Sirius strode confidently into the Vermillion Chrysanthemum Merchant Guild, his steps steady, his expression calm. The building stood tall in the heart of Crimson Bloom Town, its façade a mix of elegance and grandeur. Golden lanterns hung from its carved beams, casting warm light across the marble entranceway. Inside, attendants bustled in fine uniforms, their gestures precise, their smiles rehearsed.
The guild was the beating heart of commerce in this region—where spirit herbs, rare ores, and even the occasional mystic artifact exchanged hands. But Sirius wasn't there to gawk. He had come with purpose.
His first order of business was clothing. For years he had lived with little care for outward appearance, content with simple robes. But he knew merchants, nobles, and cultivators of status judged by presentation first and merit second. To move among them without drawing scorn or doubt, one had to dress the part.
He selected several sets of fine attire—embroidered robes in deep blue and silver, sturdy travel garments woven with light defensive silk, and even a ceremonial cloak fit for formal meetings. After a quick change, Sirius now cut the image of a young aristocrat—composed, refined, and untouchable.
When he finally approached the front desk, his bearing was calm yet commanding.
"I'd like to auction some items," Sirius stated evenly.
The receptionist, a woman in her mid-twenties with neatly tied hair, gave him a practiced smile. "Of course, young master. May I know what you wish to consign?"
Sirius reached into his storage ring and withdrew two small lacquered boxes. He placed them gently upon the counter, their delicate carvings hinting at value even before they were opened.
"Four Ice Spirit Pills and two Earth Dragon Pills," he said without flourish.
The woman blinked, her smile faltering. Carefully, she lifted the lids. Immediately, a medicinal fragrance washed out, crisp and invigorating. The Ice Spirit Pills shimmered with faint crystalline light, and the Earth Dragon Pills radiated a dense earthy aura.
The receptionist's professional mask cracked, her eyes widening. Pills of this caliber weren't just rare—they were normally reserved for high-profile auctions in major cities, not casual consignments. She straightened quickly and bowed her head slightly.
"Please wait a moment, young master. I will summon an expert for verification."
Sirius simply nodded, unbothered.
Moments later, a middle-aged man strode in, his chest adorned with the insignia of a Grade Three Alchemist. His eyes carried the sharp glint of one used to assessing quality. He opened the boxes, inhaled the fragrance, and examined each pill with utmost care.
"These… are exceptional," he finally said, his voice tinged with awe. "The purity, the balance of medicinal essence—rarely have I seen such mastery. Each Ice Spirit Pill alone could start at twenty thousand silver coins. Tell me, young master, how did you acquire such creations? Their freshness is evident from their fragrance."
Sirius responded not with words but action. He reached into his robes and placed his Grade Two Alchemist Badge on the counter.
The man's eyes went wide. For a long moment, silence hung between them. Then he let out a low chuckle of disbelief.
"A Grade Two Alchemist… at your age? Remarkable." His tone shifted to one of respect. "Young man, fate smiles on you. Tonight, we are holding a major auction. I can already say with certainty—the Frost family will fight fiercely for your Ice Spirit Pills. Take this VIP card. It will grant you private access and the privileges of a distinguished guest."
Sirius accepted the golden-etched card with the same calm demeanor, though inwardly he allowed a flicker of satisfaction.
With the arrangements complete, Sirius turned to his next task—shopping. The guild's lower floors housed a vast marketplace. Rows of shelves and glass cases displayed medicinal herbs, glimmering ores, refined metals, talismans, and even weapons.
He moved with efficiency, selecting only what he required. Rare medicinal roots to replenish his stock, spiritual ores and alloys for future crafting, talisman papers and beast cores for formation work, and a few reliable weapons and pieces of armor for the Arya Clan's warriors.
Every purchase was strategic. Sirius wasn't hoarding them for personal vanity. He was preparing for the storm. The Lagan Clan would not stay quiet forever, and when they made their move, the Arya Clan had to be ready.
After completing his purchases, Sirius left the guild and secured a room at a nearby inn.
Inside, he worked quickly. Drawing talismans from his ring, he arranged them beneath the floorboards, forming a compact mana-gathering array. Soft blue light pulsed faintly, the energy within the room intensifying.
"Consider this a small gift for the room," Sirius murmured with a faint smile.
Then, sitting cross-legged, he began to cultivate. The hours of alchemy, of calculation and control, had drained him. Spiritual energy surged into his meridians, replenishing his reserves. After an hour, he opened his eyes, sharp and steady once more.
"Time to head to the auction."
The Vermillion Chrysanthemum Auction Hall was a spectacle of wealth. Chandeliers carved from crystal hung from the domed ceiling, while velvet-draped balconies lined the walls. Rows of seats filled with merchants, aristocrats, and cultivators buzzed with anticipation.
Sirius was led to a private booth overlooking the stage. The glass was tinted, granting him clear vision while concealing his identity from the crowd.
The auction began with smaller items—rare herbs, ores, and metals. Alchemists and blacksmiths bid aggressively, prices climbing quickly. Sirius joined occasionally, securing a few materials of interest.
Next came mystic arts, pill formulas, and formation blueprints. The hall grew tense with every bid, but Sirius remained indifferent. What use were flawed, incomplete arts when his memories held techniques that touched divinity itself? Even the ones he got from Legacy Monument were superior to those here.
