Tristan approached Jaeng and touched his head.

[Tyrannical Eye]

He analyzed the area where the needles had been placed and wasn’t surprised to see they were inserted into his meridians. What caught his attention was that not all the needles were placed precisely; he detected that some were a few millimeters off the meridians.

‘Did they miss that?’

Tristan then focused on observing how the needles interacted with the meridians. To his surprise, nothing happened—the energy flow remained unchanged.

‘Of course, these needles don't have magical properties. Purely physical objects don’t affect mana pathways.’ He knew this but thought the healers had done something different to make it effective.

A thoughtful expression appeared on his face.

‘According to my senses and my diagnostic ability, many of the things they did are completely useless.’

Of course, he considered the possibility that his senses couldn’t detect something unknown that the old healers might have done. However, he couldn’t discard the other possibility.

‘Their Light ability had some effect for sure. I can feel their vitality has improved, but the previous issues still remain. It’s like they increased the energy, keeping their bodies functioning without addressing what caused the problems.’

If Tristan’s hypothesis was correct, Yue and Jaeng had their lives extended a bit, but their bodies would have to deal with the diseases on their own.

‘Did this just buy them more time?’

He felt concerned.

‘If that's really the case, what can I do to help them?’

Tristan thought about what to do and remembered his knowledge from Earth.

An idea came to his mind.

He began to formulate a plan.

‘Well, it won’t hurt to try.’

He took out some papers and started drawing.

image [https://i.imgur.com/CJALaUN.png]

Now, Tristan was outside the sect’s territory. The sky was already dark, and thanks to the herbgathering mission, he had permission to leave the sect. He decided to look for artisans in the more noble part of the city.

He didn’t doubt the capabilities of the Flying Sword Sect’s artisans, but they were too used to creating simple, practical things the sect members needed for survival.

On the other hand, the artisans in the commercial district had to meet the unusual and peculiar demands of the city’s nobility. Because of that, their work had a more artistic and complex nature. Tristan believed that due to this, they would be able to create what he needed without much difficulty.

After walking through the quiet streets of the city’s center for some time, he arrived at his destination. The shop had three floors and was built using light red wood, which indicated that the owners’ social status wasn’t very high.

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Looking at the establishment, Tristan felt a bit apprehensive. ‘This place looks expensive.’

Swallowing slightly, he opened the shop’s door, and the sound of a bell spread through the space.

The shop’s interior was well-lit, with several lamps lined up, hanging from the ceiling by metal chains.

Tristan saw funeral urns on ceramic tables, jars, statues, and some simple jewelry on the shelves.

A few seconds after he entered, a tall, slender man dressed in elegant clothes, about twenty years old, appeared. His long, dark brown hair was combed to the right side. He looked Tristan up and down, then adjusted his round glasses.

Adopting a respectful posture, he spoke with barely disguised enthusiasm:

“To what do I owe the honor of having a member of the illustrious Flying Sword Sect in this humble shop? My name is Moeh Chiu. Does the young master need something?”

Seeing the man’s behavior, Tristan guessed that this place didn’t often receive visits from important sect cultivators.

“My name is Dusk. I’ve come to hire an artisan to create some pieces. I made some drawings of how I want them to look, and there are also some instructions here.” Tristan removed the bag strapped to his back, reached inside, and took out a few scrolls, handing them to the attendant.

Moeh Chiu took the scrolls Tristan gave him and opened them. His face didn’t show surprise at the strange shapes of the objects Tristan had drawn, but it seemed he was trying not to roll his eyes at yet another request for something useless.

“Interesting. It seems the young master is working on something important.” He said this in a serious tone, making his words sound believable.

“I’ll check your request with the best artisan we have available. Please, young master Dusk, wait a moment. I’ll return shortly.”

Moeh Chiu made a deep bow and climbed the stairs to the upper floor.

After a while, he came down the stairs accompanied by a man who appeared to be around forty years old. He was tall, muscular, had a thick black beard, and his hands were rough. He had a rugged appearance compared to the more delicate young man, but Tristan noticed some resemblance between them. To his eyes, even the subtlest traits were as clear as lights on a Christmas tree.

“Hello, young master! This is my father, Moeh Danjiu. He is the owner of this shop, and he would like to discuss a few details with you.” Chiu introduced his father.

Tristan greeted the old man and asked, “Is there a problem with my requests?”

Chiu’s father replied, “Nothing major. Most of what you asked for is easy to make. The most complicated part is these tubes. You wrote here that the material should withstand boiling and be flexible. That type of material isn’t common. How long do you need them to last?”

“A short time—one or two days should be enough,” Tristan said.

“Alright, we received a special hard-paper material from the eastern region. It’s made from a recently discovered substance. It doesn’t last long, but it has the characteristics you want.” Moeh Danjiu said in his rough voice.

“How long will it take for everything to be ready?” This was a matter that worried him.

The old man’s broad shoulders slumped a bit as he said, “Making everything according to your drawings might take a while. I believe I can finish your order in about an hour, young master!”

‘Just that?’ Tristan thought, surprised.

“That’s fine.”

After Tristan agreed, the old man went upstairs.

Tristan turned to the attendant and asked the question he dreaded:

“How much will this cost?”

Chiu took a small notebook, checked his notes, and then said, “Forty silver ships, young master.”

Tristan froze for a brief moment.

Then he nodded and said, “Alright.”

But what he really thought was:

‘What a rip-off! That’s almost a whole month’s rent in the noble district of the city.’

He thought about how much money he had left:

‘After so many months doing missions for the sect, I only have a hundred and sixty silver ships.’

Suppressing a sigh, he asked another question:

“Could you tell me where the bathroom is?”

Moeh Chiu pointed to the left hallway and said, “Third door down that corridor.”

Tristan bid farewell and headed toward the hallway.

When Chiu stopped watching him, Tristan turned and used his concealment ability.

He climbed the stairs, curious about how the shop’s production process worked.

He saw a door slightly ajar and approached, peeking inside.

He saw Moeh Danjiu placing shards of glass into a crucible, then putting it into the furnace. The old Moeh opened his hands, and red light particles came out of his fingers.

As his fingers moved, the flames followed their movements, becoming stronger or weaker.

‘The old craftsman knows how to use Fire magic? No wonder he works so fast.’

Danjiu removed the crucible from the furnace and poured its contents onto a metal table.

He manipulated the bright, soft orange glass with his hands, seemingly unbothered by the heat.