Magma Dragon Cultivation

60th of Season of Air, 57th year of the 32nd cycle

Blackfist guided Newt through the streets of Thunder Ridge, leading him towards the Quarter of Crafts, where most guilds established their outposts. Very quickly, Newt noticed a peculiarity.

“Hello, brother Dandelion,” greeted a passerby wearing a bright-yellow robe, his clean-shaven head even brighter.

“Greetings, brother Arrow,” Blackfist flashed a smile, and brother Arrow passed them.

“Dandelion, Dandelion, Dandelion…” Merchants and cultivators acknowledged Blackfist as he passed them, everyone with respect and a smile. Even some perfectly normal mortals greeted them, but they were much more formal than the people wielding power.

“Benefactor.” A woman with two children gave them a deep bow, her children mirroring the gesture.

“Honey, stop being so formal, please,” Blackfist said and faced Newt after they left the woman’s earshot.

“Who in their right mind names their daughter Honey?” he whispered, but Newt’s brain was considering more important questions.

“Senior Blackfist, how long have you been here?”

“Ten weeks, I think.” Blackfist answered without thinking. “Sometimes I lose track of time beyond what has happened in the last two weeks. And call me Dandelion. Just Dandelion. It is an excellent name for a drifter.”

“Does everyone know you? How?”

Two more people greeted them during the brief exchange, a veiled woman with piercing emerald eyes and another mortal merchant, who offered them a pair of skewers with meat grilled brownish-gold and vegetables.

Dandelion took the skewers and pressed two coins into the man’s palm in a single move. While the merchant begged Dandelion to take the coins back, the former sect master simply continued talking.

“Not everyone, but a lot of important people. As for how, I told you, amiability is the key to life. Everyone needs something or has problems too big or too tedious for them to fix themselves. I give first, asking nothing in return, and people will almost always reciprocate in kind. Just like you.”

Newt said nothing. He realized Blackfist, no Dandelion, often made him fall into contemplative silence in which he would question himself.

“How do you choose?” Newt asked eventually.

“The people I help?” Newt nodded in response, and Dandelion continued. “Well, there are multiple factors. You never help those too weak more than once, they will never return the favor, and if you help them twice or more, they will demand help, expecting it as a heaven-given right, and frankly you will no longer wish to assist such clingy people. You rarely get to help those much stronger. Their problems are too big, and if the solution requires intricate skill or profound knowledge, which if you possess, they might capture you and force you to slave away for them.”

Dandelion bit off a piece of meat and chewed it in silence, only continuing after swallowing.

“Then, there’s the matter of personality. Sometimes, a prostitute or a bandit deserves a second, maybe even a third, chance, and I extend a hand. Sometimes, the honorable hero idolized by the masses is secretly a scumbag, and I avoid them.” Dandelion smiled at Newt, who seemed just as lost as he was before Dandelion explained his approach. “I guess you will learn with time and experience.”

Newt nodded. “Where are we going?”

“The Formation Scribes’ Guild. You want to join, right? Library is important, but you have nothing to pay for access to the books you need, and your future guild has some relevant free literature for you. We can go to the Association later, if you still want to join.”

“How do you know where I wanted to go?”

Dandelion smirked. “I doubt you are here for the fancier brothels or to sell your non-existent wares, you are too irrelevant for imperial summons, know no other crafts—”

“All right, all right, I get it, Senior.” Newt laughed. “You know, you are scarier than you were in my nightmares before I met you?”

“Oh?” Dandelion cocked an eyebrow. “I hope I am not your heart demon. You can quit cultivating if I am.”

Dandelion laughed and waved at a frowning man with a savage red beard and bushy eyebrows, who waved back with a carnivorous grin.

“Just joking, but you can tell me about your dream.”

Newt described the dream in a few short sentences, and Dandelion nodded, his face absolutely serious.

“So, even before you met me, you needed someone to shoot me half-dead with a crossbow just to finish me off? And even that was in a dream.”

“Senior, you are drawing some strange conclusions.” Newt avoided a fat man, coming to give Dandelion a bear hug.