Then came the highlights: weapons, pills, talismans.
Finally, Sirius's items appeared. The auctioneer lifted one of the Ice Spirit Pills, her voice ringing with excitement as she introduced it.
The hall erupted. Nobles and sect representatives leaned forward, eyes burning. The Ice Spirit Pills and Earth Dragon Pills were treasures seldom seen, and here they were, gleaming under the light.
The bidding war was fierce. Numbers flew in rapid succession, climbing higher and higher. When the dust settled, Sirius's pills had fetched a total of eighty-four thousand silver coins.
The Frost Family claimed the Ice Spirit Pills, while the Captain of the City Guard secured the Earth Dragon Pills.
Sirius leaned back, satisfied. Wealth was useful, but more importantly, this sale positioned him squarely on the radar of powers worth befriending—or controlling.
As the auction concluded, an attendant delivered a sealed letter to Sirius's booth. The crest upon it—a blooming frost lotus—was unmistakable.
Opening it, he read:
"To the esteemed Alchemist Sirius,The Frost Family expresses its gratitude for your contribution to tonight's auction. We cordially invite you to visit our household tomorrow. It would honor us to discuss matters of mutual benefit.—Frost Clan Head"
Sirius folded the letter calmly, his mind already turning.
"The Frosts… It seems fate arranges for us to meet."
The next morning, Sirius arrived at the Frost Family estate. The gates opened to reveal expansive courtyards of ice-carved fountains and training fields lined with frost-covered pines.
As he walked, he heard the distinct sound of a sword cutting through air. Curious, Sirius followed the sound to a practice ground where a young girl was training. She was perhaps fifteen or sixteen, her hair as pale as snow, her eyes sharp yet frustrated.
Her movements were graceful but flawed. The style was familiar to Sirius—painfully so.
"Ice Phoenix Sword Art…" he whispered.
A flood of memory surfaced. This was the very technique he had created in his past life, taught to his disciple Selena Frost. To see it again, broken and incomplete, stirred something within him.
"You're forcing the blade," Sirius called out suddenly.
The girl froze, startled. "What did you say?"
"You're fighting the technique instead of letting it guide you. The Ice Phoenix does not cut with brute force—it flows, as elegant as snow upon wind."
The girl frowned, suspicious but curious. She tried again, adjusting her grip and flow as Sirius had said. Immediately, her movements smoothed. The icy energy around her responded, forming a faint outline of wings at her back.
Her eyes widened. "It worked…"
Before Sirius could say more, attendants hurried him inside to meet the clan head.
The Frost Clan was ruled not by a patriarch, but by a matriarch. The Clan Head, a striking woman in her forties with long silver hair, greeted Sirius personally. Her gaze was steady, her manner commanding yet warm.
"You are far younger than I expected," she admitted as they sat for a meal. "But age aside, your alchemy speaks for itself. Let us speak frankly, Alchemist Sirius. We wish to establish a contract with you—for ten Ice Spirit Pills per month. In return, we will provide you with resources and wealth beyond measure."
Sirius's lips curved faintly. "Tempting. But instead of silver and gold, I have another proposal. Support the Arya Clan. In exchange, I will provide the Frost Clan with thirty Ice Spirit Pills every month."
The matriarch's chopsticks paused mid-air. "Thirty…? Do you understand what you are claiming? For most alchemists, ten would be the limit of their capacity."
"I understand." His voice was calm, unwavering.
At that moment, the young girl from earlier entered. "Mother! I met a boy today. He pointed out the flaws in my Ice Phoenix Sword Art. With just a few words, I understood the true way to wield it!"
The matriarch frowned. "Nonsense. The Ice Phoenix Art is an ancestral technique. No outsider could possibly correct it."
But when the girl—Lisa Frost—demonstrated, the hall fell silent. The sword danced with newfound grace, icy energy swirling like wings of a phoenix.
The matriarch's eyes widened. "This… this is the lost perfection of the technique! For years, none of our clan could cultivate it fully. And you… You must find that biy we must express our gratitude to him."
At that moment Lisa noticed Sirius there, "Ahh, you are right here. You must teach me more about Ice Phoenix Sword Art."
Clan head surprised turned to Sirius, her expression shifting from doubt to deep respect.
She rose, bowing slightly. "For aiding our clan, you have my eternal gratitude. The Frost Family will honor your request. Our warriors will march with you to Grey Mountain Town."
Within days, a contingent of Frost Family elites prepared to accompany Sirius. Among them was Lisa herself, eager to learn more from him.
The journey began smoothly, but Sirius's instincts kept him wary.
His caution proved right.
Halfway along the mountain road, the Lagan Clan struck.
Arrows darkened the sky, and armored men charged from the trees, their battle cries filling the valley. Clearly, they had caught wind of Sirius's trip to Crimson Bloom Town and assumed he carried wealth worth seizing.
Their mistake would cost them dearly.
The Frost elites unleashed their power. Blades flashed, frost surged, and mana burned the air. The ambush collapsed in minutes, the Lagans' men falling one after another.
Sirius stood calmly at the center, his eyes cold.
"So… the Lagan Clan dares to reach this far. Then it's time we show them what mistake they've made."
The path to Grey Mountain Town lay open again, but the fires of conflict had only just begun.