48th of Season of Fire, 59th year of the 32nd cycle

  The sect canceled the trial of the Wander’s Forest and made a number of other changes. Sect Master Greenthorn, in agreement with the venerables and the elders, used the calamity as an opportunity to reorganize the sect.

  He restructured the outer disciple area, which the attackers had razed. Uniform lines of barracks stood at the center, surrounding a mess hall spacious enough to serve a thousand people at once with free meals provided by the sect.

  Just like that, the disorganized mess, which had persisted ever since Explorer’s Gate’s founding, disappeared without a trace. Gone were the stalls, which made portions of the sect look like a flea market, gone were the narrow streets and the teeming mass of humanity, replaced by wide, mostly empty streets of shaped earth.

  Elder Alabaster explained that the sect master’s changes extended beyond simple esthetics. The disciple missions became mandatory for everyone beneath core disciples, and they increased in volume. Instead of two missions per year, inner disciples had three; instead of being limited to simple labor, outer disciples could choose to take suitable combat missions.

  Back when Explorer’s Gate was founded, the sect lacked renown and members, so disciples had to perform all daily tasks, but as the organization grew organically, the majority of disciples focused on chores instead of cultivation and getting stronger.

  Sect Master Greenthorn’s changes should correct that; hopefully.

  Newt agreed that the lack of training and subpar cultivation resources claimed more lives than the cultists’ combat skills. Had the outer disciples received proper training and guidance, more than half of them would have survived.

  Newt rounded a corner to find a small outpost of the Chamber of Healing. There, healers could provide emergency treatment before moving their patients to the main building. Along with the infirmary, the sect had built a spacious administrative building for handling missions and disciple inquiries, and off to the side stood several smaller shops selling pills, potions, equipment, and talismans.

  The sight birthed conflicting feelings. On one hand, Newt missed the old sect; the change represented a permanent proof of the cultists’ attack. On the other hand, the change would benefit the future generations and make the sect stronger.

  Newt walked the street in search of familiar faces and found none. The few people walked the streets with purpose. They were all the survivors of the Blood Cult’s attack, the recruitment drive postponed until after the Sage’s Realm tournament.

  Everyone is in a hurry. Newt noted. A year ago, outer disciples lounged or rested, seemingly lacking drive. It was possible the poor organization drowned their will for work and advancement, but with everyone moving briskly and with a goal in mind, they seemed to hold their heads higher, their backs straighter.

  Newt took a right, following a new path heading into the jungle. The path ended before a five-tier pagoda. ‘In memory of heroes who perished fighting the demon menace,’ the large golden sign stood in the building’s shade.

  Newt gazed upon it, trying to decide whether the one who wrote it really believed the words or did they write it down as motivation and encouragement for the future generations. Most disciples died without forming organized defense, their realms and skills too low to resist the attackers. Did that make them heroes?

  Not in Newt’s mind. Perhaps he could call them martyrs, but the word he found the most appropriate was, ‘victims’.

  He clapped his hands and bowed, then entered, heading to the third floor. It took a few moments, but Rose’s instructions were clear, and he found Obi’s and Jasmine’s urns without difficulty.

  “Hey, you big lug.” Newt tried to smile, but tears wetted the corners of his eyes. “Rose told me what happened. You were a real man all the way until the end, fighting to protect your girlfriend. Rose said they found you next to each other, her grasping your wrist.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Tears drummed against the lacquered floorboards.

  “I’m going to miss you.” Newt’s heart ached.

  Life isn’t fair. Elders came to warn us and died to give us a chance at escape, but they left the weaker disciples. Did they use them to buy more time for us?

  Newt wiped away his tears and stroked the urn.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” Goodair said behind Newt, and he nearly had a heart attack.

  Clutching his chest, he spun around. He felt like berating the woman, but smiled instead, glancing at the heavy sword’s handle sticking out from behind her back.

  “Yeah, everyone is walking around armed nowadays.” She flashed him a sad smile. “How are you doing? How are our sisters and brother?”

  She glanced at Obi’s and Jasmine’s urns, but said nothing else.

  “Do you mind if we talk after I’m done here?” Newt paid his respects to Jasmine before heading to the top floor to do the same for his spear master, Freshshine, and to check whether there were any more familiar names.

  Meanwhile, Goodair went outside, waiting for him to finish. A quarter of an hour later, Newt left the building, and the two of them strolled while he told his story for the third time. Slowly, they left the jungle, walked past the outer disciples’ residences, and Newt left his elder sister before the inner disciples’ apartment building.

  He had to cultivate. He was moons behind his schedule, and there was no time to waste. Newt knew all that, yet he went to the elders’ compound, and knocked on Elder Woodhopper’s door.

  The woman opened the door herself, and Newt gave a shallow bow. “I am glad you are alive, and I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Without waiting for a response, Newt turned around and left. He did not see Elder Woodhopper open her mouth and raise her hand. The woman sighed and closed the door.

  The Chamber of Instruction awaited, and Newt reached it, walking at a dignified pace. He left his full details and requirements, but kept his spear, which he took with him into the tiny cultivation room.

  Much like the chamber building itself, Newt’s realm had hardly changed since the attack, which was horrible. Moons of stagnation infuriated him nearly as much as the loss of life, but without the associated depression.

  Drawing a deep breath and breathing out all his negativity, Newt swallowed two pills. The fasting pill combined with his fifth realm body would allow him to stay focused for two moons, only taking breaks to consume pills which made his realm more malleable.

  Newt breathed in and out as the pills dissolved in his stomach, using the time to drive away all distracting thoughts. Once he felt the pills’ energies circulate through his body, Newt got to work. The spell formations he focused on were the ones which completed larger, more complex seals. Groupings Dandelion had made empowered each component formation, and completing them would provide the most benefit.

  Defensive spell formations he left for last. His body, being in the fifth realm, offered enough protection from his peers, and with the Sage’s Realm tournament around the corner, Newt focused on spell formations which increased the malleability of his two spiritual energies, the ease with which they flowed, and the purity of energy which he could draw from his realm.

  Once completed, two such spell formation groups would allow Newt to use a quasi-fourth realm spiritual energy and more advanced techniques of both elements. The only question remaining was whether he should use his time on cultivation or on advancing his techniques to the next realm.

  Under normal circumstances, evolving his skills was something Newt had planned for the next realm. But with nine moons wasted and the tournament fast approaching, improving his skills offered a greater boost than additive improvements from cultivating his realm.

  The two spell formation constellations were nearly identical, the only difference being the type of energy they initially drew, and the type of energy which formed the lines. Newt scribed the earthen version above the ground, using sands, clay, and fertile soil. Beneath the surface, the fiery version replicated what stood above it, only scribed in lava.

  Dandelion hypothesized that the compounding would one day serve to purify Newt’s magma energy, as he could run both streams of energy through the spell formations and purify them to reinforce his realm.

  The level of control over the realm’s energies which would allow him to break them apart before fusing them back together was something which would remain out of Newt’s reach for decades if not centuries. That said, he understood the concept, and with how much space he had thanks to his stratified realm, the gamble was worth the risk.

  Even in the unlikely case Dandelion was wrong and the long-term benefits did not exist, the harm to his future realm was minimal while allowing immediate gain.

  Newt opened his eyes, based on the pills he consumed, a moon had passed; meaning, he had two more before the Sage’s Realm tournament.