By the end of the short tour, Han Yu already knew—this place was where he’d be spending most of his ti from now on.
They finally stopped back near the library entrance, where a few more disciples were now beginning to trickle in with robes marked with the bronze, silver and gold insignias of Alchemy Peak. The day had begun in earnest.
"Well," Elder Zhou said, clasping his hands behind his back, "that concludes the basics. You’ll be expected to attend the theory lectures on third-day and seventh-day each week. Outside that, you may study and practice at your discretion."
Elder Xuan gave a final look. "Your record has already earned you attention, Han Yu. But talent alone is not enough. Here, you’ll need consistency."
Han Yu gave a respectful bow again. "This disciple will do his utmost."
Both elders nodded, their expressions neither warm nor cold. But once again, Han Yu caught the faint golden wisps curling off them.
Joy. Satisfaction.
He was making the right impression.
As the elders walked off to attend their other duties, Han Yu lingered for a mont, standing at the threshold of the library.
The sun was just starting to crest above the peak. The doors behind him stood open, and before him stretched a world of knowledge he had only dread of before.
He’d made it this far.
Now it was ti to beco a real alchemist.
Han Yu stood outside the Resource Exchange Pavilion, its polished black stone exterior glinting slightly under the early morning sun.
The building was bustling with activity, disciples walking in and out with sacks of herbs, stacks of talismans, and boxes sealed with formation tags. Overhead, the stylized sigil of the Alchemy Peak shimred faintly—an ornate pill cauldron surrounded by three dancing flas.
Stepping inside, he was greeted by the scent of parchnt, dicinal herbs, and burnt cloth—an odd but oddly fitting mix. A large counter stood near the entrance, manned by a sleepy-looking outer court disciple, while several queues ford for different categories: robes, cauldrons, ingredients, talismans, and special pill refining permissions.
Han Yu headed directly to the Robes Exchange Line, spotting the sign denoting Alchemy Peak-affiliated attire. It didn’t take long—his status had already been recorded. The disciple at the counter took one glance at his token, ran it through a verification formation, and nodded.
"Congratulations on your acceptance into the Alchemy Peak, Junior Brother," the disciple said, retrieving a small jade box from behind the counter. "Here are your two complintary sets of robes."
The box opened with a soft click, revealing two neatly folded white robes. They were similar in design to the standard outer court disciple robes Han Yu already wore—white with black trims—but the left breast now bore a bronze-etched pill cauldron insignia. It marked him as a beginner alchemist, officially part of the Alchemy Peak’s outer court.
Han Yu gave a small smile. Sohow, seeing the insignia made it feel more real. He was no longer just dabbling. He was on the path.
"If you need more sets, Junior Brother," the disciple added casually, "you can purchase additional robes for ten rit points each."
Han Yu nodded but blinked in surprise as he noticed a long queue of disciples forming beside him—many of them with worn, scorched, or even slightly smoking robes.
"What’s going on over there?" he asked, curious.
The disciple chuckled. "Ah, that? Just another day at the Alchemy Peak."
"Why are so many people exchanging robes? Did sothing happen?"
"Nothing new. That line’s always there," the disciple said with a grin, resting his arms on the counter. "Most of us alchemists end up needing new robes at least once a week."
Han Yu’s brow twitched. "Every week?"
The disciple nodded. "Sotis twice."
He gestured subtly to one girl near the back of the line, her robe sleeve entirely blackened and half-lted. "See that one? She tried refining a Frostfire Dew Pill without calculating the elental balance. A fla backlash, boom! Sleeve’s gone. Cauldron survived, but her robes didn’t."
Han Yu turned toward the cost board, eyeing the price again.
Ten rit points per robe.
Not too bad... but still, one a week would add up quickly. That was forty points a month—and that was only if he didn’t make more mistakes or push further experintation.
"Why not just wash them?" he asked, hoping there was a smarter solution.
"Ha! Good question," the disciple laughed, leaning in. "Normally that’d work. But pill-tainted robes aren’t like regular dirty clothing. Depending on what explodes on you, the robes might be coated with corrosive essence, noxious poison, or even active pill aura."
He tapped the table aningfully. "A robe that’s been soaked in Berserk Root vapor? Yeah, you don’t want to toss that in the washing talisman with your clean socks. Sotis it’s just easier—safer even—to get a new set."
Han Yu couldn’t help but shiver a little. He looked down at the pristine robes in his hands and imagined them charred, smoking, and half-dissolved in the span of a few days.
"Of all the costs a beginner alchemist has," the disciple said with a wry smile, "robes are the second biggest expense. First, of course, is pill ingredients. But at least with those you sotis succeed and get sothing back. Robes? Once ruined, that’s it."
Han Yu laughed dryly. "Can’t exactly refine a Failed Robe Restoration Pill, huh?"
The disciple chuckled. "Soone tried. Backfired. The robe ca back... sentient."
Han Yu blinked. "That’s a joke, right?"
"...Maybe."
As Han Yu took the robe box and walked away, he couldn’t help but glance back at the line again. So disciples looked resigned, others grumbling quietly, one even laughing while holding the smoldering remains of his inner robe over his shoulder.
’Will I end up like them?’ he wondered.
Knowing his luck and the chaotic nature of his cultivation so far, the answer was probably yes. Still, a small part of him felt eager. There was sothing strangely appealing about it all—the chaos, the struggle, the trial and error. It wasn’t just about refining pills... it was about refining himself.
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