The two encountered a group of feral orcs which attacked them without question.

Granite drew his bludgeon, rather large of a man, appropriate for a being of his size, while Grant pulled out his mythril blade.

There was no teamwork between the two, expected since neither had worked together, and neither seemed to feel the need to work together.

They did however, space themselves out to ensure that neither would interfere with the actions of the other.

Grant walked through the orcs, culling them quickly, one by one, while the minotaur crushed more than one at a time, using the long reach of such a weapon to clear them out with ease.

With only 10 orcs, this was a quick cleansing to say the least.

The minotaur kept an eye on the mysterious man throughout the fight, observing how he fought, how his every move seemed trained, as if he had repeated them countless times.

Granite observed as Grant cut down another orc with his blade after having finished his share.

"Your swordmanship demonstrates great experience." he rumbled. Perfect in execution. But...

"Oh?" said Grant. "And what of my talent?" he asked as he wiped his sword upon the grass.

The minotaur responded. "It shows good talent but..."

"... not great talent." finished Grant, amusement showing in his voice. The minotaur nodded to confirm what Grant said, earning him a chuckle. "Your instincts really are on the mark." For a cultivator higher up the path to god hood, this would be an easy observation to make, but for someone younger than him by centuries and by far less experienced, it was a great observation, constructed partially from instinct. Monster or not, that was something that was respectable.

The minotaur nodded. "My grandfather was known for his instinct."

"If his instinct was half as sharp as yours, than it was sharp for sure."

The minotaur nodded as he placed his bludgeon on their back, before continuing their walk.

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They set up camp at dawn, as they would be staying the night in the forest. Of course, he exposed his spatial pocket, but since the minotaur already thought a little too highly of him, knowing he had a spatial pocket was really not much of a jump.

The only thing one really needed to pay for one of those was money.

According to Granite, it would take a few days to arrive at the location of the monster.

The monster?

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"Cockatrice."

Grant's eyebrows shot up.

"Cockatrice huh? You've brought some potions for that right?"

The minotaur nodded, digging through his bag and presenting a few vials of potions to undo the petrification.

Grant nodded. "Good. Cockatrices are used for many things, such as anti-petrification potions, their wonderful plumage, their bones, good cuts of meat, fertility medication, and some good healing potions." He clasped his hands together. "Alright, how do you want to split it."

"Half-and-half." the minotaur said with no hesitation.

"No thanks. I find myself undeserving of so much of the cockatrice. I am but a mere d-class swordsman after all."

Granite did not respond to the lie. "Then what do you want?" the minotaur prodded.

"The feathers. I think dyed in black they'll make a fine cloak."

Granite looked unsure. "Only the feathers?" He asked uncertainly.

Grant clicked his tongue. "Why would I want anything else? Sure, the cockatrice meat might be tasty, but I don't really need it. And I already have a bird head." He indicated to his current mask. "You can keep it. I'm sure the meat is better wasted on you than I when it comes to selling the meat."

"Fine then. I'll split the money we get from the meat with you."

This, Grant accepted.

Getting up to leave for sleep, he was interrupted.

"Are we not going to discuss our plan for the cockatrice?" Granite deadpanned, and Grant just sighed.

"What does it matter? We won't be seeing the cockatrice for a few more days, and the plans obvious enough right? Get the sneak on it, blind it somehow, and then take it down, no?"

This time he went to sleep without interruption, as the minotaur let him go reluctantly.

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Grant tinkered with his tools, grumbling, before looking back at the scroll.

He was having a difficult day today.

His master had left him to work on his own for the month, to make this earth based, low ranking cultivation pill.

Of course, he was having a difficult time.

"No matter how hard I try, I can't get these three ingredients to mix and balance out." he grumbled, staring at the pot before him, where his failed work lay, a desolate failure.

"Grant!" shouted a happy voice, before a dashing young girl stormed in. "Guess who arrived for you!" she sang shouted, causing Grant's headache to only increase.

Alanea was a beautiful young lady, and she had great potential, perhaps great enough to rise above this lowly sect.

If only she kept her mouth closed. Even a little bit.

"Junior sister Alanea." he greeted her stiffly. "What have I told you about not barging in whenever I am working?"

Looking over, she scoffed. "Please, that was already a failure. Guess who arrived though!?" she said, bypassing the matter.

Ooph! That hurt more than her interruption of his work.

It also soured Grant's mood a bit.

Grant rubbed his forehead. "Very well then, junior sister, tell me who could be so important that you would disturb me in the midst of my work?" he asked pointedly. Grant didn't really have many friends, in or outside the sect, if one could count his loud junior sister as a friend.

"Daoists Měi Lì and zhòng shǒu have arrived and are calling for us!" she said excitedly, grabbing Grant, trying to drag him off.

Oh boy, some of those friends he mentioned.

"Come on, come on, lets go!" she pleaded.

Alright, there's no point in denying junior sister Alanea. Whenever she wanted something, she got it. No point in trying to avoid the inevitable.

"Alright alright! Just give me a minute." snapped Grant as he sorted through his spatial storage ring. Oh Odin above, she was too damned loud. "Like a damned mandrake." he muttered. Normally she'd have given him a firm slap for that, but she was already impatiently waiting for him, likely purposely ignoring him.

That little vein that popped when they usually fought was active after all.

Grabbing his sword, he got up and gave the pot one last look.

Maybe when he came back later, he would come back with some inspiration, or even with something to better the formula.

And, maybe, it wasn't a bad thing to see his friends.

"Graaaaaant!"

Maybe.

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"What a horrid dream." Grant muttered