In recent years, Lei Wuye had kept a low profile and rarely showed his face in public. Most of the time, he stayed at his seaside fishing estate, living practically like a hermit.
He appeared detached and serene, like an otherworldly master, but in reality, his lust for power had not diminished in the slightest.
From that picturesque sanctuary, he continued to control the operations of his enterprises through various channels, handing down orders and rendering verdicts. It was as if visible shackles had transformed into an invisible bridle, wrapped tight around the throat of every figure lurking in the shadows.
His last public appearance had been several months ago, at the inauguration ceremony of the new governor. Back then, Mr. Lei Wuye, standing as a civic representative, had shaken hands with the governor, smiling for the cameras with what looked like absolute harmony and accord.
Yet only a short time later, he had landed in the ICU.
For a moment, it was utterly impossible to believe.
At the same time, the sheer absurdity of it lent the rumor a bizarre ring of truth.
Stranger still, this fatally sensitive piece of news had somehow spread like wildfire!
Overnight, word got out everywhere: things were going south, Lei Wuye was dying. Anxiety ran rampant, throwing the entire city into chaos.
Logically speaking, if an old bastard was going to die, what did it matter?
After all, Lei Wuye had spent decades cultivating Yacheng's underworld. Claiming he had performed good deeds would be a laughingstock. His hands were steeped in sin; while one might hesitate to say his wickedness knew no bounds, he undoubtedly deserved to die ten times over.
After finishing her edamame, Wen Wen had already waved someone over to pop champagne in celebration.
Good riddance! Good death! Even the governor would croak with joy!
Served him right, meow!
Even if he didn't die, Wen Wen had sworn that the day she couldn't take it anymore and slammed the door on her job, she would march up to his doorstep, pop the old fossil like bubble wrap, and vent some steam.
Unfortunately, he wouldn't be the only one dying.
A whale falls, and all life flourishes—that was a virtue, but bringing lasting fortune to future generations was something very few could pull off.
As for foul-smelling malignant tumors, once they ruptured, they only splattered pus and sent maggots wriggling all over the floor, disgusting anyone nearby.
That was why the First Operations Department had called the Second.
With the director away, Department Head Tong Shan of the First Department and the deputy director ran the show. But the deputy director had spent years roaming outside without a trace, leaving absolute authority in Tong Shan's hands. One could say the eldest son of Yacheng's Tong family was now the de facto acting director of the Security Bureau.
With the phone call concluded, Wen Wen's legwork would begin tomorrow. Following protocol, she would have to knock sense into the ringleaders of every syndicate across Beishan District: keep your damn noses clean, because if any filth leaks into the open streets, no one's walking away looking pretty.
Among the Federation's nineteen major cities, each naturally had its hierarchy, and the fat profits they yielded varied widely.
Situated at the southernmost point of the Federation, Yacheng had mediocre local industries, but the sheer wealth generated by import and export trade was enough to nourish countless parasites.
Electronics, weapons, luxury goods, even illicit drugs...
Just imagine the sheer scale of interests hidden among the myriad fishing villages and secret harbors lining the coast. It was practically a flowing river of gold. How many people wouldn't be tempted?
When one Lei Wuye fell, the next Lei Wuye would step forward.
And why couldn't the next Lei Wuye be oneself?
As an organization that spanned the global underworld, the Wild Gathering's scale and complexity went without saying. Twelve leaders stood high above, summoning wind and rain like dragons, commanding legions of snakes to bow and follow.
Soaring like a dragon was a transformation most couldn't even dare to dream of, but the seat of a snake possessed genuine, formidable power—enough to drive men mad.
The Director of the Wild Gathering was a bona fide local tyrant.
The shot-caller of Yacheng's underworld.
In name, he presided over justice and kept feuds from escalating out of hand.
After all, the twelve leaders couldn't spend their days racking their brains over whether opening one more illegal lottery stall on a particular street in Yacheng was appropriate.
