moved in without sound.
Qiu Weiran looked around like he had already decided this was better than the last ten places they had stood.
Shen Tiaoran studied the materials with a serious face.
And the seventh, Yu Cheng, arrived last from the side route with a stack of binding cords and seal strips, looking half exhausted and half amused that this was somehow now his problem too.
Seven.
All here.
Gu Yanshu looked at them, then at the materials, then at the open patch of land in front of them.
He did not give a speech.
He just said, "Build it."
That was enough.
They started from the outer frame.
The ridge plates became the walls. The marrow became the flow core. The core dust was worked into the seal lines. The rib-fiber threads kept the frame from splitting under pressure.
It was ugly at first.
Then it started looking real.
Wen Zhaolin handled the heavy alignment, stepping into the frame and forcing the outer structure to sit correctly. Lan Wuge worked the pressure balance. He Mulin kept the pieces from slipping while they were set. Qiu Weiran carried the smaller supports and cursed under his breath when they were heavier than he liked. Shen Tiaoran handled the channels and link marks. Yu Cheng tied the outer binding points and kept checking every connection twice, like he didn't trust the ground to stay polite.
Gu Yanshu moved between them, correcting where needed, reading where the pressure felt wrong, adjusting the lines so the sect would actually hold once the frame settled.
The first wall went up.
Then the second.
Then the gate.
Then the core chamber.
Then the side hall.
Then the pressure lines started settling into place.
It was slow work.
The kind that made time feel heavy.
But every piece made the sect a little more real.
When they stepped back, the others looked at it and didn't speak right away.
The structure wasn't big yet, but it had shape. It had intent. It had a kind of rough stability that made it feel like it could survive if nobody got clever and tried to tear it apart too soon.
Their eyes shone a little.
Not dramatically. Just enough.
Gu Yanshu looked at it too.
This was his first true base.
Then he realized the name still wasn't settled.
He thought for a moment, then said, "Realm Feeter Sect."
The whole room went quiet.
Yu Cheng frowned first.
Then Qiu Weiran made a face like he had bitten into something sour.
Lan Wuge looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh.
Shen Tiaoran's expression got careful in that polite way that meant no.
He Mulin didn't say anything, which somehow made it worse.
Zhao Renhui crossed his arms and looked at Gu Yanshu for a long time, then finally said, "That name is bad."
Gu Yanshu blinked.
"It's not that bad."
"It is," Lan Wuge said flatly.
Qiu Weiran snorted. "It sounds like some cheap joke someone would use in a tavern to make people laugh once and forget it later."
Gu Yanshu stared at them.
Then he sighed a little.
"Fine. Then name it yourselves."
That got their attention.
They did think.
Actually think.
Zhao Renhui was the first to speak again, and since he was the strongest among them, the others quieted almost instantly.
"Origin Sect," he said.
The words settled into the room cleanly.
Gu Yanshu repeated them in his head once.
Origin Sect.
Simple. Strong. Nothing extra.
It fit.
He looked at the others, then back at the unfinished hall.
"Alright," he said.
That was all.
No ceremony.
No long promise.
Just acceptance.
But that was enough, because once the strongest tool named it and Gu Yanshu accepted it as sect leader, the place stopped being just a frame and became a structure with a future.
Origin Sect.
The first real base. The first true start. The first place that belonged to Gu Yanshu instead of the city around him.
Outside, Area 902 was still moving with its new families and its hidden eyes and its clean streets. Somewhere farther off, people were still building banners for Seving Family, Zero Family, Notas Family, and all the others who thought they were just beginning.
Gu Yanshu looked over the walls of his new sect and smiled once more.
This time, it was a little different.
Not because things were easy.
Because now, they had a place to become hard.Gu Yanshu had wanted rest for only a little while.
That was all.
Just a short sleep after the last round of building, after the beast materials were sorted, after the first walls of Origin Sect were put together and the frame finally stopped feeling like a pile of heavy parts. He had thought he would close his eyes for a few breaths, maybe take a little space before the next move.
But a sect does not stay small for long once it has already started breathing.
The first thing that changed was the land around it.
Not because the sect itself moved, but because Gu Yanshu had gone out again and bought more materials. Extra beast parts. Extra stone marrow. Extra support cords. Extra core dust from lower-grade bodies that still had enough pressure in them to matter. Not all of it was glorious. Not all of it was rare. But it was enough to push the sect outward.
The outer lines widened. The gate thickened. The side hall gained a roof line. The training ground got longer. The storage room doubled in size.
By the time the changes settled, Origin Sect was no longer just a frame.
It had grown to seventy-five meters across.
