84th of Season of Fire, 57th year of the 32nd cycle

  Newt returned to his dorm room, his nervousness made manifest as serpents dancing in his stomach. After he had learned that his friends were safe, they disappeared from Newt’s mind. Then he wanted to consult his master about what he had learned, but he found out he could not. He wanted to pay off his debt, but he found out it was not urgent.

  So, with his master’s kind reminder, his friends were once more Newt’s priority. He just hoped they would never learn about the temporary lapse of judgment in which he had forgotten they even existed.

  The door to their apartment was locked, and somehow, through everything Newt had experienced, he still had the most basic things, like his key and his token. The lock clicked, and the door opened without a sound. He was afraid he would walk into a gastonia pen, but everything was clean in the moonlight. The window was open, the light tropical breeze filling the room with fresh air instead of alcohol fumes evaporating from his intoxicated roommates, who had once transformed their neat living quarters into a mine shaft.

  A door opened without a sound, and footsteps so light they were barely audible reached Newt’s ears.

  “Thank the Heavens you’re all right!” Roselilly nearly sobbed, stunning Newt. “Your master said they won’t send anyone to help you out, and that you would find your own way, but I was so worried something bad would happen to you.”

  Before Newt got to ask himself why the woman was so worried about him, another door opened, and Jasmine walked in. The woman was fully clothed, angry fists pressed against her hips, glaring at Newt.

  Why do women around me look like they want to beat me up? It was an unfair thought, Roselilly was the very image of a worried friend, radiating not a speck of violent tendencies.

  “What happened? How did you get out of the valley?” Roselilly buffeted Newt with questions, while Jasmine settled for a silent glare.

  For the third time, Newt explained how he had somehow stepped into the fourth realm zone through the geyser, then gave as many details as he could, while hiding all he had to hide.

  “Heavens,” Jasmine muttered when she saw the cores Newt had gathered, “he really did try to over-hunt the danger zone.”

  Newt cocked his head in confusion, then lowered his gaze to the fourth realm cores. Technically, he acquired them during his team mission, and standard practice stated that the team members split all excess gains from a mission amongst themselves.

  I owe over two hundred spirit gems for my medical bills. And then there’s the other incident…

  Newt was about to offer to split them when Obsidian slammed open the apartment door.

  “Newt! Hazel just told me you were back! I’m glad you’re all right!” If anyone had been sleeping in the apartment building, Obsidian’s outburst of joy woke them. If anyone had not known Newt was back, they knew.

  “I am, and I was about to say I have some cores and misterium we should split.” Newt said.

  “They are your—” Obsidian started, but Newt continued speaking.

  “They are all at the fourth realm.” Newt finished, and Obsidian choked on spit, unable to finish his words.

  “Obi!” Jasmine’s brows furrowed into a dangerous frown, her fists still on her hips, her foot a step away from tapping. “You overgrown kidney stone! He won those alone. Wandering the mist alone, before leaving it alone.”

  “Right, right.” With a strange, sorrowful grin on his lips, Obsidian nodded. “Of course you’re right. Do you mind if I see them, Newt? I’ve never held that many spirit gems in my hands.”

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  The creepy face, and the grin a step away from crying, almost made Newt say no. But he understood Obsidian’s feelings. If Obi were the one who found the treasure on an independent adventure and offered him the spirit gems he needed to clear his debt, Newt would have also refused, feeling like crying even as he spoke the words.

  “Here.” Newt opened the sacks with his gains, and Obsidian’s eyes shone like spirit gems. “Even if you don’t want an equal share, we went on the mission together—”

  “Newstar.” Roselilly’s voice was the sternest he had ever heard it. “Relying on cultivation resources you didn’t earn yourself weakens your heart and resolve. Lucky windfalls happen. You should take such opportunities and wring the most benefit you can out of them, but you have to make them yourself.”

  Newt thought about the frostworm caves and how they found the core Elder Frostgrave needed. He did not mind asking for favors as a reward for their lucky find. However, a part of that was because he was certain the core was far more valuable than what he had asked in return.

