A long queue of carriages and travelers stretched before the massive basalt gates of Kerak City.
The caravan drivers and mercenaries fell into line, the heavy iron-shod wheels grinding against the dark gravel.
Within five minutes, their turn arrived at the inspection post.
To pass through the iron gates, the city guards levied a steep entrance fee of fifty gold coins per person.
Kerak City was a unique, indispensable jewel within the Triad Kingdom.
Blacksmiths, wandering weapon masters, and merchants from across the kingdom gathered here year-round to harness the subterranean earth fire.
If the city gates remained free, drifters, refugees, and common vagrants would flood the avenues, clogging the industrial heart of the kingdom.
The steep fifty-gold barrier functioned as a ruthless filter; only those with substantial business, wealth, or a disregard for small coin crossed into the City of Iron.
Ronald stepped forward and settled the toll for the caravan and the twelve rescued men without hesitation, using the gold harvested from the Sand Viper Gang’s vaults.
Once across the threshold, the convoy pulled into a wide staging square.
Lucien Novar turned toward the mercenary leader, offering a courteous cupped-fist salute.
“Mister Ronald, our paths diverge here. May your future roads remain peaceful.”
Ronald clapped Lucien’s shoulder, his scarred face filled with genuine gratitude.
“Kid—no, Master Lucien. Without you and this divine beast, ten mercenaries and twelve innocents would be rotting in a ditch. The entire caravan owes you their lives. If you ever need a blade in the eastern territories, find the Iron Oak Mercenary Guild.”
After exchanging parting farewells with the merchants and guards, Lucien adjusted his collar, where Lumi lay nestled in miniature form, dozing against his neck.
Navigating the bustling, soot-dusted thoroughfares, Lucien found a respectable four-story inn constructed from polished black pine.
He booked a quiet, private room on the upper floor, leaving his travel satchel behind before heading down to the adjoining tavern restaurant.
Selecting a secluded corner booth, Lucien ordered lavishly: thick cuts of braised mountain beef, roasted spirit mutton, and seasoned marrow stew.
To the discreet amusement of the tavern staff, the slender white-haired youth and the tiny white kitten demolished the immense spread down to bare bones.
Satisfied and nourished, Lucien returned to his chamber, locked the latch, and fell into a deep, restorative sleep.
The next morning, the clear clang of thousands of blacksmithing hammers striking anvils echoed through the air like a relentless war drum.
Lucien woke early, washed his face with cold water, and stepped out into the streets.
His priority for the day was clear: locate an elite apothecary to purchase the three missing ingredients needed for the Harmony Pill:
Bone Marrow of a Blood Quenching Realm Beast
Grade 2 Spiritual Water
100-Year-Old Ginseng
As he walked down the central commercial avenue, a colossal marble pavilion flanked by twin bronze lion statues caught his eye.
Carved in bold gold characters above the entrance archway were three prominent words:
Lucien stepped past the towering arched doors.
The interior of the association was vast and quiet, the air rich with the complex, bitter-sweet fragrance of thousands of dried spirit herbs.
Behind a long jade counter stood a polite female receptionist dressed in the embroidered silk robes of an attendant.
Approaching the counter, Lucien spoke calmly.
“Greetings. I am looking to purchase three specific medicinal ingredients: the bone marrow of a Blood Quenching Realm beast, Grade 2 Spiritual Water, and a 100-year-old ginseng. Does your association have them in stock?”
The receptionist tapped a spirit-jade ledger, reviewing the regional vaults.
Looking up with a practiced, professional smile, she nodded.
“Yes, young master. Our Kerak City branch preserves all three materials in our upper medicinal vault.”
“Excellent,” Lucien said, reaching for his pouch.
“I will purchase them.”
“Of course,” the receptionist replied smoothly, extending her palm.
“Please present your Alchemist Badge so I may register the transaction.”
Lucien paused, his hand halting over his waist.
“An alchemist badge? I do not carry one. Is it not possible to purchase the materials with spirit stones directly?”
The attendant’s smile turned apologetic, though firm.
“I am afraid that is strictly forbidden by association charter, young master. The Alchemy Association does not sell raw spiritual ingredients to uncertified individuals. We gladly sell finished medicinal pills to the general public, but raw materials are strictly reserved for verified alchemists to prevent hazardous misuse and illegal hoarding. The Alchemy Association spans branches across every kingdom in the world, with our supreme headquarters situated in the Central Continent. That rule is absolute and enforced identically everywhere.”