Not huge by the standards of all the city's powers, but already enough to look like something that had to be noticed.
Gu Yanshu stood at the edge of the new outer wall and looked at it for a long moment.
The materials from Shiyan Baxiong still held their pressure well. The ridge plates formed a hard outer shell. The marrow channels inside the base kept the spirit flow moving without feeling too wild. The core dust was working better than expected too. The sect had started to gather a low but steady pressure of its own, which meant the structure was not collapsing under its own weight.
Good.
Very good.
He had bought the extra beast materials through a few simple routes and a few quiet exchanges, nothing flashy. Some from Area 902 merchants who didn't ask too many questions. Some from people who saw the sect frame and understood this wasn't a joke project. Some he had paid for directly, some with pressure, and some with the sort of silent authority that came when someone had already walked through a chamber most others would never survive.
The sect was now big enough that the walls had shape, the halls had identity, and the air inside it already felt a little different from outside.
That mattered more than size.
A place like this needed atmosphere before it needed fame.
His seven tools had all arrived too.
Every single one.
Zhao Renhui was first in place, naturally. He had always liked being where the strongest pressure sat.
Wen Zhaolin followed, calm and already looking around the sect like he was checking where the weak points might be.
Lan Wuge had claimed one side of the training ground and was watching the others with the kind of stillness that usually meant she was thinking more than she was speaking.
He Mulin had found a quiet section near the storage wall, standing there like he had always belonged there.
Qiu Weiran was already moving around with too much energy, touching one wall and then another like he was trying to annoy the whole sect into being stronger.
Shen Tiaoran had gone straight to the inner layout and started checking how the pressure lines connected.
And Yu Cheng, the last of the seven, was already helping with a stack of support tools and binding strips, carrying them with a strange mix of irritation and pride as if he didn't want anyone to think he was enjoying himself.
Gu Yanshu watched them all.
Then he went into the small sleeping room he had set aside for himself.
He had said he needed rest.
And he did.
The bed wasn't much yet. Just a low structure built from beast shell support and thick padding. But it was enough. He lay down, closed his eyes, and let the sect pressure settle around him while the others kept moving outside.
He had barely fallen into sleep when the noise began.
At first it was just voices.
Then footsteps.
Then a sharp thud from the training ground.
Then another.
Gu Yanshu's eyes opened halfway.
He did not move yet.
He listened.
Outside, the voices were growing louder. Not screaming. Not panicked. More like excited, sharp, competitive noise. That sort of sound usually came from men who thought they were being productive while actually turning an important place into a mess.
He rolled over slightly, keeping his eyes shut for one more breath.
Then he heard Zhao Renhui speak.
"I'll be the strongest one here."
That made Gu Yanshu open one eye.
Not enough to stand yet. Just enough to listen.
Qiu Weiran laughed first.
"Strongest? You?"
Zhao Renhui's voice stayed flat.
"Yes."
Wen Zhaolin answered in that same quiet way he always had.
"Then prove it."
Gu Yanshu closed his eye again.
So that was what this was.
A competition.
Of course it was.
Seven men, newly placed into a new sect, probably too much energy, too little discipline, and now they were trying to see who was the sharpest blade in the box. It happened when men got too comfortable in a space that still belonged to one person. They start comparing themselves. They start poking at each other. They start thinking that if they can beat the others, then maybe they can claim a little more room for themselves.
Bad habit.
Especially in a newly built sect.
The noise outside got louder.
He heard a heavy stomp, then a sharper impact, then the sound of bodies shifting across the training ground.
Gu Yanshu sat up slowly.
The competition had already started.
Of course it had.
He got up, opened the door, and stepped out into the sect courtyard.
The seven tools were already spread out across the training ground in different positions. Zhao Renhui stood at the center with his arms loose and his back straight, looking like the whole thing was already his. Wen Zhaolin had taken a side stance. Lan Wuge was watching from the edge, not fully involved yet. He Mulin was quiet in a way that meant he was already looking for timing instead of brute force. Qiu Weiran looked eager in the way of someone who was about to regret it. Shen Tiaoran had his hands half lifted, ready to act. Yu Cheng stood slightly back, as if deciding whether this was stupid enough to participate in or just stupid enough to watch.
Gu Yanshu looked at them all.
Nobody spoke for a second.
Then Zhao Renhui said, "Lord, we were only—"
Gu Yanshu's expression changed.
Not much.
Just enough.
He walked forward a little and said, "Only what?"
Nobody answered.
He looked from one face to the next and saw exactly what had happened. They had gotten too excited. Too loud. Started measuring themselves against one another instead of helping the sect stabilize. That meant they were thinking like challengers, not builders.
