About an hour after Rieren arrived, the custodian sent a notice to all the disciples that food was ready. Their rations involved just one piece of flatbread and a bit of gravy, accompanied by a glass of goat milk.

Not exactly filling, even when considering what Rieren had received at the Sect in her pervious life. But then, they were rationing harder now. The Sect was properly feeding the refugees this time.

But Rieren didn’t really care. Once they progressed to the Awakened realm, they would begin to need much less food than they did now. The Elders at even higher realms needed even less. That was part of why the Sect had been able to take in the refugees in the first place. Rieren was far more concerned with the instructions they’d be receiving.

“You’re not bringing the cat?” Amalyse asked as they headed over to their designated classroom. She had pouted a little at not seeing the kitten on Rieren’s head. “How am I going to last through the entire class, unable to pet it even once?”

“You may look forward to it after our classes are finished,” Rieren said.

She had once again asked Batcat to remain behind in her room. The kitten had only yawned, then promptly gone to sleep, not even bothering to say goodbye as Rieren headed off. At least it had something to occupy its time.

Their first lesson would be taking place in one of the lower-level classrooms, meant specifically for disciples no higher than the Adherent realm. Rieren and Amalyse were one of the first on their way there, though they did spot several others hurrying in the same direction.

Not disciples, as Rieren had first thought. No, these consisted of a few guards and some refugees looking unsure of where they were headed.

“Excuse me,” a middle-aged fellow with a patchy beard said, bowing to Rieren and Amalyse. “Could you please tell us where Elder Imilem’s classroom is?”

Rieren had tidied herself up before leaving as well. The communal bathrooms weren’t exactly a pleasant experience, but she had risen early enough that no one else was there to bother her. After a quick wash and tying her hair back in place, she had found the official disciple robes she was supposed to wear in the chest back in her room.

She vaguely recalled the man from back in the village, but he clearly didn’t recognize Rieren after her wardrobe change. When he looked straight at her, there was a momentary frown, as though she was somewhat familiar. But he didn’t dare voice that a disciple of the Sect reminded him of a girl in his village.

That only reinforced just how powerful of a tool her look was in terms of handling the attention of others. Rieren had never been one to care for appearances beyond the basics of presentability, but she had changed physically during the course of her ascendancy. All as part of her progress in her path of cultivation.

Akohr, the last one to have seen her before the end of previous timeline, would certainly not recognize the Rieren who was now heading to her class. Something she could definitely use when the time came.

“Follow us,” Amalyse said. “We are headed in the same direction.”

The man bowed again, as did the couple of others behind him, grateful for the assistance.

Amalyse briefly frowned before walking on. Rieren could see what she disapproved of. For all that the disciples had prepared to look presentable enough to the Elders, the refugees hadn’t gone to such lengths. They had made no attempts to clean their clothes or comb their runaway hair, not even bothering to properly clean the dirt on their exposed skin.

The sheer extent of their negligence made Rieren frown as well. She understood that their current conditions were far, far from conducive to keeping clean, but even the basic lack of effort did not bode well.

Cultivation was the path of attaining purity. One of the first harsh lessons they would no doubt learn was that of proper immaculateness. The Sect went to great effort to keep everything here clean and tidy, honing an aura free of impurities throughout its entire grounds. No doubt, the villagers would be told to hold themselves to the same standards, or…

Or what? Rieren realized she didn’t know. The disciples were here to learn, to grow, and almost every single one of them were willing to do what was necessary to gain strength.

No one knew if the same could be said for the villagers. They hadn’t been brought up as scions of great clans whose sole purpose in life was to become a ruthless cultivator who would make their clan prosper. Hungry for power though some might be, they hadn’t been brought up with the same kind of discipline, ambition, and the studious mentality needed to succeed.

Well, they would all see. Perhaps Rieren would be surprised. Perhaps the Elders of the Sect knew the same, had prepared contingencies in case the refugees failed to keep up.

As expected, Rieren and Amalyse were some of the first to arrive at the classroom, along with the refugees following them and some of the guards who weren’t on duty at the moment. They took a seat on the mats near the left side of the classroom.

It was interesting to note who arrived when. Despite Rieren’s suspicion about the villagers’ mindset, most of them showed up before all the disciples arrived.

“Bunch of sloths,” Amalyse muttered.

For all that she might have held the guards and the refugees in low estimation, she certainly didn’t spare any of the disciples her scorn. Just another thing Rieren appreciated about her friend. Her disdain wasn’t really prejudiced. Nearly everyone received healthy helpings.

Rieren did notice more faces she knew. Young men and women for the most part, and occasionally some guard or villager she remembered from her past life.

Nidelin arrived before long, as did Serace and Madielvo in the company of a wiry boy whose name was Rahl or Kahl or something of that nature. A girl called Auri smiled at Rieren when their eyes met, and she received a smile back in return. Auri was a helpful disciple, as smart as she was pretty, and she had often assisted Rieren with academic assignments.

More students continued to arrive. Most Rieren recognized, though the names of many escaped her for the moment. Of particular note was the boy with antlers sprouting off his head, a ghostly-pale girl who made nearly everyone shift uncomfortably at her arrival, and a boy with a weird accessory that was actually a horned falcon wrapped around his head.

The familiar clack-clack of the Elder’s shoes suddenly sprouted outside the classroom. Everyone who had begun chattering hushed down and awaited the Elder’s arrival.

Elder Imilem didn’t look as old as most of the ones who had attended the Sect Leader’s speech. In mortal years, she would perhaps be nearing her middle ages. Of course, Rieren had learned a while ago that her true age was closer to a hundred-and twenty.

