Si Ning lounged on a wooden bench in the quiet courtyard of a small Mount Hua outpost, one leg draped over the armrest, the other dangling lazily. Her black hair spilled over the side, a little messy from sleep, catching the afternoon sun in strands that glinted dark brown. She rested her chin on one hand, elbow propped against the back of the bench, eyes half-lidded as if weighing whether bothering to move was worth the effort.

Her simple gray robes rumpled, one sleeve sliding down her arm, and the hem of her pants caught on the edge of the bench. She had kicked off her sandals hours ago, letting her bare feet rest against the cool stone floor. Occasionally, she swung a foot idly, tapping it against the stone as if keeping time to some unheard rhythm.

A stray piece of parchment lay on the bench next to her, sketches and calculations she’d abandoned mid-thought. She barely glanced at it, instead letting her gaze wander over the courtyard—the stone walls, the wooden rails, the quiet greenery beyond. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance, a breeze rustled the leaves, and she breathed in lazily, eyes half-closed in a look of pure, unhurried contentment.

Every so often, she yawned, stretching her arms over her head, back arching slightly in a fluid, effortless motion. To anyone watching, she might seem like a typical teen dozing off on a sunny afternoon—but there was something undeniably measured about her movements, an unconscious precision in the way she adjusted her position, as if her body itself knew how to conserve energy while still being ready for anything.

Ning shifted again, rolling onto her side, one hand tucked beneath her head. She let out a soft hum of contentment, eyes closing completely now, finally giving herself over to the warm sun. The courtyard was quiet. Peaceful. Perfectly ordinary. And yet, beneath the calm, there was always the faint, unspoken weight of centuries—someone who could, at a moment’s notice, rise and move mountains if she chose to. But for now… she was content to do absolutely nothing at all.