“Stay well,” Dandelion clapped the fatty’s back, and they passed a wide boulevard, which acted like a physical line separating regular buildings from the more complex architecture. Tall yellow walls shielded gardens and obscured the sources of trickling, running water, while large shops with wide glass windows replaced the street stalls.

“Do you know anyone in the Formation Scribes’ Guild?” Newt suddenly had an interesting thought. If Dandelion knew so many random passersby, he should know relevant people as well.

“I know one member very well, and I have some passing acquaintanceship with several others. Same goes for the Alchemists’ Guild, Blacksmiths’ Guild, Herbalists’ Guild, Beastmasters’ Guild, and several others.”

Newt was starting to know the man better, and he had a feeling about the casual smugness in Dandelion’s voice. “You are a member of all those guilds?”

“Sharp.” Dandelion nodded. “That is one of the reasons I believe you will push your cultivation far. What you are lacking is not brains, but life experience.”

“I have experienced a lot.” Newt mumbled, but Dandelion smacked him in the back of the head like a mopping child.

“You have experienced a lot of good things and some bad things. That is all. You are a virgin, never got drunk—”

“Shush!” Newt hissed in panic. “Not so loud.”

“There is no reason to worry about your secret.” Dandelion said with a cheerful smile. “Everyone can tell you are a virgin by the way you walk.”

Newt looked down at his feet, then his legs. He glanced at his reflection in the storefront, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, while Dandelion burst into laughter.

“Oh, hey Dandelion!” The confused store owner waved and Dandelion waved back.

“See?” the former sect master said to Newt. “That is how much you lack experience.”

Newt grumbled and stopped asking questions. He spent the time watching the large, dark man greet strangers, a small part of him thinking how the situation was nice. He never had a friend who would pull harmless pranks or taunt him in a good natured manner like Dandelion.

No wonder he wants to be amicable with everyone. He’s great at making you relax, and so far he seems extremely trustworthy.

Given the amount of people waving at Dandelion, Newt no longer wondered about how the former sect master had found him in front of the gate.

“Are you constantly moving about?” he asked when he realized there was only one way to meet so many people in a span of several weeks.

“Pretty much.” Dandelion shrugged. “The need for sleep and sustenance is minimal at the third realm. So I work at night, during the curfew, while during the day I meet people, share meals with some of them, or grab a bite in the street like I did with you.”

They stopped in front of a gate with ‘Formation Scribes’ Guild’ etched above the entrance in sharp calligraphy.

“I will walk you inside and vouch for you. That way, you can take an early exam instead of waiting two months until they gather a sufficiently large group.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. I do want my spirit gem back now, though. The other five can wait until you start earning, or you could join me on a little outing I have in mind. Clear the debt, and earn some gems while you are at it. Alternatively, you can sit here, making spell formations, and pay me back.”

Dandelion led the way inside, nodding at the guards, who nodded back. He entered the first building to the left where a large reception desk and a blonde woman drawing doodles awaited.

“Dandelion.” She sat straight and smiled dreamily. “What brings you here this early?”

“Greetings, Dolorna. I brought an acquaintance of mine to take the test. It is an official referral, and he is going to smash the test, so you better call old Barb immediately.”

“Guildmaster Barbadon will have your hide if you are wasting his time,” Dolorna said, and she seemed genuinely concerned. Newt wondered what was going on. He was just there to take a test.

“Yes, yes, he will grumble, then he will see my young friend’s talent and try to snatch him from me. I know how it works.” Dandelion turned towards Newt. “You owe Dolorna one first realm spirit gem, Newstar.”

Dolorna accepted the payment with a laugh and left the building, while Dandelion bent to whisper in Newt’s ear.

“Her parents thought Dolor sounded refined and believed it meant wealth. No wonder she is depressed all the time.”

Newt took a moment to piece together what Dandelion was talking about. He was about to respond, when a high-pitched shout came from outside.

“Dandelion, you have some nerve, calling me here directly to test some brat after you refused to work as my assistant. Not only that, you are wasting your time and talent making pills with that fogey clown!”