Those who rose to become leaders were either the realm's peerless White Stag Celestial-Humans, mastermind bosses who secretly unified multiple regions and cities, or uncrowned kings controlling the shipping routes of the Thousand Islands who could bankrupt a small nation with a snap of their fingers...
They had fought tooth and nail, risking their necks to reach that rank; if they still had to grind themselves into the dirt after becoming leaders, wouldn't all that effort be for nothing?
Thus, local directors had emerged as useful instruments under these circumstances.
Equivalent to a general manager of the Wild Gathering's regional branch.
Within the Wild Gathering, they were subordinate to the leaders, but in Yacheng, they stood above tens of thousands.
With clever use of that authority and prestige, even an unarmed individual could rein in mighty dragons and quell all line-crossing struggles across the underworld with a single word.
Not to mention the money that had turned into mere numbers and an authority over subordinates that was virtually boundless.
Generally speaking, for such a crucial post, an heir would have been groomed in case the director met with misfortune.
Yet this old dog, Lei Wuye, had adopted fourteen godchildren throughout his life, tasking each with running a specific sector and pitting them against one another so that he could rest easy.
After all, that was the nature of the Path of the White Stag. While there were loyal hounds, ungrateful wolves were far more numerous. A subordinate growing strong enough to butcher the boss was an everyday occurrence; swearing brotherhood before Guan Yu wouldn't stop a thing.
He had played this game so well that the moment he let go, no one could hold the pieces together. The network turned into loose sand. Over years of friction and accumulated grudges, they had come to view one another as bitter enemies.
Now, Lei Wuye wasn't even dead yet—he had merely landed in the ICU—and the empire he built was already fracturing, on the brink of fratricidal slaughter.
Who knew whether the old face behind the oxygen mask was currently trembling with fury or paralyzed with panic?
Quite possibly, before he drew his final breath, everything he cared about would no longer belong to him.
Wen Wen found the thought of him dying with eyes wide open both laughable and pathetic.
Yet the moment she thought of the ensuing bloodbaths and the innocent lives that would be swept up in the crossfire, an urge surged within her to rush over and grind the old bastard to dust.
Look at the damn mess you made!
"When will we ever finish wiping out all this trash?"
Sighing, she tilted her head back and drained her drink—a toast that mingled celebration with sorrow.
Lei Wuye had lost the stag, and everyone entangled in the net would now join the frantic hunt.
Or rather, that ravenous, insatiable, terrifying stag had grown sick of Lei Wuye's decay and had already begun hunting for its next sacrifice among a multitude of prey...
Yacheng's underworld was about to plunge into chaos.
"Another storm of blood and gore..."
Wen Wen gazed up at the pitch-black canopy, where churning dark clouds blotted out every trace of the moon and stars.
***
"Holy crap, what kind of bloody nightmare is this..."
The next morning, Ji Jue looked at his doubled homework and let out a wail as his vision went dark. Even the sun newly rising into the sky seemed to lose its light.
The world turned bleak.
According to Professor Ye's instructions, since he had taken an entire day off, he had to make up for lost progress on his own time.
Given Ji Jue's proactive initiative, supervision and check-ins weren't necessary. But skipping practice problems for one day was something he would know himself; skipping reading for two days was something Professor Ye would definitely notice. If that happened, she might very well slap on an extra night session of spiritus offense and defense.
Why suffer physical beatings just to dodge the grind of studying?
Taking it all in, Ye Chun was thoroughly speechless at this bizarre master-disciple relationship.
After all, such a hands-off, freewheeling method of managing and nurturing an apprentice was an absolute rarity throughout the artisan community.
In an ordinary workshop, an unremarkable apprentice from an ordinary family with average talent was no different from a corporate drone. You punched in every morning, punched out every night, and once you paid enough tuition, you served as an artisan's helper. If the master was in a good mood, they'd offer a sentence or two of instruction; if they were in a bad mood, they'd slap you across the face, leaving you to slink home and shed tears in private.
