Twilight had begun to paint the sky above Aurora City in shades of bruised violet and copper by the time Lucien Novar approached the massive iron-wood gates of the David Clan estate.
Perched securely across his shoulders, Lumi nestled into the crook of his neck, her snow-white fur blending into his long white hair.
To any mortal eye on the cobblestone thoroughfare, the beast resembled little more than an extraordinarily clean, pampered kitten.
Yet beneath that fluffy exterior lay the dense, terrifying bone density of a peak low-rank Tier 2 sovereign beast.
As Lucien stepped across the inner threshold, the news of his return spread through the courtyards.
Having told his family three days ago that he was merely going on a leisurely sightseeing tour around the outer markets and gardens to clear his head before the tournament, he couldn’t reveal a single whisper about the slaughter in the gorge or the slaughtered Moon-Scar Wolves.
When his mother Leona, his cousin Isabella, and young Inoha walked into the main pavilion to greet him, their eyes widened instantly.
“Lucien! What is that?” Inoha gasped, dropping the half-eaten spirit fruit in her hand and darting across the polished floor.
“Where did you find such a creature?” Leona asked, stepping forward with a warm, radiant smile, her blue eyes shimmering with affection.
Lucien offered an easy, disarming smile, gently tapping Lumi’s chin.
“I found her abandoned in an alley near the eastern commercial district, starving and shivering in a wooden crate. Someone threw her out like trash. I couldn’t leave her behind on the road, so I brought her home.”
The female members of the household melted instantly.
“Oh, the poor thing! Who could be so cruel?”
Isabella squealed, extending two slender hands to scoop the cub into her arms.
“She’s so incredibly cute!”
Young Inoha crowded close, her small hands reaching out to cuddle the snowy beast.
“Let me hug her! Brother Lucien, let me hold her!”
Yet, contrary to their enthusiasm, Lumi did not react like a helpless household pet.
Her slit silver pupils flashed cold and aloof.
She pulled her paws back, giving Isabella and Inoha a frigid, dignified glare that screamed aristocratic disdain.
Scooting backward along Lucien’s shoulders, she tucked her head firmly behind Lucien’s neck, wrapping her tail tightly across his collarbone.
She refused to let anyone touch so much as a strand of her snowy fur, clinging exclusively to Lucien.
Master, tell these loud humans to stay back, Lumi’s crisp, haughty voice echoed telepathically in Lucien’s mind.
I am a sovereign predator, not a lap toy!
Lucien chuckled inwardly, placing a reassuring hand over the cub’s back to pacify her.
“She’s terrified of strangers after being abandoned. Give her some time to get used to the house.”
Stepping past the doting women, Lucien made his way directly to the patriarch’s private study.
Patriarch Lucas David was seated behind his broad mahogany desk, reviewing the roster of young disciples representing the clan in tomorrow’s Annual City Martial Competition.
When the door opened, the imposing old powerhouse looked up, his stern demeanor melting into hearty warmth.
“You’re back, my boy!” Lucas boomed, placing his quill down.
He glanced at the tiny white ball of fur resting on Lucien’s shoulder with an amused grin.
“I hear you picked up a little stray in the market.”
“Yes, Grandfather,” Lucien replied, offering a polite bow.
After exchanging brief pleasantries, Lucien cut straight to his true objective.
“Grandfather, I have a request. Could you send Elder Soren, our family’s Chief Alchemist, to my courtyard this evening?”
Lucas’s dark brows knit slightly in concern.
He leaned forward, scanning Lucien from head to toe.
“Elder Soren? What is wrong, Lucien? Are you feeling unwell? Did your meridians ache during your walks?”
“I am completely fine, Grandfather,” Lucien assured him quickly.
“I just want to learn the basics of alchemy from him. Since tomorrow is the tournament, I wanted to understand the foundation of pill refinement while my mind is clear.” Read the latest chapters at g.com.
Recalling Lucien’s previous ambition to study medicine alongside his cultivation, Lucas laughed warmly.
“Good! A sharp mind seeks every path. Go rest in your quarters. I will have Soren visit you within half an hour.”
“Thank you, Grandfather.”
Returning to his quiet courtyard, Lucien closed the cedar doors and latched them shut.
His request had nothing to do with standard apprenticeship.
A bold, calculating theory was driving his actions.
Ever since he had awakened the Primordial Genesis Art, every time he crossed the threshold of a completely new craft, a golden seal in his soul would shatter, revealing a vision of a distinct people’s life and unlocking an absolute, sovereign technique:
When he gripped the greatsword in the armory, he witnessed a life of a supreme swordsman and unlocked the Genesis Sword Art.
When he ignited his internal crimson world, he gained the Genesis Elemental Control.
And when his fingers first touched Lumi’s crown, he witnessed another distinct figure surrounded by five legendary beasts, unlocking the Genesis Beast Taming Art.
Every single craft had an ultimate technique slumbering within his soul, waiting for an external catalyst to spark the memory.
Lucien was deliberately betting that alchemy and weapon forging would be no different.
Half an hour later, a polite knock sounded against the courtyard door.
Elder Soren stepped inside.
