2nd of Season of Fire, 57th year of the 32nd cycle

  “Good day, I am Elder Longfang. I’m also a member of the Formation Scribes’ Guild. You must be extraordinary to join outside the admittance period.”

  Newt half-bowed to Elder Longfang, he was the person with the highest concentration of spiritual energy he had met so far. Newt guessed the lanky man was at the peak of the fifth realm. His face indicated he was in his thirties, but the sharp gaze with which he dissected Newt revealed a much more advanced age.

  “It is an honor to meet you, Senior. I am Newstar Blazing Salamander, a journeyman member of the guild.”

  Elder Longfang held Newt’s gaze for a moment before nodding in appreciation.

  “A natural double core, however I must admit I haven’t had the pleasure of hearing about your clan.”

  Newt was confused, the elder’s tone suggested that he was praising his background, but what was Newt supposed to do? Pretending that he originated from an influential family wouldn’t last, but saying his clan had declined felt awkward after the praise.

  “My clan is tiny, located at the fringes of the world, it really isn’t worth mentioning. I awakened my double core by pure chance.” Newt smiled awkwardly, but Elder Longfang took it in stride, apparently doubting Newt’s words and taking them as false modesty.

  “And you being a journeyman is also an accident?” he said with a friendly smile.

  “Well, no. I passed the test with my own ability. However, while I have enough theoretical knowledge, I have only laid down one spell formation so far.”

  Longfang nodded. “It’s fairly uncommon for someone to get a journeyman’s badge with no practical experience, but not entirely unheard of. If you wish to join the Chamber of Runes, there are several rules and obligations, with corresponding merit. Like in the guild, you are paid for your work, you may purchase materials you personally need at subsidized prices, and pay for lessons on specific problems troubling you.”

  Newt noted the word personally, meaning he could not buy materials cheaper and then sell the end product or resell the materials to someone else. While Newt thought about the implications, Elder Longfang kept talking.

  “For minor matters, you can try asking seniors with whom you have built a rapport, but I’m afraid you’ll have to pay for anything worthwhile. Alternatively, you can become my disciple, I’m a grandmaster scribe, but that comes with disciple obligation and future focus on spell formations exclusively. Considering you have only made one spell formation up to now, it doesn’t sound like spell formations are your primary path, but rather a supporting occupation.”

  The tall, skinny man looked at Newt, and the youth nodded.

  “You are correct, Senior; scribing is just a side occupation to help sharpen my mind and improve my cultivation.”

  Newt could see a hint of surprise in the elder’s eyes, and his fake smile became a tad more natural.

  “A wise choice, scribing runes is in many ways like cultivation itself, reading the situation, then meticulously laying elements in an intricate pattern to achieve your goal. In this regard, scribing is superior to alchemy and forging, even if it pays less. The advantage granted to you by your third eye is merely a bonus.”

  Elder Longfang stared into the distance, before focusing once more on Newt.

  “I suggest you take your time. We have practice rooms that mimic various terrain features and different spiritual energy flows. Lay several hundred basic spell formations and work your way up from there. Once you have reached the level of proficiency you are satisfied with, head to the library and start perusing the more complex arrays and associated contexts. Our sect focuses on treasure hunting, and spell formations are an excellent tool for the job.”

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  Newt thanked the elder, promised he would work on his scribing skills, and headed out to find the Chamber of Beasts. He followed the impossibly tough earthen path, passing building after building. Almost all division complexes consisted of merely the main building, with only the Chamber of Instruction having two large arenas beyond it, and Chamber of Mechanisms sprouting dozens of small hut-like workshops.

  Then Newt reached the wall at the end of the road. Four simple words stood above the gate large enough to allow a titanosaur through, which was a silly notion, considering the road was much too small for such a gigantic creature. ‘Danger, do not enter,’ Newt read the sign and complied, glancing around.

  To his left stood an administration building with a sign that denoted it as the Chamber of Beasts, while the sign to his right said, “Chamber of Healing”.

