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Chapter 63 - Star’s Fall
🕑 Added 2024-11-01 04:49:31 +0000 UTC1st of Season of Fire, 57th year of the 32nd cycle
“Thank you for everything, Senior.” Newt bowed deeply to Elder Frostgrave and the disciples of the Everfrost Palace. They had escorted him to the twenty-seventh imperial city called Star’s Fall.
The elder gave a solemn nod, minding the public, but Everlast, who was at the same realm, was freer to express her feelings.
“Keep in touch, Newstar.” She smiled, then leaned in closer and whispered, “If you ever need help choosing dresses, I’ll be there for you.”
Elder Frostgrave choked as her lip twitched, and she shot her prized disciple a sharp look, but Everlast kept smiling. Something had changed about the frosty woman, or she was always a joker, but Newt was not in a position to notice it. Her aura was the same as when he had met her, glacial and aloof, but her cold no longer bothered him.
So, Newt leaned in as well, whispering hot air into her icy ear. “Dandelion likes good, bitter-sweet wines and sunset views wherever he’s sitting.”
Everlast frowned.
“Why would I care about what he likes?” She tried to sound indifferent, but a tinge of red bled into her cheek.
Newt shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Women ask me about his preferences whenever they get the chance.”
Newt stepped away from a slap on the shoulder, wondering whether it was Dandelion’s training or his spars with Puresnow that allowed him to see the strike before it happened.
“All right, children,” Elder Frostgrave stepped in. “We have said our goodbyes. Newstar, the elder from Explorer’s Gate is waiting for you in an inn called Mary’s Tale. A word of advice, don’t mention the leg to her.”
Newt frowned, thinking about those words, but the Everfrost Palace party left before he could ask further questions.
What could possibly be wrong with her leg? What realm is she?
Such questions swarmed Newt’s mind as he went to the cultivator line. It was longer than when he entered Thunder Ridge, and while he skipped more than two thirds of the line back then, his realm landed him at the middle of the queue before Star’s Fall.
There were no scammers or corrupt guards out to get Newt’s spirit gems, only the government, taking its toll before he could enter the city of cultivators.
“Excuse me, where can I find Mary’s Tale?” Newt asked the guard, and the second realm cultivator gave him directions to the best inn in Star’s Fall, warning him that it was an expensive establishment. Moonlit Night was almost the same, but much more affordable.
Newt thanked him and moved through the streets, immediately noticing the similarities and the differences between two imperial cities. The architecture was identical to Thunder Ridge’s, but people in the streets were much different. Mortals and cultivators alike revealed much more skin. The weather was hotter, and the air carried an unknown, salty smell, which Newt had never smelled before.
The street stalls sold all sorts of exotic spices, skins, and fabrics the likes of which Newt had never seen before, and food was largely fish in various forms. Most of it was fried or grilled, but there were raw strips of meat on leaves and fruits, looking extremely unhygienic, despite the ice they rested on.
Newt never asked, but he started wondering just how far away he was from his home.
The spiritual energy suffusing the air was denser, leaning towards water, but mostly unaligned. Pterosaurs slightly larger than pterodactyluses screeched in the sky, fighting over scraps in alleys, or watching the passersby from the rooftops, waiting for someone to lose focus on the food they carried, so they could swoop in and take a bite.
One of them found a mark, and Newt watched it dive for a thin, bald man’s wrap of diced fried fish and vegetables. Just before the dinosaur nabbed his wrap, the baldy grabbed it by the neck. With a flick of a wrist, he snapped the pterosaur’s spine and hung it on his sash.
What the? Newt saw the man was a first realm cultivator, but had no idea what he planned to do with the dead pterosaur. Ultimately, what just happened was not Newt’s problem, and he continued towards his destination.
It took about an hour before he reached the Mary’s Tale. The three-story building seemed normal, the sign above was a common plaque, with the inn’s name and a fine wine cup in the third row, beneath the name.
It was around noon when Newt walked in, and the establishment was fairly empty, with only six patrons sitting about. He took in the entire room at a glance and headed towards the woman devoid of spiritual energy.
“Newstar?” she asked when he got within five paces of her.
