Chapter 28: The Alchemy Grandmaster

All morning, not a single customer entered the Ravenstorm Inn. Occasionally, a few figures lingered at the entrance, but upon seeing Rayan earnestly kneeling and wiping down the tables and chairs, they quickly retreated.

Rayan was unfazed, merely continuing his work. The tables and chairs in front of him had been polished as if they were newly crafted, cleaned well over a hundred times, yet he showed no signs of stopping.

At this rate, even if he worked until late at night, he might not finish cleaning the second table and chair. This would mean losing the opportunity to learn from Duke.

Logically, a tavern catering only to bandit mercenaries wouldn't need to be spotless, but Rayan linked Duke's actions and after some thought, realized that cleaning a hundred times was not Duke's true purpose.

The real purpose was to temper his mind and will.

If he couldn't achieve perfection in something as simple as wiping tables and cups, then even if Duke taught him powerful techniques, he wouldn't truly become strong.

Strength is built on meticulous basic training, just like Crimson Thorn, a prodigious girl whose agility was almost magical, still had to bear the heavy burden of a black sword.

Now, understanding this, Rayan settled his mind and stopped counting how many times he wiped the table legs and chair surfaces, aiming instead for the most perfect result.

His body ached, and his stomach's fullness tempted him to rest—each time he felt this way, he would stealthily glance at the Twilight symbol in his palm and sternly question himself: Rayan! If you can't even do this, what can you do?!

Thus, he found more strength.

Duke stood quietly behind the bar, watching Rayan's every move, his wrinkled face betraying no emotion. But his heart was filled with joy and unease, a mix of feelings he hadn't experienced since his youth when the girl he secretly loved had kissed him.

Back then, his joy stemmed from love and desire, his unease from status and discipline. Now, his joy came from Rayan's excellence, his anxiety from the fear he might not be able to remove the Holy Light seal inside Rayan's body.

This powerful skill Duke had only heard of in rumors, said to be a natural talent of the God Race, similar to the demon race's demonization, which could completely influence an enemy.

But why target a child?

A child who was talented and resilient—what had he done wrong? Or had his parents?

At this thought, Duke couldn't help but frown.

Fortunately, the seal had been cast on Rayan when he was just born, apparently to avoid harming the infant, so only a basic seal was used. This gave a glimmer of hope for removing the seal.

On the Auroria Continent, there exists a very rare epic herb called Moon Demon Grass, which only grows under the brightest moonlight of the year, and it takes a century to mature. No one knows where it grows, its existence as elusive as the legends surrounding it.

Legend has it that this herb is the essence of the demon race's soul, capable of breaking all negative effects of Holy Light magic. For this reason, it is considered "forbidden grass," and must be immediately handed over to the Holy Light Sisterhood for destruction if found. Anyone caught hoarding it privately is sentenced to be burned at the stake.

However, Duke knew of someone who might have this forbidden grass—Morien, the alchemist of Dusk Village.

Yet, anyone who possessed this herb would not admit to it, unless they were tempted with a significant incentive...

Duke had already made an offer in his letter. Would Morien be tempted?

As he pondered this, a noisy clamor of footsteps came from outside the tavern. Duke instinctively looked up to see three bandit mercenaries swaggering in through the door.

These three mercenaries were all smiles, each carrying a backpack clearly not their own, obviously just back from a successful robbery, ready to celebrate at the tavern.

"Pal, greet the guests!"

Duke shouted from behind the bar.

"Yes, boss."

Rayan stood up from the floor, turned around with an expressionless face, and asked, "What do you need?"

The three bandit mercenaries took several steps back upon seeing Rayan.

Since Rayan had, in a single strike at the Ravenstorm Inn, killed Thorn and led the decimation of Crimson Thorn's elite, even Crimson Thorn herself hadn't reappeared, the mercenaries of Shadowcrest Ridge had developed a deep fear of Rayan's name.

"Your Excellency... we've made a mistake."

The leading bandit mercenary, quicker to react, politely removed his hat, bowed deeply to Rayan, backing away as he did so, and the others quickly followed suit.

"Hmm, then find a seat and sit down."

Remembering Duke's words, Rayan forced a strained smile.

The smile, stiff and awkward on his handsome face, looked bizarre, like a starving wolf finally spotting three weak lambs.

