30th of Season of Water, 57th year of the 32nd cycle

  “You are trying to trick me!” Magmin hissed. “If I climb to the surface, the blazing pterosaur will attack.”

  Newt stared at the creature. I did not think of that.

  “What if I brought its corpse into the tunnel? Or its head?”

  Magmin hesitated. The lindworm looked like it was about to pounce Newt, but the question confused it.

  “All right. Don’t attempt to deceive me, I will be right behind you, and remember, you can’t escape, little heart demon.”

  “I won’t, I just want to help.”

  Newt wanted to say more, but there was no point. What he faced was an echo of Magmin, a memory made as he advanced his realm and shattered the barrier barring his path.

  I wish I had met the real you.

  Newt honestly did, despite thinking that Magmin would have tried to devour him, like all the other spirit beasts. If Magmin was alive, his realm would have been beyond Newt’s reach, and there would be nothing Newt could do to help him eliminate the pterodactylus which had terrified the serpent throughout the ages.

  So, he quietly crawled back towards the entrance, thankful for the inspiration the tunnels had offered. Even if he ignored the spiritual energy he would gain from resolving the realm, the revolutionary idea of having a layered realm was more than worth it.

  He reached the exit, then went up the gentle incline, towards where he had slain the giant, burning pterodactylus. The ground beneath his feet trembled. Magmin was digging tunnels below, following close behind Newt.

  Over an hour passed before Newt reached the corpse. The once burning pterosaur had turned into a pile of ash and embers. Inside, volcanic rocks shaped like bones still glowed with heat.

  The tremors beneath Newt’s feet grew stronger, and Magmin erupted to the surface. The creature’s grotesque maw twisted into a parody of a grin. It burst into cheers, tearing at the remains with its elongated claws.

  “One hundred and fifty years!” it shrieked. “You have tormented me for a century and a half, and now you’re dead, you’re finally dead!”

  Magmin jumped into the embers and wallowed in them, growling with joy. “Free! Free! I am free!”

  Newt observed the outburst with mixed feelings. He understood just how fear and guilt could twist and torment a person, or a snake for that matter. His emotional dam bursting after a mere handful of years of suppression must have been nothing compared to what Magmin felt.

  What were you like when you finally defeated the pterodactylus? You were at the fourth realm, maybe fifth, did you shake the world? Did you roar at the heavens?

  Newt respectfully waited until Magmin calmed down. There was always a chance it would attack, but above ground, with enough room to maneuver, Newt could obliterate the giant lindworm in a move or two.

  “Thank you, little heart demon,” Magmin said, still swimming in the ashes. “You may remain in my realm for a while. I can feel my realm barrier shaking, I’m about to break through, and I haven’t felt better in ages. Thank you.”

  Before he could say anything, Newt was back in the old mine. The twin stars glowed in the dark, yet shed no light. They were brighter, promising Newt more, so much more. What did Magmin create in his fourth realm? Newt wondered, but stepped away from the pulsating stars as if they were his bane, not his blessing. But, unlike before, he did not fear defeat.

  If I advance my realm now, with hardly any cultivation, I’m going to be the weakest fourth realmer ever.

  Ecstatic, alone in the deep mine, Newt sat down and entered his realm. Just as expected, his improvement was huge. He dashed to the edge of his cultivated realm, and willed a palm-wide, inch-deep fissure into existence, sending it straight towards his realm barrier.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  He sprinted after the line as it formed and stopped where it ended.

  “Ninth layer, quite close to the tenth.” Newt whistled. “I’ll be able to advance in half a year of diligent energy gathering.”

  Naturally, he would slack off on or even dampen his energy gathering and focus on cultivation. The next item on his agenda was digging down. With an exertion of his will, a six-foot-wide tunnel opened, heading straight down like a well.

  Five, ten, twenty, twenty-nine feet, and then Newt sensed the barrier, just like when he first dug the volcano. If he dug any deeper, he would reach the magma.

  “Well, I guess that answers two of my burning questions.” Newt pursed his lips. “Magma is close to the surface, so making the side vents won’t be too much of a chore. Unfortunately, Magma is close to the surface, so I can’t have many layers of tunnels. Worse, the work would require a delicate touch if I want to turn them into runes, meaning I can’t do it from up here.”