  He nodded in agreement, wondering what opportunity Roselilly had wrung to make the face she did.

  “All right, where are you, you skinny, little imp?” Goodair chose that moment to stomp into the room, walking on a warpath. “There you are! I’m breaking your twig legs right here and now! What the hell did I tell you about worrying Master half a season ago?”

  Roselilly and Jasmine jumped to Newt’s defense, tackling Goodair, and Obsidian shielded him with his body. Suddenly, Newt burst into laughter.

  “It’s good to see you too, elder sister, and if you really want to have a spar, we can have one tomorrow under Master’s watchful eye.” He taunted her, and surprisingly Goodair gave a sharp nod.

  “You think I won’t dare?” The woman crossed her arms. “Oh, I dare. I’m not scared of whatever nonsense heavenly tribulation struck your butt nor that dueling against you will rub off your curse on me. Tomorrow, I’m gonna plant your face in the dirt, and I’ll make you apologize to Master for all the trouble you caused her.”

  “People think I’m cursed?” Newt’s mood fell. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “And they think the curse is contagious.” Goodair barked a laugh.

  Suddenly, Newt realized why nobody challenged him to a duel ever since the summer solstice incident.

  “Don’t listen to her nonsense, she’s teasing you.” Obsidian jumped to Newt’s aid. “You were wounded, and under orders not to overexert yourself, including a restraint from training, and then we left for the Valley of the Lost as soon as you were well enough.”

  “I’m not teasing!” Goodair said with the air of an experienced liar. “After your teammates returned without you, people immediately started speculating whether you’re a curse, a dark star shining malevolent light of misfortune on everyone and everything around you.”

  Goodair kept teasing until Jasmine bodily pushed her out of the apartment, the two cultivators moving and shoving with the grace of boulders clashing. Goodair was stronger, but she let Jasmine kick her out.

  Finally, with only the team left, Obsidian spoke.

  “How about we go and get some grilled delicacies down by the outer disciple residences?”

  Newt liked the idea. He was nowhere near hungry, he had eaten fourth realm spirit beast flesh whenever he found something he fancied, but hanging out with the gang, like they did in the Valley of the Lost, appealed to him.

  While he wandered the mist alone, he was thinking that maybe he did not need friends and companions, but having peers, no matter how temporary, felt good. The years of solitude in the mines flashed back through his mind while he was lost, but that was all they were; unpleasant memories.

  The trip down the moonlit path was wonderful and liberating. The tension Newt experienced when arriving with Greenbow, heading to his master’s residence was gone, and he enjoyed the night breeze, free of mist, caressing his cheeks.

  Newt wanted to take the guys to the old man grilling seafood, but try as he might, he failed to find him. He tried to recall the old man’s name, but realized he had never asked it and never introduced himself either.

  Eventually, Obsidian led them to a spot he frequented.

  “Hey, Flick,” he greeted the middle aged man whose cultivation Newt estimated at the high layers of the second realm. “Give us eight specials and put them on my tab.”

  You can have tabs? Newt recalled how embarrassed he was about having nothing he could barter for food with. Then he noticed that Flick was using a searing hot metal plate, free of coals, smoke, and everything else grills entailed.

  He focused on it with his third eye, and beneath the metal sheet he noticed a very familiar pattern.

  “Where did you get that?” he asked, pointing at the grill.

  Flick gave him a quizzical look, but apparently being in Obsidian’s company made Newt familiar enough for the food vendor to answer his question.

  “Senior Apprentice Brother Threewave gave up his stall and started selling these a moon ago. You can get one for the value of a year’s worth of coals. He guarantees it will work two years or longer, goods or money back, in case it doesn’t hold up. I had some savings, so I tried it. Just getting rid of smoke and scouring for coals of high enough quality makes this handy little thing worth the two first realm gems I paid for it.”

  He looked down at the grill, smiling enviously. “I don’t know where he got the idea, but he’s making a killing.”