Magma Dragon Cultivation

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

“Teacher, there is something I wish to ask of you,” Newt lowered his gaze, his heart beating in his throat.

“What is it, Newstar? How can I help?” Elder Stronggrow offered an encouraging smile, motioning Newt to continue.

“Could you please take over as the clan’s patriarch?” Elder Stronggrow’s motivational smile died a horrible death as his mouth twisted into a scowl.

“Please!” Newt begged. “I am too young, I know nothing of the world or of the clan.”

Newt’s eyes darted left and right, his mentor seemed ready to refuse.

“It is only a temporary solution; until I am fit for the role, or until Father returns and assumes his rightful place.” Newt went down to his knees, but Elder Stronggrow caught him. “Please, Teacher, I am begging you.”

The old man gritted his teeth and sighed.

After ridding himself of administrative duties, Newt focused on comprehending the spiritual energy circulations of his ancestors’ teachings. He decided to start with Fire Burst, and after memorizing its details, he went to the depleted spirit gem mine to meditate.

Newt found the darkness comforting while the silence of the mine was familiar and more appealing than the library, from which he could unfortunately hear the discussions and daily life of his clan. The only thing he minded was the lack of fresh air, but the environment’s richer spiritual energy offset even that flaw.

Newt descended the dark tunnels, following the faint glow of spiritual energy which led him to Magmin’s realm.

He considered touching the almost invisible orbs, wondering whether he should test his luck, but shook his head after several seconds. There was no need to take the risk before he reached the peak of his realm and learned some martial arts. Even though they were physically more powerful, one against one, cultivators could defeat spirit beasts at the same level. Mainly by relying on superior intelligence, equipment, and medicinal pills.

Newt closed his eyes and circulated fire-attributed spiritual energy, directing it from his second heart towards his feet. The pressure of earth-attributed spiritual energy increased, and Newt released it from his third eye, forming Granite Crust around his upper body.

Even when splitting his attention, Newt found his clan’s technique remarkably easy. The energy followed a straight channel and condensed at the ball of his right foot. It burst outward and sent him spinning into the ceiling. The young man crashed into solid stone, glad he had reinforced his head and shoulders before crashing back to the floor.

That was embarrassing. I will need a wider area to test this skill, but at least I proved I can circulate the spiritual energy correctly. Why did the instructions mention strict supervision during the first weeks of using the clan’s techniques and warned against spiritual energy overload?

Newt found the technique easy to control and extremely gentle on his body. True, he would need time to master the physical consequences of its use and to adjust the technique to fit his body, not just his feet. But he would achieve that within the safety of his realm before applying his findings to his physical form.

Without considering that he had first mastered a much more difficult spirit beast’s non-human technique, Newt sat and closed his eyes, reopening them in the red and black world of his realm. Energy within his body did not move to fuel Fire Burst, but a jet of heated air exploded under his feet, propelling him upward.

After several attempts, Newt reduced the explosions enough for them to push him forward without blasting him off balance. Within an hour, he was sprinting across his realm, ready to test what he had learned in the real world.

“You killed me,” a shrill voice squealed like a dying pig.

The sudden noise threw Newt off balance and sent him spinning through the air before he tumbled against the hard rock of his realm. Newt’s skin crawled as he turned around, expecting to find his uncle’s ghost, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

I knew my uncle’s death would haunt me. Newt clenched his jaw. He could still see his uncle’s terrified eyes, staring at him, pleading, begging anyone to save him. Newt wanted to apologize, to say he had not intended to kill his father’s brother, but it was all for naught. The one blaming Newt was not his uncle’s shade. It was Newt himself.

Another matter weighed heavily on Newt’s soul, and just as he was about to thank the heavens it did not become a heart demon, a deep, masculine voice boomed in Newt’s realm.

“I will take good care of Jasmine. She needs a real man, not a scrawny boy hiding underground to play with rocks where others can’t see him.”

The incorporeal man guffawed, promising future torment, and Newt shook from rage, forgetting his guilt. He tried to calm himself, but failed. He felt helpless, and his helplessness further fueled his rage in a vicious loop.

