62nd of Season of Air, 57th year of the 32nd cycle

The frozen ground shook as the enraged frostworm’s bellows rattled Newt’s bones and made his molars buzz.

“It’s furious,” he said aloud what they already knew.

“At the fifth realm, spirit beasts are nearly as intelligent as humans, and most of the worms here are this one’s direct descendants.” Everlast said and glanced at Dandelion. “How many fifth realm ones are inside?”

The former sect master shrugged. “Three confirmed, could be more. Some said there is even a sixth realm one, but nobody has confirmed that claim.”

“And why don’t they exterminate them to mine the ice jade?” Newt asked, and Dandelion glanced at Everfrost, who in turn looked at Puresnow.

The woman crossed her arms and huffed. “Because battling frostworms is good training, they dislike wandering far from their den, and if you let some of them mature enough to reach the fifth realm, their bones will turn to ice jade. And if you let them live long enough, they might even develop ice jade marrow. Leaving them alone is more profitable in the long run.”

“Exactly,” Dandelion nodded at Puresnow, who blushed in embarrassment, no longer seeming angry with him. “You are a cultivator, Newstar, you will live an extremely long life, and you need to think of the long-term benefits, rather than immediate wins.”

“Senior Apprentice Brother Dandelion—” Everlast started, but Dandelion interrupted her before she voiced her thoughts.

“Could you please just call me Dandelion? Just addressing each other is a mouthful. Besides, everyone calls me Dandelion.”

Everlast nodded, her face tinged with red.

“Only if you call me Everlast.” Her voice was soft, her words barely audible.

“Sure, Everlast.” Dandelion smiled, and while Everlast blushed at her name used in such a familiar way, the one who turned crimson was Puresnow.

“What I wanted to say, Dandelion, was that you seem very comfortable giving pointers. Do you mind sharing some with me?” Everlast’s voice went from loud and clear down to a whisper one step at a time with every word she said, and suddenly, Newt felt like he wanted to be anywhere but in a small enclosed space with her and Dandelion.

He glanced at Puresnow, and if the woman’s face was any indication, she would have preferred to be back in the Noble Dragon, or perhaps in a frostworm’s maw.

“I doubt you need pointers like Newstar, is it about the sword lessons you mentioned earlier?”

Everlast nodded, and Dandelion sighed.

“That fifth realm frostworm will stay on the upper levels for a few days, searching for intruders, and making it off limits for us. We could leave the region and train in the meantime…”

Five hours later, Newt was sparring with Puresnow, his short-sword in his hand. Dandelion forbade the use of any techniques, including active reinforcement of their bodies, when training with weapons.

Newt was loath to admit it, but Puresnow was demolishing him. Utterly. And, unlike Dandelion, the woman offered no helpful feedback, smacking his flank, head, and arms with her sheeted sword, forcing him to figure out things on his own, grunting words like, ‘Sloppy’ or ‘Slow’.

Meanwhile, Everlast was receiving the royal treatment. Dandelion corrected her bearing, the angle of her wrist, and how much force she invested in her strikes. Newt failed to catch all of it, on account of getting smacked on the head whenever his attention strayed, but he could tell Everlast was benefitting and improving with each passing hour.

When not using their spiritual energy, cultivators above the second realm could fight or run for days. Their physical bodies were powerful enough that even scrawny little Newt could dance circles around the fastest mortal runner and thoroughly humble even the toughest strongman.

Two days passed in mundane training, and while Newt would not dare claim himself a master of the sword path, he had greatly increased the number of exchanges it took Puresnow to clobber him with her sheathed sword. He went from two to seventeen on average, and more importantly, he noticed that even without using techniques, spiritual energy passively released from the spirit root wandered the body, surging towards muscles just before a cultivator used them.

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His discovery was enough to avoid Puresnow’s sudden attacks and to allow him to see through her feints, but not enough to escape the combinations and series of attacks she used to break through his defenses.

“You are getting better,” Puresnow complimented, but her voice did not match the praise.

“We would have had to throw him to the frostworms otherwise,” Dandelion chipped in from a dozen yards away, fending off Everlast’s flurry of slashes. “All right, time for a partner change. Everlast, by teaching others, we learn a lot ourselves, so try to help your Junior Apprentice Sister improve. I will help Newstar, and he will owe me yet another favor.”

