Chapter Three: Cave Manor, the Return-to-Desolation Cottage

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The cornerstone of the Mountain-Guarding Array had been laid, and the outline of our home was already clear. Next came the work of filling that outline with life and building our true dwelling—a cave mansion.

For the site, I chose a broad clearing on the inner side of the valley, backed by a towering mountain wall and facing a murmuring stream. The ground rose slightly above the valley floor, giving an open view: enough to take in every beauty below and enough to spot any disturbance at once. Its geomantic balance was excellent.

“Alright, we are going to build a house,” I said, clapping my hands and calling the two eager daughters over. “Father will take the hardest part—carve the main hall of the cave and etch the defensive formation. Yiyi, your hands are clever; you’ll plan and decorate the inside. And Xiaobai, your task is most important: guard the perimeter and help us clear away the blasted stone. Good?”

“Yes!” both girls answered at once, their eyes shining with the joy of creation.

I drew in a breath, gathered my intent, and a small cyan sword slipped from my sleeve. It unfurled in the wind, lengthening into a three-foot blue-green blade that hovered before me. This Greenleaf Sword had been my companion on Earth for over two thousand years. Its rank was never high, but its sharpness was superb—nothing better for cutting mountains and chipping stone.

“Begin!”

I joined my fingers like a blade and swept forward. The Greenleaf Sword rang with a clear cry and turned into a stream of blue light, sinking with perfect precision into the black wall, hard as iron. There was no earth-shaking roar, only a faint hiss, like hot metal through butter. Huge showers of chips and powder came down like a waterfall.

I held my focus, using my spiritual sense as a ruler and the flying sword as my brush, and I worked with patient precision. A vast and lofty cavern residence took shape. I did not chase the glittering, imposing style of a transcendental noble hall—that did not fit our aim of lying low. I only carved out a hall large enough for our daily life, three moderately sized connected bedrooms, and a few side rooms for alchemy, artifact forging, and storage. The whole structure was plain, warm, and practical.

As I carved, Xiaobai began her part. In her tiny body seemed to be packed endless power. The massive stones I had cut from the cliff, each one weighing several thousand kilograms, were moved by her with ease: a gentle nod of her furred head, or a clever coil of one of her six fluffy tails, and they were carried across to the far end of the valley, stacked neatly in place. Her efficiency surpassed even the most advanced machinery on Earth by a hundredfold. Her small figure moved through the site with boundless joy.

And most industrious, as well as most delighted, was our chief designer, Yiyi.

From somewhere she found a smooth branch, crouched on the cleared ground, and went sketching lines on the earth, muttering to herself with a face of perfect seriousness and concentration.

“Dad, in the main hall there must be a big floor-to-ceiling window. Use one single sheet of crystal, so when we sit to drink tea we can see the stream and the flower sea outside!”

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“Our bedrooms should be together—yours in the middle, mine and Xiaobai’s on either side. Don’t put walls between them. Use round moon doors so I can call you at night and hear you right away!”

“And also, on this side, leave a room just for Xiaobai. The floor must be covered with the softest beastskin. Pile the corners with sparkling stones, and make a little pool so she can bathe and roll whenever she returns to her true form!”

I smiled as I guided the flying sword while listening to her playful yet thoughtful plan. At her direction, I polished the inner walls smooth as glass, carved the ceiling with constellations in motion, and ground the ground perfectly flat and true.

Father and two daughters: one handling the outer work, one the inner work, one logistics. The three of us cooperated like one.

In just seven days, a stone cave home—plain outside, refined and intimate within—was completed through our united effort.

When the last ray of sunlight passed through the reserved opening and poured into the new hall, the three of us stood before the entrance and looked at our home, each stone a witness to our labor. A feeling beyond words—fulfillment, pride, belonging—rose inside us.

“We should name our home,” I said, looking at the blank stone plaque left on the lintel.

Yiyi tilted her little head, thinking carefully. “How about ‘Penglai Retreat’? It could remind us where we came from.”

“No,” I said with a smile, shaking my head. “Penglai belongs to the past, the deepest memory we carry. We need not keep it hanging on our tongues all the time. And in this world, ‘Penglai’ may mean something unusual; that name is too loud and might invite trouble we can never imagine.”

I lingered in thought, gaze turning far away, recalling the senior who had laid the star-trail formation—the one whose intent might be enemy or ally—the slippery state of our present, and the plans we hold for what comes next. A name slowly came into clarity.

“Then let it be called Return-Origin Cottage.”

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“Return-Origin?” Yiyi blinked, not fully understanding.

I reached out and gently stroked her little head, then looked out toward the quiet valley and explained in a low voice, “‘Return’ means to come back to one’s true heart, like a weary bird returning to the forest, the final refuge for our family. ‘Origin,’ in Daoist teachings, means the beginning of all things, the source of the Great Way, and symbolizes our rebirth here. Return-Origin is both a remembrance of the past and the opening of our future.”

I paused, then continued, “‘Cottage’ reminds us always to keep humble and reverent. No matter how far we can go or how strong we become, this will always remain only a small, peaceful resting place in this vast world—a warm home.”

“Return-Origin Cottage… Return-Origin Cottage,” Yiyi murmured twice, then her eyes brightened. She clapped her hands sharply. “Mm! It sounds beautiful. I like this name!”

Xiaobai gave a happy cry and rubbed her head against my leg, clearly pleased with it as well.

A broad laugh burst from me. I felt resolve surge in my chest. I raised my right hand, joined my fingers like a sword, and drew the little power left in me into my fingertips. In an instant they flashed with radiant gold.

Using my finger as brush and heaven as paper, I moved in one flowing stroke, dragons and phoenixes in the motion, and carved into the smooth greenstone plaque four elegant, ancient, Tao-infused characters: Return-Origin Cottage.

When the final stroke fell, the four words seemed to awaken, resonating faintly with the entire cave and even the veins beneath us. A powerful sense of home surged through all three of us at once.