53th of Season of Water, 57th year of the 32nd cycle
Newt spent nearly eight weeks guarding Blackfist. While Newt stood guard over the entrance, the former sect master shut himself in the depths of a cave and successfully reset his cultivation over the course of twenty days. Blackfist used the remainder of the time to cultivate his first realm and reach the ninth layer of the second.
Those eight weeks passed without incident, and Newt spent them watching leaves fall and trees turn bare until snow consumed them. Other than watching grass wither, Newt studied the booklet on spell formations. He would have cultivated, but Blackfist explicitly forbade him from meditating, and after a brief conversation, Newt agreed with him. A guard stuck in a trance was about as useful as a statue.
Newt still fostered a smidgeon of doubt and suspicion even as he and the former sect master parted ways, but after everything ended without incident, Newt had to admit he was wrong about Blackfist. The former sect master honored their deal to the fullest, even promising to inform Newt of any opportunities he found, assuming those opportunities could be shared and Newt joined Blackfist at the imperial city of Thunder Ridge.
Newt thought about what future had in store for them while he traveled back to his clan, and he had to admit, he would enjoy working with the eccentric man once more. He even thought there might be something to Blackfist’s path of amicability. If everyone he crossed paths with would want to work again with him, soon enough opportunities would rain on him.
Just as he reached his ancestral home, a week after the winter solstice, Newt decided to follow Blackfist’s example. He would not make it his path, but a character trait. He would give people a chance if he found them interesting enough.
“Patriarch Newstar, you are back!” An unknown, malnourished man carrying a load of dry branches welcomed Newt, who took several moments to recognize Borhem, his former sparring partner.
Newt gawked at his former heart demon, or to be more exact the person who wielded it.
“What’s wrong Patriarch? It’s me, Borhem. Don’t you recognize me?”
“I recognized you right away, but what happened to you?” The muscular man Newt remembered had lost his muscles, walked with a limp, and had dark bags hung under his eyes.
“I spoke against the usurper’s changes, said he was ruining the clan and the younger generation, so they sent me to do forced labor. I’m much better now.” The man looked horrible, and Newt shuddered when thinking what he looked like before he got better.
“I am glad you are alive. Thank you for standing up for what you think is right. I’ll talk with Teacher, and we’ll see if we can compensate you somehow.” Newt was afraid to ask, but forced himself. “What happened to your leg?”
“A cart wheel broke, crushed my leg, and they forced me back to work before it recovered.”
Newt clenched his fists. “Who forced you?”
Tears slid down Borhem’s face. He was overjoyed because his patriarch cared about a distant branch member like him.
“Your uncle,” Newt could tell Borhem was lying, but did not press the matter.
“I will see what I can do about healing you, maybe setting aside some cultivation resources for you when we recover enough, but please don’t get your hopes up.”
“Thank you!” The man went down to his knees and tried to kiss Newt’s shoes, but delicate explosions burst under the youths feet and he jumped away.
“Get up! What kind of family would I be if I didn’t reward your faith and loyalty. Please take care and rest until you recover fully.”
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Newt continued with a heavy heart, wondering how many others had suffered for supporting his father, their family, and justice in general. He hoped not too many. He did not wish others to suffer for his sake.
It was still early morning, and with the snow reaching all the way to Newt’s hip, few wandered the clanhold. He heard children giggling in the distance while a husband and wife argued in a different direction, but otherwise the clanhold was peaceful.
Newt was thankful for that as he knocked on his teacher’s door.
“Newstar, you’re back!” Elder Stronggrow laughed when he saw his visitor’s face. “Come in, come in.”
Newt entered the humble residence, and his host closed the door behind him.
“How have you been? It’s been an entire season since we parted.”
“Fine. I visited the Black Fist Gate,” Newt gave a brief account of what had happened in the past ninety-odd days before asking about the situation in the clan.
The state of affairs in the Blazing Salamander clan was concerning. Elders other than Marrow and Stronggrow had wasted a month searching for spirit gem deposits, believing Newt had found a lode. They would never have dreamed that he could find pockets the miners had missed, unearthing a handful here and a couple dozen there until he amassed the wealth he needed to reach the second realm’s third layer.
“You look better,” the elder clapped Newt on the back.
“And you don’t look well, Teacher.” Newt’s voice was heavy with sorrow.
“I am old, young one. When you reach my age, well I hope you will look just as young as you do right now and that you will never understand how I’m feeling, but I think you see my point.”
Newt nodded. “I do.”
The youth took a deep breath and took two pills from his leather pouch. “Teacher, I want you to consume these. Given your age and how much spiritual energy you must have gathered over the centuries, this should give you the slight nudge you need to advance your realm.”
“Newstar, I cannot—”
“You can, and you have to. I will need your wisdom to guide the clan and the younger generations for centuries to come.” Newt placed the pills into Stronggrow’s hand and forced it closed. “You will take one now and take the other in ten hours if you fail to break through your realm barrier. If you succeed, you can give it to Elder Marrow.”
“This is too precious, Newstar, you will need it one day.”
Newt waved his hand dismissively at his teacher. “A friend of mine made it, he will make more if I ask him nicely and help him with one of his tasks. Take the pill now, please.”
To his credit, Elder Stronggrow shed no tears and trusted his patriarch enough to obey him.
“Thank you,” he said after swallowing the pill.
“You need not cultivate, the pill will do everything without supervision. I wanted to ask something. Have there been others who suffered unjustly like Borhem? What can we do for them?”
Elder Stronggrow took a silent moment before answering.
“There is little we can do for them.” Discomfort seeped into his voice. “We can provide them with resources and means to live without asking them to work to earn their income, but I believe it would be detrimental to their minds and to the clan as a whole. Not the loss of a handful of gold, but the rift we would create. Onetime rewards are good, but favoritism sows seeds of envy and hatred.
“I would pay for a healer to return their bodies to their optimal state, but we have no such healers nearby and the treatment would be prodigiously expensive, not worth it for mortal laborers, no matter how loyal or how hardworking.”
Newt clenched his teeth. Again with their poverty. He swore he would one day be rich enough to pay for whatever his clan needed. If a clansman slipped and hurt his back while carrying firewood, they would have a designated healer ready to help them.
“What if we give them the chance to cultivate? Merely awakening their spirit root and reaching the peak of the first realm would double their lifespan, increasing their physical strength and resilience.”
“Young Master,” Elder Stronggrow was so stunned he addressed Newt by his more familiar title, “that would be even more expensive than the healer.”
“I’ll make it happen, somehow. Is there anything else I should know?”
“The other elders are getting restless. They aren’t looking for cultivation resources, but wealth to support their newfound lifestyle. They might have posed a problem had you not brought back these pills. If Marrow and I advance to the third realm, we could suppress them easily, and they won’t dare stir up trouble.”
“Do we have enough food and medicine? Is everyone healthy?” Newt inquired about his people, about what he could do to improve their lives, and fumed because they had no means to fund the possible improvements. Fortunately, everyone was alive and healthy enough, which temporarily eased Newt’s worries.
“I will head into the mine to meditate. If I find any spirit gems, I will dig them out and bring them back. With some luck, you should have enough to purchase a spirit beast’s core or two. I would tell you to sell those enchanted manacles, but I fear we may end up needing them in the near future if the other elders are as shortsighted as I believe them to be.”