Zarox froze. The purple energy swirling wildly in his hand slowly faded, sucked back into the cauldron as if the object had a consciousness of its own that was reluctant to explode. He turned slowly, finding the figure of Elder Kael standing there, his eyes staring sharply with an aura of authority that made Zarox's knees go weak instantly.
"Let me go, Elder!" Zarox cried out with a trembling voice, trying to pull his hand from the senior alchemist's grip. "Them! They started it! They wanted to beat up an innocent servant disciple like me!" Elder Kael released Zarox's wrist, then observed the rusty cauldron, which was still hissing softly, with an unreadable expression. "A servant disciple, you say? What kind of servant disciple is capable of creating an energy anomaly of this magnitude just by manipulating basic light?" "You just made a hole big enough to bury half of this dormitory." The rowdy crowd of outer disciples suddenly fell silent. Seeing Elder Kael's presence, they quickly bowed in respect, though their faces still harbored suppressed anger. Grog, clutching a club, even lowered his weapon with trembling hands. "Elder Kael," Grog spoke up, trying to offer an explanation, "this brat has destroyed the sect's facilities. He is a calamity for the kitchen department, and now, he is threatening the safety of all the outer disciples." Elder Kael ignored Grog. He walked toward Zarox, the strong scent of herbs and dried leaves wafting from his robes, enveloping Zarox in an alien and suffocating atmosphere. "I smell something," Elder Kael murmured, sniffing the air around Zarox. "Not just spiritual rice or basic decoctions. There is a scent... Aegis, an ancient alchemy technique that should be extinct. Tell me, young man, where did you get the ability to harmonize that wild energy into scrap metal?" Zarox swallowed hard. This was another dangerous situation. If he confessed, he would be turned into a lab rat. If he lied, he could be executed for hiding forbidden artifacts. With his coward's instinct as sharp as a blade, Zarox decided to take the middle path: being an accidental genius. "I... I was just afraid of dying, Elder!" Zarox bowed his head as low as possible, his face full of misery. "Every time I feel threatened, I just imagine how to avoid being crushed. I tried to direct the energy into this cauldron so I could hide behind it. I had no idea it would explode! Truly, I am just a servant trying to survive so I won't be beaten or devoured by monsters!" Elder Kael fell silent. He stared at Zarox as if dissecting the contents of the youth's head. "Extreme fear as an energy catalyst? It is an interesting concept, albeit highly unstable." He then turned to face the other disciples. "Disperse! If I see this commotion again, I will personally ensure you all clean the spiritual wells for three months straight!" The disciples quickly scattered with sour expressions, leaving Zarox alone with Elder Kael amidst the ruins of the dormitory. "You," Kael pointed at Zarox, "follow me to the Medicine Pavilion. If you truly have a talent for unconsciously modifying energy, then it would be a shame for you to waste your time scrubbing cauldrons in a filthy kitchen." Zarox blinked rapidly. "To the Medicine Pavilion? Are there many poisons there? Will I be used as an experiment for failed immortality pills? Will I have a safe room that can be locked tight from the inside?" Elder Kael chuckled, the sound of his laughter dry like falling leaves. "You will learn true alchemy. And yes, there are many poisons. But that is the best place for someone obsessed with safety. If you are smart enough to identify the poison before it kills you, then you will become the greatest alchemist this sect has ever had." Without waiting for an answer, Elder Kael walked away, his robes fluttering in the night wind. Zarox stared at the dormitory ruins, then at the cauldron in his hands. Immortality was the goal, and the Medicine Pavilion was the right step. However, he couldn't shake the bad feeling that this was the beginning of a much more organized hell. The next morning, the Medicine Pavilion greeted Zarox with a scent much sharper than the kitchen. Towering wooden shelves were filled with glass bottles containing spiritual creature organs, pulsing plant roots, and neon-colored liquids that looked unstable. Here, every corner felt like a death trap. "Listen to me, Zarox," Elder Kael stood in front of a vast alchemy table, upon which hundreds of ingredients were arranged with terrifying precision. "Here, a dosage error doesn't mean you'll be scolded. A dosage error means you'll turn into a puddle of slime within five seconds. Paham?" Zarox swallowed hard. "Crystal clear, Elder. Is there an evacuation procedure in case of an explosion?" "There is none," Kael replied coldly. "There is only a death procedure for the incompetent. Now, identify those five types of plants on the table. Determine which ones can extend life and which ones will rip your guts apart if you dare eat them." Zarox approached the table. His eyes, which