The morning mist had long burned away, replaced by curling trails of alchemical smoke rising from chimneys and slanted vents built discreetly into the Saint Alchemy Branch’s hidden courtyards. Feiyin and Shen Mu followed Yan Xue along the silver-veined causeway, their footsteps quiet but deliberate. Here, the air was warmer, faintly bitter with ash and herbs, and humming with a quiet tension.

  Unlike the open-air chaos of the menial districts, the Alchemy Branch was structured in rings—each tier representing a different rank and level of privilege. Third-class outer disciples, second-class, first-class, and finally, the secluded residences of elders. The facilities were neatly segregated, each one bearing the crest of a cauldron or flame depending on whether the disciples specialized in pills or artifact forging.

  Yan Xue’s robe bore both emblems—though small and subtle—stitched in silver thread across her chest. The pair on her sleeves, however, made her rank immediately clear: two clean streaks denoting a second-class outer disciple.

  As they walked, she gestured lightly to the structures around them. “You’ll notice you don’t see anyone refining outside. All disciples work within their chambers—cauldrons and forges are built into our quarters to avoid interruption. Disturbance in the middle of a critical step can injure someone, or worse—waste resources.”

  She paused at a junction where paths split into different courtyards. In the distance, pillars of color-coded smoke drifted upward—silent signals of the refinement type and progress. A red-gold plume meant a heating stage. A thin silver line meant stabilization.

  “Most of what you’ll see is smoke. Since everyone need to keep on producing more.”

  They passed under an archway where a bronze plaque read Essence Exchange Hall. Yan Xue pushed the door open, revealing a long corridor lined with stone counters and alcoves filled with jade slips and boxes. “This is where you’ll receive your monthly quota kits. For third-class outer disciples—apprentice alchemists—you’re expected to produce twenty tier-one pills per month. Healing, cultivation, or antidotes only. If you refine tools instead, then the quota is ten standard weapons: swords, blades, or spears.”

  Shen Mu blinked. “Twenty pills?”

  Yan Xue glanced back. “Minimum. You can refine more. Surplus products can be sold here for contribution points. The better your product, the higher the price.”

  Feiyin’s gaze swept across the hall, catching glimpses of disciples negotiating quietly with attendants, some inspecting raw materials, others reviewing a catalogue of available products.

  A small banner in the corner displayed some prices:

  Tier 1 Basic Healing Pill: 5 points

  Tier 1 Body Nurturing Pill: 6 points

  Tier 1 Steelblade (standard): 20 points

  “And ingredients?” Feiyin asked.

  “Also available here. One batch of ingredients for a basic tier-one pill costs between 2 to 8 points. Artifacts a bit more. If you’re smart and accurate, you’ll come out ahead.”

  They moved on, passing beneath another arch into the Registry Hall, where the jade certification was processed.

  “As of now, your old sect token is no longer valid. These,” she handed them their new jade slips, “are your outer disciple certificates. They store your contribution points, track your assignments, and grant access to branch facilities.”

  Feiyin checked his new token—100 points. Shen Mu, 89.

  “My menial points were converted?”

  Yan Xue nodded. “At a 100:1 ratio. Be grateful. Most arrive with nothing.”

  They crossed into another domed building called the Hearthstone Archive—a library unlike any they'd seen. The air here was cooler, tinged with the scent of aged paper and faint incense. Disciples moved quietly between shelves and crystalline pedestals, browsing rows of jade slips and scrolls rather than traditional books. Some of the slips hovered midair, inscribed with glowing script, slowly rotating for easy browsing.

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  Shen Mu’s eyes lingered on a jade slip titled Alchemical Stability through Inner Flow. Feiyin noted several others marked with vivid symbols—schematics for artifact schematics, medicinal theories, and pill flame controls.

  “You can rent a slip for a few hours," Yan Xue explained. "Or, if you prefer, pay to attend a lecture. There’s a schedule by the side wall. Second-class and first-class disciples teach regularly, and every now and then, an Elder holds a session.” She nodded toward a quiet chamber beyond a glass door, where a group of disciples sat enraptured around a man tracing fire patterns midair.

  Feiyin brushed his fingers along a shelf. "All of this is alchemy knowledge?"