On the other hand, students endowed with startling gifts, extraordinary genius, and obsequious charm who won their teacher's favor were kept close at hand. They listened to lectures at every hour, received constant personal coaching, and studied diligently from day one until they hit the grave. Only after completing their apprenticeship to become proper artisans would they enjoy the flattery, respect, and bootlicking of others.
Yet Ji Jue was neither.
If you said she valued him, she genuinely did. She answered every question without reservation; as long as she had free time, Professor Ye never refused Ji Jue's questions or puzzles, to say nothing of clues regarding Non-Offensive and the inheritance of the Dissociation Art.
Yet if you said she didn't value him, she was indeed somewhat cold. After teaching the fundamentals and pointing out the direction, Professor Ye would wash her hands of it, returning to her own projects while tossing the student into the storehouse and archives to mess around on his own.
She didn't track his progress or ask about his results. If he stirred up trouble outside or got pinned down by a sniper's crosshairs, she couldn't care less. He was clearly a domesticated apprentice, yet she had somehow raised him with the aesthetic of a wild beast.
Oddly enough, both found their own amusement in it, completely indifferent to outside expectations.
"Your foundation in the elements of Ascension is sufficient now. As for Purification, thanks to Fluid Alchemy, you have your own grasp of it, which is enough for the time being. We can fill in the gaps later."
Having reviewed Ji Jue's reading notes, Professor Ye spoke slowly: "The next core focus will be 'Transmutation.' This is your real weak spot. Aside from practicing the Dissociation Art, spend your remaining time reviewing these materials."
The four fundamental elements of modern alchemy: Ascension, Transmutation, Purification, and Harmony.
Ascension meant endowing matter with spiritus—like turning stone into gold—bringing it closer to the nature of a Sovereign Virtue so it could accommodate blessings.
Purification meant refining material properties to greater purity, filtering out impurities and blocking interference, guiding them boundlessly toward their cleanest evolution.
Harmony meant integrating every component, thoroughly fusing multiple spiritus circuits, structures, and Sovereign Virtue blessings into a single organic whole.
And Transmutation meant causing multiple materials and blessings to activate one another, transforming them into an entirely new state.
In short, to put it in terms card gamers loved best, it was "fusion."
Yet how to fuse two things when brought together, at what precise moment, in what relative proportions, under variations in time, altitude, location, magnetic field strength, or even plain luck... the outcome could differ by astronomical margins.
Even though modern alchemy had long established countless fixed formulas—a number that expanded and rose each year through exploration—it was still nowhere near enough.
Rote memorization became useless beyond a certain point. Every artisan had to develop an intuitive, personal understanding through the process.
Only by accumulating experience through massive volumes of practice and experimentation could instinct and perception tell you what to do and when to do it.
At the same time... this was the single most pay-to-win aspect of all. Bar none.
Ascension was easy to learn but exceedingly hard to master. Purification involved tedious procedures and delicate operations that demanded painstaking precision. Harmony required an overarching grasp of the whole, ensuring every component fell into place, cooperating without interfering with the others.
All three shared a common trait: you either succeeded, or you took extra care and tried again. As long as you followed the proper procedure, nothing would go fundamentally wrong; if you slipped up, a couple of slaps to the face would make you remember next time.
Transmutation, however, was a despair-inducing death loop for an apprentice. Without money, you couldn't buy materials to experiment, which meant you couldn't learn. If you couldn't learn, you made mistakes. When mistakes ruined materials, you took a beating and got fined. And once your money was docked, you had even less capital to buy materials.
The mere mention of it made Ji Jue, a veteran pauper, rub his scalp in phantom balding.
Groping the million-plus in his pocket that hadn't even warmed up yet, he only hoped that heartless bastard Chen Yubo would hurry up and transfer the final payment.
"As for money, you don't need to worry."
Sipping her tea, Professor Ye set a black card on the table and slid it across to Ji Jue. "It seems you didn't work for nothing last night.
