Cultivation starts with picking up attributes
Chapter 125: Ch-125: Names

Chapter 125: Ch-125: Names

The shrine beneath the spirit trees stood quiet as the first light of dawn filtered through the orchard leaves.

Mist curled low over the earth, clinging to the roots and stones like a forgotten breath.

Tian Shen stood there long before the Sect awoke, his robe still dusty from travel, a faint trace of windburn on his cheeks.

He placed the lantern gently before the scroll, letting the warm light cradle the names he had written.

The flame flickered in the early breeze, steady but soft, like a heartbeat remembered.

A few feet behind him, Feng Yin approached without a sound. Her presence didn’t startle him. It never had.

"You’re back early," she said.

Tian Shen nodded, not turning.

"It was time."

"You found what you were looking for?"

He glanced at the scroll.

"Not what. Who."

Feng Yin stood beside him, her eyes tracing the etched characters.

"You remembered all their names."

"Not all," he said softly. "But enough to begin."

The orchard shifted around them. The golden leaves rustled in a way that sounded like applause—or mourning. It was hard to tell.

Little Mei dropped from a high branch, landing in a crouch with a soft thump. She padded over, tails swishing.

"You smell like smoke and rice fields," she muttered.

Tian Shen chuckled under his breath.

"That’s fair."

"Did you bring gifts?"

He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a handful of hard sweets. Little Mei’s eyes gleamed.

"For the team," he added. "Not just you."

She huffed but took them anyway.

Feng Yin watched the exchange in silence, then turned back to Tian Shen.

"They missed you. The recruits. They’ve been pushing themselves harder since you left."

"Good," he said. "They need to. We don’t have time to waste."

She arched a brow.

"You’re not going to rest?"

"Rest is for the dead," he replied. "And they’ve done enough of that."

...

Later that morning, Tian Shen assembled the Scout Division. The sun had barely risen above the cliffs, but the training grounds were already alive with motion.

Recruits in newly mended uniforms stood at attention, some sweating from earlier drills, others trying not to yawn.

Feng Yin, Little Mei, and Drowsy stood at the perimeter.

Tian Shen stepped forward.

"You’ve all trained hard," he said. "But training alone doesn’t make a Scout. Perspective also takes part in it."

He unrolled the scroll in his hands.

"These are names. People. Places. Lives. Most never knew the Sect protected them. Some never even knew we existed. But we existed for them."

He let that sink in before continuing.

"I want you to know that everything we do from here on isn’t just for glory or ranks. It’s for the ones who live in places with no talismans, no guards, no cultivation."

He held the scroll high.

"We remember, we act, we endure."

The Division saluted in unison.

And thus began a new phase.

...

Their missions changed.

No longer were they focused solely on defense drills or internal surveillance.

Tian Shen sent squads to distant hamlets, forest borderlines, river crossings that hadn’t seen a cultivator in years.

They mapped new trade routes, reinforced old warding stones, quietly handed over medicines and farming techniques without ever revealing their names.

They became ghosts of protection—unseen, unsung, unyielding.

Recruits struggled at first. Some questioned the lack of glory. Others faltered when confronted with the true weight of ordinary lives. A few left. Tian Shen let them go without burden, without guilt.

Those who remained grew sharper.

He taught them how to notice the signs of imbalance in dying soil, how to read the color of a village’s lanterns to gauge recent losses, how to walk quietly in a world that didn’t always want saving.

Feng Yin helped refine their intuition, guiding them in how to listen—to people, to silence.

Little Mei taught them mischief, yes, but also the art of moving through chaos with grace.

When to vanish. When to strike. When to smile and offer a trick that soothed fear.

Drowsy remained their shadow above, her silent patrols ensuring their practice never lacked danger.

...

Weeks passed. Summer deepened. Wordless oaths took root.

And then came the day the Sect noticed.

A jade summons arrived for Tian Shen. The Sect Council had convened. Whispers of favoritism, of defiance, of unorthodox behavior.

Feng Yin offered to accompany him. He declined.

He entered the Hall of Elders alone.

The room was colder than memory. Not in temperature, but in tone.

