Mornings, the onsets of the new days, and the moments of the rising sun; all excellent times to make a choice. He acted as he usually would and swept himself into a secluded place. The sect was huge, and one could find such sites with ease. The area was also under his duties presently. Nothing odd about his behaviour to irk someone away. And he could always continue sweeping should someone pass by, which was rare.

 

Reaching a pond nearby, he sat beside it to take a small break. He was not a cultivator who could go on doing simple tasks like sweeping infinitely without rest.

 

To be honest, it was weird. Cultivators could do the job he was doing much faster in less time. They would not only be efficient but also impeccable. Executing cleaning jobs like his every day could also be counted as practice. A swish of their sleeves and all the waste would be gathered and blown away. A matter of seconds, really. Even better could be formations that did not let the dust settle. Even phones in his previous world were dust and water-resistant; by all odds, the array constellations in this world of superpowers should be even more so. But he didn't see any of them. They couldn't be that spirit energy intensive, could they? Most probable was that the cultivators considered such menial jobs beneath them. It was baffling and difficult to comprehend why those who cleaned were deemed inferior. And since they could find 'pathetic mortals' to clean the lands for them, why not? They even considered it a favour to these miserable mortals, forgetting they came from mortals themselves. And while they were longer-lived, they were by no means immortal yet. How they thought themselves lofty when their actions were anything but.

 

He would shelve the thought for later. It was time to take the plunge. Breathing in the cool and fresh morning air, he let go of his inhibition and brought up the words again. (rekindled the words)

 

Endless Ocean Of Yore

 

Tune in?

Y/ N.

 

While sweeping, his hand once again went towards his pocket. Sighing ruefully, he thought old habits die hard. He didn't have a mobile phone anymore, but his hands went to the phone's dwelling place all the same. Well, sooner than later, those habits would leave him. The old would be replaced by the new.

 

The more pressing concern was the sequence of events after he affirmed to go through with his selection. It was apparent; he chose yes. And the strangest things happened. More words burnt themselves out of thin air. At least, that was the way it appeared to him.

 

Tuned into: Mystic Turtle Pond.

Received: Abstruse Umbrella.

 

Even stranger things happened then. It felt as if there was a space that was part of him. And an 'abstruse umbrella', whatever that meant, had appeared in it. It looked like a simple bamboo umbrella from what he could envision. So why was it called abstruse? And how did he abruptly get an umbrella from tuning in? What was even tuning in? And what was he tuning into?

 

He felt he could summon the umbrella but didn't do it right then and there. He needed time to understand what was going on. One thing was clear, if he was grateful before, he regarded himself downright lucky now. A new life with some sort of superpower? No one just got things out of thin air, even if the thing was a simple bamboo umbrella. This was beyond his imagination.

 

There was the case that some powerful cultivator was behind all this. But if the case was true, against a cultivator so powerful, what could he do as he was now? Thus, there was no point in thinking about it. He felt it was pointless for a cultivator to do so much to him because said cultivator wouldn't even get entertainment out of it. He did not have dreams of stomping around, acting high and mighty. Another reason for the case being false was that if there was a supposed cultivator behind all this who was doing it for entertainment, then Fan Yiyao should have met with trouble by now. And yet, here he was, only increasing his obscurity levels. Fan Yiyao was embodying the traits namelessness and facelessness. At his rate, he would reach nowheresville sooner than later. So to him, this power was more an accidental coincidence, a gift from the heavens to a person who wouldn't go around thinking of world domination.

 

Thinking of the power, the option to tune in had been absent since he chose yes. He would only know later if it was a one-time thing or on a cooldown for unknown periods.

 

He was happy that he even got an umbrella, and the thing did not raise a ruckus. He couldn't imagine a good end should people find out he was being rewarded stuff out of thin air.

 

One reason was greed. Who knew what the power would fetch. But if people found out, then a price his head would fetch.

 

Another reason was jealousy. Here they were, the cultivators busting their asses to move up the ladder while he just obtained stuff without any effort whatsoever.

 

Well, all the more reason to stay low-key and keep subdued.