"Someone has already taken care of it for you."
The exquisitely crafted black card sat on the table, its gilded serial numbers gleaming brightly under the morning sun, dazzling Ji Jue's eyes.
It exuded an aura of wealth, evoking an instinctive sense of prestige.
A sight that struck terror into the hearts of the poor.
"Holy... mother of..."
Ji Jue's heart skipped a beat. He nearly slipped up and cursed in front of the professor, hurriedly changing the subject: "What card is this? I've never seen one before. Who sent it?"
"Chen Xingzhou had someone deliver it early this morning. Usually, those two brothers don't associate with each other—he wouldn't even spare a hand for him. But now, it appears he actually cares whether his dear brother lives or dies."
The professor let out a cold chuckle. "I merely told him you were an apprentice who just entered the fold, and that fellow knew exactly what to pull out.
"This is a membership card from the Balance Chamber of Commerce, reserved exclusively for premium clients. He must have bought it on short notice last night; the registered name and information have already been transferred entirely to you.
"There's roughly twenty million inside. If you find it inconvenient, you can withdraw the funds and deposit them into your own account. Regardless, with this sum, you won't need to worry about expenses for at least six months."
*Holy shit!*
Ji Jue could no longer suppress the curses in his head, staring in stunned disbelief. Is this how big shots operate? Tossing out twenty million just like that? Was a thank-you gift supposed to be this absurd?
He had literally multiplied the final balance tenfold!
And then...
"Six months?"
He stared blankly at the professor across from him, opening and closing his mouth several times, words caught in his throat. Isn't this alchemy burning through money a little too fast?!
Twenty million divided by a hundred and eighty days came out to roughly 111,111.11 a day. That single-digit repetition was lonely enough to make any bachelor weep, but converting that number to cash on a daily basis was enough to turn any single dog into a diamond bachelor, a spiritual shareholder of Rémy Martin and Ace of Spades, a legendary hero ruling the nightlife scene.
One hundred and eleven thousand a day?!
Ji Jue couldn't spend that much even if he ate, drank, and partied himself to death!
What kind of fine-ass alchemy burned through cash like this?!
"Your own progress is too fast. Don't go blaming alchemy."
Professor Ye glanced at his clueless, provincial look. "In a little over two months, other apprentices haven't even finished learning the basics. Who else besides you would find modern alchemy insufficient and dig up ancient practices on top of it?
"If you want to stretch it out thin, that's fine too. It could easily last you eight or ten years. After grinding your seniority, you might become an official artisan by thirty, and people would still praise you as young, promising, and in the prime of your life.
"Chen Xingzhou probably anticipated that as well. Eight or nine years down the road, once you become an artisan backed by his money, wouldn't it be convenient if he needed something?"
Ji Jue offered an obsequious smile, not daring to speak.
He could only marvel: Embers truly lived up to its reputation. Paying to win made you stronger, and topping up even accelerated your progress.
Originally, he thought rich people simply had too much money to burn. Who knew that a single thank-you gift could pack so many angles? Cynical speculation aside, the possibility was undoubtedly high, but... the man hadn't made him sign a contract!
Not a single redundant word was attached.
Favors were built on exchanges; the more you traded, the deeper the bond became. Such matters always required mutual consent.
While Chen Xingzhou was indeed generous, Ji Jue hadn't sat idly by either. Besides, without the connection to Professor Ye, he never would have netted such lavish treatment.
Ji Jue wasn't foolish enough to pull out the card and ask, 'How about we split it fifty-fifty, Professor?' Doing that would only earn him a venomous eye-roll from his mentor.
All he could do was push himself to accelerate his progress.
Completely unaware of just how insane his pace in modern alchemy already was, the soul of a grindset fiend began to burn fiercely once more.
If the professor weren't sitting right beside him, he would have loved to throw his head back and laugh three times to the heavens:
I've got the grind, and I've got the cash!