Newt tried to meditate, to continue experimenting, but eventually his anger proved too distracting. He opened his eyes and went back to the clanhold, seeking Stronggrow.

“Elder,” he said, knocking on his teacher’s door. “Do you have some time for me?”

“Enter, Newstar.”

The youth entered a humble, dusty abode, catching the old man cleaning it personally. His teacher had a family once, but his wife and son had died of old age, as did his grandchildren. While his more distant descendants lived, Elder Stronggrow was their revered ancestor, not their real family.

“Shouldn’t we call servants to clean the place up?”

“I prefer maintaining my own residence. Three years are a long time, and things have gotten messy in my absence.”

Newt considered the words for a moment, Elder Stronggrow was known to speak one thing while meaning something else entirely. “Are you talking about your home or about the clan, Teacher?”

“My clan is my home,” then the old man changed the subject. “What can I do for you, Newstar?”

“I wanted to ask about heart demons. Can I get rid of them before they materialize in my realm?”

Elder Stronggrow’s gaze focused on the youth, first drilling holes through Newt’s eyes, looking for hints and searching the youth’s feelings, before eyeing him head to toe.

“Heart demons materialize upon attaining the sixth layer of a realm, or later, if you develop them after reaching the sixth layer and before your breakthrough. As for ridding yourself of your heart demons, there are several ways, but the one most recommended in the tomes I have read in the Imperial Library suggests introspection and addressing the source of your doubts.”

The elder stroked his long white beard as he made a pause.

“It is not a mistake to destroy them directly inside your realm. However, that is an inferior solution. Your heart demons may return later. They may bolster other heart demons or even merge into a single entity, which is then even more difficult to get rid of.”

Newt gulped, quickly considering his heart demons. The velociraptor pack was unlikely to haunt him again, same for Borhem and the invulnerable projection of his uncle, whose only weakness was Newt’s father. Especially the latter. Newt’s newest heart demon was obvious evidence against his late uncle’s invulnerability.

But how do I rid myself of my new heart demons without battling them?

He might be able to get rid of the Black Fist sect’s young master by winning Jasmine back. What options did he have for the other heart demon? Raise Victor from the dead?

The youth bit his lip and looked at his teacher.

“Teacher, which lingering heart demons torment you?”

“I have no heart demons, I cleansed my realm a long time ago,” Elder Stronggrow said with a relaxed expression, as if discussing a passing cloud. His face was a well practiced mask, and Newt was too distraught to notice the act.

“Why didn’t you advance, Teacher?”

“The clan lacks resources, and I would be a poor teacher if I fought for them with my students,” the elder explained in an even tone of the one who had achieved inner peace. “Advancing to the third realm would use more resources than raising two students from nothing to the peak of the second realm. If I were the patriarch, then so be it, the clan would require my strength. But even your father, who pushed and struggled for so long was trapped at the peak of the third realm because we lacked resources.”

Stronggrow paused and his thoughtful face softened as his distant gaze focused on Newt.

“Cultivation is a lonely and difficult path, my dear Newstar. I am merely at the second realm, yet my three hundred and eighty years weigh down on me like mountains. We sit meditating, experimenting with techniques and cultivating our realm and for what? To live a little longer so we could sit some more behind the closed door? So that our regrets, fears, and delusions may manifest and force us to confront them?”

Elder Stronggrow sighed. “Sorry, I started rambling. You are young, you have achieved in three short years what others took thirty or more. But I must warn you, cultivating and expanding your realm will be a tedious, long endeavor often involving hours or days of solitude.”

The subject was raw, and the old man hesitated, but in the end decided to speak his mind. “Victor acted like a self-indulgent, spoiled brat because he was. For all his one hundred-odd years of age, he had spent most of it behind closed doors, yearning for freedom and normal life until it twisted him.

“I warned your grandfather Victor was not meant for cultivation, but he wouldn’t listen. Tradition bound the main branch to have all their descendants cultivators, men and women alike. One day you will become the patriarch of the family in the true sense of the word. You will have children and you will see. Hopefully, they will all be like you, but if they are not, remember Victor. He could have lived a happy life as a merchant, rather than spend a century of misery and eventually pull the family down along with him.”