That was the problem.
The sect had barely settled, and already they were trying to decide who was the strongest inside it.
Gu Yanshu exhaled once and said, "You want a competition?"
The seven of them went still.
Qiu Weiran opened his mouth like maybe he wanted to explain, but Gu Yanshu lifted one hand.
"No. Don't explain."
He stepped into the training ground.
"You want to prove something? Fine."
The seven tools looked at him carefully now.
Too carefully.
They knew that tone.
Gu Yanshu glanced at Zhao Renhui first. "You said you'd be the strongest."
Zhao Renhui straightened a little.
"Yes."
Gu Yanshu nodded once.
"Then start."
And Zhao Renhui did.
He moved fast.
Not reckless. Fast with confidence.
His first strike came straight in, a heavy clean punch aimed at Gu Yanshu's shoulder, the kind of move that said he believed his body could dominate a room if he gave it enough force. The sect leader shifted half a step and let the punch miss, then returned a short palm strike into Zhao Renhui's chest line.
Not enough to drop him.
Enough to make his breathing jump.
Zhao Renhui's eyes sharpened. He came again, this time with a tighter rhythm. A second strike. A low sweep. A shoulder turn. He knew how to fight. That was obvious. He wasn't bluffing.
But Gu Yanshu was not interested in being impressed.
He turned the second attack aside, caught the wrist, and moved in under the line of force. A quick knee. A short elbow. A controlled hit to the side rib. Zhao Renhui got forced back three steps before he recovered.
Qiu Weiran let out a surprised sound.
"Damn."
Gu Yanshu didn't look at him.
Zhao Renhui came in again, this time harder.
That was the mistake.
Whenever the strongest one gets hit, the ego starts helping the body make bad decisions. Gu Yanshu used that. He slipped under the strike, pivoted, and hit Zhao Renhui in the side again, then once more in the shoulder, then sent him stumbling backward with a sharp push to the center of the chest.
Zhao Renhui caught himself, breathing harder now.
Blood had already started to show from the corner of his mouth.
Not a lot. Just enough.
Gu Yanshu looked at him calmly.
"You wanted to be the strongest."
Zhao Renhui wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glared.
"I still do."
"Good."
That was when the others moved.
Wen Zhaolin stepped in first, quiet and smooth. He came from the left with a clean angle, trying to catch Gu Yanshu in a two-step pressure line. Smart. He didn't charge like Zhao Renhui. He aimed to pull the fight into a shape that would favor timing and false openings.
Gu Yanshu saw it and took one step back on purpose.
Wen Zhaolin thought he'd won the space.
He hadn't.
Gu Yanshu turned the retreat into a trap and cut his body angle just enough to make Wen Zhaolin overextend. Then a short strike landed on his ribs, another on the shoulder line, and a final palm to the stomach knocked the air out of him hard enough that he bent forward with a grunt.
Lan Wuge moved at that moment.
She was better than the others expected.
No wasted motion. No extra noise. She came straight in after watching the timing from the side, which meant she was already reading the fight instead of joining it blindly. A beam-like pressure punch landed near Gu Yanshu's upper arm, then a second strike followed low.
Good rhythm.
Good instinct.
Gu Yanshu shifted his weight and slapped the first strike away, then caught the second with the side of his forearm and used the force to turn her body line. One hand to her shoulder. One short strike to the side of her waist. She stumbled back, eyebrows lifting in surprise more than pain.
Then He Mulin moved.
He was quiet right until the moment he wasn't.
No dramatic rush. Just a sudden cut-in from the edge of the field, aiming for the blind spot everyone forgot about while they were looking at the louder ones. That was the sort of attack that killed people in real fights if they got lazy.
Gu Yanshu turned just enough to catch him, then stepped inside the strike and hit him first.
He Mulin got a sharp line of blood from the lip and took a step back, blinking once like he had not expected the speed.
Qiu Weiran shouted, "You're all getting beaten too easy!"
And then he rushed in himself, which was exactly what you'd expect from Qiu Weiran.
He punched too hard and too fast, trying to win by enthusiasm. Gu Yanshu waited until the second strike, then moved under his line and hit him three times in quick succession: shoulder, side, then stomach.
Qiu Weiran doubled over with a gasping noise, then straightened again with blood at the corner of his mouth and still tried to grin.
"This is still fun," he said, half lying.
Gu Yanshu looked at him and answered, "Not for long."
Shen Tiaoran came in next, which was dangerous because he was one of the smarter ones. He didn't rush. He watched, then used a small opening to send a pressure strike at Gu Yanshu's lower line. It was a good move, actually. Better than the others' so far.