“Why do you keep repeating that?” Dandelion mentioning over and over again about how Newt owed him annoyed the youth to no end.

Dandelion seemed to have expected the question since a long time ago.

“Because you need to be aware that I am not doing this as charity, because you need to earn your knowledge, resources, and skills. Until you grow powerful enough, you cannot expect gifts, and if I stop reminding you, you might think this is something you are entitled to, instead of something you must prove yourself worthy of.”

Newt opened his mouth to jokingly ask when he can expect the gifts to start, but Dandelion kept talking as they switched partners.

“Now, enough of your silly questions and childish sulking. Attack me.”

Newt slashed at the arrogant man, and with a minimalist half a step back, Dandelion was outside his reach. Newt tried to follow, but the former sect master grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward. Just as Newt was about to fall, Dandelion grabbed the back of his robe and righted him.

“For heaven’s sake, do not chase after your enemy with your sword, you are opening yourself to a world of pain. If you miss, you miss, prepare for another opportunity instead of forcing a failed one.”

Newt continued slashing, never landing a strike.

“Watch your balance.

“An attack comes from your legs.

“Move your hips, what are you, a geriatric case?”

For the better part of an hour, Dandelion dodged, first by taking half-steps, then full steps, always as straight as a log until he finally started twisting his body to avoid Newt’s blade.

“All right! We are getting somewhere.” Newt was not sure whether Dandelion mocked or praised him, but the man kept talking. “Now, use your fire techniques. When you were fighting the frostworm, your strikes were all over the place, but now you can aim at the same spot instead of blindly hacking away. All that is left to do is keep your power from dispersing on contact. Let’s see if you can achieve some mastery over the technique.”

Half an hour later, Newt made no progress, save for exhausting himself.

“You must be running low on spiritual energy.” Dandelion’s voice was friendly as he gestured towards the scorched ground. “Sit and meditate, try to develop the technique inside your realm while your spiritual energy recovers, I will instruct Everlast in the meantime.”

Newt wanted to argue that he could keep going, and he really could, for about ten more minutes. But he had made no progress since Dandelion had told him to focus on Magmin Flame, and reducing the complexity by shedding the spiritual energy circulation through the body might make the breakthrough possible.

Newt appeared in his realm, near the flow of lava running through a series of channels, forming a balance rune before continuing its journey to his realm barrier.

A good a place as any. Newt bent, grabbing towards the granite soil, and with the faintest exertion of his will, he sank his fingers into the solid rock. Ground rippled as he drew a short-sword identical to his weapon in the real world.

He slashed with it, activating Magmin Flames and protecting his hand with Magmin Scales. The flames flowed up the sword, but as soon as they left the blade’s tip they started dispersing. A mere foot away, the cone’s base was several inches in diameter, two feet away, the fiery blast dispersed in all directions, looking like a drunk fire-breather’s performance.

Newt repeated the process over and over again, increasing or decreasing the amount of flames he conjured. For reasons Newt could not comprehend, the more powerful flames seemed to disperse quicker, while the weaker ones formed a nice tear shape, but Newt suspected the flame was too weak to deal significant damage.

Is there anything useful in Flaming Fist III? Newt considered the technique. He had already incorporated its best parts with Magmin Flames while traveling, but it might hold the answer he needed.

“Newstar!” a familiar voice echoed in Newt’s realm. “Have you forgotten about us? Have you abandoned your family?”

Newt dropped his sword and spun around, but no one was there.

“Dad! I’m trying my best!” Newt knew it was a lie. He did not gather all the scales. There was probably a wealth of second realm spirit gems to be had, which he missed. Maybe those gems could have been the difference between finding his parents and failing in his search.

Even though he had no heart, he could feel it race. He waited for more accusations, but only the heavy silence followed. Yet that silence felt worse than chastisement. He could feel the blame, the disappointment, the disdain. The oppressive air suffocated him.

I need to get out of here. With that thought, Newt opened his eyes to read through his clan’s ancestral technique and pretend everything was fine.