Mei Yu analyzed the sight before her feet, the steep cliff edge that would serve as their observation point for the remainder of their tenure in this subspace. It was not the most serene location, one onlooker had to hold their headdress as the winds howled from unseen crevices, and the earth trembled faintly beneath her white sandals as though something vast and sleeping stirred beneath the crust.

Yet in this strange realm, serenity was a luxury too costly to seek.

"Set up the workbenches and tell the carpenters to bring the materials," she called out, her voice soft but carrying the calm authority of command. "It will not take long for darkness to ensue. We must have the initial framework ready before the mist rises again."

The men and women under her direction bowed briefly, then moved to obey. They were not soldiers, nor craftsmen of renown. It was merely a haphazard gang consisting mainly by survivors and cultivators of modest skill who had learned the virtue of diligence and dedication.

In their faces flickered fatigue, but also a quiet resoluteness.

The carpenters hauled the first loads of timber and stone up the ridge, their qi-aided strength the only thing keeping them from collapsing. The sound of hammers striking raw wood echoed against the valley walls.

"Pull!" The head of one of the detachments rallied and lugged a heavy piece of ore uphill, it was an arduous task, made more difficult by the strange resonance that hummed through the ground.

It's origin was unclear, like an ancient vibration that seemed to resist the rhythm of their labor.

Schematics were laid out on hastily assembled tables by the scribes, who were hurriedly setting up shelves and alcoves in the impromptu workshop. Ink bled slightly from the moisture in the air, yet Mei Yu moved through the numerous lines with unerring focus to her craft.

"This has to be right…" Her delicate fingers ran along the diagrams as she muttered calculations under her breath. An abacus clacked softly at her side, its beads clicking with metronomic steadiness.

Every inventory log, every ore stone, every iron and steel nail was tallied and marked. Wasting precious materials was a sin they could not afford. "Three marble support beams on the northern side," she instructed. "The earth leyline beneath us pulses every four breaths—anchor the structure with that in mind, no need to rash." The carpenters exchanged uncertain glances, but none dared question her.

They had learned that the meekest tone, when in command, often carried the weight of reason. Far across the valley, hidden behind a veil of cedar mist, Li Wei stood upon a jutting rock that overlooked the ridge.

His eyes followed the construction below, a faint smile touching the corners of his lips. He had expected a bit of hesitation, perhaps even disarray. Instead, what he saw filled him with an unlikely satisfaction "This is quite fascinating," he murmured. "That girl could become a notable architect yet. It seems visiting Crescent Moon City was not folly after all."

He folded his arms within his sleeves and gazed toward the distant peaks. The wind carried with it the scent of resin and the faintest trace of ozone, like a vengeful harbinger of another storm.

The memory of Crescent Moon stirred unbidden in his mind a city of fascinating culture and shadowed politics, where he had walked as both tourist and fugitive.

By taking Ning Xue, Jia Lin and Mei Yu as his disciples, he had set ablaze the fragile balance between three prospering clans—the Shen, the Zhou, and his own group the Liu clan.

The blood feud that followed had drenched the city's avenues with death. Most of Shen and Zhou perished in the reckoning, but their remnants had not vanished. They had been swallowed by the Wu Clan, it was these very same serpents who now ruled Crescent Moon with silk smiles and hidden daggers.

Li Wei's eyes turned sharp. "A debt written in blood cannot be paid with silence. When the Liu stand once more, the Wu will answer for what they have done." He turned his gaze back toward the ridge. "Let us see, then, how witty this girl truly is."

Below, the work intensified. Dust rose, carrying with it a strange golden sheen that shimmered briefly before fading. Mei Yu moved between the crews with effortless movements.

Her robes were streaked with earth, her hair disheveled, but her eyes were sharp and luminous that never wavered from the task ahead.

One of the carpenters approached, bowing slightly. "Lady Mei, what radius should the upper windows bear? The draft here is strong. Too wide, and the wind may tear through the beams."

Mei Yu examined the blueprint briefly, then gestured toward the cliff's curve. "Three meters will suffice. Align them with the angle of the prevailing gusts. Bring the schematics for the lower windows when you're done."

The carpenter nodded, visibly relieved, and hurried away.

