“Hey Ian, you know if there’re any sects in the Dragon’s Tail?”

“I’ve only heard of one, but that’s just in the region I’m from. Apparently the mountains run on for thousands of leagues, so there're probably more.”

“Really? Are they a powerful force?”

“Not much is known about them so I couldn’t say. My grandfather is old friends with one of their elders but he doesn’t talk about it. The way he always avoided the topic, it's like they had bad blood between them.”

There’s more than just the Bloodhand Sect out there, huh?

He thought back to the invasion of the Towering Eaves clan, the palpitating moments of battle that he had endured with Ian and his other friends from Three-River Valley. Dozens of instances came to mind where he had almost perished at the drop of a dime only to be assisted by allies from the chaotic mass of combatants.

“Would you ever join a sect?”

“The only thing my grandfather told me was that martial sects are known for being severely strict. You have to do whatever your superiors tell you to even if it’s against your will, and you also have to keep an eye out for fellow members.” Ian rose from the water and produced a martial skill manual from his spatial bag, the Emerald Skin technique. “I’m off to practice. Will you help me test it out later?”

“Only if you don’t complain this time.”

Ian rolled his golden eyes and quickly left to the southern fringes of the glade, a spot that he’d taken a liking to since he'd begun to study the martial skill manual that Nolan had lent him.

Nolan relaxed in the fountain for about an hour, a dozen metallic needles circling around him in a smooth sequence while the gentle ripple of trickling water eased him into a state of relaxation. His spiritual space had grown exponentially after his last two breakthroughs and could now accommodate twenty times the spiritual energy that had been available to him before he returned to this realm. It wouldn’t be long before he could begin to make use of the low-level attack arrayment that Uncle Grey had begun to teach him, which he had decided to hold off on practicing until he returned to Venara.

I’ve got to make use of my last few days here. The strong urge to cultivate surged within his chest as he climbed out of the fountain, his eyes glinting with greed as he stared at the handful of spirit stones that glittered brightly within the miraculous waters. With a thought he cast out a small bubble of spiritual energy that quickly encased the loose stones and quietly escorted them into his spatial bag, where several thousand others glowed brightly within the darkness of the storage-based dimension. At the sight of this silent fortune, he couldn’t help but smile. With all of these superior spirit stones, once we get to North Island we’ll be laughing!

He quickly retreated to the east side of the glade and plopped a medium grade medicinal pellet into his mouth, a small supply of pride swirling within him as he felt his inner essence channels gradually begin to widen. The specific pellets in question now boasted an average of an eleven percent increase in cultivation speed for the user, a testament to his growth as an alchemist.

I’ve really come a long way, he thought as he waited for the medicine to take full effect. Every now and then he created one of medium grade, his mind ecstatic at the treasured sight of two dots of discolouration on the small, piny-coloured spheres. As with the one that he had just taken, these higher quality pellets sped up his training by an astounding twenty percent, the effects lasting for about twelve hours. Although they would probably fetch him quite a high price at an auction house or alchemy shop he didn’t hesitate to consume each one that he created, a total of eighty-five since he’d begun to produce them.

He spent the next day or so enjoying the effects of his last two medium grade pellets, his vibrant dantian consuming all of the Origin Energy that he could harvest from his generous environment without any sign of satisfaction. The middle phase of Profound Entry’s fourth level? Uncle Grey was dreaming if he thought such a thing obtainable within the next couple of days.

“Words cannot describe how much I miss Liv's soups.”

Nolan’s mouth watered at the thought of the oniony, stew-like broth that had come to be his favourite during his time in the valley. “Yeah, she's a great cook. Where’d she learn to make such awesome food?” Everyone had gathered around a campfire that Nolan had given life to within a large pit that he had dug out, a healthy supply of firewood at their side that they had retrieved from the forest. It was interesting to note that once something was transported from an area where the others were unable to access, it gained colour and shed its barrier-like properties all the same.

