The smile on Feng Yan’s face froze.

“Only worth feeding to a pet?”

Song Yi noticed the change in her emotions, but he could only follow along with the monarch’s words.

“Yes. Well, I expected about as much. Don’t be too disappointed, you can still improve from here.”

“Er…” Her face flushed with embarrassment. “This is by far the best pill I’ve ever made.”

“What? Didn’t you say you passed the second stage of the alchemy examination?”

“Yes. You only need to concoct a pill of 30% effectiveness to pass.”

In Song Yi’s head, the monarch began to shout.

“What? It was that easy? Kid, forget three months, she’ll be ready in three weeks!”

Song Yi smiled as he handed back the pill.

“Continue to work hard,” he said. “With dedication, it’s possible for you to pass the examination three months from now.”

When she heard those words, Feng Yan looked so excited that Song Yi could tell she was restraining herself from jumping up and down with joy.

Managing to control herself, she bowed deeply. “Master, thank you!”

His eye twitched. This time, though, he didn’t reprimand her.

After giving her some advice on reverse-engineering pills, as well as clarifying some questions she’d had about medicinal ingredients, the lesson was over.

By the end, Song Yi could tell that Feng Yan was exhausted. She’d learned so much in only an hour and a half, and her mind had been repeatedly blown by the depth of knowledge ‘Song Yi’ had.

“I’ve always been fascinated by alchemy, but the teachers always said I had poor aptitude. They said that I could study for twenty years and still not pass the examination. But compared to their lessons, what you’ve taught me today is invaluable. I only have one question: How did you learn so much about alchemy at such a young age?”

Song Yi only smiled enigmatically. After avoiding Su Bai’s questions for as long as he had, he’d gotten far better at hiding his expression.

Realizing that he didn’t feel comfortable explaining, she bowed once more. Song Yi may have been her junior in the sect, but in her eyes he was already elevated to a status on par with Zenith disciples.

With another bow, she handed him 10,000 sect credits — double the price they had initially agreed on.

“By the way, master, I notice you don’t have any defensive gear. Are you struggling with money?”

“Defensive gear?” Song Yi asked. He hadn’t heard of this before.

“You don’t even know about it?” she giggled. She truly hadn’t expected such a knowledgeable person to be so… uninformed. “Come, I’ll show you.”

She took him to a building nearby. It was small — only two stories high, but made of far sturdier material than the surrounding structures. Most buildings were made with a mix of stone and wood, but this one was mostly constructed from other rock-like materials that Song Yi couldn’t even identify.

As they walked in, Feng Yan called out.

“Jian Mu, Wei Xiaoping, it’s me! Feng Yan!”

A man and woman walked down into the foyer area. Both of them wore inner sect disciple robes, and looked to be in their forties.

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“Yanyan?” the woman asked. “What are you doing here? Were the earrings not to your liking?”

“Big Sis Wei, that’s not it at all. I love them. Today I brought master here because he doesn’t have any protective gear yet.”

The man looked over Song Yi. “Master?”

“Don’t let his rank fool you. He’s an expert of alchemy.”

While the man still looked somewhat apprehensive, that explanation seemed to satisfy him.

“Alright then. If Young Miss Feng acknowledges you, then I can’t turn you away. What are you looking for today?”

Song Yi looked around the room, seeing example products hanging on the walls or sitting on shelves.

“Any suggestions?” he asked the monarch.

“Whatever you choose should be well-suited to you. That’s not something I can tell you, but something you have to feel.”

As he examined the products, he didn’t find anything particularly appealing. There were large bulky pieces of armour, swords of all sizes and shapes, even trinkets with Qi formation circles inscribed on them. Compared to his obsidian axe though, these were all of inferior quality.

There was one thing that stood out, though. A painting on the wall.

Most of the white canvas could still be seen, save for a jet black image of an ouroboros — a snake coiled in a circle, biting its own tail.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, that? It’s a transformation tattoo. Xiao’er is a hobbyist painter.”

Wei Xiaoping slapped his arm playfully. “Don’t describe it like that! We’re selling them!”

“I’m not going to deceive Miss Feng’s new master!” Jian Mu replied, his expression remaining stoic.

She pouted in response before taking Feng Yan into an adjacent room to talk.

In the foyer, Jian Mu continued to explain.

“Tattoos are a unique type of Qi formation. I don’t know the details well, but depending on what type of Qi you infuse the brush with and what you draw, you can produce different effects. Under the hands of a master, tattoos can be used to increase one’s strength greatly. On the flip side, they can even be used to enslave people.”

Song Yi’s interest was piqued. “So what does this one do?”

“Xiao’er designed this one so that, when activated with enough Qi, it would turn the owner into a giant serpent. How strong or weak the serpent is depends on the tier of Qi as well as the amount you use.”

“How much is it?”

“Because she’s new to the craft, we’re only charging 30,000 credits for this. You don’t need to worry about anything not working, though. Everything we sell is tested.”

Song Yi’s eyebrows jumped slightly when he heard the price. He hadn’t expected it to be so high. He decided to ask the monarch,

“Is the quality good?”

“I’ve never heard of these kinds of tattoos before. I thought they were simply something for mortals,” Wang Anzhou replied.

Song Yi was stunned. This was the first time that the old emperor didn't know something. His mind was made.

“I’ll buy it.”

For the first time, a hint of a smile appeared on Jian Mu’s face. In truth, until that point Song Yi had been wondering if the man’s facial muscles even worked properly.

“Xiao’er will be happy. Thank you.”

He guided Song Yi into the other room, where the two women sat drinking tea.

“Did you hear about that greenhorn in the south?” Wei Xiaoping asked.

“The one who Zenith Disciple Wu is taking in as a disciple? Apparently he was a prince before entering the sect.” replied Feng Yan.

“That’s the one. I’ve heard he’s quite handsome. Maybe you should take a southward trip, Little Yan.”

At that moment, they noticed the two men, one old and one young, walking into the room.

Feng Yan turned away to hide her face, embarrassed at what Wei Xiaoping had just been saying.

“Zhang Bo?” Song Yi asked, sounding surprised. “Were you just talking about Zhang Bo?”

“Hm? Yes, I seem to recall that was his name. Do you know him? Maybe you could introduce- ow!” Wei Xiaoping grasped her shin, glaring at Feng Yan, who still had her head turned.

“I entered the sect with him,” Song Yi replied simply.

Inwardly, though, he was in turmoil. Zhang Bo had already climbed so far? Just the other day, he had been feeling good about himself, wondering how the others were doing. In the small area surrounding Changshu, he already felt he was near the top. But as it turned out, even despite his rapid growth he was being left in the dust. Had the others also achieved such success?

His thoughts were interrupted by Jian Mu.

“Xiao’er, this young lad said he wanted your tattoo. Can you see to it?”

Suddenly forgetting about the pain in her shin, Wei Xiaoping broke into a huge smile.

“Of course! Of course! Come with me, we need to get you prepared.” She turned to Feng Yan. “Yanyan, I’m going to be borrowing your master for a bit. You probably shouldn’t wait.”

Feng Yan stood up and bowed. “Master, I’ll see you next week.”

Song Yi forced a smile, nodding. But in his head, he couldn’t stop thinking about Zhang Bo and his meteoric rise in status.