The Winter Autumn Leaf touched the surface of Kent's potion, and the courtyard seemed to hold its breath. For an instant, nothing happened—then the veins of the leaf blazed. Not golden, as expected. Not even a shade of amber or silver. It turned a radiant, blinding white—pure, immaculate, almost divine.
Gasps erupted, followed almost instantly by laughter.
"Hah! White? That's not gold—it's nothing!"
"The heavens laugh at him again! He brewed dust water!"
"Divine? More like dead!"
The mocking voices rang louder as disciples pointed, smirking. Even some elders frowned, confused. The Yellow Blossom River Prince tilted his head, disappointment flashing again across his sharp eyes. "A failure, then," he murmured.
