Steward Qian did not stop at fifty planks.
Before mid-afternoon, he arrived with eight sweating senior deacons. They carried two hundred slabs of ancient Dragon-Vein Spirit Pine, ten iron-bound chests of nails, four copper-plated cedar doors set with river pearls, and a full chest of master carpentry tools.
The deacons unloaded everything at the boundary in six minutes. Then they kowtowed until their foreheads bled and fled down the mountain.
Austin ran his palm along the top plank.
“Now that’s prompt delivery. Kiln-dried. Zero crown, zero cup, zero twist. Good customer service. Elder Mu must have flagged my account for special treatment.”
He rolled up his sleeves and picked up a framing mallet.
“Time to tear down this firetrap.”
For the next four hours, the sounds of heavy construction rolled across Sunset Peak.
Thwack. Tap. Tap. SQUEEEAK. Thud.
Austin ripped off the rotten thatch and threw it into the brush for compost. Two corner posts had rotted through at ground level. He pried them out and replaced them with six-by-six timbers of Dragon-Vein Pine. He checked each one with a weighted string before fastening it to the base.
His /ignite_hearth command made the joinery easy. He sent a brief pulse of heat through each nail as he drove it. The iron softened just enough to slide into the dense wood with one clean strike, then cooled and locked itself in place.
He measured corner to corner. The frame was square. Every tongue-and-groove joint closed tight.
By late afternoon, the miserable shack was gone.
A solid, double-walled timber cabin stood in its place. The amber pine filled the clearing with the smell of warm resin. A covered porch wrapped around the eastern and southern walls. It had a smooth railing, a stout bench, and a plank door that closed with a satisfying thud.
Austin wiped sweat and sawdust from his forehead. He dropped onto the new bench and leaned against the wall with a long, contented groan.
“Finally. A proper starter base. No freezing drafts. No spiders falling down your shirt. Solid beams overhead.”
At the bottom of the steps, Li Xiaoyao ran his hand along the new porch rail. The joints were tight. Nothing shook. He had watched Austin explain each step, and for the first time, work felt like something he could learn rather than a way to avoid a beating.
Bai Chen’s offer still sat in his mind. Meat every day. A place with the Bai Clan. An easy answer, if he sold out the man who had shared his food.
Xiaoyao set down the broom.
“Senior Chu, I want to stay. Not just for today. I have no rich family, and my spirit roots are weak. But I can learn. Let me work here and study under you.”
Austin rested his chin in his palm and opened the boy’s status.
Austin rubbed his stubbled jaw. He still did not know whether any of this was real, but the boy had worked hard and deserved a straight answer.
“All right. You can stay. You get a dry bed, your share of the food, and lessons when I’m teaching. No kneeling, and nobody beats you. But if you’re staying here, you need to learn the golden rule of site upkeep.”
Li Xiaoyao’s head snapped up. “I will. Thank you, Master.”
Austin picked up the worn bamboo broom and put the handle into the boy’s hands.
“Loose gravel, dead leaves, and dropped junk pile up fast. If you leave them lying around, the whole area starts to lag. Eventually, everything crashes.”
Li Xiaoyao stared at the broom.
Worldly clutter weighs down the soul. Too many earthly desires break a cultivator’s connection to heaven and invite madness. The Master is teaching me how to protect my Dao Heart!
“So sweep the courtyard twice a day,” Austin continued. “Dawn and dusk. No spinning kicks. No fancy moves. One clean stroke. Push the trash off the edge in a straight line. Clear the cache and keep the place running smoothly. Got it?”
The boy’s knuckles whitened around the handle.
Clear the cache. Sweep away falsehood. This is the Ancient Void Cleansing Sword Dao! The greatest sword strike needs no showy movement. One honest stroke cuts through every illusion!
Tears ran down his cheeks, but his stance settled. His shoulders relaxed, and his breathing grew calm.
“Student understands. Clear the cache. Sweep away falsehood.”
He turned toward the courtyard, took a slow breath, and pushed the broom forward in one level stroke.
SWISH.
The air shrieked. A thin crescent of sword intent shot across thirty yards of open ground.
CRACK!
Fifty paces beyond the fence, a granite boulder the size of a two-car garage split cleanly in half. The two pieces slid apart and crashed into the brush.
Austin stopped with his cedar cup at his lips. He looked at the boulder, then at Li Xiaoyao. The boy stood peacefully in the yard, leaning on his broom with a blissful smile.
Austin lowered the cup.
“Nice effect for a sweeping animation. A little hard on the scenery, but it adds flavor.”
***
Five miles away, the stone keep of the Bai Clan smelled of cold iron and blood.
“WORTHLESS COWARDS!”
Patriarch Bai Tian drove his bare fist into a marble pillar. The stone burst into white dust, and cracks climbed toward the roof. Eighty years of border wars had scarred his bronze skin. He was a Peak Foundation Establishment warrior, and he was used to being obeyed.
Bai Chen knelt on the cold floor, shaking so hard his knees knocked together.
“Father, I swear it’s true! Elder Mu ate a burnt radish peel from that cripple and jumped straight to Peak Golden Core! Then the beggar paid Steward Qian with ten pounds of Nine-Yang Sun-Gold! He has an ancient treasury on that peak!”
Greed lit Bai Tian’s narrow eyes.
He crossed to an iron weapon rack and wrapped his hand around the Heaven-Iron Cleaving Sword, a fifth-rank relic passed down through seven generations.
“Ten pounds of Sun-Gold would buy us our own spirit mountain. We could leave Clear Sky Sect and rule for a thousand years.” He drew the huge black blade. “Elder Mu fell for an illusion. That dying cripple is using tricks.”
Bai Tian turned toward the waiting clan officers.
“Mobilize the three hundred armored cavalry. Mount the siege crossbows. At first light, we march on Sunset Peak. Whatever illusions that dog has prepared, my sword will still cut his flesh.”