But Gu Yanshu had already seen the timing.
He moved slightly to the side, let the strike pass by a little, then caught Shen Tiaoran's wrist and turned the whole arm line into an open gap. One punch landed at the shoulder. Another at the ribs. A third at the chest. Shen Tiaoran staggered back with a sharp breath and blood showing at the edge of his mouth.
Yu Cheng had been waiting.
He came last, which was smart too.
By then most of the others had already been tested, so he could step in with a more accurate read of what Gu Yanshu was doing. He attacked low, then high, then tried to force the sect leader into a side angle where the others could close in again.
Not bad.
Gu Yanshu gave him one look and moved straight through the gap.
A punch to the stomach. A shove. A hit to the collar line.
Yu Cheng stumbled back, breathing hard, and got a thin line of blood at the lip.
By now all seven of them were bleeding.
Not broken. Not knocked out.
Just marked.
That was enough.
They were still standing, still trying, but the fight had shifted. Gu Yanshu was already showing them the difference between wanting to be strongest and actually being able to dominate a room. He moved like someone who had no need to prove every punch. He hit when it mattered and stopped when it didn't.
The seven tools tried again as a group.
That was a mistake too.
Grouping up too early after losing individual rhythm just made them easier to read. Gu Yanshu stepped through the first gap, struck Zhao Renhui to break the line, then turned and hit Wen Zhaolin across the ribs. Lan Wuge moved to cover and got a short elbow to the shoulder. He Mulin came in from the right and got caught in the chest. Qiu Weiran tried to force the center and got punched hard enough to stumble back. Shen Tiaoran reached for another opening and got shut down with a quick strike to the side. Yu Cheng tried to recover the line and got hit for it too.
One by one.
Names and punches.
Zhao Renhui. Wen Zhaolin. Lan Wuge. He Mulin. Qiu Weiran. Shen Tiaoran. Yu Cheng.
Each one got called, and each one got struck.
Not enough to crush them. Enough to make the lesson stick.
By the time Gu Yanshu stopped, every one of them was breathing hard and bleeding a little, but still on their feet. Their eyes had changed too. The competition was gone now. What was left was the feeling of being corrected by the person who built the place they were standing in.
Gu Yanshu looked at them one more time.
"Why are you fighting each other?"
No one answered at first.
He gave them a second to be honest.
Still nothing.
So he continued, voice calm but hard enough to matter.
"You built Origin Sect with your hands and then started acting like the first thing it needed was a rivalry."
Qiu Weiran opened his mouth, then shut it.
Gu Yanshu pointed at them one by one.
"Zhao Renhui, you wanted to prove strength."
Zhao Renhui said nothing.
"Wen Zhaolin, you wanted to test the shape of the room."
Wen Zhaolin looked down.
"Lan Wuge, you were watching and waiting to see who slipped first."
Lan Wuge gave a tiny sigh.
"He Mulin, you thought silence would save you."
He Mulin's mouth tightened.
"Qiu Weiran, you just wanted to hit something."
Qiu Weiran rubbed the side of his face and didn't deny it.
"Shen Tiaoran, you were measuring everyone like a chess board."
Shen Tiaoran actually smiled a little, then stopped when Gu Yanshu looked at him.
"Yu Cheng, you were the last one standing because you thought waiting would make you smarter."
Yu Cheng lifted a brow, then lowered it.
Gu Yanshu stepped forward once.
"Never do this again."
The air got quiet.
"If you want to be strong, get stronger in the right direction. If you want to compare yourself, compare yourself against the enemy. Not each other."
He let that settle, then added in a lower tone, "And don't make noise when I'm sleeping."
That last line got their attention even more than the punishment had.
Gu Yanshu folded his arms.
"I was sleeping. Then I heard all that ah, ee, ah, ee nonsense outside. So now you got punched."
Qiu Weiran almost laughed.
Then didn't.
Because Gu Yanshu was still looking at him.
"Lord," Zhao Renhui said carefully, "we didn't mean to disturb you."
Gu Yanshu raised one eyebrow.
"You dare call me by my name?"
That hit all of them at once.
They immediately stiffened.
Gu Yanshu stepped in close and punched Zhao Renhui again in the shoulder, just enough to make the point sharper.
"Gu Yanshu."
Then he turned and hit Wen Zhaolin once across the arm.
"Gu Yanshu."
Another hit. Lan Wuge's shoulder.
"Gu Yanshu."
He Mulin got one to the side of the chest.
"Gu Yanshu."
Qiu Weiran got a flat-handed strike to the shoulder and winced.
"Gu Yanshu."