Newt nodded, looking at her. The petite woman had a platinum, nearly white hair. She was slim and wore a tight-fitting yellow-and-green warrior’s robe, outlining her small breasts and narrow shoulders.
“Is senior the elder from the Explorer’s Gate?” Newt’s gaze drifted down, but he could not see the woman’s legs because of the table. She sat cross-legged, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but Elder Frostgrave warned him about something.
“I am Elder Alabaster, the twenty-ninth elder of the Explorer’s Gate. You have a dual fire and earth affinity, just as Frostgrave said, and you have the potential to reach the higher realms without additional procedures.”
Newt wondered what that meant, and why nobody seemed to notice their conversation. Just as he wondered whether they were just pretending out of courtesy, he spotted a shimmer in the air.
“Good, you noticed the spell formation. I am a member of the spell formation scribing division of our sect, and I cultivate the earth element, so I can guide that portion of your cultivation.” Elder Alabaster stood, not even reaching Newt’s shoulders. “My guidance will be limited to advice, and another elder will talk about his views on fire. Unlike most sects, Explorer’s Gate doesn’t strive to create successful molds and shape disciples to match them. Some disciples mimic their masters to varying degrees of success, others blaze their own paths.”
Elder Alabaster looked Newt in the eye, towering over him, despite the size difference.
“Follow me if you’re interested, otherwise, do whatever you want, and I’ll wish you good luck.”
The shimmering barrier disappeared, and the petite woman headed for the door.
“Wait for me, Senior,” Newt shouted, running after Elder Alabaster.
“I am not your senior, Newstar. You may call me Master, and even after you grow old or even if you surpass my realm, I will always be your master.” The petite, white-haired woman gave Newt a flat stare, daring him to challenge her.
He did not.
“Yes, Master,” he said obediently, his gaze drifting down, still trying to see what was wrong with Elder Alabaster’s legs.
Elder Alabaster gave a curt nod, spun on her heel, and headed for the door.
“Follow me.” And Newt did.
They left the inn and headed down the street, where Newt faced the first conundrum. His master walked at a brisk pace, she was short enough for nobody to see her coming, save for the person straight ahead of her, yet the crowd parted before her without realizing it.
Newt trotted after her, keeping a single step of distance, so that the crowd could not close behind Elder Alabaster.
“How are you doing this, Master?” he asked, before adding, “If you don’t mind sharing the knowledge with me.”
“A master’s role is to instruct their disciples,” Elder Alabaster kept walking, looking straight ahead, and ignoring the incoming traffic. “Some knowledge is harmful, and I will not share it, but this is a trivial matter. I’m not doing anything. Just walking.”
Newt was certain there was a catch and waited for his master to continue, but she remained silent.
“And why is everyone moving out of your way? Even mortals.”
“Innate survival instincts. Lower realms with the third eye will avoid me even without instincts, but even those who only have the second heart will move out of my way because their base instincts will warn them of a deadly creature coming their way.”
Elder Alabaster paused, choosing her next words carefully. “This phenomenon happens with spiritual beasts as well. High realm cultivators have a hard time finding beasts more than a realm below them, and cultivators rarely stumble upon a spirit beast much beyond their realm. The weaker spiritual beasts hide, while cultivators subconsciously avoid dangerous areas, unless they have some business at that exact location, but even then people who had brushes with death and survived claim they sensed unease, irrational fear, and such shortly before encountering a higher realm spirit beast.”
Newt considered those words and thought about the frostworm cave. He felt nothing out of the ordinary when the fifth realm frostworm started hounding them, but Dandelion did sense something, something beyond tremors and sounds.
I should ask him about it. The thought came naturally, but Dandelion was who knows where, and they might not meet in years, if ever.
“Master,” Newt said in the most respectful tone he could muster, afraid he was bothering Elder Alabaster, “is there a way to hone this skill, or to use it in a more active manner?”
Elder Alabaster turned her head around, but kept walking forward. She eyed Newt from top to bottom and smiled.
“Well, aren’t you a sharp one?”
AN:
Bonus chapters, another one incoming once I edit it. Five hours from now, give or take.
