Our guide was efficient. Quick and agile, he was obviously a cultivator. How high his realm was I was uncertain, but he had to still be in the beginning Body Refining stage. I thought him too young to have stepped into the next Realm. I guess it was possible, prodigies existed in every novel I'd read that dealt with cultivation, but I doubted he would have been assigned door duty if that were the case.
He was more concerned about getting a chore he resented being assigned over than our comfort or ability to keep up with him. Even early-stage Body Refining cultivators were capable of speed and strength that Niake and I having just taken our first step as cultivators couldn't hope to match. I was out of breath by the time we exited the sect, gasping in great heaving breaths from running full out to keep him in view.
Once he saw us delivered to the gates, he simply left. Not deigning to share any parting comments or advice, no words of farewell, welcome, or encouragement. I think Niake may have pissed him off more than I'd assumed. It was a bow, but some people were more worried about conventions and what they felt was their due. I hoped she hadn't made an enemy of someone important. I knew it wasn't really my concern, and I thought her family and their money would soothe over any insults she may have offered.
Niake didn't seem concerned; she was instead filled with excitement and happiness as she was greeted once we had exited the Sect. Her family was waiting at the gates, a veritable army of well-wishers, at least two dozen people descended on her as soon as she made an appearance. Swallowed up in a sea of congratulations, hugs, and even one overly large man picking her up and swinging her around. Her laugh joyful, her screams begging him to stop belying the joy his actions engendered.
It was nice to see. To know that in this world I found myself, compassion, love, and family still meant something. The strong may rule, that seemed a truth that was law no matter the world. In this one, there were too many dangers, animals, and beasts that could only be countered by the strong, for those with the ability not to play a vital role in protecting society. But it was still nice to know that the little things still mattered.
"Jay!" Niake yelled gaining my attention as her family began to lead her away. "We are staying at The Blue Cockle Hotel. Meet me there tomorrow morning! You can play tour guide and show me what the city has to offer," she said inviting me between giggles and hiccups as she gasped for breath. "If I'm not in the lobby, let them know you are there to meet with a member of the Celial family."
Laughing at her and her family's antics, I agreed before beginning my walk home. I had no problems navigating or knowing where I lived. I knew how to get home, and the safest route to take, what areas of town should be avoided. Digi-verse did an amazing job in the uploading process, installing a working set of memories that allowed me to immerse myself in this world seamlessly.
I didn't have to fumble or try to search for cues to understand the context of the world around me. I simply knew, as if this had been my identity from the beginning, memories that were a part of me. My life. What was really surprising to me was how easily I accepted those memories and transitioned into accepting this person as the primary identity.
I wasn't comparing my past life with this one, trying to understand what is based on what was. This was simply my life. There may be the occasional flash where I remembered something from that life, a few synapses that still fired out of habit, a life of predictability.
What I found really amazing was that habits long ingrained in a woman of 105 years were resolved. I had been a heavy smoker. I'd even combated lung cancer twice. Organs grown in vats had made transplants routine and accessible for even those that rejected nano-medical practices. Perhaps that easy access to replacement organs was the reason I continued to smoke even after the first cancer diagnosis. Transitioning to this world removed my body's habits and triggers. I had no cravings and no withdrawals.
The trip home was uneventful. The Sect was located on the side of a cliff, a cliff that comprised a partial canyon that had been dug out by water when a series of tributaries and a river fed the cascading waterfalls that made the Water element so plentiful in the area. The Sect had been built into the side of the cliff, the area terraformed so that a precipice was enlarged, midway between the top of the falls and the bottom to allow for buildings and gardens.
The falls fed into a large basin of water, more lake than a pond, and it was near this lake that the town had been built. Standing near the Sect entrance, visitors were treated to a magnificent view of the surrounding area, and the town. More fantasy than futuristic, roads were bustling with wagons and carriages, each pulled by Protoceratops for those that appeared wealthy, and something that might be a precursor to oxen for those unable to afford to purchase, stable, or feed the dinosaur.
