The grand hall fell into a hush as Yang Xin placed the notebook on the long sandalwood table.
President Gu Yan's hands hovered above the cover for a heartbeat, then he opened it with the careful reverence of a man touching a relic.
Elders leaned in. Pages turned.
Silence didn't last.
"Jade Bone Tempering Elixir…" Elder Mo breathed, fingertips trembling over the neat script. "I thought this was lost with Master Yan's line during the siege of the Northern Wall."
"Not only preserved—optimized," Elder Zuo whispered, eyes shining. "Dosage curve corrected for marrow saturation."
Another page. Another gasp.
"Nine Revolutions Soul Tempering Pills." Elder Lin's voice cracked. "All nine stages, with fail-safe protocols for soul-sea expansion. This… this could save generations from crippling deviation."
"Scarlet Body Tempering Pills, complete impurity-purge pathway…"
"Soul Force Purification Elixir—reduces backlash from failed fusions by half…"
"Demon Blood Potion—finally, a clean refining loop for attribute infusion without rejecting the host meridians…"
They read faster. Pages fluttered. Antidotes for venomous demon beasts—fire, frost, thunder, shadow, acid—each with tailored counteragents and emergency compresses.
Stabilizers for spirit-sea fractures. Repair tonics for meridian scarring. Protocols annotated in a steady hand, with exact brew windows, flame stages, and failure signs written in succinct margins.
Somewhere between one recipe and the next, Elder Mo's eyes misted. He wasn't alone. Hardened alchemists, men and women who had watched lines die out in the Age of Darkness, pressed sleeves to their faces and tried to compose themselves.
"We thought we'd never see these again," President Gu Yan said at last, voice low. "We told our apprentices the names like prayers, and here they are… in full."
They read on.
"Super Healing Pill," Elder Zuo murmured, stunned. "A surge-response variant that doesn't burn life force. Who devised—"
"Regeneration Pill," Elder Lin added. "Notes for limb regrowth when paired with scar-repair salve. The cost… is even reasonable."
President Gu Yan stopped at a page that was neatly tabbed. He read twice, then a third time, lips moving over the lines.
"Minor Life-Extension Pill," he said, barely above a whisper. "Ten years, with safeguards against soul brittleness. Ten years, given back cleanly."
The room shifted as reality landed.
Ten years for old demon spiritualists who had bled for Glory City. Ten years for guardians whose clocks had nearly run down. Ten years to break through long-stalled bottlenecks, to add another banner to the city walls, another force to the night patrols, another teacher to a dwindling hall.
They didn't cheer. They exhaled—long, shaky breaths—as if a weight they had carried for decades had shifted off their chests.
Across from them, Yang Xin stood with arms folded beneath her chest, posture relaxed, gaze steady. The line of her robe made no secret of her curves, but there was nothing coquettish in her face now—only quiet pride that didn't belong to herself so much as to the man behind the ink.
'My Master and man', she thought, and felt the warmth rise again.
For nearly an hour they moved through the notebook, arguing in whispers, correcting old assumptions, tracing the logic that threaded each formula together. At some point tea arrived and went cold, untouched.
Only when the initial storm had passed did President Gu Yan gently close the book. His hands rested on it as if anchoring himself to the table.
"Director Yang," he said, voice steadier now. "Its origin."
Every elder looked up at once. The question had been waiting in every pair of eyes.
Yang Xin met Gu Yan's gaze without flinching. "From Shen Fei," she said. "Some recipes recovered and restored from ancient sources he alone could read. More than half of them"—she tapped the cover—"are his own creations."
A ripple went through the hall—shock, then the wary reflex of years living under the Dark Guild's shadow. "Anonymous no longer?" Elder Mo asked carefully.
"No longer," Yang Xin said. "By his will. Publish under his name. The city should know the hand that writes its future. Don't you think, esteemed masters? "
President Gu Yan studied her for a moment, weighing the promise and the peril. "Then we will do it right," he said at last. "Three steps."
He raised a finger. "First, verification. We will brew pilot batches of the high-impact formulas—the Super Healing Pill, Regeneration Pill, Minor Life-Extension Pill, Jade Bone Tempering Elixir, and Soul Force Purification Elixir. Success criteria, control groups, and sealed records. No leaks."