Shen Tiaoran got a quick, sharp punch to the stomach.
"Gu Yanshu."
Yu Cheng got the last one, clean and neat, right to the upper arm.
"Gu Yanshu."
The seven of them stood there, bleeding a little, breathing hard, and now finally getting the message.
They all said it at once then, low and careful.
"Gu Yanshu."
He looked at them for a second longer and then relaxed his arms.
"Good."
The fight was over.
The lesson was in place.
And the sect, which had been born only a short time ago, was already beginning to learn the kind of discipline it would need if it wanted to survive.
The seven tools stood there in the dust of the training ground, all of them still upright, all of them still bleeding, all of them now understanding in a very simple way that Origin Sect would not become strong by accident.
It would become strong because Gu Yanshu would make sure of it.Gu Yanshu looked at them for a moment longer and then spoke, voice calm, almost flat.
"I told you to never start a war between yourselves. If you want to rest, then rest. It's already getting night."
The seven of them were still standing in the training ground, all a little bloodied, all a little quieter now. Nobody answered right away. They had the look of people who had just been corrected hard enough that the correction still sat in the bones.
Gu Yanshu didn't wait for an apology.
He turned away.
The night had already settled over Origin Sect.
The walls were still rough in places, the outer frame still carrying the new pressure of Shiyan Baxiong materials, and the whole place had that unfinished feeling that comes right before something becomes real. Not complete. Just real enough to start breathing on its own.
Gu Yanshu let the sect sit in silence and went back to his room.
He did not sleep long.
By the time he opened his eyes again, the room was still dark, but the light outside had begun to change. Not full morning yet. Just the faint beginning of it. He sat up, looked toward the small window, and did a quick calculation without thinking too much about it.
6:35 a.m.
That was what it should be.
He looked at his own body, then at the time again in his head.
Strange.
He had gone to sleep at 4 a.m.
That meant he had only taken a short rest.
So why did it feel like he woke so fast?
Gu Yanshu sat still for a second longer and then understood.
He hadn't really rested enough. His body had just stopped resisting because the sect had gone quiet and the pressure around him had settled. The sleep had been light, short, and half-aware. He did not want to wake the others yet anyway. Let them keep sleeping. They had earned that much after the punishment and the whole mess from before.
As sect leader, he could move first.
That was useful.
He stood, opened the door, and stepped out into the still-cold air of early morning.
Origin Sect was quiet.
Too quiet in a good way.
The training ground was empty. The halls were still. The outer wall stood there in pale gray pressure, holding the shape of the sect like it had been waiting for this exact hour to prove it could survive the night. Far off, he could hear a little movement from the sleeping quarters, but nothing loud enough to count as waking.
Good.
Gu Yanshu moved toward the inner hall, then past it, and finally toward the sect library.
The library was one of the first things he had ordered into the sect structure after the walls went up.
Not because they were rich enough to fill it with fancy treasures.
Because if a sect only had strength and no memory, it would become stupid fast.
The library stood near the east side of Origin Sect, just beyond the second wall, in a slightly cooler section of the grounds. It was a long rectangular building built from Shiyan Baxiong ridge plates and reinforced shell beams. It had a heavy door, narrow windows, and a low air of seriousness around it, like the place already expected people to be honest inside it.
When he opened the door, the smell hit him first.
Old paper. Ink. Wood dust. Beast marrow seal resin. And that faint dry smell books always got when they had sat too long in a room that was trying very hard to preserve them.
Gu Yanshu stepped in and looked around.
The shelves were taller than he had expected.
Long too.
Very long.
The place had already grown into something absurd.
He had ordered books, copied records, old scrolls, route histories, beast notes, chamber diagrams, district maps, and a pile of unrelated documents from people who were happy to sell knowledge if the price felt respectful enough.
Now the library held 795,000 books.
Not all rare. Not all useful. Not all readable in the same way.
But enough to make it feel like a real archive.
Gu Yanshu stood there for a long second, just looking.
Then he smiled a little.
That was the kind of number that made a sect feel like it was already thinking.
He walked in slowly, fingers brushing the side of one shelf as he passed.
So much knowledge.
And most of it would probably be useless if read carelessly.
That was the trick with history. People thought history was only about what happened before. It wasn't. History was about what still had consequences now. A good history book told you where the current power came from. A better one told you where the weakness was hidden. The best ones made you understand why a city like this kept repeating the same mistakes while pretending each generation was new.
Gu Yanshu went to the first table and sat down.
No one else was awake enough to bother him.
Good.
He wanted it that way.
He chose five books first.
Not because five was some special number. Because it was enough to start seeing the shape of the place.