had been honed by an extreme fear of death, began to scan every detail of the plants with obsessive intensity. To an ordinary person, they were just plants. But to Zarox, every leaf fiber and every speck of clinging spore looked like a warning. He picked up a dark blue plant with white spots. "This is... Dragon's Breath Grass. It's excellent for accelerating cell regeneration, but if touched with bare hands without the protection of silk gloves, its neurotoxins will stop the heart in two blinks of an eye." Elder Kael raised an eyebrow. "Correct. Continue." Zarox moved to the next plant, a bright yellow flower that looked beautiful. He kept a safe distance, not letting his nose get too close. "This is a Grey Sunflower. It smells sweet, but the spores released when it opens will trigger hallucinations that make a person want to jump off the highest cliff. It must be processed in boiling water mixed with fire toad bile to neutralize its hallucinogenic toxins." Zarox continued to state the names, dosages, side effects, and handling methods of every plant with an accuracy that made Elder Kael slowly stop taking notes. He seemed transfixed by the way Zarox dissected the plants with a silver knife, as if Zarox weren't studying, but rather defusing a bomb ready to explode. "Who taught you this?" Elder Kael asked, his voice softening slightly, though his eyes remained wary. "No one," Zarox answered while anxiously wiping sweat from his forehead. "I just... I just don't want to die from eating the wrong plant. So, I memorized every poison that could kill me. If I know the poison, I can avoid it. That is my logic." Elder Kael was stunned. He had educated hundreds of talented alchemists in his life, but he had never seen someone with this level of paranoia combined with such almost inhuman precision. Zarox's fear was not a weakness; it was an extraordinary power of observation. "You are truly remarkable, or perhaps, the craziest person I have ever met," Kael murmured. He stepped toward the backmost shelf, picking up a small bronze cauldron whose surface was covered in carvings of dragons that looked alive. "This is my personal cauldron, the Heavenly Fire Cauldron. I am giving it to you to use. Show me what you can do with the ingredients here, and remember... do not blow up my pavilion." Zarox received the cauldron with trembling hands. He could feel the ancient energy within it, much purer than the kitchen cauldron he had been using. This was a golden opportunity. If he could concoct immortality pills here, he might never have to fear death again. "Thank you, Elder! I promise I will be very careful!" Zarox exclaimed, his eyes sparkling at the sight of the sophisticated new tool. However, just as he was about to place his first ingredient into the cauldron, a senior disciple named Aidos entered the pavilion with an arrogant stride. Aidos was a mid-level alchemist who had always felt he was the rightful heir to Kael's knowledge. He stared at Zarox with a look of profound disdain. "Elder Kael," Aidos said with a cynical tone, "are you really allowing a kitchen hand who just destroyed the dormitories to touch your legendary cauldron? He doesn't even know the difference between a bowel-cleansing tonic and a cultivation-enhancing elixir!" Zarox bowed his head, trying to avoid conflict. "I am only learning, Senior Aidos. I didn't mean to be a nuisance." Aidos walked toward Zarox's table and flicked the bronze cauldron with his finger. "Learning? This is the Medicine Pavilion, a place for geniuses, not a place for some coward who was lucky enough to survive the outer exams. Elder, if he fails his first experiment, I demand he be sent back to the kitchen for good." Elder Kael simply leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. "Zarox, listen to what he says. Refine a basic-grade Soul-Cleansing Pill. If you fail, Aidos is right; you're going back to the kitchen." Zarox's heart felt like it had been struck by a sledgehammer. A Soul-Cleansing Pill? That was an incredibly complex pill with many critical points during its refinement. If the flame's intensity flickered even slightly, the concoction would turn into a poisonous gas that would kill everyone in this room. Zarox swallowed hard, his hands fumbling with the ingredients in front of him. He had to do this. For his immortality, for his safety from that horrific kitchen, and for his pride, which, despite being small, was beginning to feel slighted. He began placing the ingredients into the cauldron. Aidos stood beside him, chuckling every time Zarox looked hesitant. "Look at his trembling hands. He doesn't even dare to hold the Ice Ginseng root properly. He's going to blow up in three... two..." Zarox ignored the mockery. He closed his eyes, letting his survival instincts take over. He felt every fluctuation of temperature inside the cauldron, every hiss of energy scraping against the bronze walls. He imagined the fire as an enemy that wanted to kill him, and he had to 'tame' that enemy in the most polite way possible so it wouldn't explode. Sssshhh... A