A second finger. "Second, deployment. Prioritize the sales to infirmaries of the north and east districts, then the wall garrisons. Select elders at the end of their span, veterans with stalled bottlenecks. If we can buy them a decade—"
"—they'll buy the city a century," Elder Lin finished, voice thick.
"Third," Gu Yan continued, "protection. The Dark Guild will reach for this the moment the name Shen Fei leaves our doors. Ward the Association. Rotate couriers. Double the city watch. And—" he turned to Yang Xin "—whatever support Master Shen fei requires, the Association provides."
Yang Xin inclined her head. "He anticipated all three. I have his security recommendations and a provisioning list—ingredients, rare materials, flame stones, and three cauldrons calibrated for soul-safe high-grade refining. We can begin today."
"Then we begin today," Gu Yan said.
He stood. The elders rose with him, some still dabbing at their eyes, others already calculating ingredient yields and apprentice rosters in their heads.
"Director Yang," the President added, softer now, "tell Shen Fei this: there are deeds that shine only on the day they are done, and there are deeds that change the color of the sky. This notebook is the latter."
Yang Xin allowed herself a small smile. "I'll tell him."
"Good." Gu Yan's palm settled once more on the notebook. "Then let Glory City remember a name." He glanced around the table, and every elder nodded.
"Shen Fei," they echoed, as if testing how it sounded on the walls.
Yang Xin turned to go, already paging through logistics in her mind—who to trust with which cauldron, which apprentices were ready for delicate flame control, how to stagger batches so no single shipment could cripple them if intercepted.
At the threshold, she paused and looked back. The elders had reopened the book, heads bent together, voices low and fervent. For a second, the hall seemed years younger.
Yang Xin turned back to the table and said evenly, "One more thing. Master Shen Fei sets the profit share at fifty percent."
President Gu Yan waved, almost impatient with excitement. "No problem. Even seventy percent—I'd give it. He has no idea how great a favor he's done for our nearly dying Alchemist Association—and for the safety of Glory City."
Yang Xin let a small smile show. "No need for more. By his instruction, forty percent goes directly to him. Another ten percent is placed under my management as a dedicated training fund to cultivate new alchemists and secure the future of the Association and the city."
She then continued after making sure they heard it all clearly: " If, however, President Gu Yan can spare a portion from the Association's remaining fifty percent, I recommend adding another ten percent to my fund. We'll use it to invest in new blood, support experiments, and sponsor talented apprentices who lack resources."
Gu Yan's laugh filled the hall. "I never misjudged that lad. His heart is just—unlike his gloomy father, Shen Hong, and the rest of the Sacred Family."
He nodded firmly. "Agreed. All requests approved."
He clapped for an attendant. "Prepare custom Grandmaster Alchemist robes for Shen Fei—phoenix-gold embroidery, soul-safe inner weave. Release high-grade flame stones to Director Yang's team. I'm going to inform the City Lord immediately."
He tucked the notebook under his arm and strode for the door. "Lord Ye Zhong will grant added benefits and security for Shen Fei, and expand protections for the Association."
As Gu Yan disappeared down the corridor, the elders exchanged delighted looks.
"Hah. We only just ordered Master-Alchemist robes in his size," Elder Mo chuckled. "Seems he won't be needing them now."
"Good," another elder said, grinning. "Grandmaster suits his bearing far better."
The room broke into purposeful motion. Assignments flew as they divided the formulas for immediate trials:
"I'll take the Minor Life-Extension Pill—staggered dosing, three subjects."
"Regeneration Pill with the scar-repair salve—my lab."
"Attribute antidotes—I'll start with thunder-venom protocols."
"Jade Bone Tempering—strict marrow-saturation supervision."
One by one they swept toward their private refining rooms, already debating flame stages, ratios, and safety margins.
Yang Xin turned on her heel, mind shifting to logistics: secure ledgers for the new fund, apprentice selections, layered warding on the grand cauldrons, procurement routes that wouldn't leak their stockpiles to the Dark Guild.
She licked her lips seductively, a private heat flickering beneath her composure, and murmured under her breath, "Brother Shen Fei… because of you, I've got even more work. You'd better make it up to me more ponding than that bitch Huyan Lanrou."
Then she swept down the corridor, issuing orders before the echo of Gu Yan's footsteps had faded, and the Alchemist Association—suddenly young again—thundered to life.
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