The wind carried the scent of pine, rain, and blooming lotus as the flying boat began its final descent.
Qin Lian gripped the rail again, this time not from fear—but awe.
Below them, the Verdant Sky Sect unfolded like a dream painted in jade and cloudlight. Vast terraces curved along mountain ridges, lined with shimmering bamboo groves and blossoming spirit-plum trees. Floating training halls hovered on veils of mist, drifting gently above polished stone courtyards. Waterfalls poured like liquid silver from cliffs, feeding crystalline streams that wove between meditation gardens and fishponds.
Lanterns flickered along the stone paths, glowing not with flame, but with trapped moonlight. Strange birds glided through the air, their feathers iridescent, trailing glimmering trails of spiritual energy.
"This is where you live?" Qin Lian asked softly.
Yan Zhenwu nodded. "It is where I return to when the world is quiet enough to allow it."
She caught the faintest glimmer of wistfulness in his voice.
"This is Emerald Wind Peak," he added. "One of five peaks in Verdant Sky Sect. I am its current master."
Her brows lifted. "So you're not just some wandering hermit with a cool boat?"
His lip twitched. "Not really."
A few younger disciples in pale green robes were visible below, sweeping walkways, tending spirit herbs, or practicing graceful sword forms beside the water. Their movements were unhurried, meditative. No one shouted. No one rushed. The very air seemed slower here, gentler. As though the mountains breathed in rhythm with the people.
The boat settled on a circular stone platform edged with silverleaf vines and inlaid jade. There was no fanfare, no greetings—just stillness, like a garden waiting for a new flower to bloom.
Yan Zhenwu stepped off first. "Come," he said. "There's something we must check."
Qin Lian followed slowly, her steps echoing faintly on the polished stone. Her eyes were drawn to everything—the pavilions hanging over open air, the distant bells tolling from unseen peaks, the translucent koi swimming through floating streams.
"I feel like I'm going to break something just by breathing," she whispered.
"That's because you're still a mortal," he replied. "Soon, we'll perform a bone age test. Then, we can begin checking your spirit root."
That made sense to her. Somehow, in this strange world, it fit.
They crossed a narrow arched bridge suspended over mist, then wound their way along a garden path where tiny golden butterflies rested on leaves without fear. A simple wooden hall waited at the end, with a curved green-tile roof and a pair of worn stone lions flanking the steps. No grand gates, no guards—just quiet.
Inside, the space was warm and still. Sunlight filtered through bamboo blinds. A pot of stew simmered over a quiet spirit flame. The scent of ginger, lotus root, and wild herbs filled the room.
Yan Zhenwu moved with practiced ease, ladling soup into two wooden bowls. "Eat," he said. "You haven't had anything since noon."
They sat together at the low table in silence, the quiet companionable. The rabbit had curled up on a cushion near the fire, one ear twitching now and then.
After they finished, Yan Zhenwu placed two fingers lightly against her arm, closing his eyes.
His expression remained unreadable for a long moment. Then, softly, he said, "Right age."
"What is?"
"The bone test, you are 8 yrs old and the right time to cultivate"
"I… don't know what that means."
"It means if we can confirm your spirit root then, we'll know if you can cultivate or not." He leaned back, folding his sleeves and contemplating "Hmm...The ceremony for Spirit Root Test, should be days before now. You are just right in time"
Qin Lian let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
Yan Zhenwu remained seated across from her, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his expression thoughtful.
"You said something about a spirit root?" she asked after a pause. "Is it… like a tree root inside me?"
"In a way," he said. "A spirit root is the foundation of all cultivation. It determines how much spiritual energy you can absorb from the world, how quickly you progress—and sometimes, what path chooses you."
"So it's like… a magical personality quiz?"
He chuckled. "If you like."
"Do most people have one?"
"Some are born with strong roots. Others weak. A few have none at all."
She frowned. "And what happens if I don't have one?"
"Then you live a quiet, mortal life," he said simply. "And find peace in a different path."
She didn't answer. Instead, she looked down at her hands—small, a little scraped, dirt beneath the fingernails from the hut and the field. They didn't feel special.
The silence between them stretched again, filled with the soft crackle of the spirit flame under the stew pot.
Finally, Yan Zhenwu rose. "Come. I'll show you where you'll stay."
Qin Lian rose, and pick up the grey rabbit and held it in her arms.
They stepped back out into the open air. Twilight had begun to settle over the mountain, dyeing the sky in shades of gold and plum. The scent of night-blooming jasmine drifted from the garden terraces.