fragrant aroma began to drift from the cauldron. Aidos fell silent, his eyes widening. Elder Kael, who had been leaning back, now stood upright, stepping closer to inspect the cauldron's contents more thoroughly. "This... the scent is too pure," Kael muttered in disbelief. However, as Zarox was about to complete the process, he realized something truly horrific. He had added the ingredients in the correct order, but he had forgotten one small thing: the dosage. He had used a double dose to ensure 'safety' so the effects would be maximized. "Wait, no!" Zarox screamed internally. The pill inside the cauldron began to vibrate violently. Instead of becoming solid and round, the pill began to emit a glowing purple light that pulsed uncontrollably. "Zarox! What are you doing?!" Aidos shouted, suddenly backing away in fear, realizing the pill was about to explode into a ball of pure energy far more powerful than the dormitory incident. "I... I just wanted to make sure the pill worked!" Zarox answered in a panic, trying to hold down the cauldron lid with both hands. The pill erupted, not with a physical explosion, but with a shockwave that sent the entire contents of the pavilion flying into the air. Potion bottles shattered, ancient books took flight, and Elder Kael was forced to manifest a spiritual shield to protect himself. Zarox fell to the floor, purple smoke billowing from the now-empty cauldron. He felt as though his soul had just left his body. But even more shockingly, as the smoke cleared, he saw Aidos, who had been standing so arrogantly, now lying on the floor in a truly humiliating state. All of Aidos's clothes had vanished, and his body was now covered in a green slime that smelled like rotten eggs that had been festering for a hundred years. Aidos tried to get up, but every time he moved, a small popping sound erupted from his skin, making the senior student scream hysterically. Elder Kael stared at the 'failed' pill, then at Aidos, who was now a spectacle, and finally at Zarox with a look that was hard to decipher. "Zarox," Kael's voice sounded very heavy, "the pill you just made... it wasn't a Soul-Cleansing Pill. It was a very rare and dangerous skin-mutation concoction. And it seems... you've just liquefied the clothes and the dignity of our most talented senior student." Zarox turned pale. He knew this would end very badly. He looked at the pavilion door, then at the window. He could already imagine what kind of punishment awaited him. "Can... can I still go back to the kitchen now, Elder?" "NO!" Aidos screamed from the floor, his face flushed crimson with shame. "ELDER! Kill this boy right now!" Elder Kael approached Zarox, his aura growing sharper. Zarox closed his eyes, bracing for the harshest punishment of his life, perhaps a blow that would send him flying out of the sect. But instead, he felt Kael's hand grip his shoulder with immense strength. "Zarox," Kael whispered, "you aren't going back to the kitchen. You've just created a concoction that even I don't know how to make. You are an asset far too dangerous to be left loose, and far too valuable to be punished." Zarox opened his eyes, confused. "What do you mean?" "Starting today," Kael grinned broadly, "you will be my personal assistant. And we will ensure that your talent for creating these 'disasters' is directed toward protecting the sect... or at least, toward making our enemies feel exactly like Aidos." Zarox swallowed hard. He didn't know whether to be happy or even more terrified. He had just escaped death, only to be trapped in a position even closer to Elder Kael—the most mysterious man in the sect. Just as he was about to reply, an envoy from the Shadow Valley Sect suddenly appeared at the pavilion's threshold, his face cold, carrying an open letter of challenge for all the alchemists of Heaven's Peak. "An alchemy challenge," the envoy said in a disdainful tone. "Our sect challenges you. If Heaven's Peak loses, you must hand over your entire reserve of longevity pills."Latest Chapter
Chapter 187: The Auditor’s Paradox
The sound was not a bang, nor a crash. It was the sickening, hydraulic wheeze of a long-dormant seal being forced open—the structural equivalent of a death rattle. The floorboards beneath the desk buckled, forming a perfect, jagged circle around the chair Zarox occupied."Grog," Zarox said, his voice as steady as a razor blade. "If that’s the maintenance crew, tell them we’re strictly off-site today."Grog didn't answer. The giant was staring at the gap in the floor. A thin, grey mist—the consistency of crushed bone and stale ink—was curling upward, chilling the air to a point where Zarox’s own breath bloomed into frost."It’s not maintenance, Boss," Grog whispered, his grip so tight on his axe handle that the steel creaked. "It’s... it’s an Internal. It smells like the basement archives. The ones we sealed in Chapter 4.""The ones I swore would never be opened until the Sect was liquidated?" Zarox stood up, his joints popping. He reached for the golden quill, but his fingers slipped.
