Morning rose sharp and silver, the air thin and chilled, as if the sky itself had been holding its breath all night. Jin Haoyang stepped outside, barefoot in pajamas, and the stillness shifted around him — a barely perceptible recoil, like the world recognized something that did not belong.
His sealed Absolute Origin nature hummed faintly beneath his skin, quiet but undeniable.
"Host," the System drawled, appearing as a smug, floating gremlin with arms folded, "you're at 97% completion. Today's the day. Try not to trip and embarrass me."
"I don't embarrass you," Haoyang muttered.
"Oh, you absolutely do," the System said. "Constantly."
He exhaled. Today was sanitation consolidation and final food security — the last 3% before something big. The panel shimmered at the edge of his vision:
[MAJOR TASK: 97% → …]
Liang Yue approached with the ledger clutched to her chest. "Young Lord, we can finish the long-term storage today."
"Then we do," Haoyang said.
Ping'er skipped toward him with a reed mat lid she'd woven herself. "I made a cover for the smelly pit!"
"It's perfect," Haoyang said.
Liang Shan jogged into view, breath uneven. "No beasts near the stream. But I heard… something large. Not close."
Haoyang felt the tremor too — faint, distant, but real. His sealed senses were sharper than any mortal's. But there was no need to alarm the children..
"Stay closer to the village today," Haoyang said. "No wandering."
Liang Shan nodded.
For the final 3%, They moved together like a tiny, scrappy unit that had practiced survival more than childhood.
The sanitation pit was inspected first. Haoyang layered the last charcoal and ash, packed the clay perfectly smooth, and set Ping'er's lid.
He didn't mean to, but his movements were too clean. Too precise. Too… inhumanly efficient.
Liang Shan's eyes narrowed. "Young Lord… you're not breathing hard."
Haoyang hesitated.
Damn.
"I train a lot."
Liang Yue folded her arms. "Digging like that would exhaust any adult in the village. You didn't even sweat."
Ping'er gasped. "Heaven-blessed body!"
The System snorted. "Host, congratulations, mortals think you're a divine gym member."
Haoyang resisted the urge to throw the shovel at it.
—
Next came food stores.
Liang Yue marked and arranged jars like a future magistrate of a province. Haoyang checked each seal. He tapped one jar—
Crack.
Immediately he identified the flaw: a microscopic fissure. He discarded the jar entirely.
Liang Yue blinked. "You heard that?"
"I have good ears."
Ping'er whispered, "Young Lord has heavenly ears!"
The System cackled.
"So many heavenly body parts. At this rate they'll worship your earlobes."
He ignored it.
They sealed the rest of the jars with clay paste. Haoyang's hands moved too steadily, too exact.
Liang Shan chopped wood at the edge of the field; Haoyang corrected his grip, then demonstrated—
CRACK.
A single swing. Clean split. Not a splinter out of place.
Liang Shan's jaw dropped. Ping'er squealed. Liang Yue looked physically offended.
"Beginner's luck," Haoyang lied.
The System wheezed in laughter.
"Host, that was a textbook Heavenly Axe-form. At this point you may as well juggle mountains."
He swatted the gremlin. The gremlin dodged smugly.
The sun lowered. The final jars dried. The cistern filled. The latrines stood clean.
The children gathered near the hut as Haoyang inspected the last clay seam.
And then—
A chime.
Not audible to them. But Haoyang felt it in his bones.
[MAJOR TASK: 100%] [BEGINNER GIFT: READY] [WARNING: DESCENT IMMINENT]
Ping'er tugged his sleeve. "Young Lord… why is the air shaking?"
Liang Yue's expression tightened. "The wind stopped."
Liang Shan gripped his stick spear.
Haoyang looked up.
The air thickened. Qi currents bent inward. The sky darkened at the edges like ink spreading across paper.
No thunder or explosion.
Just the world paying attention.
"Host," the System whispered, suddenly gleeful,
"stand by. This is going to be loud, dramatic, and completely unnecessary. I love it."
Haoyang braced.
He look towards the sky, and the sky are splitting.
A thin seam of shimmering void opened with absolute silence. Runes glowed along its edges — celestial, elegant, terrifyingly old.
A pressure wave rolled downward.
Liang Shan collapsed to one knee, eyes wide.
Liang Yue gasped, clutching the ledger.
Ping'er hid behind Haoyang's pajamas, shaking.
Haoyang stood unmoving — the only one whose body could bear the weight of descending Heaven.
From the tear of light…
A silhouette descended.
Slow and unhurried.
Full of the quiet confidence of someone who could move the world by accident.
Blue robes embroidered with star-thin patterns. Black hair tied back with a simple ribbon. Eyes like tempered frost — calm, old, knowing.
When his boots touched the earth, grass flattened for a full li.
A Heaven Immortal.
He crossed the ground in two steps, each deliberate, each perfect.
Then he knelt on one knee — not subservience but a formal, ancient salute known only among upper heaven courts.
"This servant Qiuhan, greets young master."
Liang Yue inhaled sharply. Liang Shan trembled and poor Ping'er fainted standing up.
The System hovered beside Haoyang's face, vibrating like an excited mosquito.
"Host, congratulations!!" "Your retainer is a true Heaven Immortal! he could flatten the nearest three sects before breakfast!" "Want to try? Want to do some light continental rearranging?" "Say the word and we can turn this region into a scenic crater!"
Haoyang stared at it in horror.
"NO."
.
The System pouted. "Boring. You're no fun."
Qiuhan lifted his head. His gaze held absolute clarity — the kind that could dissect armies or strategy tables with equal ease.
"Young Master," he said, voice smooth as cold jade, "command me."
Haoyang shook his head. "I command nothing until we stabilize this place. We build. We protect. That's it."
Qiuhan's lips curved by one millimeter — the immortal equivalent of a grin.
"As expected of Young Master."
The children stared at Haoyang like he had just denied Heaven itself.
The System sighed dramatically behind him.
"What a waste of cosmic potential. I hand you an immortal general with more techniques than chapters in this novel, and you use him to supervise sanitation."
"Shut up," Haoyang muttered.
Ping'er regained consciousness with a small hiccup. Liang Shan whispered, "Young Lord… you… you command immortals?"
Liang Yue's eyes shone with the kind of awe that would one day become political resolve. "Young Lord truly came from Heaven."
Haoyang rubbed his forehead. This was the exact kind of misunderstanding that caused sect wars in Xianxia novels.
But he saw Qiuhan watching him — not with judgment, but with patient certainty.
A leader didn't need to shout to be followed. He only needed to choose rightly.
Haoyang straightened.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we start planning for long-term survival. Trade, security, and structure."
Qiuhan bowed in acknowledgment. "As Young Master commands. I will prepare a preliminary governance draft."
The System perked.
"Oh, perfect. The immortal steward is a bureaucracy demon. You two are going to build an empire by accident."
After the sky had torn open for him, he realizes his dominion has taken it's first true breath.
"Host put down that smug of yours! What dominion? You only have 3 children and broken village now" the system chime in ruining his satisfied mood.