28th of Season of Air, 57th year of the 32nd cycle

Newt was still running towards his spear, his skin covered in Magmin Scales, as he jumped through a wall of fire. Then the world dissolved, and he was back inside the mine. He crouched beneath the ghostly twin stars in confused silence when his spear clattered to the ground next to his feet.

Newt took a deep breath, and patted himself, searching for traces of Magmin’s burning blood, but found none. What he did feel was the pressure inside his realm. He was overflowing with spiritual energy, his realm ready to burst.

In spite of his exhaustion, Newt sat, closed his eyes, and entered his spiritual realm. He appeared all the way next to the crater and abused Fire Burst to sprint down and reach the realm barrier. The near-invisible wall of force shook, tiny cracks spreading, and Newt actively struggled to keep it whole.

Cultivating my realm ought to spend some of the excess spiritual energy.

Newt hurried, forming lines, ditches, and mounds in accordance with Blackfist’s diagram. The land absorbed the spiritual energy with greed, structures forming at merely a tenth of the original time Newt needed when cultivating his ninth layer. With all his effort and advantage, Newt took five days to complete months’ worth of work. The instant he awoke from meditation, Newt collapsed, along with his realm barrier. He fell asleep before he hit the third realm.

When he awoke, Newt did not know what hour or even what day it was. All he knew was that he should have been hungry, but he was not, and that he should have suffered from sleeping on rough rock, but his body felt brand new.

The benefits of the third realm, often called Transcending Mortality, made themselves obvious from the moment he opened his eyes.

Newt stood and stretched, his spine and joints popping. The battle in Magmin’s realm had burned his clothes to ashes, but he hoped that was the last time his clothes would suffer.

He sent a surge of fire-attributed spiritual energy through his body and formed Magmin Scales, then pushed them away from his skin. They inched forward until the paradoxical field which burned heat itself stood a foot away from Newt, painting his world red.

Finally, I can project spiritual energy further away from my body. Newt dismissed the technique with a smile, and a wave of heat washed over his skin.

He left the mine and headed for the clanhold, wearing nothing but Granite Crust and Magmin Scales to cover his indecency. Fire Burst and Newt’s newly improved physique made the slow descent a matter of a dozen hops.

Newt removed the protection from his face and laughed as wind buffeted his cheeks. The sensation was almost like flying. Newt’s heart raced in exhilaration, spiritual energy had reinforced his body, and if the legends were true, one day, once he reached the sixth realm, Newt would learn to fly on his own.

“Newstar!”

Newt looked down and saw Elder Brave looking up towards him, shielding his eyes with his hand. Still grinning, Newt controlled his descent, and crashed three yards away from the elderly man.

“What realm are you at?” Elder Brave asked.

“Third.” Newt could not believe he ever thought his uncle could stand a chance against his father. Father could have swatted him like a fly whenever he felt like it.

The sudden realization made Newt’s heart ache. He was definitely the sole reason his uncle enslaved his father and mother. Newt’s mood soured, but Elder Brave failed to notice.

“Newstar, did you give elders Stronggrow and Marrow resources to advance their realm?” Elder Brave asked with a stern voice, but the question cheered up Newt.

“Elder Marrow also made it?”

“Newstar, that is not the point.” Elder Brave glared at Newt. “We are a clan. The clan’s patriarch cannot make decisions about the clan’s resources on his own. He has to consult the elders, and then the council will decide on how to distribute the resources.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Elder Rocky and Elder Toughroot approached and stood behind Elder Brave, physically backing their representative, and Newt heard other footsteps nearing them.

“You cannot…” Elder Brave started a tirade, and Newt lowered his gaze. He did not like the six elders who supported his uncle. They were his seniors. He had to respect them and listen to their opinions. To bow his head—

They did not listen to Elder Stronggrow, who is the oldest amongst them, a quiet voice, barely a whisper, pointed out.

If they don’t respect their elders, why should I respect them? The voice grew stronger, angrier. If they wanted to give up on their ancestors and tradition for some comfort, what right do they have to order me around, abusing that very tradition?

“No.” Newt interrupted the Elder Brave’s long speech.