The first book was thick, with a dark blue cover and no fancy seal.
History of the Nine District Routes
He opened it and began reading.
The first seven pages were about the founding logic of the districts. Not romantic at all. It was written like a report, but a report with old scars under it. The text explained that Area 901, Area 902, Area 903, and the rest were not naturally arranged. They had been carved into being after the old route wars, when the city's original structure had collapsed under too much pressure and too many hidden line conflicts.
The first city planners had created the areas to split power into controlled zones.
Not to make things peaceful.
To make them manageable.
Gu Yanshu read that twice.
That was important.
Area 902 had not become a beautiful district by chance. It had been designed that way. The bright channels, the family names, the arranged pressure routes. All of it was part of the same original control logic. They didn't build harmony. They built systems that made conflict look organized.
He flipped to the second book.
The Hidden Chamber Routes of Central City
This one was older.
The first seven pages showed maps of sealed chambers, including old versions of the Yellow Chamber and White Chamber he had already passed. The text described them as "balance chambers," "pressure chambers," and "containment chambers." That was the kind of language history books used when they were afraid to say the full truth. He could read between the lines.
The Yellow Chamber had likely been used to sort dangerous demon groups and pressure-linked cultivation lines. The White Chamber had likely been built later, after the city learned the first chamber wasn't enough. The White one existed to control route passage, punish weak movement, and hide violent pressure systems beneath route layers.
He found a note in the margin of one scanned copy.
"External parties should not be admitted to the White Chamber without sealing authority."
Interesting.
That meant the White Chamber was not just dangerous. It was policy.
Gu Yanshu closed the second book and picked up the third.
Rise of the Family Houses in Area 902
Now this one was better.
The first seven pages told him how the families in Area 902 had formed. Not all at once. Slowly. Through route control, marriage alliances, protection claims, and shared district sponsorships. The Seving Family had started as a route repair line. The Zero Family had begun in the balance records office. The Notas Family, or Not-As Family depending on the district pronunciation, had grown out of document correction and public notice interpretation. None of them had started as "families" in the romantic sense. They had become families because the district rewarded people who could survive by grouping themselves under a shared name.
Gu Yanshu leaned back a little.
So that was the pattern.
A family was not just blood. It was a claim. A route. A pressure shield. A legal shape for power.
That made his own decision to create Origin Sect even more correct.
He turned to the fourth book.
Beast Material and Sect Foundations
This one mattered most for the next phase.
The first seven pages explained why sects could not be built from ordinary wood or stone if they wanted to survive long-term. Ordinary materials could hold a roof, sure. But not a pressure structure. Not a cultivation ground. Not a spirit channel system. Beast materials carried memory in the way ordinary matter didn't. Ridge plates held shape under spiritual force. Stone marrow stored pressure. Rib-fiber threads stabilized flow. Core dust anchored seal lines.
Shiyan Baxiong material was especially prized because of its density and resistance to collapse.
Gu Yanshu nodded slowly while reading.
Yes.
That was why the sect had already started to feel different after the first build.
The material itself remembered the beast's strength.
The fifth book was smaller but older than the others.
Routes Between Areas 902 and 905
The first seven pages were almost all route notes, but the history section in it was gold.
It explained that Area 905 was one of the deeper beast territories in the district web, used for high-pressure material harvesting and dangerous cultivation trials. The route between Area 902 and 905 had been intentionally complicated by the city planners to limit casual movement. The long distance was not an accident. It was a filter. Only people with a real reason crossed it.
That matched what Wen Zhaolin had said.
And it told Gu Yanshu something else too.
If he wanted to expand Origin Sect properly later, he would need more than beast parts. He would need route advantage.
The city wasn't built to let people build power freely.
It was built to make them earn every inch.
He kept reading the first seven pages of each book, and in some cases a little more if the next section looked important.
He did not read fifteen books all at once.
That would be wasteful.
Five was enough for now.
Five books gave him the shape of the city, the shape of the chambers, the shape of the family structure, the material logic of sect building, and the route logic of Area 905.
That was the kind of foundation a smart person used.
Not all knowledge. The right knowledge.
He stood after a while and moved to a second shelf.
Then a third.
Not because he wanted more history only.
Because he wanted to test whether the library itself was useful as a weapon.
Some books were histories of old district wars. Some were about route taxes. Some were about chamber authority. Some were about the way family houses had once risen and fallen. Some were about cultivation politics disguised as trade records.
That last kind was the most dangerous.
He found one with a rough cover and a torn binding.
The Twelve Breaks of Regional Power
The first seven pages were boring on the surface, but the third page had a line about something that mattered.