She surveyed all her students with sharp dark eyes, her long brown hair pulled back in a single braid behind her back. “Greetings. I am sure this feels both oddly new yet familiar as well to some of you, and completely new to a few others.” Her eyes flickered over the refugees momentarily. “However, rest assured that in my class, you are all welcome.”

Rieren smiled. She was interested to see just how much of the information she had relayed would come out in today’s class.

Much of what she and Elder Olg had discussed had pertained to what sort of basics everyone would need to know. This included the various core information regarding classes, skills, stats, perks, and so on. That would be new to quite a few people. But then, none of the refugees had any idea about cultivation either, so they would need assistance with that as well.

“Before we begin the class proper,” Elder Imilem said. “I wish to once more remind you that this class is for everyone. I reiterate myself because I understand that it seems… uncomfortable. But I will not be giving any time to address your discomfort. You are all here to learn. All else is secondary. I will brook no disturbance.”

No one said anything. What few whispers and sidelong glances had persisted even after the Elder’s arrival now died completely. All the disciples knew well not to test the patience of any Elder, especially not Imilem. There was a reason she handled the classes for young disciples.

Elder Imilem cleared her throat. “Now, to begin. You will recall the situation as described by the Sect Leader. I understand that many of you are returning disciples who may question why their attendance is necessary. For that, you must divest from yourself the assumption that this class is solely about cultivation. It is not.

“However, for the sake of our new classmates, we will go over the basics before we truly begin. Worry not, newcomers. For those of you who have never cultivated before, you shall receive separate instructions in a different class.”

Her eyes turned to the refugees who had occupied most of the classroom’s rear. They fidgeted a bit under the Elder’s scrutiny, emphasizing just how crowded they were.

“A bit stuffed over here, aren’t we?” Amalyse whispered.

Rieren nodded. The classroom was big enough that they normally filled with all the disciples who were still in Early- to Mid-Adherent realm. Now, with the addition of the guards and the refugees, the Sect had broken it up into different sections, all still under Elder Imilem, just at different times of the day.

Even then, the room was more than capacity full. It was only for the fact that Amalyse’s whisper hadn’t risen above the general ambient noise of all the students that they hadn’t received a glare from their teacher.

“Cultivation is the art of channeling the Essence of the world,” Elder Imilem said. “And it is a way to influence the world around us that goes beyond mundane means.”

She stretched out a hand, which began glowing with a soft blue-and-purple radiance. Nidelin squeaked as one of her scrolls caught the same radiance and floated to the Elder’s desk. With a flick of her hand, she returned the scroll back to its original location, Nidelin clutched it as though it was her precious heirloom.

Elder Imilem nodded at Nidelin, offering a little smile that was more appeasing than apologetic. “A small demonstration of what Essence is capable of. But to summarize, cultivation comprises of levels of power called realms. You start at the Adherent realm, then go through the Awakened, Enlightened, Exalted, Ascendant, and Fated realms to finally arrive at the Primordial realm.

“Each realm is broken into four stages—the Early, Mid, Late, and Peak of each realm. Once you reach the Peak of a realm, you can advance through to the next realm by undergoing a heavenly tribulation. In such a manner, you may climb the ranks of cultivators until you attain the strength you so dearly seek.

“Climbing these ranks will offer you tremendous tangible boons the higher you go. For instance, attaining the Awakened realm will allow you to open your Domain, thus letting you focus on one or more Aspects that will increase your various techniques’ efficiency. Later on, you will be able to perform Spirit Bonding, and call upon True Summons.

“But there is far more attached to cultivation than simply channeling Essence to climb higher and higher. Cultivation, at its core, is the art of purifying oneself. This applies both internally to your mind, externally to your body, and spiritually to your soul. Without ambition, without the drive to better oneself in all aspects, one will never attain the true heights cultivation has to offer.”

Elder Imilem paused then, likely to let the newcomers take it all in. Rieren looked back at the refugees. They seemed a little intimidated by the bevy of information the Elder had given them, and Rieren understood it, to an extent.

When she had first learned just how far she could go—or rather, how far she had to go, as she had told her past self—she had been as intimidated as excited. The limits of power were, to someone who had none, seemingly only limited by one’s own boundary. To where one decided stop after they’d had enough.

But that was the truth of the world. Whether the refugees wished it or not, they would need to advance upon the path of cultivation if they intended to grow stronger. If they wanted to harness their potential.

Rieren had given them the option. She had provided them with the ability to choose. The true decision, ultimately, was up to them.

“But we are not here to discuss cultivation,” Elder Imilem said, archly looking over them all. “As I have mentioned already, those who have never cultivated before will receive separate instructions in a separate class. For now, we turn to something many of us have little to no experience. The new system of classes, skills, stats, and so on.”

A smile cropped up on her face as she slowly brought up a small golden ball trapped between two fingers. “Once that is done, we will have our first miniature test. Nothing intricate, only a small example of what I will be expecting from you going forward. The reward for the best performer will be this—a Moongold orb.”

Rieren’s eyes narrowed. A Moongold orb wasn’t a required resource that could help one’s cultivation. However, when used during forging, it could imbue a weapon with very interesting properties.

She looked around. Most of the disciples were looking alertly at the small ball in the Elder’s hand, though the guards and the villagers looked oblivious. Elder Imilem apparently had no intention of explaining just what the orb could do. Interesting. It seemed this wasn’t going to simply be a test of their knowledge. There was more going on.

“Now,” Elder Imilem said, hiding the orb in her robes. “Let us begin.”