Kyrian remained seated in the comfortable red velvet armchair.
The room was silent, broken only by the faint hum of the formations engraved into the walls. The light emanating from them was soft and diffuse, creating a calm and refined atmosphere worthy of an institution that had existed for thousands of years.
Outside the enormous crystal window, stretching from floor to ceiling and frad by carved dark wood, the city remained bustling.
Cultivators walked through the streets below, so hurried, others relaxed, all wrapped within their own bubbles of existence.
rchants advertised their goods with shouts that Kyrian could not hear, but could see through their exaggerated gestures, open mouths, and waving hands.
Spirit carriages crossed the suspended avenues, pulled by beasts of different shapes and sizes, so covered in silk, others in gleaming tal.
Mount beasts advanced slowly through the crowd, winged horses, ice wolves, and dosticated birds of prey.
Everything continued as normal.
Kyrian observed the city without hurry. He had already completed the examination. He had already proven his capabilities.
Now all that remained was to officially receive his badge.
Ti passed. Five minutes. Then seven.
Then, approximately ten minutes after Lio Han’s departure, sothing caught his attention.
A small crowd began forming in front of the main entrance of the Alchemists Association.
At first, it was only a few people, one or two passersby who stopped to look, curious.
Then dozens, a circle forming, people gathering along the edges, so stepping back.
Then even more people began to stop, drawn by the commotion, the movent, and the sense that sothing was wrong.
The crowd grew rapidly. Kyrian raised an eyebrow slightly.
His sharp, flawless vision swept across the plaza below.
At the center of the gathering was a man lying on the ground.
Even from that distance, even through the glass, even from such a height, it was possible to tell that sothing was wrong.
His body convulsed, violent, involuntary spasms causing his limbs to move as though they had a life of their own.
His arms moved uncontrollably, striking the ground, his own chest, his face.
The veins in his neck bulged outward, thick and dark, visibly pulsing beneath his skin.
His mouth remained constantly open, as though he were trying to scream but no sound could escape, or as though he were struggling to breathe.
The room possessed an extrely efficient sound-isolation formation.
No external sound could enter, not the rchants’ cries, not the noise of the carriages, not the murmur of the crowd.
But Kyrian did not need to hear to understand. The man was screaming. And screaming a lot.
His face was completely distorted by pain, a mask of agony, desperation, and sothing profoundly wrong.
People watched from a distance.
So appeared concerned, hands covering their mouths, eyes wide, expressions full of horror.
Others were rely curious, observing as though watching a spectacle, emotionally detached.
So kept a safe distance, as though fearing the problem might be contagious.
’So kind of poison?’ Kyrian thought.
Or perhaps a ridian injury, a critical blockage, a rupture, a catastrophic failure.
Perhaps cultivation deviation, a flawed technique, improperly directed Qi flow, energy that could no longer be contained.
Or so spiritual disease, sothing rare, unusual, sothing few cultivators ever faced.
There was not enough information to reach a conclusion.
Even so, his curiosity had been piqued.
His eyes remained fixed on the scene for several seconds.
But before he could continue observing...
Knocks sounded at the door. Knock, knock, knock.
Kyrian shifted his gaze away from the window.
"Co in."
The door opened. Lio Han entered.
In his hands was a square plate made of white ceramic.
The material appeared simple at first glance, ordinary ceramic, without shine or decoration.
But small runes glowed discreetly along its edges, forming a pattern of protection and preservation.
At the center of the plate rested a tallic object. A badge.
Five stars were engraved upon its surface, arranged in a semicircle around the center.
The symbol of the Hall of a Thousand Herbs occupied the center, a golden cauldron surrounded by stylized flas.
The five golden stars ford a circle around the main insignia.
Lio Han calmly walked to the opposite sofa.
He sat down, the velvet creaking softly beneath his weight.
His gaze briefly passed over the crowd below, the gathering, the fallen man, and the commotion.
Naturally, he had noticed it as well.
But he only cast a brief glance before completely ignoring it. At that mont, there were more important matters.
Far more important matters.
His gaze returned to Kyrian. Then to the badge.
He carefully picked up the insignia, holding it by the edges with the caution of soone handling sothing valuable.
His face carried a respectful expression.
It was not re politeness, nor the empty courtesy of soone following protocol. It was recognition.
After all...
He himself was only a Rank 6 Alchemist.
It had taken him decades to reach that level. anwhile, Kyrian had reached Rank 5 at an absurd age.
If he continued growing at this rate... Surpassing him would only be a matter of ti.
’Perhaps a few years. Perhaps less.’
Lio Han stood up.
He extended the badge in a solemn gesture, almost ceremonial.
"Congratulations on becoming a Rank 5 Alchemist, Young Kyrian."
His voice carried sincerity, not the false cordiality of soone fulfilling a duty, but sothing genuine.
Kyrian accepted the badge.
The tal was cold to the touch, a dense tallic coldness.
Heavy. Well-crafted.
He observed it for several seconds.
The five golden stars reflected the room’s light, tiny bright points dancing as he moved the object.
The symbol of the Hall of a Thousand Herbs, the golden cauldron, the stylized flas, appeared elegant and imposing.
A small smile appeared on his face. Finally. His first official badge.
Without hesitation, he fastened it to the front of his violet robe.
The tal clicked softly against the fabric, secured by a magnetic chanism, or perhaps a spiritual one.
The mont he did so, a strange feeling erged. It was status.
From that mont onward, in any region of the continent, he would be officially recognized as a Rank 5 Alchemist.
And that carried weight. A great deal of weight.
Kyrian nodded, satisfied. Then he moved directly to the next matter.
With a wave of his hand, dozens of vials appeared on the table.
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