"If a rising power cannot define its own internal obedience, it will eventually be defined by external pressure."
Gu Yanshu stared at that sentence for a second.
Then nodded once.
That was the problem with his tools earlier.
Too much excitement. Too much internal competition. Too much noise.
A sect without internal discipline got defined by the outside fast.
He had already corrected that once with his fists.
Still, the lesson was useful.
He put the book back and walked further down the shelves.
He stopped at another old volume.
The First Family Houses of Area 902
This one was entertaining in the exact way he liked. Not because it was funny. Because it told the truth in a way people usually didn't notice until too late.
The first seven pages described how the earliest family houses in Area 902 had used temporary alliances to protect shared route control. Then one family would overreach. Another would hide records. A third would call the district offices. A fourth would invite outside support. Every rise started with cooperation and ended with someone trying to own the whole structure.
Gu Yanshu smiled faintly while reading.
Perfect.
He understood the game now.
The district didn't hate families. It used them.
Then he found the part that mattered even more.
The families were strongest when they controlled both reputation and route flow.
If Origin Sect wanted to become real, it would need both too.
He stayed in the library for a long time after that.
The morning moved forward outside. The sect slowly woke. He could hear distant footsteps. A voice. Somebody outside training ground. Someone else asking for water. The sect was breathing now. That was good. It meant the others were alive and not sitting around waiting for him to solve everything.
But in the library, he kept reading.
Another book. Then another section. Then another.
Five history books told him enough for one morning.
The district's families were not just social groups. The chambers were not just hazards. The route lines were not just roads. The beast materials were not just resources.
Everything had been arranged to turn power into something that had to be built, defended, and kept alive by understanding the old structure under it.
That was why history mattered.
And why people who ignored it usually died thinking they were clever.
Gu Yanshu closed the last book and leaned back in the chair.
The library had 795,000 books, and yet the first five had already told him more than enough to keep moving.
Outside, Origin Sect was still small, but now it had a shape in his mind that matchedGu Yanshu watched Qin Jinzhe and Song Hechen walk away along the outer path.
Neither of them turned back.
That alone said enough.
People who left quietly were rarely harmless. The quiet ones usually carried the deepest resentment, the kind that waited instead of exploding. The morning air felt colder after they disappeared beyond the ridge stones, and for a moment the sect courtyard fell silent again.
Then something inside Gu Yanshu shifted.
Not emotion exactly.
Memory.
It came slowly at first, like a cracked mirror trying to rebuild itself. A smell, a sound, a fragment of voice. He did not want to remember, but the moment he saw their backs disappearing into the distance, the old images started forcing themselves forward.
The old cultivation hall.
The cracked white stone floors.
The long stairways that always smelled of dust and iron.
The place where everything started.
Flashback
The hall had been called Lingyuan Pavilion.
It was not a famous sect. Not a powerful one either. It was the kind of cultivation place that existed in the shadow of larger forces, surviving quietly by training small groups of disciples and sending the best ones outward into the districts. The building itself had been old, with pale walls and a courtyard that never seemed fully clean.
Gu Yanshu had arrived there when he was younger.
Not strong.
Not important.
Just another disciple trying to survive.
That was where he first met Qin Jinzhe.
Qin Jinzhe had already been known at the time. The senior brother everyone talked about. He walked like the place already belonged to him, like every step was measured and expected to be respected. His robe was always clean, his movements calm, his expression controlled. He was talented in the clean, visible way that masters liked. Strong energy flow, stable posture, quick learning speed.
He was the kind of disciple masters pointed at and said, "Look at him. Learn from him."
And most people did.
Including Gu Yanshu.
At first.
Because Qin Jinzhe was not openly cruel. That was the strange part. He was polite, composed, even helpful sometimes. He corrected mistakes, gave advice, and spoke in a calm tone that made him look like a proper senior brother. But there was something hidden under that calm. A quiet belief that he deserved to stand above everyone else.
He never said it out loud.
He didn't need to.
Then came Song Hechen.
Song Hechen arrived later.
Younger.
Sharper.
Much less polite.
He did not walk carefully through Lingyuan Pavilion. He moved like a knife cutting through cloth, fast and direct. He questioned instructors, ignored small rules, and treated cultivation like a race instead of a duty. Masters didn't like him much at first, but they couldn't ignore his talent.
He learned techniques faster than most.
He fought harder than most.
And he spoke without fear.
That was what started the problem.
Because Song Hechen did not respect Qin Jinzhe.
Not in the quiet way everyone else did.
The first time they clashed was small.
Just a training yard disagreement.
Qin Jinzhe corrected Song Hechen's stance in front of others.
