After his conversation with his father, Sirius returned to his room. The wooden floor creaked softly beneath his feet as he closed the door behind him, locking the world outside for a few moments of solitude.
He stood quietly for a moment, then turned his gaze toward the large map pinned to the wall across from his bed.
It was old—corners curled and faded, but every line on it was inked with precision. Roads, rivers, and city names formed a network of travel and trade routes across the surrounding region of Grey Mountain Town.
His eyes paused on a name outlined in bold red.
Crimson Bloom Town.
A faint smile touched his lips.
It had been decades—no, lifetimes—since he last walked those streets. In his previous life, Sirius had roamed those alleys and climbed its pagodas. The town had been as beautiful then as he imagined it would be now.
And more importantly, it was home to four of the most resourceful institutions in the region:
- The Alchemist Pavilion
- The Mystic Starforge
- The Celestial Formation Palace
- The Vermillion Chrysanthemum Merchant Guild
Each of them had connections reaching beyond the borders of this small nation. They weren't merely local forces; they were gateways to the wider cultivation world.
Even in his previous life, Sirius had earned a place as an honorary elder in all four.
The Alchemist Pavilion, in particular, had once called him a prodigy. Though alchemists were often regarded as support personnel—weak in battle, strong in healing—few underestimated their worth. Pills, elixirs, antidotes, boosters… all of them flowed through the hands of skilled alchemists. The Pavilion remained neutral in most worldly affairs but held immense weight. Their certification was treated as gold.
Then there was the Mystic Starforge, a fortress for master smiths. Every mystical weapon—from spirit-grade to divine-class—passed through their hands. Their members were revered by sects and clans alike, for weapons made the difference between survival and annihilation on the battlefield.
The Celestial Formation Palace stood at the pinnacle of formation expertise. A single formation master could defend an entire fortress, conceal an army, or seal a spiritual beast. Formations were more than tools—they were architecture, art, and strategy combined. Even Sirius, who had mastered countless formations, regarded the Palace with quiet respect.
Lastly, the Vermillion Chrysanthemum Merchant Guild, a vast trading syndicate that dealt with all sorts of valuables from formation scrolls, beast cores, medicinal herbs, elemental stones, and lost relics. Their auctions could shift the balance of power. In his former life, Sirius had enjoyed VIP status in such organizations—a privilege granted to only the most elite.
He would regain that prestige, not for glory, but for leverage.
The Arya Clan needed resources—rare herbs, formations, refined ores, elixirs, weapons—and these institutions could provide them. But only if Sirius was officially recognized.
And so, he began preparing for his journey to Crimson Bloom Town.
The next morning, before the sun rose above the eastern ridge, Sirius left the Arya compound.
His carriage waited at the edge of the town, a sturdy but sleek construct drawn by two Gale Horses. Unlike the Iron Bulls that pulled carts in smaller towns, Gale Horses were known for their high endurance and speed. Their silver-grey manes rippled in the breeze, and their hooves struck the earth like drums.
He boarded the coach silently. There were five other passengers.
A young couple sat opposite him, holding hands, their eyes filled with soft excitement. Sirius guessed they were newly married, perhaps traveling to Crimson Bloom Town for its scenic beauty—its flowering cherry trees, maple-lined walkways, luxurious inns, and riverside restaurants made it a favorite for romantic getaways.
The remaining three travelers were merchants, likely carrying rare spices, textiles, and crafted goods to trade at the market square.
Sirius sat quietly, his eyes closed in meditation.
The journey took three days, with stops at small villages and rest points along the road.
By the third morning, the gates of Crimson Bloom Town came into view—arched structures decorated with red silken banners. Rows of blooming chrysanthemums lined the path into the town. As the carriage rolled to a halt, Sirius disembarked, handed a silver coin to the driver, and disappeared into the crowd.
He made his way directly to the Association Pavilion.
The building was located near the center of town, designed like a tiered temple with wide steps and sloped tile roofs. Intricate dragon carvings adorned its archways. At the entrance stood a majestic statue of the Kirin, its eyes seeming to glow faintly under the morning light.
Inside, the air was cool and fragrant—herbal and earthy, yet calming. Alchemists in light jade-green robes moved with quiet discipline. Shelves of ingredients, potion racks, and scrolls lined the walls.
Sirius approached the main reception counter.
A young woman sat there, her posture perfect, her expression serene. A wooden basil-leaf badge gleamed on her robe, its sandalwood scent faint but pleasant.
"Welcome to the Alchemist Pavilion," she said. "How may I help you?"
"I wish to take the test to become a Grade One Alchemist," Sirius replied calmly.
