Gao Mingyu did not like being disturbed, especially not during his third nap of the day—the one right after the post-snack siesta and just before the pre-supper snooze. But Li Xuan of the Cloudborne Sect had dropped into Zhenbei like a celestial dumpling with bad timing and zero chill.
The village, meanwhile, was in complete chaos.
"Fat Master Ming is a hero?!"
"He has a tattoo! I always thought that was soy sauce!"
"What if he's a dormant war god sent to protect us?"
"What if he's just really good at naps?"
At the center of it all was the man himself, Gao Mingyu, curled beneath the plum tree as though nothing had happened. He scratched his belly and let out a snore so relaxed that a nearby squirrel fell out of a branch in sympathetic slumber.
Li Xuan stood stiffly, arms crossed, staring down at him like a headmistress about to expel the world's laziest student. "You can't possibly ignore a world-ending prophecy."
Mingyu yawned. "I absolutely can."
She frowned. "The Slumbering Tiger System must awaken."
He blinked. "It is. That's me. Awakening in slow motion."
Just then, Elder Yan shuffled over, clutching a scroll in one hand and his spine with the other. A respected (if often ignored) scholar, Elder Yan was the village's resident cultivator of the Stone Scripture path. He believed everything had rules. Even fate.
"I knew it!" he bellowed. "That plum tree was planted under a convergence node. It explains everything."
"Explains why my dumplings taste better here?" asked Aunt Bao, who had also mysteriously appeared.
Elder Yan ignored her. "This man—this slothful monument—has been absorbing passive Qi through osmosis!"
Mingyu slowly opened one eye. "You mean breathing?"
"No, spiritual osmosis! You've been cultivating by existing!"
Mingyu chuckled. "Knew I was working too hard."
Li Xuan rubbed her temples. "We need to move quickly. The Western Reaches are already destabilizing. Night Beasts have emerged from the Sable Vale."
"Mmm..." Mingyu mused, patting his belly. "Can we fight them here? I've already fluffed my mat."
Just then, the wind shifted. A distant thunder echoed, and from the mountain path came a loud, thudding chant.
"JUSTICE STRIKE!"
Bao Ping arrived in a puff of dust, tripping over his own feet and rolling the last two meters into the village square. He stood up, beaming, dirt on his face, eyes sparkling.
"Did I miss it? Have we begun the training arc yet?"
Mingyu groaned. "Not him."
Li Xuan raised an eyebrow. "Who is this child?"
"That," Mingyu muttered, "is Bao Ping. Aspiring hero. Descended from three generations of cabbage farmers and one overenthusiastic uncle."
"Fat Master Ming," Bao Ping said, kneeling before him, "accept me as your disciple!"
"Denied."
"Please! I want to learn your secret watermelon-throwing technique!"
"It was a one-time thing. The stars aligned. There was a soft breeze. The watermelon was ripe. Let it go."
Bao Ping sniffled, undeterred. "Then at least teach me the Heavenly Duvet Drift!"
Li Xuan looked confused. "The what?"
Mingyu sighed. "It's when I throw a blanket over myself and disappear from responsibility. It requires... talent."
At that moment, the air shimmered, and a warm fragrance filled the plaza.
Rui Lin strolled in, fan in hand, hips swaying like a flame dancing over oil. Her crimson robes shimmered with embedded fire-thread, and her smirk could ignite scrolls. Men across the village forgot their names.
She stopped beside Mingyu and leaned in.
"Still hiding, fatty?"
"Still glowing, furnace girl?"
Rui Lin laughed. "Mmm. I just came to see the end of the world up close. It's more fun that way."
Li Xuan narrowed her eyes. "Are you friend or foe?"
"Depends," Rui Lin replied, fanning herself. "Do you make him bathe?"
Mingyu shrugged. "She tried."
Behind them, Elder Yan pulled out a second scroll. "We must initiate the ritual of gathering. The Eight Harmonies need representatives if we are to awaken the Grand Formation."
"Sounds loud," Mingyu said. "I vote we sleep on it."
Bao Ping saluted dramatically. "I shall represent Body and Breath!"
Elder Yan frowned. "You trip over your own chi."
"A work in progress!"
Rui Lin winked. "I could take Presence and Soul. I bring drama and emotional damage."
Li Xuan stepped forward. "I will handle Mind and Element."
Everyone turned to Mingyu.
He blinked. "I'm not doing Unity. That's too much paperwork."
"You are the Slumbering Tiger," Li Xuan insisted. "You represent the unknown, the paradox... the nap in the storm."
"Fine," he said, sighing. "But only if there are meat buns at the end."
Thus, the villagers of Zhenbei, a collection of eccentrics, dreamers, and one extremely reluctant savior, began preparations for a journey none of them were ready for.
Except maybe Gao Mingyu.
Because deep beneath his layers of sloth and sarcasm, something ancient stirred.
And it yawned.
The sun began to set over Zhenbei, painting the sky in lazy strokes of orange and purple. Mingyu finally sat up, brushing plum blossoms from his hair.
"If we must do this," he said, "we should at least have dinner first."
Li Xuan opened her mouth to protest, but Aunt Bao was already ahead of them all, waving everyone toward her courtyard. "Come! Come! I made extra dumplings today. The spirits told me we'd need them!"
As they walked—or in Mingyu's case, ambled—Rui Lin fell into step beside him. "You know," she said quietly, "the last time you actually fought, you nearly burned down half the mountain."
"That was an accident," Mingyu muttered. "The demon lord sneezed at the wrong moment."
Bao Ping, who had been eavesdropping, nearly tripped again. "Demon lord? What demon lord?"
"Nothing important," Mingyu said. "Just a minor disagreement over proper dumpling folding technique."
Elder Yan, shuffling behind them with his scrolls, cleared his throat. "The texts speak of a great battle fifteen years ago. A clash that reshaped the valley..."
"That was just indigestion," Mingyu interrupted.
But Li Xuan's sharp eyes caught the way his hand briefly touched the mark on his belly—the one everyone had thought was a soy sauce stain. In the fading light, it almost seemed to shimmer.
They gathered around Aunt Bao's massive table, steam rising from platters of dumplings and bowls of fragrant soup. Even as they ate, the tension in the air grew thicker.
"The Night Beasts won't wait," Li Xuan said between bites. "We need to—"
A distant howl cut through the evening air. The villagers froze. Even the crickets fell silent.
Mingyu slowly put down his chopsticks. For the first time that day, his eyes were fully open.
"Well," he said, standing with surprising grace for someone his size, "I suppose nap time is over."
The mark on his belly began to glow with a soft, golden light. The air around him shimmered like heat waves rising from summer stones.
Rui Lin smiled, flames dancing at her fingertips. Bao Ping grabbed a nearby wok as a makeshift shield. Li Xuan drew her sword, its edge gleaming with ethereal frost.
Elder Yan hurriedly consulted his scrolls. "The formation isn't ready! We need more time!"
Another howl, closer now. Shadows began to creep at the edge of the village.
Mingyu stretched, joints popping like firecrackers. "Time," he said with a lazy smile, "is something I've always been good at wasting."
He stepped forward, and for just a moment, everyone saw it—the shadow of something vast and powerful overlaying his rotund form. Something with stripes and claws and ancient, terrible patience.
The Slumbering Tiger was finally opening its eyes.
And somewhere in the darkness, the Night Beasts began to realize they might have made a terrible mistake.