Blake Sullivan didn’t miss a beat, puffing up his chest. “You’ll regret underestimating 'me'! I’m Blake Sullivan, son of Ben Sullivan, lord of Goldenridge City, and a 'registered disciple' of Master Jack. Regret doesn’t apply to someone like me.”

Unbothered, Asmon turned to Merilyn Snow, who had been silently observing the escalating showdown like an unwitting extra in a drama. “Merilyn,” he said casually, “yell three times, ‘The Green Frost Spirit Fruit is misplaced.’ Loud enough for everyone in the courtyard to hear.”

Merilyn Snow blinked, her brows furrowing. “What? Why would I—”

“Trust me,” Asmon said with a grin. “This’ll be fun.”

Still confused, she shrugged and went along with it. “The Green Frost Spirit Fruit is misplaced!” she called out, her voice ringing through the courtyard.

Silence. She tried again. “The Green Frost Spirit Fruit is misplaced!” A few heads turned. By the third shout, a loud 'bang' erupted from the courtyard, startling everyone. Blake stiffened. That sound was unmistakable—it was a cauldron exploding, and an expensive one, judging by the force.

Before anyone could recover, an elderly man with wild, white hair stormed out, his robe slightly singed. His expression was equal parts irritation and panic.

“What’s this nonsense about the Green Frost Spirit Fruit? Who said that?” Jack’s voice was sharp, his gaze scanning the crowd until it landed on Merilyn Snow . “Merilyn Snow ? You? Why would you—”

“It was me,” Asmon interjected smoothly, his calm tone contrasting Jack Quinn’s flustered demeanor. “I needed to see you, Master Jack, and I figured this was the fastest way.”

Jack frowned, his curiosity overtaking his irritation. “You 'knew' it was misplaced? How?”

Merilyn stared at Asmon, wide-eyed. Blake, meanwhile, looked like someone had yanked the rug out from under him.

Asmon smiled faintly. “Master Jack, I noticed the imbalance in your mixture right away. The Green Frost Spirit Fruit is far too harsh for the Earth Spirit Milk. It clashes with Burning Sky Grass, creating an unstable reaction. I suggest replacing it with Evergreen Vine—it’s gentler, yet it provides similar benefits without destabilizing the formula.”

Jack froze, his mind racing. “Evergreen Vine… Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? That’s brilliant!”

He looked at Asmon with a mixture of awe and respect. “Young man, would you mind stepping inside to discuss this further?”

“That’s why I’m here,” Asmon said lightly, before gesturing toward Blake. “Though your disciple here seems to think I’m unworthy of your time. Perhaps he should step outside instead.”

Jack’s expression darkened. He turned to Blake, his tone suddenly thunderous. “Blake Sullivan! Who do you think you are, deciding who can and cannot set foot in my pavilion? Get out! Now!”

Blake Sullivan went pale, his knees buckling. He slumped to the ground, too stunned to form a coherent protest. As the scene unfolded, another figure emerged from the courtyard. “Asmon?” Sophia’s voice carried a mix of surprise and curiosity.

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Jack’s eyes lit up. “Sophia, do you know this young man?”

“Yes, Master,” Sophia Lexington replied, glancing at Asmon with awe. “He’s the prodigy I mentioned before—the one I found among the C-class disciples.”

Jack stroked his beard thoughtfully. “A prodigy indeed. This young man has surpassed even me in insight. He’s the one who pointed out the issue with the Green Frost Spirit Fruit.”

Sophia’s jaw dropped. “Wait—you 'knew' the Green Frost Spirit Fruit was wrong? How? Don’t tell me you’ve deciphered the entire formula for the Life-extending Pill!”

Asmon chuckled, holding up the recipe. “Not quite. Your Junior Brother Blake handed me this incomplete formula, asking if I could complete it. I took one look, and well… everything just fell into place.”

Sophia stared at him as though he’d grown a second head. “Just… one look? We’ve been working on this for 'days'! How are you this ridiculous?”

Asmon grinned. “Talent, maybe? Or just a lot of practice.”

Jack laughed heartily, his earlier anger forgotten. “Asmon, you are a treasure. Come inside—we have much to discuss.”

As Asmon followed Jack into the pavilion, he glanced back at Blake, who was still frozen in place, and smirked. “See? Told you I’d regret nothing.”

Jack Quinn took a long, steadying breath, his world momentarily flipped upside down. Alchemy was supposed to be an ancient, sacred art passed down through generations, with countless formulas lost to the sands of time. Yet here stood this young man, casually completing a complex, incomplete formula like it was solving a jigsaw puzzle for toddlers. What in the fiery pits of the Crimson Flame Phoenix’s nest was going on?

Asmon, remain cool and collected, “Master Jack,” he began, his tone calm but purposeful, “the real reason I came here today is that I need something from you.”

Jack blinked, snapping out of his daze. He chuckled warmly and waved a dismissive hand. “Just call me Jack, will you? Whatever you need, just say the word.”

It was official. Asmon’s talent had rocketed him to an equal—maybe even higher—status in Jack’s eyes. He couldn’t help but feel that his own breakthrough to the seventh rank might now hinge on whatever secrets this walking alchemy encyclopedia had tucked up his sleeve.

“Thank you, Brother Jack.” Asmon’s smile was polite, though his eyes gleamed with determination. “I heard you once hunted a Crimson Flame Phoenix. I need some of its blood.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, curious. “Crimson Flame Phoenix blood? What are you planning to do with something that rare? That’s only used for high-grade pills—way above the fifth rank. Don’t tell me you’re already working at that level?”

Asmon chuckled softly, nodding toward the silent Merilyn Snow at his side. “It’s for her. My personal attendant has a…unique condition.”

Jack blinked again, this time not out of confusion but sheer disbelief. ‘Personal attendant? Isn’t that just a Maid? This elegant, stunning girl?’ Even Sophia , standing nearby, looked like she’d just swallowed a mouthful of spicy soup. The cherry on top was Merilyn’s reaction: a calm nod, like being this young man’s maid was the most natural thing in the world. Was this guy for real?

“Wait, wait, back up,” Jack said, his curiosity officially piqued. “Asmon, are you telling me you can treat whatever condition she has?”

Asmon nodded, his confidence as solid as a perfectly tempered pill. “Yes. She has the Lunar Destiny Physique. The only way to stabilize it is with the Solarflare Pill, and for that, I need the blood of a sixth-grade fire-attributed beast.”

Jack let out a long, bitter laugh. “The Lunar Destiny Physique? The Solarflare Pill? I’ve been studying alchemy my whole life, and I’ve never even heard of these. You’re either a reincarnated ancient alchemist or the universe’s way of making the rest of us look bad.”

For the next two hours, Asmon and Jack dove headfirst into a whirlwind of alchemical discussion, trading insights and techniques like two kids showing off their best toys. By the time they wrapped up, Jack handed over the coveted Crimson Flame Phoenix blood with a smile that said, “I know I’m going to regret underestimating you.”

When Asmon and Merilyn Snow returned to Vitalstone Apothecary, they were greeted by Travis pacing by the gate like a man who’d misplaced his lucky charm.

“Brother Asmon, finally!” Travis called out, rushing over like a messenger on the brink of delivering bad news.

Asmon raised an eyebrow, his instincts immediately on alert. “What’s wrong? Did something happen at Vitalstone Apothecary?”