  "Mostly," Yan Xue replied. "This branch specializes in it, so most of the slips are focused on pill refinement, forging techniques, Essence extraction theory and handling volatile materials. But there are also manuals from the other branches—combat skills, body tempering techniques, spiritual arts, even beast taming methods."

  Shen Mu raised a brow. "We can access those?"

  "Yes," she said. "But you’ll pay triple the cost. Those are meant to stay within their respective branches. Still, if you’ve got the points, the sect won’t stop you. Knowledge is power—if you’re strong enough to afford it."

  Next was the eatery, known as the Spilled Cauldron—a wide, bustling space brimming with noise. Long stone tables stretched in neat rows, most of them occupied by disciples of varying ranks. The air was thick with the scent of spices, stewed meat, and roasted roots, carried by the steam rising from trays at the far end of the hall.

  As they stepped in, a woman with shoulder-length copper hair and two silver streaks on her sleeve looked up from her bowl and waved lazily. "Yan Xue! Taking on apprentices now?"

  Yan Xue smirked slightly. "Newly branded outer disciples. I'm showing them around before the forge eats them alive."

  The woman chuckled "Speaking of forge, my own isn't hot enough for the alloy batch I’m trying to shape. Mind if I use yours for a bit?"

  Yan Xue rolled her eyes but gave a nod. "Sure. Usual fee applies."

  The copper-haired woman grinned. "Always the stingy one."

  Feiyin tilted his head, eyeing Yan Xue with mild curiosity. "Your forge seem to be different. Is it enhanced somehow?"

  Yan Xue quirked a brow and gave a small nod. "You noticed. I have limited access to natural fire—one of the perks of being second-class. Beneath this mountain is a dormant volcano. The deeper chambers draw on that heat directly. It's more stable, much hotter, and ideal for refining higher-grade materials or stubborn metals."

  She glanced toward the copper-haired woman, who rolled her eyes while stuffing her mouth again.

  "That’s why she wants to use my station," Yan Xue added. "Of course, she’ll pay the usual fee."

  The woman grinned, speaking between bites. "Nothing's ever free around here."

  Yan Xue turned back to Feiyin and Shen Mu, her tone flat. "Same goes for you two—don’t think this food is charity. You’ll pay for your meals like everyone else. And even your lodging isn’t truly free—fail to meet your monthly quota, and you’ll lose that too. The food might only cost one point per portion, but it adds up fast if you’re careless. So be smart. Earn your keep."

  Finally, Yan Xue led them past a thick bronze gate into the residential section. Rooms lined either side of a paved corridor—each modest but well-equipped. Most doors were marked with either a small cauldron or flame emblem, signifying the resident's specialization. Each room contained either a personal forge for artifact crafting or a cauldron setup for pill refinement.

  She stopped in front of two doors near the end of the corridor.

  “Shen Mu, this one’s yours,” she said, pointing to a door bearing a cauldron emblem. “You’ll find your pill refinement kit inside.”

  She then turned to Feiyin, leading him a few steps further to a reinforced door flanked by twin emblems—one a flame, the other a cauldron—both stitched in silver onto a banner above the frame.

  “And this one is yours, Feiyin. A dual-chamber—one for pill refinement, the other for artifact forging. Not many get a setup like this.”

  Feiyin studied the door in silence, its heavy wood inlaid with subtle traces of copper meant to withstand heat and preserve inner pressure. A faint herbal scent lingered in the air—subdued, but present.

  “Quotas reset in seven days, so you will be expected to join the others in refining products after this.” Yan Xue reminded them. “Work smart. You’re expected to refine and produce, not experiment and waste.”

  She gave them one last look, her voice cooling.

  “This place isn’t a sanctuary. It’s a furnace. You’ll get burned, refined, and maybe—maybe—come out better. But fire doesn’t judge what it consumes.”

  She turned and walked off, her steps fading into the heavy silence left behind.

  Feiyin stood in front of his door, palm still pressed over his new token. Shen Mu exhaled quietly beside him.

  “Ready?”

  Feiyin’s voice was low. “We don’t get to be ready. We just do.”

  And with that, they stepped forward—into the quiet rooms where smoke and steel would shape their fate.