She blinked, slightly surprised. "May I see your Alchemy Apprentice credentials?"
"I don't have them," he said simply.
Her smile faltered for a moment. "I see. Then I'm afraid you'll need to pass the preliminary test to qualify. The Pavilion provides costly materials for each candidate—we must ensure a basic level of skill."
"I understand," Sirius nodded. "Please arrange it."
"It will take about an hour to prepare. You may wait in the library. Down that hall, first left."
Sirius thanked her and walked down the hall.
The library was quiet, filled with soft lantern light and tall shelves of scrolls and books. He browsed a few volumes, but most were entry-level: "Fundamentals of Heat Flow," "Identifying Basic Roots," and "Common Pills for Minor Cultivation."
He returned the scrolls and found a quiet spot in the corner. Sitting cross-legged, he began cultivating.
Mana rushed into him with ease, and his body welcomed it.
Forty minutes passed.
As his aura stabilized, Sirius broke through to Level Seven Martial Practitioner.
Opening his eyes, he summoned flame to his palm—steady, controlled, and bright.
"This could easily qualify me for Grade 2 Alchemist standards," he whispered.
A voice broke the silence.
"True, but flame alone isn't enough," said a round-bellied man standing at the doorway. "You need patience. Precision. And wisdom."
Sirius turned, stood, and bowed slightly. "I agree, sir. But I'm confident in my abilities."
"Hah. I like confidence. I'm Master Tao. Let's go. Time to prove yourself."
Tao led him through a labyrinth of corridors to a chamber with five senior alchemists seated in a semicircle.
A sixth chair waited in front of them.
"Sirius, sit," Tao said, taking the last empty seat.
"Your first test: identify 100 medicinal ingredients. Write their names, uses, and cautions."
A large basket was placed on the table before him, filled with powders, dried herbs, roots, oils, minerals, and more.
Sirius wasted no time.
He examined, noted, and wrote quickly. Names like Moonlight Petals, Frostvein Moss, Dragon Whisker Grass, and Fiery Squid Ink flew across the page. He listed their alchemical properties, known reactions, best companions, and mistakes to avoid.
In just twenty minutes, he submitted his paper.
"Fast doesn't mean correct," one elder murmured.
But as they read, silence filled the room.
"These answers are… perfect."
"Look at this," another said. "He identified a reaction I never noticed between Dragon Whisker and Squid Ink."
They murmured among themselves, reviewing and discussing, their tones slowly shifting from surprise to admiration.
Sirius cleared his throat. "May I take the Grade One test now?"
"Yes," Master Tao nodded. "Refine two Grade One pills or elixirs. You have three chances each."
"I'll make the Thunder Skin Elixir and the Fire Blood Pill," Sirius said.
The room fell into quiet murmurs again.
He began.
Sirius stood before the cauldron, sleeves rolled slightly above the wrist, exposing the soft blue glow of circulating mana beneath his skin. His expression remained calm, almost serene, as he withdrew several ingredients from his spatial ring and arranged them on the table beside him.
The judges leaned forward slightly, curious to see how he would begin.
He started with Frostvein Moss—a pale-blue lichen that naturally absorbs and stores cold energy. Despite its cold nature, it's used in thunder-based concoctions as a stabilizer. Sirius finely ground the moss using a small jade pestle until it became a fine powder.
Next, he took Thousand-Year Ginseng, a gnarled root with thick veins and a faint inner glow. Known for amplifying the effects of other ingredients, it served as the energy bridge in the elixir. He used a spirit-infused blade to peel its bark, sliced it into thin pieces, and crushed them into pulp.
The two ingredients were blended together with a few drops of spring dew in a small bowl, forming a smooth greyish-green paste.
Sirius picked up a single Stormsalt Crystal, a deep azure mineral known to carry the essence of condensed atmospheric lightning. Too unstable to use in raw form, it had to be dissolved slowly. He carefully submerged the crystal into the mixture of Frostvein and Ginseng paste and stirred it clockwise with a phoenix-feather brush.
As the crystal dissolved, the mixture began to emit crackles of static electricity.
Small sparks popped over the surface.
The room began to subtly charge with elemental energy.
Sirius raised his right hand and summoned a moderate flame, hovering just beneath the cauldron's belly. Not too strong, not too weak—just enough to bring water to a consistent simmer.
He added a full gallon of purified spring water to the cauldron. Once the temperature stabilized, he added Dragon Whisker Grass, Black Falcon Talon, and Thunder Panther Beast Core.
The core, as it dissolved, caused the water to surge and bubble aggressively.
But Sirius didn't panic. With a simple gesture, he infused a stream of mana into the brew, calming the surge and stabilizing the reaction.