  Newt sat down writing and drawing on the ground with his finger.

  “The thinnest lines have to be two feet deep, maybe I could squeeze through a foot-and-a-half wide opening?” Newt tested it and found two feet were the minimal width to move without risking getting stuck.

  “The thick lines are seven times as wide as the thin ones, so those tunnels will be fourteen feet in diameter…” Newt quickly reached the conclusion that he would either have a realm split into two perfect tiers, or one with three levels riddled with errors where the two underground tunnels conflicted.

  “Yeah, imperfect spell formations aren’t really an option. They would leak energy, have a risk of blowing up, and if an overlap happened with two errors, their results might be random, or nullify the effort of a much wider constellation of runes.”

  So, Newt reached his decision with little consideration, better do things safely and perfectly, than risk his realm imploding. The only way to add another tier was to halve the height of the tunnels, which was not an option, since he could not fit through the narrow ones, and they required a certain size to function.

  “Now, how do I make the lava flow through them without disrupting the seals above ground?” The more Newt considered the logistics of his idea the more he realized, he would need years before he could enter the fourth realm. Years of careful consideration, of studying and drawing spell formations, of calibrated attempts and countless failures.

  “Fifteen years,” he muttered. “At least fifteen years, possibly twenty, if I don’t shut myself off from the world and just read and draw. Pills might halve the cultivation itself, but he had missions and sect obligations, which might consume more time than the pills saved.”

  Not for the first time, Newt regretted Dandelion was not there. The man was a genius. Newt was certain Dandelion could finish the whole blueprint in a matter of weeks, maybe even less than a moon. And he would have done it too in exchange for Newt’s latest discovery.

  “Wait! Why wouldn’t I reach out to him? He would cross the seas of fire and mountains of swords if it meant improving his cultivation.”

  Newt’s lips stretched into a smile. He had a brilliant plan, and an excuse to meet up with his friend all at once. Giddy, Newt abandoned his current project, filled the holes, and then went to test out the volcanic side vent theory.

  “There’s one problem with this, though, side vents will accelerate my cultivation speed.” Newt looked at the twenty-nine-feet-deep hole, and considered whether he wanted to grow faster. The answer was one solid ‘no’. “But the increase in speed I get from a single side vent is negligible, compared to the main vent.”

  Newt started working on the rune, when he realized there was another problem.

  “The lava has to go somewhere.” The realization crashed against him with more weight than it had the right to have. “I’ve been in Magmin’s realm for three-four hours, I’ve been here at least two more, I still have to make the rune, dig a proper channel, and the guys are waiting for me. I’m the host, and I need to be responsible, otherwise Elder Strongrow is going to nag at me. Worse, he’ll clench his jaws in that pained way he always does and say nothing.”

  Newt always thought that stories about cultivators shutting themselves in caves and emerging a hundred years later were pure nonsense, but suddenly that sealed cave sounded like the best place in the world.

  Reluctantly, he left his realm and focused on the real world. Newt opened his eyes and slowly climbed out of the tunnels. Near the exit, dawn’s orange-red glow greeted him, and Newt realized he may have spent a bit more time in the mines than he should have.

  Good thing I decided to quit early, otherwise I would’ve been late.

  He hopped down the mountain, but instead of a series of jumps, he created a current of warm air on which he glided down all the way to the clanhold.

  The streets were full of life at the early hour, people going about their business, heading to work, train, or eat, and Newt’s friends were waiting by the gate.

  Why are they there? They couldn’t have guessed I’m planning to issue an inner disciple mission for them to find Dandelion.

  “Hey guys—” He touched down, and Jasmine smacked him, fist meeting chin.

  She yelped and clutched her hand while he stumbled back a step, stunned.

  “What was that for? I’m not Obsidian!”

  “Hey!”

  “You might as well be,” Jasmine snapped. “Your head is as thick and as hard as a stone. From now on, you’re kidney stone number two!”

  The woman marched back into the clanhold, leaving Newt dazed.