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Chapter 132 - Carried Away
🕑 Added 2025-01-30 06:03:55 +0000 UTC47th of Season of Water, 57th year of the 32nd cycle
Elder Flameax took a full day to come to terms with Newstar’s sudden realm increase. He was disappointed. He had expected better from someone of Newstar’s talent, there was no need to rush, to force things, and yet…
I thought I had gotten over it. But it was difficult to accept the situation. Whatever the young man had done had certainly threatened his health and was almost certainly detrimental to his cultivation. The whole matter seemed impossible.
When Newstar fought the Blood Cult, he was at the third layer, when Elder Flameax next saw him entering the airship, mere days later, the young man was firmly at the ninth layer, close to the peak of it, and a few steps away from completing the tenth layer.
‘Flameax, come visit me.’ The sect master snapped the elder from his brooding several moments after the airship had entered the range of his senses.
Unfortunately, Elder Flameax was nowhere near powerful enough to respond across such a distance. He waited in his secret compartment and jumped out when the ship slowed.
Elder Flameax flew to the border of the island’s innermost region, then landed and walked the rest of the way. Unless in a state of emergency, elders made the gesture to honor the current and former sect leaders. Even at a normal walking pace, it took no time at all before he reached the humble abode.
“How was your trip?” The sect master opened his eyes, a light smile on his lips.
“The Savage Wood portion was uneventful, but the visit to the Dragon’s Rest volcano was too exciting for my taste, Sir.”
“Oh?” The smile grew wider, happier.
“The Blood Cult, or at least some of its initiates, have set their sights on the Blazing Salamander clan…” Elder Flameax narrated the events at the Steelwheel estate, followed by what he gleaned from interrogating the cult supporter, and finally, the commendation he received from the heresy hunters for reporting the incident and capturing the collaborator.
As his telling progressed, a thoughtful frown replaced the sect master’s jovial smile.
“I see.” The sect master kept his fingers steepled, his thoughts a mystery to Elder Flameax. “And the sudden surge of his realm?”
“It happened after the fight with the cultists. However, after I confirmed that everyone was fine and the cultist dealt with,” Elder Flameax stressed those words, “I stopped paying attention to the disciples and focused on the possible external threats. The next time I saw him was when he entered the airship, and he was already at the ninth layer.”
Elder Flameax expected the sect master to brood, or at least frown, but Newstar’s rapid rise did not seem to bother him. In fact, the sect master smiled once more.
“Thank you, that is all. Warn Newstar that he shouldn’t advance to the fourth realm in at least two years, but I think he’ll stay where he is for at least ten or fifteen years to strengthen his foundations properly.” The sect master smiled, as if at a private joke. “After all, he has all the time in the world to grow.”
***
Finally! Newt entered the cultivation chamber and shut the door, leaning against it with his back. He had waited for half a moon to start cultivating. Worse, even after arriving at the sect, he had to handle the paperwork first before he could start sculpting his realm.
So much to do! So much to test! He closed his eyes, about to enter his realm, when he recalled Obi’s shouting, back when he learned his friends thought his parents were dead.
“You thought my parents were dead?”
“You went up a bloody mountain all frowns and serious, your parents aren’t home, and your clan made you patriarch even though you’re a kid. What the hell did you think we’d think? What kind of irresponsible people leave their son alone to run everything while they are off, exploring the world?”
His argument made sense, and while Newt assured them his parents were the victims, neither Obi nor Rose seemed to have believed him.
Irrelevant. Cultivate now.
Newt closed his eyes and started working. The first order of business was to make the canals for the lava which would flow out from the side vents. Then he dug the trenches for the runes. He was enamored with his work. Even if it brought no immediate benefit, just imagining the day he pierced the final foot to reach the magma and his strength soared made him giggle.
Newt about halfway through a rune when a chime spread through his realm.
Newt frowned. “It must be a mistake.”
He kept working, but minutes later, the chime echoed again. Twice.
Annoyed, Newt stopped mid-rune, and opened his eyes. His heart was beating strangely, his vision swam, his stomach growled, his tongue and throat parched. He stood, but had to lean on the wall for support.