They walked in companionable silence, the rabbit padding along behind them with quiet authority, as if it owned the peak.
Qin Lian passed courtyards where disciples in pale robes lit lanterns that responded to touch instead of fire. One boy floated three inches off the ground while sweeping the walkway, humming a tune. A girl nearby was coaxing a spirit herb to bloom by whispering lullabies.
"How many people live here?" she asked.
"Just under five hundred," Yan Zhenwu said. "That includes outer disciples, inner disciples, elders, and attendants."
"That's… a lot."
"Most come from clans, provinces, or places touched by fate. Some were orphans. Some were born under celestial signs. Some simply wandered in."
"Like me," she said quietly.
He shakes his head. "No, you have me"
They arrived at a modest courtyard tucked between two flowering pear trees. A single-story pavilion stood at the center, its roof tiled in soft green and its windows shaped like lotus petals. A small pond reflected the lanterns overhead, and a covered walkway curled toward a side building with an open-air bath.
"This will be where you stay," Yan Zhenwu said. "The next courtyard is where I stay."
She blinked. "You're letting me stay beside your house?"
He shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Where would I let my own grandchild stay, if not near me?"
Qin Lian blinked again, slower this time.
He said it so easily. Not like a title. Not like a responsibility. Just a quiet truth. The words settled over her like a warm cloak.
She looked away, blinking faster now. "You don't even know me."
"I know enough," he said gently. "And the rest… will come."
He stepped forward and pushed open the wooden gate to the courtyard. A faint click echoed as the spirit-lock disengaged, and the scent of polished wood, fresh leaves, and old tea drifted out.
"Come," he said, gesturing her through.
The space was quiet, modest, but carefully tended. Smooth flagstones lined a short garden path leading to the small pavilion at its center. A tall spirit-lantern stood at the corner, its glow soft and white-blue. Ferns grew in elegant stone planters, and a single plum blossom tree bent over a round bench carved from jade-streaked marble.
"To the right," Yan Zhenwu said, gesturing, "is the main hall. Sleeping mat, meditation cushions, and writing desk. No spiritual formations yet, but I'll add protective wards later tonight."
He pointed to a narrow door tucked between flowering vines. "There's a side room for bathing. A hot spring runs beneath the peak—very mild, and good for calming the meridians."
Qin Lian blinked again. "I get a hot spring?"
"Technically, it's a warm soak," he said dryly. "But yes."
"And all this is… mine?"
"For now," he said, tone teasing. "Unless the rabbit claims it first."
The grey rabbit had already hopped ahead, nosed open the half-ajar door to the main room, and flopped unceremoniously onto a floor cushion.
"…Too late," Qin Lian muttered.
Yan Zhenwu led her inside. The interior was simple but graceful: woven tatami floors, paper lanterns etched with cloud motifs, and a low cabinet already stocked with fresh linens, robes, and a jade comb. A shallow basin by the window shimmered faintly with water drawn from a spiritual stream. There were no mirrors, no polished surfaces—just calm, functional space.
"It's beautiful," she whispered.
He inclined his head slightly, then gestured to a scroll resting atop the writing table. "Basic rules of the sect. Tomorrow, you'll join the other outer disciples for the Spirit Root Ceremony at Mirror Spring Pavilion. I'll walk with you in the morning."
Qin Lian turned to face him. "What if I don't pass?"
He paused at the doorway. Then said, simply, "Then we'll find another path."
The words didn't feel like comfort. They felt like promise.
She nodded slowly.
"I'll return at sunrise," Yan Zhenwu said. "For now… rest. You'll need it."
With a rustle of his long sleeves, he stepped back out into the gathering night.
The door closed with a soft click.
Qin Lian stood in the quiet, listening to the gentle rush of water from the nearby spring, the occasional creak of wood settling, and the rabbit's steady breathing as it curled deeper into the cushion.
She crossed the room, ran her hand along the wooden windowsill, then pushed it open. Cool mountain air drifted in. The stars above looked impossibly near—close enough to touch, if she reached out just right.
She changed into the soft green robes folded neatly on her sleeping mat. They smelled faintly of sandalwood and sun-dried leaves.
She lay down slowly, the rabbit nestling beside her.
And for the first time since awakening in that unfamiliar hut, she did not feel alone.
The silence of Emerald Wind Peak wrapped around her like an embrace.
The mountain breathed, and for the first time, she breathed with it.