The three bandit mercenaries were terrified, having clearly stated they were in the wrong place, yet Rayan pretended not to hear and asked them to sit down—after exchanging looks, they cautiously chose a table near the door.

"Don't sit there!"

Rayan suddenly shouted, that was a table he had just cleaned.

The three bandit mercenaries hadn't even touched the chairs before jumping up at Rayan's shout, hurriedly saying, "We didn't sit, didn't sit!"

Rayan pointed to another set of seats, "Sit there."

"Yes, yes."

The three quickly moved, nervously settling into the seats Rayan had indicated.

"What would you like to eat?"

"Uh, the usual..."

Rayan glared at them.

The bandit mercenaries then realized their mistake and hastily explained, "The usual means five pounds of beef, three lamb legs, plus a pot of bear gall soup."

"Lamb legs should be salt-baked, one spicy, one not, and one half-spicy."

"Of that five pounds of beef, one-third medium-rare, one-third medium-well, and one-third between medium-rare and medium-well."

"And, remember, no cilantro in the bear gall soup, but do put in the bear gall."

"Uh..."

Rayan nodded, stretching out his hand. "Pay up."

The bandit mercenaries stared wide-eyed at Rayan's palm, one of them whispered, "We used to eat first, pay later..."

Before he could finish, the lead mercenary nudged his companion with his elbow, then smilingly pulled out a purse, counting out thirty silver coins, politely saying, "Your Excellency, if you please."

Thirty silver coins, just enough to cover their meal.

Rayan took the silver, but instead of walking away, he turned and stretched his hand toward the other two bandit mercenaries. "Yours too."

The faces of the two other bandit mercenaries visibly contorted, but they dared not resist, obediently pulling out their purses, each counting out thirty silver coins, handing them over to Rayan's outstretched cloth.

"Wait here."

Rayan, holding the heavy cloth, walked to the bar and poured out all ninety silver coins to Duke. The clinking sound immediately brought a smile to Duke's face.

"Well done."

Duke rarely praised, "What did they order?"

Rayan thought for a moment, "Didn't remember, just meat or something."

"That won't do, the meat here is reserved for you."

Duke slid the silver coins under the bar while speaking to Rayan, "Go talk to them, see if they'd switch to something else, like stir-fried vegetables or raw wild greens—heard that's popular with the nobility these days. If they don't want to..."

Duke made a subtle gesture to Rayan.

"Yes, boss."

Rayan turned and walked toward the three bandit mercenaries.

The three had vaguely heard the conversation between Duke and Rayan, and seeing Rayan approaching with a bad expression, they shivered uncontrollably.

"Your Excellency, we suddenly have urgent matters, can we skip eating?"

"Hmm? Is that so..."

Rayan frowned, "What about your meal money?"

"Forget it, forget it!"

Money can be robbed again, but life is only one. The three bandit mercenaries waved their hands while heading towards the exit.

"Then we look forward to your next visit."

"Definitely, definitely!"

The three stumbled and tumbled out of the tavern, running a dozen steps before colliding head-on with a frail traveler. The traveler was knocked to the ground, his coarse cloth bundle flying.

The traveler reached out a withered hand, quickly grabbing the bundle, then let out a relieved sigh.

"Young man, be careful when walking."

His voice was ancient and frail, as if he had just climbed out of a grave.

"Old man, it's clearly you who's courting death!"

The three bandit mercenaries, having not eaten anything at Ravenstorm Inn and losing ninety silver coins, were already seething with anger and found an easy target. Two of them grabbed the traveler's arms, while the leader went to snatch the bundle.

"Let's see what treasures you're hiding!"

The robber snatched the bundle, opened it, and was stunned.

"Potions?"

Various colored potions were neatly arranged inside the bundle, one bottle next to another. The lead robber, startled, took another look at the traveler.

The traveler wore an inconspicuous brown hooded cloak, with the noon sun climbing just behind the rooftop, making it hard to see the face under the hood.

"Don't break them..."

The traveler's weak voice emerged from the hood, "It took me all morning to make these."

The entire Shadowcrest Ridge had only one alchemist, and this Grandmaster alchemist, who hadn't left his home in three years, had actually come to Ravenstorm Inn in person!

The robbers all screamed, setting down the bundle and scrambling away—

Today, it really wasn't a good day for robbery.