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The roads were finished, not simply smoothed dirt. From my vantage, I could tell that side streets and those roads less frequented were comprised of cobblestones or bricks. The main thoroughfare and busy streets and intersections were paved. I wasn't sure what the building material was, but it looked like asphalt. The same coloration, hardness, and conformity in level.
The sights and smells of the town were what you would expect from a busy area with no modern conveniences. Animal dung from droppings littered the streets, people chatting, yelling, and jostling for attention with merchants that hawked goods in front of both storefronts and stalls, and a farmer's market where fresh food, as well as hand-crafted items, were available for purchase.
As I walked past the stalls, I encountered a bevy of goods and items. They seemed to be organized into type, with fruits and vegetables clustered together, crafted and tailored goods organized by type, and books with odds and ends proliferating here and there. Hawkers and shills were boisterously competing amongst themselves; those that were the loudest and had the most outlandish claims or stick garnering the largest crowds.
It was an open-air market that was reminiscent of a Renaissance Fair. All overseen by obvious constables that walked authoritatively brandishing halberds. The weapons more for show than effectiveness, I thought. It would be hard to brandish those effectively as crowded as the market was.
My house was located on a side road. It was a sprawling building with the front designated and established as a Clinic and medical herb shop. The place my parents operated their business from. An unobtrusive path led around the back and to the door for the family partition, the area relegated as living space.
Boxy was the best word to describe the building. There was no attempt to blend with nature, no flowering bushes or crafted trees to house and obscure the premises. It was a building that would have been well located at a strip mall. The backyard was different. There was at least a hectare of garden, most of it had been designated and sectioned off to grow herbs.
For a middle-class family to have almost two and a half acres of land in town spoke to the profitability of the family business, even if they area we lived in was more outskirts than the town center. In truth, our wealth was tied up in this land, and we had pressed right up against the boundary of the town array. The forest opened up steps away from that boundary and if a beast tide occurred, our fields would be the first area sacrificed. We lived frugally so that my parents could maintain and grow herbs' mother needed for her clinic.
Not as intricate as the Sect's sprawling garden-scape. Our yard was more functional than ornamental. My father did try to plant herb groupings in an artistic manner, but that was sometimes impossible as plant elements and healing attributes needed to be considered when grouping.
There were a few window boxes for flowering plants, but even here, the herbs had been chosen for their rarity and healing potency, not their aesthetics. The fact that they were beautiful was barely a consideration. My parents were practical people, more concerned with utilizing space to maximize profit and product.
They looked nothing like you'd expect an elf to look. My mother was more Betty Crocker than a femme fatale. She wasn't some sleek, tall, gorgeous Elf with cascading locks and dainty ears that stood around bouncing in place displaying jiggling breasts for testosterone-laden men to ogle. She was plump, her smiling face sported dimples. Her plump cheeks, a cleft chin, and a bit of flour on her nose was the only makeup she bothered with. My father was more huntsman than the paladin. Brawny, bearded, and balding.
A balding elf was a sight to behold, it gave lie to the notion that all elves were stoic perfection. Both of them had the Elven ears, but it was the sparkling eyes that gave them real presence. Their simple homespun clothing, callused hands, and quiet contemplation, an image of wholesomeness and quite deliberation they usually fostered was shattered by their glee at my good fortune.
They weren't sure exactly how well I'd done. But they knew that I awakened a Platinum Spirit root. They were hopeful that my affinity was water, but even if I hadn't awakened an affinity that resonated well enough to enter Flowing Water Sect, I would be able to cultivate at one of the alternate Sects on our list.
And if I had been unable to grasp an affinity, with a Platinum Spirit root, I could still become an alchemist or rune-script professional. Perhaps not master class level, but adept might be possible. Sect member or not, my future was much brighter than theirs had been. Even worse case, I would be able to attain an apprenticeship that would allow me to thrive.
Their happiness and glee exploded in rounds of laughter and hugs after I opened my hand showing them the Sect token I had been awarded. There was no way to steal or counterfeit these tokens. They were somehow tied to and synchronized with our Qi. Having one in your possession meant only one thing.
I had been accepted and was now a ranking member of the Sect. The lowest ranking member, but semantics aside, that position opened a world of possibilities for me, and by proxy, my parents.