  The fact that they are across the street from each other is obviously accidental, and not an ominous sign or design. And the Chamber of Mechanisms being right next door to the Chamber of Healing is also a pure coincidence.

  Newt pushed the thoughts of impending injuries out of his mind and headed towards the mirror door, identical to the Chamber of Rune’s.

  Is there a point to identical main buildings? But then Newt focused on the door. Refracted sunlight revealed the runes once more, but Newt’s knowledge was too shallow and the runes too numerous for him to make out.

  He paused opening the door, leaving it ajar so that he could better see the nearest set of runes. In the corner of his eye, Newt caught the clerk raising his head and begrudgingly walked into the spacious lobby.

  “Greetings!” Newt inclined his head as his Junior Apprentice Brother looked above the door to check Newt’s status. “I am Newstar Blazing Salamander, a new inner disciple. The senior in charge of taking my information instructed me to come here, and have my ability tested.”

  “Greetings, Senior Apprentice Brother Newstar, do you wish to take a test to join our division, or do your interests lie in other fields? Beast-taming is a large commitment, both in terms of time and resources.” The disciple, who looked like he was in thirties, older than Elder Longfang, explained with a genuine smile of a person enjoying their work. Newt noticed the book he had been reading, From Hatchling to King, a step-by-step guide to rearing Tyrannos.

  “Unless you have an obscene amount of wealth, your cultivation will lag behind your peers, because you will have a companion to feed and push through cultivation realms. The kinship is its own reward, though, and those loving, giant, saurian eyes will make all your suffering worthwhile. Cultivation is a long journey, but one we needn’t take alone.”

  Newt watched the dreamy gaze in the tyrannosaur enthusiast’s eyes, and realized that his idea with having multiple snake companions at his realm came with the cost of paying for the spiritual energy they required to advance their own realms to remain relevant to Newt.

  I could keep a pair one realm lower than mine, but then they would have to stay away from any battles, and their effects could be reduced. Besides, the scout snake would be too slow, and too easily spotted if I used it to track higher realm opponents.

  And what do you mean loving? Those dead reptilian eyes creep the life out of me.

  “Um,” Newt tried to recall what the original question was. Right, how dedicated I am. I guess the answer is not a little bit, I don’t even have the spirit gems for my own cultivation. “I am uncertain. I need to speak with an elder and check how much talent I have?”

  “That’s great!” the tyrannosaur enthusiast said with much more energy than Newt would have expected. “Wait here, I’ll go get Elder Woodhopper.”

  Hopper, not chopper, Newt repeated silently, and before he could reply the clerk was rushing away down the lobby. He looked around, and while the building was identical, the glowing runic motives on the wall and ceiling were replaced with ink paintings.

  A man rode a stegosaurus, lightning flashing from the reptile’s eyes. A woman wearing a flowing dress sat atop a longneck’s head. Newt failed to identify the exact type of dinosaur, to him they all looked the same, but he guessed that in the Chamber of Beasts, failing to recognize the exact species, gender, and age was probably a faux pas.

  The next canvas depicted a man with a strange, wide-brimmed hat riding a tyrannosaurus, dark flames rising from the monster’s eyes, and opposed to him, a woman sat behind a triceratops’s helmet-like carapace. Earth and rocks clung to the triceratops’s legs, and the two paintings were positioned in such a way that they looked like they were charging at each other, ready for an epic clash.

  Beneath the hanging images were wide, boxy pots full of various grasses. Newt knew they were herbs, and they perfumed the entire room in a sharp smell of pine, but his knowledge of flora was even worse than his knowledge of savage dinosaurs.

  “Good day, I am Elder Woodhopper,” Newt looked up, surprised by the feminine voice. He nearly took a shocked step back when the white-haired, half-crazed saurian zealot he expected turned out to be a shapely woman with auburn hair almost the exact same shade as his. The woman, who looked like she was in her early twenties, stood two steps away, staring at him with dazzling emerald-colored eyes and a light smile.