Song Hechen replied, "Your stance is too stiff. You just memorized the form."
The courtyard went silent.
No one spoke to Qin Jinzhe like that.
Qin Jinzhe only smiled slightly and said, "You should learn discipline before criticizing."
Song Hechen answered, "Discipline without understanding is just decoration."
That was the first crack.
Gu Yanshu remembered standing there, watching from the side.
Even then, he knew.
These two would not coexist peacefully.
Time passed.
Training continued.
But the rivalry slowly grew.
Qin Jinzhe kept receiving recognition from the masters. He was stable, reliable, and easy to present as the future of Lingyuan Pavilion. Song Hechen kept improving at a frightening speed and began surpassing others in real combat ability.
That difference created tension.
Then came the Spirit Scroll Incident.
The pavilion had received a rare cultivation scroll meant for advanced disciples. Only one person could take it. The masters originally planned to give it to Qin Jinzhe because he was the senior and had the highest rank.
But during a combat evaluation, Song Hechen defeated two higher-ranked disciples in a row and showed a level of control that surprised even the elders.
The scroll was reassigned.
To Song Hechen.
Publicly.
In front of everyone.
Qin Jinzhe's smile did not change that day.
But Gu Yanshu saw his hand tighten slightly inside his sleeve.
That was when everything broke.
Because Qin Jinzhe did not argue.
He congratulated Song Hechen.
Calmly.
Politely.
Perfect senior brother behavior.
But after that, things changed.
Training matches became harsher.
Small mistakes were pointed out more often.
Rumors started spreading quietly.
Song Hechen was reckless. Song Hechen was arrogant. Song Hechen was unstable.
And Song Hechen responded the only way he knew how.
By winning more fights.
By training harder.
By speaking louder.
By refusing to step back.
Then came the Route Credit Incident.
A cultivation route assignment for district exploration was given to a small group. The route report came back incomplete, and the missing credit fell onto Song Hechen's name. Qin Jinzhe had been responsible for documentation.
Song Hechen accused him directly.
"You changed the record."
Qin Jinzhe answered calmly, "You failed to complete your part."
The masters sided with Qin Jinzhe.
Because his records were clean.
Song Hechen was punished.
Publicly.
That was the first time Song Hechen looked like he truly hated someone.
Not angry.
Hated.
Gu Yanshu remembered that look clearly.
It was quiet, cold, and patient.
The rivalry turned ugly after that.
Training duels became brutal.
Arguments became personal.
Groups of disciples started choosing sides.
Some supported Qin Jinzhe for stability and rank.
Some supported Song Hechen for strength and honesty.
Lingyuan Pavilion slowly split into two camps.
The masters tried to control it, but the damage had already started.
Then came the Final Duel.
It happened in the central courtyard.
No official permission.
No master supervision at first.
Just the two of them standing there, surrounded by disciples.
Qin Jinzhe spoke first.
"If you want to challenge me, do it properly."
Song Hechen answered, "I've been doing that from the start."
The fight began.
It was intense.
Qin Jinzhe fought with precision and structure, controlled strikes and clean technique.
Song Hechen fought like a storm, fast, aggressive, unpredictable.
The courtyard shook with their movement.
Stone cracked under their steps.
Blood hit the ground.
Neither of them stopped.
Gu Yanshu remembered standing at the edge, watching.
He did not interfere.
He only watched.
Because he understood something the others did not.
Neither of them wanted victory.
They wanted the other to fall.
The fight ended when the masters arrived and forced them apart.
Both were injured.
Both were exhausted.
Neither admitted defeat.
But from that day on, they were declared rivals officially.
And Lingyuan Pavilion never fully recovered from the split.
Disciples left.
Support weakened.
Trust broke.
And Gu Yanshu quietly left not long after.
Because he had already learned something important.
A place that allowed rivalry to grow unchecked would eventually destroy itself.
Present
The memory faded slowly.
Gu Yanshu stood at the sect gate again, looking at the empty road where Qin Jinzhe and Song Hechen had disappeared.
His eyes were calm.
Now he understood why the memory felt strange earlier.
Because those two were not just rivals to each other.
They were reminders of a broken system.
And he had no intention of letting Origin Sect become another Lingyuan Pavilion.
He turned back toward the courtyard.
His seven disciples were still training.
Still improving.
Still building something instead of tearing it apart.
That was the difference.
That was why he kicked Qin Jinzhe and Song Hechen out without hesitation.
Because he had already seen what happened when rivalry was allowed to grow inside a sect.
And he would not repeat that mistake again. the city around it.
And that meant the next part would not just be building.
It would be choosing what kind of power the sect was meant to become.