“Senior Apprentice Brother Newstar, your master called for you. There’s only one more day before the core disciple trials, and she said you needed to see her at the training yard.”
Newt nodded, blue and green dots dancing in his vision.
“You stayed in there too long,” the woman said. “Did you take fasting pills?”
Newt shook his head. He knew about the pills which allowed lower realm cultivators to spend a month without food or water, but never considered he would need them. The outer disciple frowned.
“I thought you have. Be sure to eat and drink before performing any strenuous activity. In the future, please report to me or other administrators in the chamber of instruction. Fasting pills aren’t expensive, and you will have to pay for the visit to the Chamber of Healing for any incidents caused by your own carelessness.”
Newt walked out of the building like a living dead, he probably thanked the woman for her worry, but he did not remember saying the words.
Wait, what!? You only pay for healing if you need it because of your own carelessness? That’s wonderful!
He just confirmed he owed the sect or elders nothing for saving him during the summer solstice incident.
Well, that’s not true. I don’t owe them spirit gems, but I do owe them my life.
“Haha!” he laughed aloud, then fell over.
“Senior Apprentice Brother, are you all right?” an outer disciple Newt did not know asked.
“I’m fine! No need to see the healers! I just need to eat something!” The overly energetic response drew a weird look, but the disciple left Newt alone.
Newt stood, dusted his robes, then went to his room where he feasted on dry fruits and water.
“You’re acting weirder than usual.” Jasmine walked out of her room, a copied book in hand. Her room no longer had a whiff of alcohol about it, just a respectable cultivator’s bedroom, smelling of lavender.
“I got carried away cultivating my realm.” He threw a handful of dried blueberries into his mouth. “I think I haven’t eaten or drank water in over two weeks. Starved myself completely. Fell down twice while returning here.”
Jasmine folded her arms. “Sounds normal for you. How did you figure out it was time to stop?”
“Master summoned me—” and then I came here to eat and drink instead of responding to my master’s summons. “I’m so dead.”
Newt jumped, poured half a jug of water into his mouth and filled his pocket with dried apricots and prunes. “Gotta run.”
He jumped out of the window, glided part of the way, then sprinted towards the northern training yard, stuffing his mouth with prunes. Newt ran until he caught sight of the field, then slowed down to a dignified walk, straightening his robes and burning off any remaining food from his palms and face.
“Took you long enough.”
Newt took in the folded arms, the frown, the annoyance in his master’s voice.
Yeah, I’m dead.
“Newstar, how old are you?”
Newt was about to answer that he had freshly turned eighteen, but his master kept talking. “Three? Five? Were my instructions that difficult to follow?”
“No, Master,” he lowered his gaze.
“And can you tell me what you will do differently next time?”
“I’ll come here right away.”
His danger sense flared, and he threw himself to the side, a thick pole made of compressed earth smashing into his shoulder. The stick burst into pieces, but still knocked him down.
“Wrong! Next time, you will make appropriate breaks while cultivating! That means, telling the desk administrator that they need to interrupt your cultivation once every five or six days, so your body can recover, or you could consume appropriate pills and tell them when to interrupt your session. That’s their mission, to keep the sect members safe.”
Elder Alabaster glared at him in silence. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master. I will take appropriate breaks and take care of my health.”
The woman gave him a sharp nod. “Good. Your task for today is to get back into shape. Tomorrow is the core disciple selection, and I expect you to dominate it. Do you have any questions?”
Newt shook his head.
“Well, I do. Tell me, why didn’t you even come see your master, and instead went straight into the cultivation chamber?”
Newt opened his mouth, but did not know what to say. A moment later, he settled on the truth. “I’m sorry, Master. I got too excited with some ideas I had while we were in the Savage Wood, and I just had to test them out. I know I was out of line—”
“Newstar, are you developing and changing your own cultivation technique as you go along?”
Newt nodded. He thought his master already knew that. The sudden realization that she did not know, made him feel uneasy. Would she force him into switching to something made by others? No matter how high-tiered the technique, he was certain what he was doing was better suited for him.
Elder Alabaster seemed to hesitate before slowly nodding. “That is admirable. If you encounter any difficulties, tell me immediately, and make sure not to advance your realm for at least two years.”
