Event [1].

Fang Yuan stepped out of his office, the scent of ink still faint on his sleeves, stubborn, like it had sunk into the fabric after hours at the desk.

The estate had shifted into its evening rhythm.

Lanterns bathed the walkways in amber, casting long shadows that swayed with every breeze.

Somewhere farther down, he could hear servants moving about, voices muffled but laced with urgency.

The upcoming ceremony had everyone on edge.

He moved through the corridor without hurry.

Silks and ornaments passed by in the arms of busy attendants, their movements brisk, practiced but each one still paused just enough to offer a quick bow.

"Good evening, Family Head," one said, breathless but respectful.

He gave a curt nod, a flicker of tiredness behind his eyes. "Carry on."

The words came out calm, but there was a weight behind them.

Not exhaustion but more like pressure, constant and quiet, coiling deeper by the day.

He let the scent of sandalwood guide him to the quieter wing of the estate. Plum blossoms rode the air, soft and fleeting.

Here, the noise fell away. His chambers sat at the far end—ornate, yes, but still tucked beneath the hush of the mountain's slope.

By the time he reached the doors, the sun had nearly vanished behind the peaks.

Candlelight flickered through the latticed screens.

Someone had already prepared the bath.

He slipped into the stone basin without a word, the heat wrapping around him instantly, loosening knots he hadn't even realized were there.

He leaned back, eyes shut, lips parting on a long, silent exhale.

For a moment, it was just the warmth and the sound of water brushing stone.

But peace didn't last long. It never did.

A rustle. A light knock.

Followed by a soft clear voice.

"Family Head," Felicia called gently from behind the screen. "The items from the treasury have been delivered. They're in the chamber."

He didn't open his eyes. "Good."

A pause, just long enough to feel.

"Make sure no one disturbs me," he added, voice low but firm. "Not for any reason."

Silence followed. Then:

"…As you command."

Her footsteps faded, barely audible against the polished floor.

Fang Yuan let himself sink deeper into the water, the heat seeping into bone and spirit.

The silence returned, giving him peace of mind.

The system's knowledge stirred beneath the quiet. The Spirit Gathering Formation.

The theory was clear and now the intent was solid. But building it, that would be a test.

He let out a slow breath and let it rise in curling steam.

Eventually, when the water cooled, he stood.

Reached for the robe laid nearby.

The night air kissed his damp skin, and he could feel the subtle shift of qi as it brushed against him, drawn like thread to needle.

He dressed simply, black robe, silver clouds at the cuffs then stepped into the outer room.

It was neatly arranged, as expected. Boxes sealed with the Fang Family sigil. Bundles carefully laid on the table.

Felicia had taken care to ensure everything was positioned with precision.

Spirit stones glimmered under silk. The room was quiet, but not dead.

Something hummed, almost imperceptibly.

Like breath caught in a long pause.

He stepped closer. Brushed the edge of a core stone.

Its surface pulsed faintly beneath his fingers, responding not just to his qi, but to the intention behind it.

His gaze drifted to the window. Outside, the estate had fully settled into night.

Moonlight spilled across the rooftops.

Lanterns flickered like drifting fireflies.

The door clicked softly shut behind him. He didn't turn.

His mind was already elsewhere.

Spirit stones — the true currency of cultivators.

While gold still held value among mortals, it was spirit stones that made the world of cultivation turn. To a cultivator, gold was little more than glitter; spirit stones, on the other hand, were power.

These stones came from spirit mines, though their abundance depended on the mine's quality. Most mines yielded only a modest amount, making high-grade stones rare and precious.

But spirit ponds? That was a different story entirely.

A well-maintained spirit pond could produce a steady stream of spirit stones every single day — a veritable treasure trove for any clan lucky enough to control one.

The Spirit Pond.

That would be the place.

Tucked deep in the ravine, rich with natural qi—living qi.

The land pulsed there, slow and steady, like the breath of something ancient and dreaming.

He turned back to the table and unwrapped one of the bundles. Cold black steel plates, smooth as water.

Next, silver-thread conduits, curled tight, glinting like caught moonlight.

The Lotus Dust shimmered behind the jade vial's seal delicate, volatile.

And then the unfinished flags.

Just enchanted wood for now. Bare. Waiting.

He knelt slowly beside them, robes folding like shadow around him. Picked up a single piece.

Rough to the touch. Unforgiving.

His fingers ran along the grain as he studied it, expression unreadable except for a small crease at his brow.

"So," he muttered, not quite to the room, not quite to himself, "this is where the real work begins."

He closed his eyes.

In the dark of his mind, the system's gift flickered to life blueprints forming in light, runes rotating in calm precision.

And so, without ceremony, beneath the quiet weight of moonlight and unspoken resolve, Fang Yuan began.

Time passed in a blur.

The chamber lights rarely dimmed, save for the few hours Fang Yuan allowed himself to rest in meditation.

Ink brushes wore down to nubs.

The scent of lotus dust clung to the walls.

Runes etched with razor precision glowed faintly across the newly crafted formation flags, each one a testament to long nights of steady focus and relentless refinement.

By the seventh night, the last anchor flag was completed.

Fang Yuan set it aside gently, letting the qi within settle.

He let out a long breath and leaned back in his chair, exhaustion pressing lightly on his shoulders but his eyes still burned with quiet fire.

"Just in time," he muttered.

And then—

Knock. Knock.

The sharp sound cracked through the quiet.

"Family Head!" came Felicia's voice—urgent, tense.

Fang Yuan's eyes narrowed.

Fang Mei got kidnapped! The guards reported that she isn't in the spirit pond anymore!"