Sect Master sat at the center. Elder Lei and Elder Jian flanked him. Elder Su stood near the back, arms folded, unreadable.

"Tian Shen," Sect Master began. "You’ve taken liberties with your command."

Tian Shen bowed. "Clarify, Sect Master."

"Deploying squads to unlisted locations. Using resources without filing for requisition. Forging connections with mortals beyond our jurisdiction."

"Is there a specific complaint?"

"Several. But most concern your refusal to uphold the traditions of the Scouts."

Tian Shen stepped forward. His voice was calm, but it carried.

"The tradition of the dying? The tradition of silence after failure? No. I am building a new tradition—one rooted in remembrance, service, and sacrifice that means something."

Elder Jian frowned.

"You tread close to arrogance."

"And you tread close to forgetting who the Sect exists to protect."

This time, Tian Shen snapped.

Elder Lei tried to speak but, Elder Su interrupted, favouring his disciple.

"Enough. Let the boy finish."

Tian Shen didn’t flinch.

"I’ve walked the world beyond our walls. And I’ve seen more strength in villages with broken walls than I’ve seen in halls like this. They remember and they endure. If the Scout Division is to mean anything, it must be for something like that."

Silence stretched long.

Sect Master studied him. Then, slowly, nodded.

"Continue your work, Tian Shen. But do so with full accountability. You will report all missions, even the ones no one else deems worthy. You also should take account the resources consumed."

Tian Shen bowed.

"Gladly."

And with that, the Scout Division was no longer a forgotten branch.

And Tian Shen, its unwavering blade.

...

The meeting ended without applause, without approval. Just silent acknowledgment.

Tian Shen left the Hall with steady steps, the stone tiles beneath his boots ringing with quiet certainty.

Outside, the sun had risen fully, casting long golden shafts across the Sect’s inner courtyards. The light felt warmer than it had when he entered.

Feng Yin was waiting beneath a plum tree, arms crossed, eyes expectant.

"You lived," she said.

"Barely," he replied with a half-smile. "They didn’t gut me, but they’re watching now."

"Let them. You’re worth watching."

Tian Shen didn’t respond, but his silence carried weight. They walked together toward the Scout Division’s base, where drills had resumed.

The recruits noticed his return and straightened instinctively. Some snapped salutes. Others merely nodded—but all eyes were on him.

Tian Shen glanced around. Their movements had sharpened, not just with technique but with something deeper. Intention.

He stopped near the sparring rings and turned to face them.

"Listen up," he called.

The field quieted instantly.

"The Sect has granted us permission to continue—but they’re watching. Which means we do this better. Smarter. Sharper."

He pointed to a cluster of recruits adjusting their formation logs.

"We’ll be charting every path. Recording every contact. Every grain of rice used. Every ward replaced."

His gaze swept the field.

"This isn’t just about missions anymore. It’s about legacy."

He lifted a small scroll from his sleeve—the second of what would become many.

"This is for our next journey. We move in three days. Border villages near the Eastern Glades are reporting strange auroras and vanishing livestock. Low threat level, according to the elders."

He smiled faintly.

"We don’t agree."

The team let out a quiet chuckle.

Feng Yin’s lips curved into a small smile. Little Mei tossed a needle in the air and caught it behind her back.

Drowsy shifted on the rooftop, wings outstretched, casting a broad shadow over the yard.

And in that moment, the Scout Division didn’t just look like a unit.

They looked like a promise in motion.

Not feared.

Not forgotten.

But remembered.

...

That night, he returned to the orchard. The lanterns swayed gently in the trees.

He added three new names to the scroll.

A child. A farmer. A girl with a broken doll.

Each one a promise.

Each one a guide.

And the light from the shrine glowed a little brighter than before.

Tian Shen sat beneath the spirit trees, the soft hum of summer insects blending with the rustle of lanterns overhead. He traced each name with care, his brush steady, heart clearer than it had ever been.

Behind him, the orchard whispered—leaves moving as though in approval.

He sealed the scroll and set it beside the others, a quiet vow beneath the shrine’s soft glow.

Not all names changed the world. But they shaped his.

And tomorrow, when dawn came again, the Scout Division would move—not to fight for glory, but to remember.