49th of Season of Fire, 57th year of the 32nd cycle

  Newt enjoyed the two training sessions which followed his short spar. He was slowly learning how to use his spiritual energy outside himself, how to shape the terrain and how to keep his fire forms stable longer. While he was certainly not at the level of the third realm cultivator who could hurl his flame bolt thirty-odd feet, Newt’s technique had come a long way compared to its starting point.

  Using earth to trip a fellow rockhead by contesting them was a sign of superior skill. That, and Newt had expected Obsidian would try something, so he kept a tight grip on the energy he already commanded just in case, making it impossible for his opponent to wrestle the control from him in an instant.

  Regardless of his advantage, the praise his little trick brought him made Newt happy and motivated for the entire four-hour block of instructions.

  He was still exhilarated when Obsidian returned a full hour before the end of his session with Elder Flameax. The big man waited patiently at the edge of the training bubble for Newt to finish.

  “I see your friend wants to talk to you. Keep up the good work and see you tomorrow,” Elder Flameax grinned and vanished once their two hours were up.

  Obsidian took his disappearance as an invitation and entered the ring.

  “Newt,” he said, then looked down.

  “Obi?” Newt tried not to, but still grinned, thinking the man was taking his loss poorly.

  “We need to discuss the Valley of the Lost.” Obsidian wiped the sweat off his forehead then turned around, checking whether anyone was approaching their isolated sphere. Seeing that nobody was paying them much attention he let out a heavy breath. “I think it’s a great opportunity for what you and I wish to do. To shake up Jas and Rose, I mean.”

  He licked his lips and glanced sideways, as nervous as a jittery yamaceratops.

  “But the Valley of the Lost is extremely dangerous. If our compass gets damaged, we might be stuck there for a very long time, possibly forever.”

  Newt opened his mouth, but Obsidian kept talking.

  “I know what you’re going to say, all we have to do is keep the compass safe and ensure nothing damages it, but a lot of unexpected things happen in combat. The valley has lots of spirit beasts, and the ones that survived this long should all be at the peak of the third realm. That means they are stronger than us. We can overcome that challenge, but the problem of low visibility is much worse. Because of the valley’s nature, a roaming spirit beast may wander into the person holding the compass with little warning.”

  Newt listened patiently. He could understand why what Obsidian was describing could be an issue, but that problem had a simple solution.

  “Why don’t we store the compass in a spatial pouch? It should be safe from harm there.”

  Obsidian’s gaping face was priceless. Newt’s idea was extremely simple, but the man seemed like he had never considered that option.

  “You have a spatial pouch?” he stuttered.

  “Well, no?” Newt said carefully. “Do you? Do you know someone who has one? Could we borrow it? Rent it?”

  Obsidian burst into laughter, which devolved into a chuckle when he saw Newt was serious.

  “You’re serious? Newt, even if a disciple other than Jas had a spatial pouch, they wouldn’t loan it to me. Every expedition comes with a chance of dying, and in the Valley of the Lost, there’s a chance that you can, well, get lost, never to reappear. I don’t think anyone would gamble with such a treasure unless they are the closest of kin. They might even join the expedition to keep their pouch safe.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Newt wanted to say he could always ask his master, but then thought better of it. While not stingy, Elder Alabaster seemed intent on making his life needlessly difficult over the most trivial matters. Like simple five-word answers.

  He was silent for a while before nodding. “I guess that makes things more challenging, still, Roselilly is an airhead. She should be mobile enough to keep it safe. Right?”

  Obsidian gave a hesitant nod. “If we can talk her into going with us, and if we can keep her safe. The rumors claim the fog changes, sometimes, you can see a hundred yards away, sometimes ten feet.”

  Newt knew just the thing to prepare for the dangerous expedition.

  “How about we check the library for available information?”

  Obsidian opened his mouth, then closed it, then spoke, “Newt, have you ever been on a mission?”

  “Actually, I have, with three friends.” Newt beamed a smile, “We killed a bunch of Frostworms. Nothing fancy, third and fourth realm, then a fifth realm one chased the three of us, but we escaped unharmed, thanks to my friend’s quick thinking and keen senses.”

  Obsidian gaped. “And what happened with the fourth friend?”

  Dandelion pulling their leg about experience with ceilings flashed in Newt’s mind. He wanted to make a similar joke, but then recalled the source of Obsidian’s and his team’s troubles, and the joke suddenly became tactless.

  “She started a fight with the leader of the group, so he had her wait outside of the danger zone. No harm came to her.”

  Obi bit his lip. “Does that mean the three of you handled fourth realm spirit beasts?”

  “Well, yes, kind of, Dandelion handled some on his own. He was fast, made almost no sound when he moved, and he knew where and how to strike them to take them out in one hit. I can bet he’s even more amazing now.”

  “Which realm was he?”

  “Third realm, mid to high layer, not sure which.” Newt suddenly realized he was bragging, so he hurried to make himself appear more humble. “But we had information about the spirit beasts we would encounter and we ambushed them, rather than the other way round. It was really easier than it sounds.”

  Obsidian nodded, not believing him one bit.

  “And escaping a fifth realm beast? Was that also easy?”

  “To tell you the truth, I was terrified. We spent days in a cramped fissure, and we would have suffocated had we been in the second realm, but we somehow survived, and we achieved everything we set out to do, and then some. All in all, it was fun. Terrifying and stressful at times, but fun nonetheless.”

  Newt grinned, and Obsidian stared at him, obviously full of doubt.

  “Oh, come on. It was an adventure similar to what you might hear in stories about cultivators. Our expedition to the Valley of the Lost will hopefully be something similar—”

  “Bite your tongue.” Obsidian hissed. “We need to build up confidence, not have an exciting mission. The best possible outcome for us is to wander the mists, gather our quota of mist-crystals, and leave without encountering a single spirit beast.”

  Newt agreed with the first part. The team undoubtedly needed to complete the mission, assuming they managed to talk Jasmine and Roselilly into joining them. But that was far from enough. To build up their shattered confidence, they had to defeat spirit beast after spirit beast until they put the fear of blood and death behind them.

  Should I argue about this?

  Newt decided not to. The argument would be pointless, merely wasting breath to prove himself right. In reality, the odds of them wandering a danger zone and not encountering a single spirit beast were next to none. Especially if the mission was a resource gathering one.

  “What are mist-crystals?” he asked instead, dropping the subject.

  “They are a special kind of ore. I don’t know much about them, other than that they are valuable.”

  “We can check that in the library too, come on.” Newt led the way, and soon found himself in the reading room.

  Mist-crystals or misterium was a common component for spell formations dealing in trapping, befuddling, and tricking those who entered them. The ore was split into grades, which coincided with the danger zone’s concentric rings.

  Reading that part, Newt suddenly had a bad feeling, and the following passage confirmed his suspicion.

  The danger zone was divided into different areas with different levels of danger, ranging from third realm all the way to the ninth. Spirit beasts and cultivators alike were drawn towards the area naturally suitable for them, unable to enter lower realm areas once they entered the higher one.

  Newt swallowed, but then relaxed. One could not enter a higher difficulty area either. Cultivators instinctively shied away from the higher realm zones, but even if they tried to enter them, something akin to an immaterial wall stopped them.

  That sounds oddly like a secret realm, but there’s no way seniors specialized in treasure hunting could make such a mistake.

  He stopped reading for several moments to further consider the thought, but he could not think of a rational, plausible explanation for his immediate idea. Not with others more capable than him checking before.

  He went back to reading, discovering about the zone’s unique flora and fauna, as well as the spirit beasts the sect unleashed inside to provide a challenge for the disciples and to feed the native species.