The following days were pure, uninterrupted business.
The trend Grace had established only intensified, attracting cultivators from all walks of life to the valley, with most having no interest in the tournant.
Actually, the fights grew scarcer since the benefits Liam’s products offered outweighed what the tournant could reward. Moreover, they were safe, basically ensured, without needing to face risky battles that would often amount to nothing.
Philip’s public vouching also delivered rewards. The valley’s population didn’t increase anymore since most cultivators left once they got what they wanted. However, its quality improved.
The Roaring Thunder Sect’s reputation went a long way in pushing more Guild mbers and Sect disciples to Grace’s shop. That did little to improve earnings due to the fixed prices, but Liam gained everything in reputation.
From that mont onward, the cloaked figure nad William would be an acknowledged alchemy master. Even without discounts, his products could sell on the broader market at normal prices, not needing any further confirmation of their quality.
That reputation was also bound to help Liam in other aspects of life. People had already been ready to bend over backward at the possibility that he was an alchemist. Now that his skills were a certainty, that behavior would only intensify.
There was another rumor, too, an additional piece to that reputation. The crowd, and especially the two Chiefs, hadn’t forgotten what Elder Gilbert had said.
With the world believing that Liam and Grace were lovers, devoted to the point of going against a branching expert, separating them had beco impossible.
Grace and Liam were a whole package, aning no one could approach one without involving the other. That was still fine for most, but not the two Chiefs.
Leo and Kent had to set their hopes of getting Liam aside, continuing to wear fake smiles while all their wares beca inco for their fellow Chief.
If anything, the two Chiefs had to feel lucky that Grace tid her shop’s activity with theirs. Instead of trying to pull off sothing, she retreated to her tent whenever their ingredients were about to run out, giving them the opportunity to refill their shelves for the next day.
It was nothing short of being Grace’s subordinates, but the Chiefs were powerless to affect their predicant. Besides, they were selling more than usual thanks to her. They would have simply preferred for her not to be part of the equation.
It was during one of those rest nights that Liam depleted his batch and wasted three whole attempts concocting the new one, doing it right inside the tent with the help of the talismans, delaying the unstoppable countdown by another month.
By then, the tournant was approaching a full week, which was usually when the Recruitnt Guild would wrap things up. But Liam’s concoctions kept attracting people, forcing the valley to remain in business.
It reached the point when the clients themselves sniffed that the Recruitnt Guild was ready to go, so they feigned fights on the platforms to prolong the lucky opportunity Grace’s shop offered.
And the news spread far enough to attract soone with no interest in either tournant or dirt-cheap alchemical products. At least, neither was the goal.
The valley had two entrances, two beaten paths that led to its ample bottom, and a carriage arrived at the opposite side of where Grace and Liam had stopped.
"Young Master," The black-haired woman with a perfect fringe in the coachman’s position called. "We have arrived."
The woman was a rooting expert in her twenties, wearing quite a luxurious silver robe. However, her stance was strangely subservient. Her announcent had reeked of utmost politeness, and she had even lowered her head despite the lack of an audience.
Yet, that changed when no answer resounded from the carriage.
"Young Master," The woman repeated, her tone still as polite, despite slamming her fist on the wood so that the entire carriage would shake.
"Sister," A groan resounded from behind the carriage’s curtains. "I was having a good dream."
"Won?" The woman sighed.
"Always won," The male voice inside the carriage proudly claid. "And fire. My passion is telling that this is the place."
"This?" The woman inspected the valley, unconvinced. "What can this backwater place even offer?"
"Sister, where is your spirit of adventure?" The male voice resounded again before a handso face peeked out of the curtains. "Haven’t we had plenty of fun in our little trip?"
The handso face belonged to a rooting expert not older than twenty-five. He had long, a bit wild, blonde hair, with so strands carrying reddish shades. His smile was also bright, charming even, but his Sister didn’t let it trick her.
"Young Master," The woman emotionlessly replied, "You visited fifteen brothels in the six months we have been away from the Sect. The Elder won’t be happy."
"Master is never happy," The man responded. "What am I supposed to do? Not lie with won? Preposterous!"
"Young Master, can we go already?" The woman said, completely ignoring that comnt while refocusing on the valley. "There’s nothing to see here."
"Soone looks decent," The man argued, inspecting the stands.
"If they were," The woman pointed out, "You’d be already challenging them."
"Sister, you know so well," The man complinted. "I can feel your passion for growing."
"Young Master," The woman called, "I wouldn’t let you touch even if you wore three pairs of gloves."
"Master sure chose you for a reason," The man sighed, giving the valley another look. "Yes, this tournant is pitiful. I knew the Kingdom’s outer reaches had it bad, but this is-."
"Young-!" The woman tried to interrupt, knowing what was about to happen, but it was too late since flas expanded in her vision.
Liam and Grace were at their usual business. It was their seventh day there, and their shop had barely been open for a few hours, but spirit stones were already flowing in.
Liam’s finances had surpassed the ten-thousand mark by then, but the new powder promised more expenses, so he hoped the gig would last as long as possible, and it seed it would, until a distraction he couldn’t ignore descended upon him.
Sothing quick and hot cut through the sky, falling in a straight line toward Liam. It was so sudden for almost everyone to notice, with almost being the key.
Liam was locked in a concoction, but his free hand began to move, almost summoning sothing, when his senses reassured him.
A bullet of dense flas was about to crash on the cauldron, but Grace jumped to intercept it, slapping it away with her bare hand before landing in front of the still-concocting Liam, wanting to defend him from the threat in the sky.
The crowd caught up by then. Everyone looked up, finding a figure slowing his descent by releasing flas from his feet.
"Fellow Daoist," Grace announced. "Attacking Master William is no proper way of claiming his attention."
"His na is William, then," The rooting expert exclaid, smiling, more of his blonde strands gaining reddish shades. "I, Lancelot of the living fire, direct descendant of the Ancestral Phoenix, Head Disciple of the Secret Jade Sect, challenge you to a fight!"
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