The housing office was a narrow room built into the side of the east wing. Its wooden door was half open. Inside, shelves lined the walls, stacked with bamboo scrolls and neat piles of folded records.
Behind a low desk sat an older disciple in a faded gray robe. His hair was tied back in a loose knot, and his eyes lifted slowly when Han Li stepped inside.
For a moment, he didn't speak. His gaze traveled from the torn robe to the Tyrant plate at Han Li's side, then back up to his face.
"…You." The man's tone wasn't friendly. "Didn't they throw you out?"
Han Li walked up to the desk and placed his token on it. "I'm back. I'll need quarters."
The clerk's mouth flattened into a thin line. "Quarters aren't just handed out to anyone who walks in. Your name was struck from the housing rolls. And your old room, someone else has it now."
Han Li kept his voice calm. "Then give me another."
The man leaned back slightly, studying him. "You must have something protecting you. Most people don't return from the Forbidden Zone with their legs still working. But fine. If you want a room, you'll take what's left."
He rummaged through a stack of scrolls, muttering under his breath, then pulled one out and tapped it flat on the desk.
"North wing. Last room on the outer row. Don't complain about the condition, it's been empty for years."
Han Li took the scroll without comment.
The clerk's eyes followed him as he turned for the door. "You'll find this sect isn't the same as when you left. Watch yourself, Han Li."
Han Li stepped into the hallway, unrolling the scroll to check the marked location. Before he could take two steps, two inner disciples in clean robes moved into the doorway.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking the exit.
One of them looked him up and down, smirking. "So you're the one they're talking about. The cripple who crawled back."
Han Li slid the scroll into his belt and met his gaze without blinking. "Move."
The two inner disciples didn't move. The one on the left folded his arms, while the other leaned slightly forward, letting his smirk widen.
"This hallway leads to the outer row," the left one said. "The last room there is ours. You must have taken a wrong turn."
Han Li's tone stayed even. "The clerk just assigned it to me."
"That old man?" The right one snorted. "He'll give a room to anyone if you wave a token at him.
But we've been here for years. You? You're just a trash people tell for laughs.
The cripple who somehow luckily crawled out of the Forbidden Zone."
Han Li stepped forward until he was close enough to see the faint scar running along the right one's jaw. "Move."
The left one's smile thinned. "You think you can push past us?"
Han Li didn't answer. He moved.
The right one shifted to block him, but Han Li's shoulder hit him square in the chest, sending him back a step. The man's boot scraped against the floor, almost losing balance.
The left one grabbed for Han Li's arm, but Han Li caught his wrist, twisted, and let go just before it would have forced him to the ground. The man stumbled back with a grimace.
Neither spoke for a few seconds.
Finally, the right one straightened his robe and said, "Enjoy your room while you can. We'll see what Chu Feng thinks about you moving into our space."
Han Li walked past them without looking back. "Tell him yourself.
If he still has the strength to come."
Their expressions shifted at that, but he was already halfway down the hall.
The north wing was quiet, far from the busy training yards. Roof tiles were dull with age, weeds pushing through the cracks in the path.
The last row of rooms sat against the sect's outer wall, overlooking the forest beyond.
Han Li stopped at the final door.
Inside, the room was small, just wide enough for a low bed, a short table, and a storage chest.
Dust coated everything in a thin layer. One leg of the table was cracked. The paper on the sliding window had yellowed and curled at the edges.
He set the Tyrant plate against the wall and laid the scroll on the table. The bone spike went beside it.
A sweep of his arm cleared the dust from the tabletop, sending a cloud into the air. He opened the window to let the breeze in.
There was a rag hanging from a hook near the door. It was stiff, but it worked well enough to wipe the table and chest.
When the space was as clean as he could make it, he sat on the bed. The room was plain, but it was his. For now, that was enough.
Ding!
[Personal Quarters Restored – Passive recovery increased by 5% while resting here.]
Han Li leaned back slightly, letting the tension drain from his shoulders. But the quiet didn't last.
KNOCK! Knock!
Han Li rose and slid the door open. A young beautiful woman stood outside, wearing the plain blue robe of the logistics hall. Her hair was tied in a simple knot, and she held a folded stack of papers in both hands.
"You're Han Li?" she asked.
He gave a short nod.
She glanced past him into the room, her eyes flicking over the bare furniture and the Tyrant plate leaning against the wall. "I was told to deliver your schedule and permissions for training hall access." She held out the papers.
Han Li took them and unfolded the top sheet. It listed daily training slots, rest periods, and times for compulsory sect duties.
The woman lowered her voice. "You should know, the betting pools for the Inner Sect Tournament have already started. Your name's on the list, biggest odds in the whole roster."
Han Li looked up from the papers. "That so?"
She nodded. "Everyone thinks you won't make it past the first round. The stories about you coming back from the Forbidden Zone aren't changing their minds."
"That's fine," Han Li said. "It makes it easier."
The corner of her mouth lifted slightly, but she didn't ask what he meant. "I'll let you get back to rest. Training starts tomorrow."
She turned and walked down the walkway. Han Li watched her go, then looked back at the schedule.
His eyes stopped on a familiar name slotted into his training match two days from now, Chu Feng.
The paper crinkled slightly in his grip as the corner of his mouth curved.