Morning came without sunlight.
In Arrata, dawn was not announced by warmth or gold, but by a subtle thinning of the crimson haze that hung in the sky. The fractures above Ashen Village dimmed slightly, their bleeding light retreating just enough for shadows to soften.
Dao Wei rose before the siblings.
The house was quiet, save for the slow, uneven breathing of Qing Chen from the inner room. Dao Wei stood still for a moment, observing with spiritual sense. The walls leaned at dangerous angles. The floorboards near the door were rotting. One supporting beam had cracked down the middle and been bound together with old rope and prayer knots.
A house held together by will.
Dao Wei stepped outside.
Cold ash crunched beneath his feet. The yard was little more than dead soil and broken stone, yet faint traces of vitality lingered beneath the surface, suppressed, starved, but not gone. He knelt, brushing aside the ash with his hand.
Dao Wei stood and went to work.
He carried stones that had fallen from the collapsed wall and set them back into place by hand, choosing each one carefully and fitting them together to distribute the weight naturally. He replaced rotting planks and reinforced joints where strain gathered most, using scavenged timber.
His movements were unhurried.
By the time Qing Yao stepped outside, sleeves rolled up and expression guarded, the worst of the damage had already been stabilized.
"W…What are you doing?" Qing Yao asked.
"Repairing the house," Dao Wei replied simply.
Qing Yao stared at him as if he had said something absurd. "You're a cultivator."
Dao Wei lifted a beam and adjusted its angle. "And this is a house."
Qing Yao opened her mouth, then closed it. After a moment, she sighed sharply and grabbed a basket of tools from the corner.
"If you're going to do it," she said, "do it right."
They worked together in silence.
Qing Yao knew the house intimately, where the floor dipped, where rain leaked, which wall froze in winter. Dao Wei listened to every word, adjusting his work accordingly. Qing Chen joined them later, handing nails, holding planks steady, his eyes bright with quiet excitement.
As the hours passed, something subtle changed.
The air around the house felt lighter. The oppressive pressure that clung to most of Ashen Village eased slightly within the yard. Cracks in the walls stopped spreading. The crooked door closed more smoothly.
Qing Yao noticed first.
She paused, wiping sweat from her brow. "The house feels… different."
Dao Wei set down his tools. "Just needed a little push," he said.
Qing Chen crouched near the edge of the yard. "Sister," he said softly. "Look."
From the ash-stained soil, a tiny green shoot had emerged, fragile, trembling, unmistakably alive.
Qing Yao froze.
"That's impossible," she whispered. "Nothing grows here."
Dao Wei knelt beside the sprout. "Nothing grows where nothing is allowed to," he replied.
He did not touch it, but just watched it as if it were the most amusing thing.
By midday, the house stood straighter than it had in years. Still shabby, but no longer on the verge of collapse.
Inside, Dao Wei noticed a faded painting on the inner wall, two adults standing behind younger versions of Qing Yao and Qing Chen. The brushwork was crude, but careful.
"Our parents," Qing Yao said when she saw his gaze. "They died during the Sky's Fracture."
Dao Wei inclined his head but didn't say anything.
That night, they ate together again. The broth tasted fuller than before, despite being made from the same ingredients. Dao Wei smiled without realizing it. Qing Yao was staring, and when he noticed, she quickly looked away.
As darkness fell, Dao Wei sat cross-legged alone outside the house. He closed his eyes, anchoring his awareness to the ground, the walls, the quiet breathing inside. He began running the Nine Qi Breathing Technique he got from the Bodhi Tree, and sank deeper into his Sea of Qi.
Within Ashen Village, no one noticed immediately.
But somewhere beneath the ash and ruin, roots tightened their grip and refused to let go.
.....
When Dao Wei opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the scent. Not ash, not quite dust either. But something faint and clean, like crushed leaves after rain.
He sat up slowly.
The yard outside the house was no longer gray. Patches of grass pushed through the soil, thin at first, then thickening into vibrant green strands. Small flowers dotted the ground in quiet defiance of the world's decay, their petals pale but luminous. Even the stones lining the yard were warm, no longer leeching vitality from anything that touched them.
Dao Wei rose and stepped outside.
The change extended beyond the yard.
Along the broken edge of Ashen Village, trees that had stood brittle and lifeless now bore new leaves. Their branches, once skeletal, carried hints of green, as if remembering what they were meant to be. The village itself seemed to breathe, just a little deeper than before.
Dao Wei closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
Behind him, the door creaked open.
Qing Chen stood frozen on the threshold, eyes wide. "Sister," he whispered. "Come look."
Qing Yao emerged moments later. Her sharp composure fractured instantly. She knelt and touched the grass with trembling fingers, as though afraid it might vanish.
"…It was dead yesterday," she said.
"It's alive today," Dao Wei replied.
Qing Yao stood, turning to him slowly. "What did you do?"
"Very little," Dao Wei said. "Less than you think."
She studied him for a long moment, then exhaled. "Then teach us."
Dao Wei did not answer immediately. He walked to the center of the yard and sat down, crossing his legs on the living ground. He patted the space beside him.
"Sit," he said.
Qing Chen obeyed without hesitation. Qing Yao hesitated, then followed.
"This is not cultivation as you know it," Dao Wei began. "There will be no rushing or fancy techniques."
Qing Yao's jaw tightened. "Then how will we survive?"
Dao Wei looked at her. "By not destroying yourselves while trying."
He turned to Qing Chen. "Close your eyes."
Qing Chen did.
"Breathe," Dao Wei said. "Not deeply. Not slowly. Just… breathe."
Qing Chen's breath wavered at first, then settled.
"What do you feel?" Dao Wei asked.
"Warm," Qing Chen replied. "Like something's moving… but not inside me."
Dao Wei nodded. "Good. Do not pull it in."
Qing Yao frowned. "Isn't that the point?"
"No," Dao Wei said. "The first lesson is awareness."
He placed his palm lightly against the ground, and the grass around them stirred slightly.
"The world breathes before we do," Dao Wei continued. "Qi is not a resource to seize. It is a conversation. You first have to be in an understanding with the Laws of Nature before you can command its elements."
Qing Chen's brow furrowed. "I hear… something," he murmured.
Dao Wei's eyes sharpened. "Do not listen with your ears," he said gently. "Listen with your chest."
A faint green glow pulsed beneath Qing Chen's skin, barely visible, but unmistakable. The flowers nearest him leaned inward, petals trembling as if recognizing kin.
Qing Yao sucked in a sharp breath.
"Don't be afraid," Dao Wei said. "Hold onto that feeling."
He turned to Qing Yao. "You, too. Close your eyes."
She did, reluctantly.
"What do you feel?" Dao Wei asked.
"Weight," Qing Yao said after a moment. "Pressure. Like holding something heavy without dropping it."
Dao Wei smiled faintly. "That is Earth."
He tapped the ground once, and the sensation steadied.
"Your foundation is strong," he told her. "But you've been carrying it alone."
Qing Yao's breathing faltered.
Dao Wei did not push further.
"Today's lesson ends here," he said. "Awareness before action."
Qing Chen opened his eyes, face flushed with wonder. "Is this cultivation?"
Dao Wei stood. "This is the beginning of it."
Around them, Ashen Village stirred. Villagers stepped outside, staring in disbelief at the recovering trees and grass. Whispers spread. Hope, quiet and dangerous, crept into tired hearts.