Seven days slipped by like a gentle breeze. Arthur lived them in with absolute leisure. Each morning, he cultivated for a shichen, letting Qi cycle through his meridians and nourish his dantian. He shared quiet meals, and his feet carried him to the sect's entrance gate in the evenings. As always, he sat there at the tavern, drinking tea and idly watching hunter-gatherers return with dust and blood on their robes. Then he would return home, rest, and repeat the same cycle the next day.
It was a simple rhythm, and Arthur let it pass like water.
On the seventh evening, just as he was about to step out for his usual walk, hurried footsteps approached. Zi Yan appeared at the doorway, her breath uneven, face flushed with urgency.
"Young Master," she said quickly, bowing. "Liu Fen and Ma Rong have arrived."
Arthur paused mid-step, adjusting his robes with slow composure. "Send them in."
The two men entered with careful movements, their expressions unusually secretive. Zi Yan gave a brief bow and withdrew, closing the door softly behind her.
Arthur spoke with a faint smile. "And here I thought you two had run away with the materials."
The guards exchanged a startled glance before breaking into nervous laughter.
"We wouldn't dare, Young Master," Ma Rong said.
"Yes, Young Master," Liu Fen added. "It's far more intelligent to run your errands and earn than to live as fugitives."
Arthur chuckled, waving a hand. "I'm only jesting. Relax, both of you. Sit."
The room was already prepared. Cushions had been laid neatly around a low table, and incense burned faintly in the corner. They seated themselves opposite Arthur, their postures rigid with unease.
"So," Arthur said, resting his chin against his hand, "how was the outcome?"
The two men exchanged a glance, and their eyes brightened.
"We have struck fortune, Young Master," Liu Fen said, almost trembling with excitement. "But first… we must apologize."
Arthur raised a brow. "Oh? And why is that?"
"Because," Ma Rong spoke carefully, "we didn't inform you beforehand. To remain completely secretive, we had to travel three sects away to make the sales."
Arthur's brows lifted slightly. "Three sects… and where did you finally sell them?"
They hesitated, then answered together. "Ming Sect."
Arthur's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Ming Sect? The finest alchemy sect in this province?" His voice was soft, but the weight behind it was felt. "You thought it was wise to sell to those who might one day be my competition? Would it not have been safer to sell elsewhere, where the value may even rise higher?"
The guards straightened quickly.
"Young Master, we did consider that," Liu Fen explained hurriedly. "But the Ming Sect has such a vast network of alchemical traders that our movements were drowned in the crowd. No one could trace us. To sell such costly ingredients elsewhere would have raised suspicions immediately."
"We even waited five full days before selling," Ma Rong added quickly. "Each item was sold separately, at different shops within the sect, and never by the two of us together. We made certain no one could link us."
Arthur studied them in silence, then gave a slow nod. "You did well. So then, how much are we talking?"
Liu Fen's lips twitched upward, unable to hide his excitement. "Four hundred and fifty-seven, Young Master."
"Four hundred and fifty-seven Whiteflare Bloom Spirit Stones," Ma Rong echoed, expecting their theatrics to startle him.
But Arthur remained utterly calm. His fingers tapped lightly on the table. Four hundred and fifty-seven… a fair sum for ingredients. Yet had I sold them as finished pills, even at retail and not at auction, the profit would have been thrice that — fifteen hundred, easily.
He allowed no flicker of thought to cross his face. Instead, he inclined his head slowly. "Thank you, both of you, for your service."
The guards exhaled in relief.
"You will keep one hundred and fifty-seven stones. The remainder stays here."
They blinked, startled.
"Young Master…" Ma Rong began cautiously.
Arthur's smile widened slightly. "I know I promised you one-third. But since you endured more hardship than expected, take the extra. Consider it a reward."
Silence stretched for a breath. Then the two dropped their heads in unison. "Thank you for your grace, Young Master!"
They bowed low, their reverence genuine.
Unbeknownst to Arthur, the men had many thoughts before entering his chambers. They had considered lying about the price, considered pocketing more than their share, and even whispered of schemes on the road. But standing before Arthur now, receiving more generosity than they imagined, all those thoughts turned to ash.
They could no longer calculate him. They could not comprehend him. They only understood that following him… was safer, more profitable, and far more rewarding than loyalty to the Alchemy Pavilion.
The two clasped their fists and bowed again.
"Then… may we take our leave, Young Master?"
Arthur was momentarily lost in thought as if weighing something in silence. Finally, he removed some stones from the pouch.
"Take these."
They picked them up and froze. They were fifty Whiteflare Bloom Stones.
"Young Master, this—" one of them began.
Arthur cut him off with a faint smile.
"This is not for you, but for me."
The guards exchanged a confused look before bowing again.
"As you will, Young Master. Then… what do you wish of us?"
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, voice deliberate.
"I want a canvas… large enough to cover this entire room. You can buy five with that amount, right?
They nodded quickly, already calculating the purchase. But Arthur's gaze turned contemplative again, and after a long pause, he asked, almost too casually, "Tell me… what species is closest to a dragon?"
The two men froze. "Dragon? Young Master, are you teasing us?"
Arthur's tone carried no humor.
"I know dragons don't exist. But if one wished to find something similar… what would it be?"
After a nervous exchange of glances, one finally answered, "There is… the Duskscale Drake, Blackfire Serpent, Charred Earth Wyvern, and many more. But Charred Earth Wyvern would be the weakest and the easiest to hunt. It is said to dwell in deep canyons. But even as the weakest of them all, it is at least in the Whiteflare Bloom Realm."
Arthur's fingers tapped lightly on the arm of his chair. "How much for its blood?"
"Costly, Young Master. Almost… two hundred Whiteflare Bloom Stones."
"Fine."
Arthur stood, walking over to the corner of his room where a pouch of spirit stones rested. It was his hidden reserve, salvaged from the resources his father had occasionally given him. He loosened the pouch, counted, and then mixed fifty stones with the remaining hundred and fifty until the bag was full.
He tossed it to Ma Rong without hesitation.
"Bring it as well."
The two men stared at him, utterly speechless.
"Young Master… what will you do with all these items?"
Arthur met their gaze with calm confidence, his tone steady, unquestionable.
"Practice inscription."
They blinked, stunned. "But… that's two hundred and fifty Whiteflare Bloom Stones."
Arthur turned away, already done with the conversation.
"Money is meant for spending."
They clasped their fists, bowed deeply, and finally took their leave.
When the door closed behind them, Arthur smiled.
"Of course dragons don't exist… not in Tianyu, that is."