For the next fifty minutes, he maintained a low simmer, stirring slowly with a bamboo rod inscribed with minor stabilizing runes.
As the mixture reduced, the color transformed—from translucent silver to a deep electric blue, crackling with arcs of faint lightning.
Now came the delicate part.
He took the thickened essence and carefully poured it into the earlier paste of Frostvein, Ginseng, and Stormsalt Crystal extract. With a small alchemical spoon, he stirred the two mixtures together slowly.
They merged seamlessly.
As the mixture thickened into a smooth gel-like consistency, the judges leaned closer. This was the Thunder Skin Elixir in its final form.
Sirius scooped some into a clean glass vial and handed it forward.
One judge rubbed a small amount on his palm.
The skin began to spark and buzz with thunder attribute energy.
Another leaned over and touched the same hand—his arm jerked involuntarily from the shock.
Everyone laughed.
"Thunder Skin Elixir confirmed. Pure. Stable. Refined perfectly," Master Tao said with a grin. "Now, on to the next."
Sirius wiped the cauldron clean with a cloth soaked in Spirit Water, then used his ice-elemental energy to chill the surface—cooling the inner chamber and neutralizing any lingering residue from the thunder infusion.
He then turned to the ingredients for the Fire Blood Pill, setting them carefully in order of reaction volatility.
"Fire Blood Pill," murmured one of the examiners. "If he can make this, he's not just a Grade 1 Alchemist… he's in a class of his own."
Sirius began with Fiery Squid Ink Extract, a viscous dark red liquid known for its innate flame-absorbing properties. It's extremely volatile under high heat, so he used a low ignition flame to gently warm the extract, letting crimson fumes rise into the air and condense into a light cloud within the cauldron.
The extract served as the pill's ignition foundation—if infused too quickly or unevenly, the entire concoction could combust.
Next, he added Fire Turtle Beast Core, which enhanced the flame attribute while introducing a layer of spiritual defense. The outer shell of the core was chipped away, exposing the crystal within, which was then ground and dissolved into the simmering mixture.
He added Fiery Maple Leaves—a crimson herb that acted as an internal temperature balancer. Without it, the pill could overload the consumer's veins.
Then came Bloodember Ore, a mineral that could heat the mixture beyond standard flame limits. Sirius activated Heavenfire Flame, a special variation only accessible due to his Star Origin Bloodline. The intense heat caused the liquid to swirl violently, turning it into a molten core of glowing red.
The crimson fumes hovering above the cauldron began to spiral downward, absorbed back into the brew. The liquid surged with raw power, rising and falling with pulsing energy like a living thing.
Without hesitation, Sirius extinguished the flame and immediately activated a pulse of ice-elemental mana. A layer of frost began to form around the rim of the cauldron.
This was the true test of balance.
The sudden cold shock forced the overheated mixture to condense into pill droplets—dense, heavy, and perfectly round. If done improperly, the result would be shattered crystals or fused sludge.
The judges watched, eyes wide, as twelve glowing red pills hovered in mid-air, surrounded by gentle frost and waves of residual fire essence.
Sirius calmly waved his hand, and the pills floated into a prepared jade bottle, carved with preservation runes.
He sealed it with a wax talisman and handed it to the judges.
One judge opened the bottle, inhaled carefully, and nodded. "You can smell the mana. Pure and heavy."
Another examined the pill's surface with a thin spiritual probe and blinked. "There's no internal turbulence. It's stable. Controlled. Refined to perfection."
"Explain the pill's effect," Master Tao asked.
Sirius responded without pause:
"For those in the Martial Practitioner stage, it boosts combat power by five minor stages for half an hour. For those in the Martial Master stage, it enhances strength and speed up to three stages. For those in the Martial Grandmaster realm, it can force a temporary two-stage surge with no internal backlash."
The judges exchanged looks.
To craft a Fire Blood Pill with no side effects… it was unheard of in modern times. The original formula had been considered lost, replaced by the Fire Explosive Pill, which burned blood essence and caused damage to meridians after use.
This version?
Perfectly safe.
And now… restored.
Master Tao stood from his seat, smiling broadly.
"Sirius Arya," he said, voice echoing slightly, "for your exceptional performance, we award you the official title of Grade One Alchemist."
The other four judges nodded, rising to their feet.
"Welcome to the Pavilion."
They handed him a white-jade badge etched with a flame icon and engraved with his name. A protective aura shimmered across its surface—it would serve as proof of rank, access to ingredients, missions, and advanced alchemical resources.
Sirius bowed respectfully and accepted it.
The first step had been taken.