Chapter 227 – Legend of the Sage Alchemist (IX)

Chapter 227

Legend of the Sage Alchemist (IX)

Long Tao stopped by a bakery at the side of the street and bought a freshly made bun with some sour cherry before finding a nearby bench, plopping himself on top of it, and slowly eating away.

It wasn’t all that good, but it was at least sweet.

He lazily observed the passing strangers who seemed to not even notice he existed, walking by as though he were a ghost. He’d forgotten just how much he hated cities.

Soulless furnaces packed with apathetic creatures playing at childish politics… it was the same, everywhere. So many hopefuls, so many hopeless, the scent a mix of dreary despair and blind optimism.

Almost like home.

Finishing off the bun, he stood up and lazily stretched; Master should have started the ritual by now, he gathered, glancing over at the tall pavilion next to which that basement existed.

He wasn’t in a particular hurry; he already knew where the vine was, so instead of rushing over, he simply walked at a brisk pace–toward the other tall pavilion gently looming over the other side of the street.

His initial suspicions were kind of all true; it was a local doing it, but, just like in that village, the vine itself came from elsewhere. He did not care who the local was (based on the compound, it was another local sect or clan) or why they were doing it, as none of it mattered in the slightest. Though all journeys contained therein a story, he’d seen millions of them and found most dull beyond reason by now.

He passed by the gates and the guards standing still, and past all the kids coming in and out, and into the depths of the terraced dungeon, where levels beneath held prisoners in varying states of dehumanization.

At the very bottom, there were no people any longer, just a singular vine draped around a flickering beam of light, upheld at a marble pedestal.

It was… fancier was perhaps the best term compared to the other two they’ve encountered thus far. That likely had to do with the fact that it was near its growth limit, as it had been sucking away at the girl’s vitality for a long time now. It was as thick as a grown man’s forearm, writhing like a serpentine worm, each pulse drawing in visible plumes of Life Qi.

He observed it for a moment longer before he donned a fox mask of his own make–made from porcelain and wood and an ancient array–and undid the cloaking, revealing himself.

And yet, nothing happened.

Shrugging inwardly, he walked up to the vine and was just about to reach out toward it to yank it free when the air behind him stirred. He praised the shadow inwardly, though he still easily dodged the stab of a rapier toward his heart, grabbing the figure’s wrist, breaking it, and sealing their acupuncture points all within a singular breath.

Beneath him now lay a cloaked and masked figure–a woman, judging by her build. Leaving the vine alone for now as it wasn’t time just yet, he crouched and removed the mask; she looked to be in her mid-twenties at the most, matching her bone age.

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And yet, shockingly, she was actually at the early stages of the Void Transformation Realm.

For this region of the world, that was massively impressive.

He grabbed her wrist yet again and sent a pulse of his Qi through her meridians, checking it. The deeper he went, the more his brows furrowed; there were signed marks across every inch of her meridians, all in the shape of an iris.

Oddly, though, they were all self-inflicted.

Thinking for a moment, he soundproofed the room before unsealing her speaking organs, eyeing her as she remained silent.