63rd of Season of Earth, 56th year of the 32nd cycle

“I apologize for acting the way I did.” Newt took a seat across the table from Blackfist. “I am confused, and I would like to ask some questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Tea?” Blackfist asked.

“No, thank you.” Newt paused and only continued speaking after the brawny man motioned him with his cup. “What do you stand to gain from investing your time in me?”

Blackfist sighed. “I have already told you. I wish to establish a positive relationship with you. It should pay off in the long run, but even just the day we spent discussing cultivation yesterday has given me an excellent hypothesis and direction in which I wish to evolve my realm after I wipe the slate clean. Do you understand that much?”

Newt considered nodding, but did not. “Why do you need a positive relationship with me?”

“Oh, for the love of—” Blackfist sighed again. “Listen. Do you agree you have talent and unusual ideas about cultivation?”

Newt nodded.

“Do you think you would benefit from talking with someone who also has thoughts which deviate from the norm, that also differ from yours, but might be useful or inspirational?”

Newt considered it and nodded.

“Do you think this is easier to achieve if the other person hates your guts?”

Newt shook his head, hardly considering the notion.

“Well, what is it you do not understand about why I wish to establish a rapport with you?”

“Why me?”

“I will slap you dead if you ask that again. You came up with that idea about a volcano at what? Fifteen? Sixteen? While digging in a hole. As a mortal. What will happen if you have proper education, insight, and experience? Think damn it! Think!”

Blackfist bit his lip in frustration, stopping himself from shouting.

“Listen. You need to find a way to channel and hone your genius. Alchemy, forging, spell formations, something. Learning an established art in a systematic manner will help you put your thoughts in order and teach you how to approach problems. You are thrashing about blindly right now.”

Newt stared blankly at Blackfist, not understanding what he meant. Why would learning an art help him cultivate better? Was the purpose of supportive occupations not to support? They helped the weak even the odds and let them earn a living. Prosper even.

“You have no idea what I am talking about.” Blackfist shook his head in frustration, then stood and went over to a cabinet. He threw a paper booklet with his back turned. It spun through the air and slapped on the table right in front of Newt, facing him correctly.

Comprehensive Introduction to Spell Formations, the title said.

“I wrote that down to systemize my thoughts and what I knew about spell formations. I lack a third eye, and cannot see the flow of spiritual energy, but it should be right up your alley.”

Newt stared at the booklet with greed. “Can I read this?”

“No,” Blackfist said flatly. “I threw it right in front of you like that to brag about my penmanship and hobby as a writer.”

Newt hesitated, and Blackfist went back to his seat.

“That was sarcasm. Of course you can read the book, and you need to work on your people skills as well. Being strong and smart will only carry you so far.” Blackfist paused, thinking about how to best word what he had to say. “You need to learn how to be a person before you learn how to be a cultivator. Otherwise, you will fall to pitfalls which would never ensnare even the most common of mortals.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Blackfist noticed Newt’s blank stare.

“Are you following what I am saying?”

“No,” the youth admitted sheepishly.

“Go, get wasted, do drugs, roam the world like a bandit or a beggar, pretend you are a mortal whenever you can. You are staying at that fancy brothel, are you not?”

Newt blushed, but Blackfist thought his face was not red enough.

“Rent the whole place for a day and a night. Have naked women serve you, feed you, eat off of them. Drown yourself in them. After a week you will grow jaded to beauties, and you will not turn into a strawberry when a pretty girl addresses you.

“You look like you are going to have a stroke,” Blackfist grumbled. “All human vices are just that, human. I will not recommend you drown yourself in slaughter, your mind seems too frail for that, but you need to immerse yourself in vice to grow numb to it. I can bet you would not look at your Jasmine twice if you spent a fortnight fornicating as a brothel’s sole customer.”

“Jasmine’s my friend,” Newt said, appalled, embarrassed, and a bit intrigued.

“She is a common whore of the cultivation world, willing to sell her body and charm for cultivation resources.”

Despite being harsher, the words stung less than they did yesterday. Newt was not sure whether he was coming to terms with the truth, or getting used to the false accusation. He pretended it was the latter, but a part of him believed otherwise.

Blackfist saw the conflict on Newt’s face and changed the subject. “Now, I would like us to be friends, or at least to have an amicable relationship, but that does not mean I will let you walk all over me. I am not a doormat. I demand respect, and I will treat you with respect in turn. Do not try to betray me, I will destroy you if you do, and you will not see me coming. Other than basic human decency, I have no expectations.”

The sect master looked Newt in the eye, drilling into his soul. “Are my terms clear, and are you willing to form a positive relationship with me?”

Newt remained silent, considering those words before nodding.

“Good. If you need help, I will help, for starters it will be on a favor for favor basis, and we will see where it goes from there? Do you agree?”

Newt nodded again, and the sect master continued, in a serious tone.

“What I have provided you already is compensation for your two secrets. As for the rest of my promises, I believe they will sufficiently compensate you for keeping watch over me during my most vulnerable period. Do you agree?”

Newt did not immediately nod in agreement. “Do you expect anyone to pursue you?”

“No,” Blackfist said flatly. “I am leaving everything behind, save for the pills I have prepared to reach the third realm again. But one should always take precautions against ugly surprises, regardless of how confident they are.”

Newt considered the risks and the rewards, finding that the latter outweighed the former.

“I agree.”

Blackfist gave a sharp nod. “Good. Do you have any more questions, or do you want us to discuss the layout of your realm and the direction in which you wish to develop yourself?”

“I have one other question, but I need to know what the answer would cost me.”

Blackfist steepled his fingers and leaned back. “Just discussing matters and concepts costs nothing. We are sharing tea. If I can help you, then one day maybe you listen to me and offer advice, helping me in turn. Go ahead, what is your question?”

“You mentioned a path, what is that?”

Blackfist answered without hesitation. “The concept is very broad and very vague in the literature I read, but I will try to explain my own conclusions. You may consider your path a personal philosophy, a goal and the way you achieve it, your moral compass, and much more.”

Blackfist frowned. “It is difficult to put into words. Your path is you. Your ideal you, and all versions of yourself between where you are now and where you want to be.”

Blackfist paused. “Does that make sense?”

Newt shook his head. “No, but I think I understand what you are trying to say. So why did you choose friendliness as a path?”

“Several reasons. I am sick of fighting for one. The further you go, the less you gain, and any losses you may suffer are not worth the risk. I think I will pursue alchemy to an extent, and purchasing ingredients, gaining access to forbidden areas to harvest them myself, and selling products all require an exemplary reputation and a trustworthy name. Naturally, alchemy is a secondary discipline, and I will keep it secondary. No matter how friendly you are, others will rob you if you are too weak to protect your goods or worse, imprison you to craft for them until you wither away and die.”

Newt nodded along, Blackfist’s decision made sense in the context of what he wished to do and how he wished to live his life.

“What should my path be?” Newt asked aloud, then clamped his mouth shut in embarrassment.

“Are you asking me or yourself?”

“I was asking myself, but I would like to hear what you think.” Uneasiness lingered in the back of Newt’s mind, but he decided that Blackfist seemed genuine enough. With time, he might grow to trust the man more, but bouncing ideas with him seemed acceptable for the time being.

“You have the air of a wandering knight in the making. Someone who roams the world and offers help or fights injustice. Orthodox sects would love a disciple like you, and assuming you do not mind the constraints of a large organization, they might be a good fit for you. Unfortunately, you would have to travel far towards the heart of the empire to find a worthy sect.

“Could you tell me more about what you wish to achieve in life?”

“Well, I would like to find my parents,” Newt bared his soul and felt an invisible load weighing his heart lighten.