Magma Dragon Cultivation

46th of Season of Earth, 56th year of the 32nd cycle

Newt’s whole body shuddered, his gaze glued to the blood pooling on the floor. Huddled against the mine’s rough rocks, he had dreamed about it hundreds of times; about killing his uncle, about executing the traitor, but he did not really mean to do it.

“It was an accident.” His chin wobbled as tears ran down his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

The two terrified women were the only witnesses, hugging each other, holding on to their dear life. They saw him blur across the room and punch their husband with enough force for his chest to cave in.

Victor’s strength once terrified them. Their husband could lift both of them and the heavy wooden bench they sat on with a hand behind his back, yet a scrawny youth ended him with a fist.

Newt heard a commotion outside and looked away from the women. Familiar voices shouted, people ran, cloth rustled. Someone was coming. Newt turned around in time to see Elder Brave, a man seemingly in his sixties, with a head of gray hair, a long white beard, and the typical yellow-orange eyes of the Blazing Salamander clan. Five other elders followed, all cultivators at the second realm.

News wiped his tears and snot with the back of his hand, facing the men. They had betrayed him. They had betrayed his father, their family tradition. A part of him wanted to scream at them, to hit them, but another part was like rocks chaining and dragging him under the water, into the depths.

“I didn’t mean to,” the addled youth said. “He had enough time to summon defenses, to counter. He was… He was so weak.”

The elders looked at the blathering young man, then at the broken body on the ground.

“Newstar,” Elder Brave, the oldest of the gathered elders, said, his eye twitching almost imperceptibly. “What happened? How did you awaken your spirit root?”

Newt struggled to understand the question. They had more pressing matters to address. A man was dead, lying on the floor like a sack of flesh and bones, the clan’s former patriarch, but the grand-uncle of the deceased asked such a nonsensical question.

“He is dead,” Newt pointed at the body, but all eyes remained locked on him. Apparently, a dead man could wait, but curiosity could not.

“I stumbled across a spirit beast’s corpse deep in the mine and refined its core. The bones crumbled to dust after that,” he added the latter part for good measure in case anyone went down to check.

The six men looked at him with disappointment, but after processing the information, one of them turned to rage.

“And you consumed spirit gems until you reached the peak of the second realm! Do you have any idea how much money that is?”

Newt stared dumbfounded.

“Easy, Rocky,” Elder Brave raised his hand, blocking the slightly younger man. “He mined them himself, he had the right to spend them whichever way he wanted.”

What?

Newt’s mind reeled. The spirit gems he consumed mattered more than the death of the patriarch? Rage replaced Newt’s grief. Had his disgusting clan really stooped so low that they value a sack of gems more than a clansman’s life? Patriarch’s?

“Where are elders Stronggrow and Marrow?” Newt asked, and elders Brave and Millstone had the decency to lower their gazes in shame. The other four did not.

“Patriarch imprisoned them for subversive behavior.”

“The patriarch is dead.” Newt’s rage incinerated the nausea, which paralyzed him mere moments ago. “By right of succession, I am the new patriarch. Go release them.”

“You are just a whelp,” Elder Rocky shouted, and Newt sprang into motion.

He ran for the man who looked like he was in his mid fifties, when in fact he was over two hundred years old. Unlike Victor, Rocky did not stand idly. Flames gathered on his fist, and seeing them, Newt changed his original plan.

At first he wished to slap the man, but he should give the elders a demonstration. Magmin Scales and Granite Crust covered Newt’s skin. Spiritual energy reinforced his body, and fist met fist.

Newt shrugged off the flames, which stormed up his arm like a tidal wave. Bones cracked and Elder Rocky howled in pain as his bare fist broke against the Newt’s granite defense. Newt canceled Granite Crust, but kept himself clad in Magmin Scales, and the elder’s cry was cut short as Newt slapped the wailing man.

The retaliatory flames burst off elder Rocky’s skin, but Newt remained unfazed, glad he had kept his defense active. Already out of balance, the elder fell down to his butt.

“I said, go release them. Now!”

Elder Rocky scrambled onto his feet and ran towards the back of the compound while cradling his hand as the other elders watched in stunned silence.

“Newstar,” Elder Brave said, “when did you grow so strong?”