“She was taught by our mother.” His friend’s voice was suddenly soft. “She made all of her own meals, ours as well. I doubt I had any food from the kitchen servants until she passed away. What Liv can do with soup, she did with every single meal. On my word, she was one of the best cooks in the valley.”

“Sounds like it, man. I’m glad I got to try some of her recipes.”

“I wish we could have some soup,” Esteban mumbled as he carved a large slab of bloody meat into several smaller pieces. These he ran through with sharpened branches and carefully set to roast by the fireside.

“We can,” said Nolan. “Though it would probably taste like crap.”

“Any of you guys got a pot?” asked Sean. “We’ve got water and red meat, and I know for sure that Nolan’s got spices and all that.”

“I’ve got a pretty dope stash, yeah, but cooking it’s gonna have to be on you. The only soup I’ve ever made was that Styrofoam cup ramen from the dollar store.”

“I find it hilarious that you can make exploding treasures and all this ridiculous stuff but can’t fry an egg.”

“Ian man, I can fry anything. I just can’t make soup.”

“Just give me whatever spices you have. You’ve got potatoes too, right? Or did we eat them all that last time?”

Nolan summoned twenty small pouches of flavourful powders and a small sack of potatoes, handing them to the older man with a bit of angst. “You sure you can cook? These are all the potatoes I’ve got, who knows when we’ll be able to get some more.”

Ian placed a pot in front of Nolan, who expelled a small amount of iridescent energy and arranged it in a very simple formation. With a quick exertion of his will, he shot a tiny amount of energy into the rough diagram’s entry point and activated the most basic level of construction arrayment that he could conceive of. A brief flash of light saw a significant portion of the nearby Origin Energy flood into the diagram and powered it to solidify into a slightly translucent structure of bright yellow energy. Soon a small grill-like platform had appeared above the fire, incorporeal and yet somehow tangible.

“Just leave it to the adult,” Sean smiled. “I never ate any of that processed garbage. Homemade food is how I’ve always lived. Hey, kid,” he turned to Esteban and handed the large cast-iron pot to him. “Go and fill that up, would you?”

“It’s heavy,” said the pale boy. “I don’t want to.”

“Then I guess you don’t want soup.”

At Sean’s response, the kid had no choice but to bow his head and scamper off toward the courtyard at the centre of the glade. Watching him go, the man said, “I hope we do right by him. He’s a good kid, too good for the life he’s stuck with.”

“Yeah,” Nolan sighed. “God, I hope we’re not messing him up.”

“With us around is there really that much for him to worry about?”

“Well duh, man. We’re about to set out on a dangerous journey. Sean’s right to worry about him.”

With several thousand kilometres between them and the distant city of Frostport, they all had reason for worry. It was almost guaranteed that they would encounter all grades of danger as soon as they returned to Venara.

If only there were more of us, it wouldn’t just be on me and Ian to look out for everyone.

“What?” said Sean. “Why’re you staring at me?”

Rather than answer the question, Nolan looked overhead and asked, “Hey Uncle Grey, I don’t really know much about the concept of a sect. Mind enlightening me a bit?”

Floating above them in his usual position of recline, the old ghost stared down with suspicion. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, suppose I want to start one. How would I go about doing it?”

“Blasphemy! You are already a member of the Myriad Arrayment Mosaic Sect. The last living member, in fact.”

“Whoa, hold on. You were in my shoes once, and you made your own sect. Why can’t I?”

“That’s entirely different! How can you remain as my dear disciple if you’re not even in my sect?”

“I’ll be in both. Can you just tell me what I need to know to get the ball rolling?”

It took a while for the old ghost to agree, at which point he outlined that the first thing that Nolan would need to do was acquire a fortune with which to subsidize his sect, which could be done by farming superior spirit stones from the Divine Spirit Fountain. Next he would need to organize a structure of rank, which shouldn’t prove too difficult. In the eyes of his teacher, organization was order. Once a clear hierarchy was in place, it would be easier to dole out resources to members based upon their station.