 

Sweeping was the best. Not only did it clean the outside, but he was also calmed on the inside. This Mystic Turtle Pond, as it was called, was clearly more extensive than a pond and had no turtles in it. The pond size was not an issue as size scales in the cultivation world increased in proportion to the egos of cultivators. Or was it the other way around? And as for the subject of an empty pond bereft of any mystic turtle being called Mystic Turtle Pond, he would chalk it to cultivators and their shenanigans.

 

Thinking about it, today was also the day they would receive their--monthly allowance, was it? Even if he didn't receive cultivation resources, he would receive some other things needed to live. He would have to be there in time because Handyperson hall elder Yi Jian would not wait for him. Yi Jian cared not about the well-being of the handypersons under him. He could always find more, as 'stupid mortals' were dying to enter the sects. To Yi Jian, these were free hopeless slaves. And the resources given to handypersons were called spirit stones, but they were shavings of one at best. The pills were the lowest of the low but still not something mortals could afford and contained large amounts of pill poison. And yet these pills were fought for.

 

The servants from the servant quarters actually got a proper spirit stone. They were more talented people prepared to serve the cultivators. Their talent lay in between the cut-off the sect wanted and that of mortals.

 

Fan Yiyao felt it was better to be a handyperson. Who knew which cultivator the servant ended up serving and if that cultivator was kind. But the lure of power and resources was not something these kids raised in a world of cultivation such as this could shake off. It was effective brainwashing. The slight benefit of being in a somewhat good sect was relative security and more spiritual energy. Mortals on sect lands lived a little longer, discounting some extraneous circumstances. Yet, the death toll was high, and none seemed to mind. He was sure most didn't even know, nor would they care if they did. Angry cultivators, frustrated cultivators, and sometimes even happy cultivators all led to the demise of mortals and immortality chasers alike. It could be shortened to the people lower in the hierarchy feeling the force of the people above. One should especially not hear what they should not; that also led to, you guessed it, an untimely and early passing.

 

The sect he was in was a declining spirit land. Once a great sect, but now a mere husk of its grand past. There were two reasons it hadn't been invaded yet.

Number one, the accumulation of the past that the assailants would have to face should the sect's survival be threatened. It wasn't a task of leisure to attack a sect and waltz into their treasury. Most treasuries had mechanisms of self-destruction in place that would leave nothing but ash if the wealth within was endangered. It was challenging to burgle a sect's coffers.

Number two, whispers and tales of a demon being sealed inside the sect. There had to be some merit to it since the sect had not been attacked yet. But no one knew for certain; if they did, they didn't speak of it.

 

Not being able to break into the vault didn't mean the other sects couldn't assert their dominance. The vault held accumulated savings and reserves. Those resources came from two places. Either they grew inside sect grounds or were acquired from outside. Outside, by and large, meant sect territory. Sect territory was the vast swathes of areas under sect control, areas the sect reigned sovereign, and areas contested and battled by the sect from other powers. It was only evident that a sect in decline would lose and cede territory as it didn't hold the clout it had before. Such was the dilemma the sect he was in, the Thousand Leaves Sect faced.

 

It mattered not to him either way. He was interested in determining what he would get for supper that day. The sect food was not incredibly delicious or anything. It was simple but filling. As the cultivators progressed, they ate less and less. At least less of whatever mundane food the handypersons were eating. Thus, there was no need to emphasise what the handyperson was being served as long as it was not poisonous and damned. He found the food satiating. It was made by pathetic mortals for pathetic mortals using pathetic mortal ingredients. They made do with what they had.

 

You could always cook for yourself, and some handypersons sometimes did. They were called do-it-yourselfers, and Fan Yiyao found it amusing. The alternate name would only motivate him more. In his previous world, people who could do many things by themselves would be applauded; here, it was measured as laughable. Doing stuff yourself meant you were powerless. For the powerful never lacked people who wanted to serve them. Thus, the term do-it-yourselfers, while not derogatory, was not any more respectful either.

 

Fan Yiyao questioned the cultivators' sense or lack thereof. They showed remarkable ingenuity, arrogance and inanity all at the same time. They were wonders of the world, if not in any other but this sense. Cultivators would argue otherwise, but then again, they did that all the time.

 

Sequitur: Cultivators were an odd bunch.