Moments later, another worker stepped forward. "Madam Yu, the pillars over by the western wall, should they face the leyline directly, or at an offset?"

"Offset it by thirty degrees," Mei Yu replied instantly. "Let the energy refract, not pierce. A blade's edge is strongest when it cuts sideways." Her calm tact spread like a balm through the workers. Even those who had doubted her began to move with greater momentum, mirroring her steadiness.

In a realm riddled with chaos, composure was its own kind of cultivation.

The sun or what seemed like a bright egg passed over them and spanned the distorted plane, it was slowly sinking behind the peaks, its pale light staining the mist in hues of violet and rose.

The skeleton of the structure was already taking shape, fortified with broad foundations of stone, wooden frames rising like the ribs of a great beast, and stairways carved into the rock. The scent of sap and mortar mingled with the faint metallic tang of qi.

Li Wei descended quietly from his vantage point and approached the site unseen. His presence was like wind through silk, almost imperceptible. None noticed him until Mei Yu turned suddenly, sensing his qi as one might sense a gale's breath.

"Master," she said, bowing deeply. "You honor us."

Li Wei's smile was mild but approving. "You began without my prompting. I see that was wise. The heavens favor initiative, not ineptitude." It had cost Li Wei a great deal of his time mapping this location, the success of this building's construction was imperative.

Mei Yu straightened slightly. "If we wait for comfort, we will find only regret. I thought it best to begin before the mist thickened."

He nodded, his eyes drifting over the site. "A prudent choice. This place… it is observing us closely. You have felt it, I trust?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "The ground hums as though it tracks our movement. It does not openly ."

"The earth of every realm has consciousness," Li Wei said quietly. "The difference lies in whether it is kindness or wrath waiting for us."

Their gazes turned toward the half-built foundation. Beneath the stone, faint motes of light began to flicker. The lamps of light were like fireflies trapped beneath the surface. The leyline's current was responding to their intrusion. The air grew heavy, One of the scribes cried out suddenly. "Lady Mei! The ground is pulsing!"

Before the panic could spread, Li Wei raised a hand. His qi surged outward, calm but absolute, pressing the tremor into stillness. The motes subsided, fading back into the earth.

"Do not fear," he said softly. "It is trying to rattle us. Nothing more."

Mei Yu's eyes widened slightly. "Rattle?"

Li Wei's expression was unreadable. "All ancient things do. The world itself is a teacher, though its lessons are seldom gentle."

By nightfall, the first walls stood firm. The observation point had begun to resemble a true bastion. It was truly a library in the making, where knowledge could take root even amid exile. Lanterns flickered along the scaffolding, casting halos of gold upon the mist. Workers sat in quiet circles, eating cold rations and murmuring old prayers.

Mei Yu walked among them, offering brief words of encouragement. When she reached the cliff's edge, she paused. Below, the forest was veiled in silver fog; somewhere in the distance, she could faintly see the glow of Ning Xue's mountain camp. Tiny lights, fragile yet persistent.

She clasped her hands before her and whispered, "May our fires never fade before his."

A voice answered softly behind her. "If they do, then we build them anew."

Li Wei stood there, his silhouette outlined by lanternlight. He gazed down at the valley, where three clusters of light now burned—mountain, river, and hollow.

Together they formed a triangle across the mist. "Three flames," he said. "One for knowledge, one for strength, one for endurance. If even one falters, the rest will crumble."

Mei Yu bowed her head. "Then we shall ensure ours never dims."

He regarded her for a moment longer, then said quietly, "You have done well, Mei Yu. Remember this feeling, it is the stillness after creation. One day, when the world collapses again, you will rebuild from memory alone."

She blinked, uncertain whether his words were just praise or prophecy.

Li Wei turned away, his clothing rippling in the wind. "The spirits will come again soon. Let them. The Liu no longer hide beneath the roots for we are the ones planting them."

Thunder murmured far off among the peaks, soft yet resonant. The mist shivered, as though listening. And as the first raindrops began to fall, the observation point of the Liu Clan rose against the storm largely unfinished, imperfect, but alive.

Li Wei stood in silence, eyes tracing the shimmering veins of qi that laced through the valley below.

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