Another thing of importance was that he had to recruit trustworthy people to fill the higher positions, whatever designations that he decided to design. He wasn’t too worried about this aspect, not with the membership base that he intended to target. On top of that there was the crucial necessity of setting up a base of operations, so that people knew where to go in the event that they intended to join. Since he was now a property owner in the Three-River Valley with the right to found his own village, this wasn’t a matter of concern.

“Is that all?”

“Amongst the most important things to consider, there are but two more things. Care to take a guess at what they are?”

“No.”

The old ghost rolled his limpid eyes. “You must garner a reputation. The more reputable your sect, the more it will stick out to those cultivators that desire to join a larger group, which usually do so for either protection or resources. Along with that, you must have a core cultivation technique to teach your members, along with martial skills that can be learned after a certain amount of time, or after building up merit. Most sects in my era would have had libraries filled with manuals of techniques and martial skills.”

Sean, Esteban, and Ian remained quiet all throughout the conversation, though the last eventually spoke up with a strange look of interest. “You serious about this, Nolan?”

“Dead serious. You trying to be an elder, man?”

“Since I can't cultivate your core cultivation technique, I probably wouldn't be a good fit. Now that I think about it, nobody can learn—” Ian’s proud face lit up with understanding.

“Yeah man. You see what I’m getting at here?”

“What?” said Esteban, who had just returned from fetching water from the courtyard. “I don’t get it.”

“He means people like us, kid. People from Earth.” Sean looked over at Nolan. “You gonna have them do one of those slave contracts like you did us? That’s shit if you don’t, having it just be us…” The dark-haired man clearly disliked the fact that Nolan could command him to carry out any action at any time, something that had become apparent in the early weeks of their acquaintanceship.

“God only knows how many of us are left out there. I figure most of them are probably in pretty shitty situations, so if I give them the chance to change their lives, don’t you think a good number of people would do it?”

Sean shrugged his narrow shoulders. “I guess I’m here, after all.”

Uncle Grey’s stare had turned into one of silent appreciation. “This isn’t as bad an idea as I thought. You might actually do well for yourself, lad.”

“An organization of Otherworlders… I feel like I’m witnessing an important moment.”

“It won’t just be for Otherworlders, Ian. There’ll be two divisions, ones that learn the Ancestral Body Technique, and ones that learn whatever other core cultivation method I can get my hands on—ah, Uncle Grey, how about this? The other division will learn the Profound Soul-splitting Technique, the one that you taught Nyla. This way, your sect will sort of live on within mine.”

“I won’t share my treasured cultivation method with just anybody.”

“We can iron out the details later.”

“What do you plan on calling it?” Ian asked.

“The world that we’re from is called Earth, so I’m gonna go with the Earth Sect.”

Uncle Grey flew off without notice.

“The Earth Sect. That’s a great idea, kid. Anyone we find that’s like us, they’ll have every reason to join.”

“Not to mention you'll hold their absolute loyalty, quite literally. You know, Nolan, I’ve changed my mind. I'll join your sect, and I'll do everything I can to help you. Your techniques, this strange world, Uncle Grey—I feel like fate is at play here. If anyone can help the people of your world and give them a place on Venara, it'd be you, right? Just imagine, me and Liv being a part of something like that.”

“Great, I’ll be counting on you then, Elder Ian.”

The soup that Sean made was surprisingly delicious, a blend of unknown spices and herbs that he had given a brief test of taste before deciding on a select few and tackling the task of dinner.

Uncle Grey returned a short while later and shared an arrayment diagram with Nolan, one that he insisted he learn.

“And what will this do?”

“Every sect needs a uniform,” said the old ghost. “This construction arrayment will help you create some.”

“Construction arrayments can make clothes?”

“There is no limit to what you can create, not if you are talented enough and determined to make it happen.”