After hearing the rustle of dead leaves, I immediately turned and stared into the depths of the mist. No second sound came. The wind did not move either. The valley was as silent as a stone sunk beneath the water.
I looked down at the crystal shard by my feet, still clenched in my hand. It no longer glowed; it was only cold. I tucked it into my sleeve, walked three steps forward, and crossed the line I had laid out with stones.
From this moment on, I was no longer just passing through.
I walked to the center of the clearing, took out my last spirit stone, crouched down, and pressed it into the soil. The instant my fingertips left it, the spirit stone flashed, as though responding to something. A faint warmth spread through the ground. I could sense its range—within ten paces, the earth was soft, the grass roots neat, with no signs of having been trampled.
This was where I would build my house.
The system spoke then. "A stable spiritual energy field has been detected. A residence core may be established."
I said nothing and merely nodded. I knew it could not see me, but the gesture made me feel a little more at ease.
I first circled the clearing and examined the surrounding terrain. A small stream ran below the slope to the left, its water clear. To the right was a rock wall, where several Ironwood Pines grew. Their trunks were blackened, clearly struck by lightning, yet they had not completely died. I approached and touched one of them. The wood was hard, and its cracks were clean. It was suitable for making pillars.
I had no tools, so I could only use my hands to break off the lower branches. After several attempts, my fingers were rubbed raw and blood seeped out. I gritted my teeth and continued until I noticed a crack at the base of a horizontal branch. I picked up an angular stone and repeatedly struck the crack.
"Use the crack to your advantage. Follow its natural direction," the system suddenly prompted.
I stopped and stared at the fissure for two breaths. Then I changed angles, wedged the stone an inch into it, and pressed down sharply. With a crack, the entire branch broke off and fell at my feet.
I caught my breath and dragged the broken branch back to the clearing. Then I went to cut a second, then a third. Every time I cut one, pain shot through my right shoulder, but I did not stop. I did not know when the sky had darkened. The mist thickened, yet I could still see the work in my hands.
After setting up four main pillars, I used the crystal shard to carve grooves into the top of each one, then laid the crossbeams over them. The joints were unstable and shook several times. The system prompted, "It is recommended that you use a 'triple-layer mortise-and-tenon' structure to improve stability."
I did not understand. "How do I fit it together?"
"Vertical interlocking, double-sided catches," it answered.
I adjusted it twice according to its instructions, and finally the crossbeams rested securely in place. The roof frame had taken shape. Next came covering it.
I remembered the hide left behind after the Qiu Niu at the valley entrance died. I had casually skinned it, rolled it into a bundle, and carried it on my back ever since. When I took it out, I saw that the hide was thick. Some parts around the edges had already hardened, but it was whole overall. I cut it into two pieces with a shard of stone, spread them over the roof, and bound them tightly with vines.
By the time I finished, it should have been fully dark. I did not feel hungry, only exhausted. My wounds were still bleeding, so I tore off a strip of cloth and wrapped them again. Then I spread some dry grass in a corner of the house and lay down.
That was how the first night passed.
I woke early the next morning. Not because the sky had brightened, but because of the cold. Mountain mist sank at night, and the dampness seeped into the house, even leaving the grass mat wet. I sat up and found that there was nothing covering the walls. Wind poured in through the gaps.
I needed to build walls.
I left the house and searched nearby for flatter stone slabs. I carried six back and leaned them between the wooden pillars, forming three low walls. I left an opening on the south side, wide enough for someone to enter and exit, while still allowing ventilation. I plastered mud into the gaps between the slabs, then pressed several thin vines over them for reinforcement.
The roof needed another layer too. I returned to the stream, cut some broad-leafed grass, dried it for half a day, then laid it over the beast hide in the afternoon. This time, even if the wind blew, rainwater would not easily leak inside.
By the third day, the house had basically taken shape. Its four corners were stable, the roof was tightly sealed, and the walls could block the wind. I dug a shallow pit inside near the north side and placed the spirit stone within it. Once it lit up, a faint glow filled the entire house.
The system said, "Environmental compatibility has reached seventy percent. It can support beginner meditation."
I was not in a hurry to use it. I simply stood at the doorway and looked around. The house was small; when I stood straight, my head nearly touched the beam. But it was complete. A thin board could be inserted into grooves on either side to serve as a door, and the window was a hole left in the wall, covered outside by a translucent piece of mica that let in light.
I did a few other things as well.
Every five paces around the house, I buried a small crystal shard. They did not glow, but the system said they could sense disturbances. If a person or beast approached, I would know immediately.
I also found four flat stones and arranged them in a simple formation before the house. After scanning it, the system prompted, "It has a basic spirit-gathering effect and can slowly restore spiritual power."
Everything gradually settled into place.
At dusk, I sat on a stone before the door and ate. There was not much dried food left, but I had found several edible wild vegetables and cooked a bowl of soup. After drinking it, I set the bowl aside and looked up at the sky.
The mist was still the same—motionless, undispersed. I did not know what the world beyond the valley was like, but it was quiet here.
I reached out and touched the doorframe. The wood was rough, but I had personally whittled its edges smooth. This door would not close on its own; it had to be pushed by hand. But it could keep out wind and rain.
I was no longer running.
I was here.
I stood, walked into the house, folded the last spare beast hide, and placed it beside the grass mat. Then I took out the incomplete cultivation manual rewarded by the system and set it beside the spirit stone. Starting tomorrow, I would begin practicing.
But not yet.
I was still missing one thing.
I left the house and went to the edge of the clearing, where I buried a broken horn I had picked up during the earlier fight. It was the Qiu Niu's horn. I had originally wanted to throw it away, but had kept it all this time. Now, I used it as a marker and set up a stone tablet with nothing carved upon it.
After finishing, I returned to the doorway and stood there for a long time.
The night wind blew past, and a string of small stone bells I had tied beneath the eaves chimed once. The sound was light, but it carried far through the silence.
I was about to raise my hand and close the door—
In the distant mist, a leaf drifted upward.