Newt snorted. “I’m not strong, my father was strong. You are weak.”

Suddenly recalling his father, Newt grit his teeth. “You will explain what has happened to my mother and father. What have you done with them? Where are they?”

“Newstar,” Elder Brave started, then cleared his throat. “Patriarch, I believe you should sit down.”

What followed were uncomfortable minutes spent explaining what had happened with the clan after Newt was thrown into the mine. Naturally, everything was Victor’s fault, and he had forced the rest of the elders to follow him.

“Uncle sold my father as a slave gladiator? He sold my mother to a different slaver—”

“With a contract stipulating they cannot be ordered to do anything which would harm their dignity.”

Newt ignored Elder Brave’s excuse. Was it not beneath his parent’s dignity to entertain others? To be slaves?

“My mother will act as a singer and a musician for wealthy cultivators and sects. And you spent that money on decorations and on your lavish lifestyle over the years.” Newt’s eye twitched. “Is that correct?”

“Most of the funds we spent to purchase cultivation-suppressing shackles for Stronggrow and Marrow and to organize the patriarch’s weddings. The rest we used to renovate the estate and to start a lumber business at the foothills…”

Suddenly, Newt felt a whole lot less guilty about killing his uncle, and considered ending the old farts wasting air before him. The only two elders worth something were the ones imprisoned, charged with maintaining discipline and training the clan’s youths. But, since the clan lacked funds to purchase spirit beast cores, imprisoning the elders whose job was to raise young talents was hardly a loss. Doubly so for the elder charged with keeping them in check.

While the convoluted logic made sense, it also made Newt sick. The clan did not need the men who oversaw youths because they would no longer produce youths worth overseeing. And with all the influx of funds, they had more than enough resources to purchase spirit beast cores.

“Stronggrow was Uncle’s teacher. And Uncle dared lock him up?”

“Elder Stronggrow has raised many disciples, your father included, but he disagreed with what had happened, and insisted we should reinstate the old patriarch.”

A sensible man, as far as Newt was concerned.

Newt gazed into the distance in silence, seeing nothing, saying nothing. He was trying to think of a solution when he recalled he still had allies outside the clan.

“What of Jasmine?”

“Your fiancee’s father broke the engagement as soon as your uncle imprisoned you.” Despite expecting it, the news struck Newt like a hammer. “She is now betrothed with the Black Fist sect’s seventh young master. Some rumors say they kidnapped her, but her father claims his daughter acted on her own will and joined the sect as a disciple.”

Newt closed his eyes, recalling his only childhood friend, the daughter of the wealthiest mortal clan in the plains. She was kind and beautiful and made him laugh with her mischievous comments. Newt’s father had noticed his infatuation and arranged the engagement despite her common origin, partly because Jasmine’s father promised to acquire a spirit beast’s core for her to awaken her spirit root. Her family had saved for a long time to afford such a unique chance and get up in the world.

“They must have forced Jasmine into it,” Newt whispered after collecting his thoughts. He opened his eyes and examined Elder Brave’s nervous face. “Anything else?”

“If Patriarch knows of a spirit gem node, he should reveal it to the rest of the clan,” the elder said. “It is your duty to the clan to share the information. With enough resources, we can raise a younger generation—”

“You dare!” a powerful voice boomed in the hall. “You dare speak of resources for training the younger generation! You dare seek alms from a child not a tenth of your age!”

A muscular old man, seemingly past eighty, entered the hall, his face red with rage. His chin trembled as his gaze passed the bloodstain on the floor, then he almost burst into tears when he laid eyes on Newt.

He bit his lip and went down on one knee. “I have failed you, Newstar. I have failed your father, and I have failed our ancestors. As a teacher, my role is to guide, and yet they went astray.”

“Grand-uncle Stronggrow,” Newt lacked the old man’s restraint and cried as he bowed to his teacher. Elder Stronggrow may not have been from the main lineage, but three hundred years ago, the family still had enough resources to provide spirit beast cores to all children with a sharp mind and a good heart.

“Poor child,” a man who appeared to be in his late forties went to one knee behind his teacher. “Forgive me. Like Uncle Stronggrow, I too have failed you.”

The silence was awkward, broken only by the sounds of tears hitting the stone floor, Newt’s and his two elders’.