The woman paused, taking note of his youthful features.
“Furthermore, the three items you requested are Grade 2 spiritual ingredients. To purchase them, one must hold at least an official 2nd Tier Alchemist Badge.”
Lucien frowned slightly.
With his ninety cycles of stellar tempering giving him the physical might of a 3rd-level Blood Quenching expert, combined with the lost void-crafting arts of the Genesis Alchemy Scripture, Lucien’s soul force and heat control already allowed him to refine standard Grade 3 pills with ease.
In sheer capability, he was already a full-fledged 3rd Tier alchemist.
However, displaying a 3rd Tier rank before breaking through into the Harmonious bone Realm was far too high-profile.
A border youth claiming 3rd Tier status would draw immense scrutiny from the kingdom’s imperial eyes.
A 2nd Tier badge, on the other hand, was sufficient to buy the ingredients without attracting unwanted attention.
“Where does one take the assessment for a 2nd Tier badge?” Lucien asked evenly.
The receptionist’s eyes widened in genuine astonishment.
She looked Lucien up and down.
The youth before her had sharp, noble features and a straight, spear-like posture, carrying an air of quiet maturity.
Yet beneath his calm exterior, his facial structure suggested he was no older than seventeen or eighteen.
(In truth, Lucien was merely fifteen, but undergoing ninety grueling body temperings had sculpted his frame into a lean, muscular height of six-foot-two, making his true youth almost impossible to discern.) New chapters come out on novelping . com first.
An eighteen-year-old taking the 2nd Tier exam? she thought, her heart skipping a beat.
Most young disciples took their entire youth just to qualify as Grade 1 apprentices!
Reining in her disbelief, the woman bowed courteously.
“Please follow me, young master. A 2nd Tier certification cannot be handled at the main desk.”
She guided Lucien through the sprawling corridors of the compound, heading toward the quiet inner pavilions on the third floor.
Under the strict laws of the Alchemy Association, an alchemist could only be evaluated and certified by an assessor standing at least one full rank above them within the association’s hierarchy.
For 1st Tier hopefuls, monthly mass examinations were held in the public courtyards, presided over by ordinary 2nd Tier staff.
However, an assessment for a 2nd Tier badge was rare in a frontier territory.
It required the presence of a 3rd Tier alchemist.
In the entire Kerak City branch, 3rd Tier masters could be counted on one hand.
The highest authority in the city was the Pavilion Master, a 3rd Tier Peak alchemist; beneath him was the Deputy Pavilion Master, a 3rd Tier Mid-Rank authority.
The receptionist stopped before a set of reinforced cedar double doors and knocked gently.
“Enter,” a calm, deep voice resonated from within.
Pushing the doors open, they stepped into a spacious private workshop filled with rows of glass vials and the ambient heat of earth fire.
Sitting behind a polished desk was a middle-aged man with sharp, assessing gray eyes, wearing dark crimson robes embroidered with three silver cauldrons upon the lapel.
“Deputy Pavilion Master,” the receptionist bowed respectfully.
“This young guest has requested to take the official examination for the 2nd Tier Alchemist Badge.”
The Deputy Pavilion Master’s pen paused over his ledger.
He lifted his head, his sharp gaze locking onto Lucien.
Silence stretched across the workshop as the veteran master scrutinized the white-haired youth.
He had seen countless arrogant noble scions waste the association’s time, yet Lucien stood motionless, his piercing blue eyes as clear and unyielding as ancient glacial ice, devoid of nervous tremors or empty bravado.
The master closed his ledger, stroking his chin.
He waved his sleeve, and a sturdy, three-legged bronze cauldron flew from a shelf, landing with a solid thud onto the central stone platform.
“A youth daring to knock on the gate of the 2nd Tier is either an extraordinary prodigy or an utter fool,” the Deputy Pavilion Master said, his voice cold and commanding.
“I will not waste time with written scrolls. I shall name five random Grade 2 pills. You must refine all five before my eyes within three hours. Every pill must maintain standard medicinal purity.”
The master’s gray eyes narrowed, locking onto Lucien’s face.
“Understand?”
Lucien stood straight, his expression calm and unruffled.
“Yes.”