The Twin Leaf Peak Sect settled into their designated area quickly, their elders directing the bustle of activity with practiced efficiency.

At first, simple rows of tents sprouted across the plain like mushrooms after rain. Junior disciples were immediately dispatched into the nearby forest to harvest lumber, their swords flashing as trees toppled one after another.

Others worked in groups to slice the timber neatly into planks, splitting them with strikes so precise they could have passed for a carpenter's chisel. Rocks were shattered with palm strikes and hammering fists, then stacked into orderly piles ready to be shaped into foundations.

For ordinary mortals, raising a camp of this size might have taken weeks if not months. But for cultivators, who could swing a sword and level a grove in a heartbeat, or carry a hundred kilograms of stone without breaking a sweat, it was nothing more than light exercise.

Han Yu was quietly relieved to find that he had not been assigned to the grueling work of chopping down trees or hauling logs.

Though he was technically in the logistics and support division, the elders had instead placed him with the alchemy team. His task was to assist in setting up an alchemy pavilion and begin refining materials into semi-prepared extracts—ingredients with a lifespan of a week to a month.

These substances could not have been carried safely during their three-month journey, but having them in bulk now meant that pills could be produced quickly when needed. Han Yu thus found himself among other alchemists, surrounded by the smell of herbs roasting, powders being ground, and cauldrons already bubbling.

It was repetitive but far preferable to smashing rocks all day.

Fatty Kui, however, was not so fortunate.

He and Wu Shuan had both been assigned to construction duty. Wu Shuan was in his element, his sword flashing in arcs as tree after tree fell with clean precision. Fatty Kui, on the other hand, was immediately handed the role of the team's hauler.

His task was to lift, carry, and stack logs like some oversized mule.

The moment he began, though, he inadvertently became the center of attention. With a grunt, Fatty Kui stooped, wrapped his pudgy arms around a log that would have required four disciples to carry, and lifted it as if it were no heavier than a roll of fabric. He waddled forward, each step making the ground tremble slightly, and deposited the wood with a satisfied puff of breath.

Several female disciples who had been working nearby froze, their blades halfway through branches.

"Wait… did that fatty just carry that whole thing by himself?" one whispered, eyes wide.

"He's stronger than he looks…" another muttered, clearly stunned.

A third girl, less impressed, wrinkled her nose. "Strong, maybe. But he still looks like a dumpling that learned how to walk."

Fatty Kui, of course, heard none of this.

He was too busy returning to the tree line, where Wu Shuan had just felled another massive trunk. The swordsman gave him a slight smirk.

"Ready for your next meal, Kui?" Wu Shuan teased.

"Call it dessert," Fatty Kui huffed, hoisting the log up onto his shoulder. "I'll carry two next time!"

And he did.

On his third trip, he carried three. By his fourth, he had stacked so many on his back that he resembled a moving pile of firewood with stubby legs sticking out at the bottom. The sight drew even more comments.

"Is that… a human?" a disciple from another sect muttered, clutching his sword.

"I swear he looks like a walking log cart," someone else laughed.

"Don't underestimate him," an older disciple countered. "That's body cultivation training. Look at his arms. He's like iron beneath all that fat."

As Fatty Kui passed a group of disciples carrying rocks, one of them called out with a grin. "Hey fatty, how many chickens did you eat to get that kind of strength?"

Kui paused, puffing out his chest. "More than you could count in your lifetime! My master calls it balanced training—body, mind, and stomach. Mostly stomach. I have the spiritual gluttony physique after all." He said proudly.

Laughter rippled through the workers. Even some of the female disciples giggled, hiding their mouths behind their sleeves.

But while most found him funny or impressive, not all were kind. A group of disciples from the Jade Mirror Temple sneered from a distance.

"Strength without elegance is nothing," one said haughtily. "Look at him. He is still a pig rolling in mud, no matter how many logs he carries."

Another chuckled in agreement. "Let him strain his fat body. When real combat comes, he will be the first to collapse."

If Fatty Kui noticed the insults, he gave no sign. He continued his work, humming cheerfully, occasionally making jokes with those around him. After his sixth trip, he even attempted to flex his round arms in front of a group of watching girls.

"Behold, the mighty Kui," he announced dramatically, striking what he thought was a heroic pose. Unfortunately, the flex made his sleeve tear, exposing a surprisingly solid forearm—but the pose was ruined when the log he had balanced on his shoulder slipped and fell to the ground with a loud thud.

The girls laughed, some amused, some embarrassed for him. Fatty Kui scratched his head and chuckled nervously.

"Eh, that was intentional. Testing the ground's durability, you see."

Even Wu Shuan couldn't help but sigh, covering his face with his hand. "You're hopeless."

Hopeless or not, Fatty Kui's antics had lightened the mood of the camp.

What had begun as hard labor became almost festive with his running commentary and over-the-top feats of strength. Some disciples even started timing how quickly he could carry logs, calling out numbers like gamblers at a horse race.

Fatty Kui, naturally, relished the attention, redoubling his efforts and puffing himself up like a proud rooster.

By the end of the day, while tents turned into sturdier wooden pavilions and rock foundations were set, Fatty Kui had gone from "the fat one in logistics" to an oddly celebrated figure among the workers.

Even if half the comments about him were jokes, he seemed perfectly content to be the loud, lumbering center of camp gossip.