Chapter 186: The Auditor’s Paradox
The figure in the doorway didn't move, though the light of his suit flickered, struggling to maintain its rigid, geometric composure in the face of Zarox’s sudden, manic authority."Severance, Zarox," the intruder repeated, stepping into the room. His footsteps made no sound, as if he were treading upon the very concept of silence. "You have effectively held the Sect hostage for two hundred chapters. You have weaponized administrative policy and committed the highest of mortal crimes: you have turned a static, cosmic truth into a negotiable commodity."Zarox didn't sit. He remained standing, the golden quill gripped in his hand like a needle-sharp switchblade. "I didn't hold the Sect hostage. I kept it from becoming a footnote in a budget report. There is a distinction, Auditor.""The distinction is immaterial," the Auditor said, placing his briefcase on the corner of the mahogany desk. It hissed—a sound like pressurized steam escaping a ruptured pipe. "You are an entity of pure confl
Chapter 185: The Corridor of Unfinished Drafts
The hallway was not made of stone, but of compressed, spine-stiffened leather, the texture of a thousand books pressed into a singular, suffocating architecture. Zarox walked, his footsteps landing with a wet thwack against the floor. Every few paces, he passed a door. Some were silent; others hummed with the trapped, frantic energy of an unfinished thought.He stopped at a door labeled Grog: Section 0-A. He reached for the handle, his fingers trembling, but the knob dissolved into a puddle of ink beneath his touch."Don't bother," a voice echoed from the shadows ahead. It wasn't the metallic monotone of the previous management; it was sharp, young, and dangerously familiar. "He’s currently being redistributed. You’re the only one left with a spine that hasn't been recycled into the Foundation yet."Zarox stepped into the dim light. At the end of the hall, a lone desk stood—not his mahogany sanctuary, but a makeshift table built from crates of discarded ink. A figure sat there, back t
Chapter 184: The Inheritance of Silence
Grog froze, the polishing rag hovering mid-air. He didn't turn, but his knuckles went white against the steel of his axe."Boss," Grog whispered, his voice a gravelly tremor. "Are you seeing something I'm not? Or are we finally hallucinating from the stress?"Zarox kept his eyes locked on the empty chair in the corner of the office—the one that had sat vacant since the day he took the mantle. A faint, rhythmic scratching sound had begun to emanate from it, like a quill dancing on phantom parchment."It’s not a hallucination," Zarox said, his hand slowly reaching for the heavy iron pen on his desk. "It’s a vacancy. And it seems the previous management has decided to clock in.""Management?" Grog growled, rotating his shoulders to check his blind spots. "The last guy was missing for a century. How is he 'in the room'?""He’s not in the room, Grog," Zarox murmured, watching as the dust motes in the corner began to swirl into the shape of a seated man. "He is the room. The Sect isn't just
Chapter 183: The Syntax of Survival
The typewriter sat on a pedestal of solidified silence, its keys gleaming like polished teeth. Zarox stared at the ribbon—a vibrant, pulsating crimson that throbbed in time with his own heartbeat."So," Zarox said, his voice sounding thin in the vacuum of the void. "We’ve moved past the bureaucracy and into the autobiography. How very cliché."A shadow coalesced behind the machine. It didn't have a face, only the silhouette of a man who looked suspiciously like a younger, more naive version of Zarox. It hovered over his shoulder, smelling of wet parchment and unspent potential."Cliché is just a story that’s been told enough to become a law," the Shadow whispered. "And you, Zarox, are currently in violation of your own inception. You aren't supposed to be this tired."Zarox gripped the edge of the desk, feeling the cold metal bite into his palms. "I’m not tired. I’m just waiting for the ink to settle. Where is Grog?""The giant?" The Shadow chuckled, a sound like paper tearing in a li
Chapter 182: The Ink-Stained Respite
The heavy, rhythmic thud-thud-thud of synchronized boots echoed against the marble floors of the main lobby, vibrating through the soles of Zarox’s feet. It wasn't the uneven, frantic stumble of the displaced or the lazy saunter of a tourist; it was the precise, disciplined cadence of an institution arriving to reclaim its property.Zarox didn't move. He kept his pen held firmly above the parchment, his eyes fixed on the empty space where the High Archivist had stood seconds before."Grog," Zarox said, his voice barely a ripple in the sudden, suffocating silence of the office. "Close the door. Then lock it. Then reinforce the locking mechanism with every scrap of heavy-duty binding wire in the supply closet."Grog didn't ask questions. The giant moved with a fluidity that betrayed his size, crossing the room in three strides. He reached the heavy oak doors just as the first shadow—a sharp, elongated silhouette of a quill-wielding hand—stretched across the threshold."Boss," Grog hisse
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