The afternoon unfolded without urgency, and that alone made it feel unfamiliar. Celestial Brook City did not rush the Osborn Clan onward. The streets remained open, the crowds thick but unhurried, the sun hanging high enough to cast long shadows without pressing heat into the stone. What had begun as a day of exploration shifted, almost naturally, into something more deliberate.
John Osborn noticed it first. They had regrouped near a quiet intersection where the noise of the main market softened into a steady hum. Clan members stood in groups, no longer dazzled by items. Their gazes lingered longer on certain stalls. Conversations grew more focused.
"We should buy this while we can," one elder said quietly, gesturing toward a merchant selling spirit-infused lumber—wood that absorbed ambient qi and slowly strengthened structures built from it.
"It's expensive," another replied. "But our outer hall roof won't last another winter."