The elderly Chief Alchemist had a wispy gray beard and small spectacles perched upon his nose, carrying an aromatic satchel that smelled rich with dried roots and camphor wood.
“Young Master Lucien,” Soren bowed courteously.
“The Patriarch informed me of your interest in the sovereign craft of alchemy. It is an honor to guide you.”
“Thank you for your time, Elder,” Lucien replied respectfully, gesturing to the study table.
Soren sat down, unrolling several parchment diagrams of herbs, meridians, and fire-control techniques.
For the next hour, the old alchemist lectured methodically on the absolute fundamentals: the delicate balance of medicinal properties, how spiritual fire must be modulated to avoid scorching spirit grasses, and the precise timing needed to fuse liquids into pills.
Lucien listened with intense concentration, actively trying to align his soul with the craft.
Yet, nothing happened.
No golden characters scrolled across his consciousness.
No seal cracked.
The void inside his soul remained dead silent.
Did my luck finally run out?
Lucien sighed mentally, a flicker of disappointment crossing his thoughts.
Was my hypothesis wrong?
The lecture stretched on for two full hours.
As the session drew to a close, Elder Soren stroked his beard and smiled pleasantly.
“Theoretical knowledge can only take a man so far, Young Master,” Soren said, reaching into his spacious robe sleeves.
“Pill-crafting is ultimately forged through the vessel. Before you attempt to refine even the lowest-grade dust, you must understand the womb of medicine.”
With a soft thump, Soren placed a heavy object onto the mahogany table.
It was an alchemy cauldron.
Cast from dark bronze, the vessel stood roughly a foot tall, standing on three sturdy claw-shaped legs and adorned with faint wind-guiding runes along its rim.
A faint, lingering aroma of charred herbs emanated from its circular vents.
“This is a Low-Rank Mortal Cauldron,” Soren explained.
“Feel the density of the metal, and notice how the internal channels guide external fire toward the center.”
Lucien reached out his right hand, his fingers wrapping around the cold bronze rim of the cauldron.
The world collapsed.
Elder Soren’s voice, the wooden walls of the study, the flickering candlelight, and the scent of camphor dissolved into absolute nothingness in a fraction of a microsecond.
Space stripped away entirely, pulling Lucien’s consciousness across the boundaries of time.
When his sight cleared, Lucien found himself standing inside a colossal palace that defied mortal architecture.
The towering pillars, vaulted ceilings, and sprawling archways were forged entirely from an unrecognizable, divine metal.
It didn’t gleam with the dull luster of mortal iron; it radiated an incandescent, celestial brilliance that completely outshone gold and diamond, sparking with pure, reality-bending light.
In the center of this breathtaking grand hall sat a man.
He wore immaculate, flowing robes of deep azure silk, looking like an ethereal scholar who had read through the infinite scrolls of creation.
Long, snow-white hair tumbled over his shoulders, and his face was calm, profound, and deeply contemplative.
Around this scholarly figure, dozens of bizarre, unrecognizable divine herbs were dancing through the air.
They were not dead ingredients; they fluttered their radiant leaves like living spirits, joyously encircling the white-haired scholar like children reunited with their progenitor.
The man did not possess an alchemy cauldron.
With a gentle, casual wave of his slender hand, a sphere of translucent, primeval flame materialized in the open air before him.
The dancing divine herbs willingly dove into the flame, instantly shedding their mortal husks and fusing into a luminous, iridescent sphere of medicinal liquid.
With a light flick of the scholar’s finger, the liquid divided, solidifying into three radiant pills that flashed with divine, multicolored halos.
Then, the fabric of the scene warped.
Lucien was suddenly pulled to a ruined, rain-swept village.
Crying hysterically in the mud was a little girl, barely six years old, weeping over the cold, stiff corpse of her mother whose throat had been torn open by beasts.
The mother had clearly been dead for hours; her skin was pale as ash, her breath long extinguished.
Swish.
The white-haired scholar appeared like a silent phantom beside the crying girl.
Looking down with gentle, sorrowful eyes, the man crouched and placed a single, radiant pill into the little girl’s trembling hands.
“Give this to her,” the scholar whispered softly, his voice carrying the warmth of spring rain.
Sniffling, the little girl nodded frantically.
She placed the pill past her mother’s cold, lifeless lips.
The moment the medicine entered the corpse, a miracle occurred.
A brilliant emerald light erupted from the woman’s chest.
The torn flesh across her throat stitched together in seconds, the pale gray rot receded from her skin, and her frozen lungs suddenly expanded with a sharp, violent gasp of air!
The woman’s eyelids snapped open.
Bewildered, alive, and completely restored, the mother reached out and pulled her sobbing daughter into a tight, desperate embrace.
Lucien stood frozen in the rain, his soul completely stunned.
Resurrection?
Lucien’s mind screamed in utter shock.
A single pill can pull a soul back from the underworld and bring the dead back to life?!
At that exact second, a familiar, crystalline click resonated deep within the bedrock of his soul.
A colossal golden scroll unfurled across his sea of consciousness, blazing with incandescent starlight:
Genesis Alchemy Scripture.