2026-06-06 20:12:03
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Chapter 39: The Art of Looking Bad to Survive Publicity
The festival grounds of Mist-Hollow weren't just crowded; they were a death trap of vanity. Every alchemist within a hundred miles had arrived, hoping to secure a patronage deal with the Imperial Auditor’s office. To stand out was to attract professional ruin—exactly what Zarox wanted to avoid.He stood in the middle of his designated booth space, surrounded by crates that smelled aggressively of stagnant swamp water and failed chemistry experiments. Grog stood beside him, trying his hardest to look like a mindless thug while occasionally twitching as a nearby "Purification Blossom" from the neighbouring booth released a plume of sweet, intrusive smoke that would’ve given a weaker man a sneezing fit."Boss," Grog whispered, leaning over so close he almost blocked out the sun. "They're coming. The scouts from the Cloud-Sword Clan are scoping out every booth. They've already humiliated the poor guy at stall seven for having 'mediocre copper.' If they come here and see these rusty cauldr
Chapter 38: A Bureaucratic Contract Amid the Regional Festival
The invitation wasn't printed on parchment; it was embossed onto a thick, shimmering piece of leaden-grey plate that hummed with enough magical security protocols to vaporize a medium-sized bird.Zarox held it with a pair of sterile tongs. It weighed more than a bag of heavy silt, a physical testament to the utter annoyance that was the Heaven’s Peak Regional Alchemist Festival."I’m not going," Zarox stated, dropping the plate into an incinerator bucket. It clanged, unmoved by the heat. "Jarek, tell the courier that I’ve come down with a severe case of contagious administrative laziness. Tell them my chakras are stuck in a non-extradition zone."Jarek didn't even look up from the supply logs. He was currently monitoring a cluster of sentient jasmine vines that were doing a fairly competent job of filing requisition orders for saltpeter. "Can't do that, Boss. I checked the back of the invite. The Imperial Secretariat included a mandatory 'Diplomatic Contribution' clause under Section
Chapter 37: Defeating Evil Temptations in the World's Most Comfortable Room
Elder Vorn didn't walk into the 'Optimal Rest Facility'; he was practically carried in, his pride trailing behind him like a shredded cloak. It was the deepest chamber of the Heaven’s Peak mountain complex, originally built as a secure cellar for aging rare alcohols. Now, it was a soundproof tomb of absolute comfort, draped in floor-to-ceiling tapestries of soothing velvet.Jarek didn't bother with shackles; he simply clicked a wall-mounted panel, activating the room's core atmospheric feature: the 'Cloud-Drift' diffuser. A thin, fragrant vapor of extracted sleeping lotus and sweet almond drifted into the air, dampening the harsh, jagged edges of any conscious thought.Vorn stumbled as he hit the plush rug—not a hard floor, but a four-inch-thick synthetic down carpet. He tried to summon his inner rage, the sharp, serrated fury of the Void-Cutter style, but it felt like trying to start a fire in a monsoon. The room didn't just suppress noise; it hummed with a low-frequency sonic anchor
Chapter 36: The Alliance Elder's Resentment and Disappointment
The Aegis Cauldron was whistling a discordant, shaky melody that made the floor tiles hum. Zarox didn’t notice. He was currently shoulder-deep in a vat of industrial-grade lubricant, frantically recalibrating his biscuit-press for the new, high-demand aristocratic order. He was happy. For the first time since the audit, things were humming like a well-oiled engine of profit.The front doors didn't just open; they were kicked inward with such precise, violent malice that the lock disintegrated into shrapnel. Zarox hit the floor, dragging the Aegis lid with him like a shield.Standing in the smoke-filled doorway was Elder Vorn, the head of the Internal Alliance, and arguably the most vindictive fossil in the entire Heaven’s Peak hierarchy. He wasn't alone. He was followed by three stoic-faced guards, all of whom radiated the "don't ask, don't tell, I’ll kill you for fun" energy of the Enforcement Wing."Zarox," Vorn growled, his voice a rasping blend of arrogance and age. "Pack your ba
Chapter 35: The Record-Breaking Marathon Fueled by Deadly Itch Powder
The archives were silent, save for the faint, dusty flutter of Zarox flipping through a manual that smelled like preserved mummies and failed dreams. He had found it: 'The Harmonic Frequency of Lightning Conductors'. If he managed to replicate the frequency inside his own nervous system, he could disperse the static build-up through his marrow instead of his skin.He had exactly six hours to finish this before the Elder at the front door realized his hinges had been vandalized.He was in the middle of a delicate calculation—the relationship between body weight and electromagnetic impedance—when the massive heavy oak doors behind him began to rumble."Alright, that’s enough," a voice thundered from the darkness.Zarox spun around. Three massive silhouettes detached themselves from the shadows: The Sect Enforcers. Their primary task wasn't to teach or test, but to 'cleanse' unauthorized researchers from the archives. They weren't looking for a bribe or an explanation; they were looking
Chapter 34: The Battle for Access Rights
The arena of Heaven’s Peak wasn't built for subtlety; it was built for blunt trauma. A vast, tiered circular amphitheater carved into the granite belly of the mountain, it hummed with the aggressive resonance of a thousand cultivators vying for higher rank. Usually, Zarox avoided this place like the plague—specifically, the kind of plague that left you missing limbs or dignity.But he had a problem that couldn't be solved with fertilizer or fancy cookies: the persistent, jagged hum of ancient, residual lightning in his blood, left over from his desperate stunt to hold the Imperial Barrier together months ago. Every time he focused on complex alchemy, his left arm sparked like a faulty magical fuse."Are you absolutely sure about this?" Grog grunted, adjusting the heavy, enchanted goggles Zarox was forcing him to wear. The big man looked ridiculous, his towering frame dwarfed by the sleek, minimalist design of the goggles.Zarox tightened his belt, checking the pouches lining his robe.
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