“I need not obey you, nor the clan rules. You have taught me that, honorable elders,” Newt spat the words. “In which elder session did you vote to betray my father? To discard our traditions?”

Elder Rocky opened his mouth to argue.

“Silence!” Newt shouted. “When I first left the mine, you went to explore the whole complex to find where I got the spirit gems from. You want resources? Go in there and dig. You want me to give you something? Deserve it! A complete stranger had invested more time and effort into me within the first week of getting to know me than you did in sixteen years. Have you no shame?”

Newt suddenly found himself screaming, half the clan looking at him from the street or the windows of their residences. His face was turning red. Newt was so embarrassed, he wanted to follow in Magmin’s footsteps and crawl under a rock.

Then someone clapped.

“Bravo!” Elder Stronggrow said, still clapping his hands, and others joined him. “Well said, Newstar.”

Newt’s teacher approached. His appearance had not changed. He still seemed very old, but the wrinkles had faded from his face, and his eyes blazed with new life and determination.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Elder Stronggrow asked.

Brave hesitated, but found his words after collecting his thoughts. “Personal opinions don’t matter. Misuse of clan’s property is forbidden, and the elders have the right to question their patriarch about how he used their shared resources.”

Elder Stronggrow gave Newt a meaningful look, and after thinking for a moment, Newt knew how he should respond.

“First of all, Elder Stronggrow is the acting patriarch, and everyone knows that. Second, the pills I gave elders Stronggrow and Marrow weren’t clan’s resources, but my personal belongings, cultivation resources I earned myself during my trip to Black Fist Gate. I am free to use my belongings any way I see fit.”

Elder Brave remained silent, but Elder Rocky opened his mouth, looking like he was about to shout, ‘Why didn’t you give them to me?’

I swear I will slap you if you say that.

“Why did you give them the pills?”

Close enough.

A burst of hot air propelled Newt forward. His body was already covered in Granite Crust for decency, and his hand moved at a blur. Newt’s rocky palm made perfect contact with Rocky’s thick face. A crack echoed as the elder’s jaw broke. He soared across the street and struck the wall made of solid stone.

Newt’s elation died immediately, a traumatic scene from half a year ago replaying itself before his very eyes. With two bursts of hot air, Newt was crouching down next to the prone man. Blood oozed from Elder Rocky’s mouth, but his chest moved, and his gaze wandered aimlessly.

He’s alive.

“Can someone take a look at him?” ‘I don’t need another heart demon from killing family.’ Newt did not say the words, but he did mean them. Elder Rocky and his five accomplices could crawl under a rock and die for all he cared. What mattered was that he did not cause their deaths.

“He will live,” Elder Stronggrow said after checking Rocky’s pulse. “You rattled his brain, that’s all.”

“The patriarch cannot use violence to suppress the elders!” Elder Brave shouted, and the four elders still guarding his back murmured in agreement, but did not dare make coherent complaints.

“Elder Marrow,” Newt asked, “what should the clan do in case of a failed rebellion? What is the punishment for rebelling elders?”

Brave and his fellows paled at the question.

“The punishment varies, depending on the damage the clan has suffered. It ranges from fines, caning, and early retirement, through imprisonment and exile, all the way to abolishment of cultivation or execution.”

Newt stared at the five men, trying to figure out what Blackfist would do.

“Would you prefer to go into voluntary exile, or do you want us to arrange a trial and judge your sentences according to clan law?”

Elder Brave and his cohorts stared at Newt, their gazes drifting towards Stronggrow and Marrow. Five second realm cultivators could expect nothing but death if they challenged three third realm opponents. Or even one for that matter.

“Exile,” Brave said, and Toughroot immediately protested.

“Shut up,” Brave growled before continuing in a calmer tone. “Our families are innocent. Can they stay in the clan?”

Newt knew it was a bad idea, one he would almost certainly come to regret one day, but exiling the perpetrators’ grandchildren and great-grandchildren for a crime they had nothing to do with was not justice.

“Naturally,” he said, hoping elders Stronggrow and Marrow were strong enough to handle any trouble, should the people in question cause any.