Dual cultivation of grind and pay-to-win—whose proficiency in this world could rival mine?!
Soon, however, his gaze was drawn to the pendant resting beside the card.
"What is this?"
"Your spoils of war. Chen Xingzhou's men delivered it after cleaning up the scene."
"Looks like an alchemical work?"
Ji Jue picked it up for a closer look. It looked like one, and in fact, it was.
Holding it in his hand, he could feel the presence of a blessing within. That elusive, drifting, upward sensation was Ascension.
He grew even more cautious.
Blessings of Ascension generally acted upon the soul and consciousness. A moment of carelessness in using them could easily scramble one's brain.
Furthermore, the craftsmanship...
How to put it? It looked flashy and legitimate on the surface, and the technique was clearly practiced—far superior to Ji Jue's.
Yet after witnessing the seamless harmony between matter and self in Quicksilver's creations, and having experienced the rigorous, all-encompassing majesty of Professor Ye's works during his studies of modern alchemy... he could only say it was mediocre at best.
In fact, it almost seemed...
"A bit flawed?" he ventured, unsure.
"Looks like your eye has improved."
Professor Ye offered a rare word of praise before following up with her critique: "No need to be so polite. To take materials and a blessing of this caliber and produce something like this—there is no other word for it besides garbage.
"To melt and refine a blessing into such shoddy goods and still have the nerve to sell it is an utter embarrassment. No wonder the artisan didn't dare engrave their crest on it. If someone ever exposed this down the line, they'd be the laughingstock of the trade for the rest of their life."
The materials were fine, and the blessing was quite decent.
Only the workmanship was a total mess!
Ascension possessed form without substance, Transmutation copied formulas blindly, Purification was uneven, and Harmony was chaotic—it was the very definition of a cheap knockoff.
Had the blessing inside known what it would be turned into, it probably would have hurled itself straight down into the vortex to rot alongside the Nine Vices.
Professor Ye had already inspected the specifics of the blessing.
Its name was Transcendent Vision.
In short, it granted the user the ability to accelerate their perception and thought processes, effectively producing the sensation of slowing down time.
It wasn't common, but it wasn't particularly rare either, as numerous blessings shared identical effects. Examples included the White Stag's 'Lightning Reflexes,' the Desolate Ruins' 'Oneness of Self and Object,' the Vortex's 'Neural Spiritization'... and even the legendary blessing bestowed by the Eternal Gate, 'Time Severance'!
In truth, Masterwork Nature also had its counterparts.
The Swarm had 'Hand of Conquest,' the White Stag had 'Soul-Linked Finger,' and the Vortex had 'Rejuvenating Touch.' It was just that one focused on destructive force, another leaned toward finesse and parrying, and the last was outright a healing ability. None could compare to the terrifying versatility and growth potential of Masterwork Nature.
"Alright, stop staring. It's nothing more than a botched piece of work."
Professor Ye interrupted Ji Jue's contemplation, uttering words that seemed to echo from the deepest pit of a nightmare: "Since this thing has fallen into your hands, let's add to your homework—"
*Don't!*
Ji Jue's expression changed dramatically, his hands twitching with the urge to chuck the thing away.
*Can't I just say no?*
*How do you just slap on homework out of nowhere?!*
"For your introductory practice in the Dissociation Art, this will be your subject."
Professor Ye picked up her teacup, merciless. "What you need to do is dismantle it, peel away those chaotic spiritus circuits and material contaminants, and preserve the internal blessing to the greatest extent possible. The Ghost Craftsman will remain in the workshop to assist you in extracting the blessing intact."
"Uh..."
Ji Jue hesitated. "Is there a deadline?"
"Up to you. Fast or slow, it doesn't matter."
The professor gave him a final glance, administering a shot of adrenaline that drove Ji Jue completely wild.
"I think," she said flatly, "once that blessing is stripped out, it will be about time to begin.
"Your first true alchemical creation."
"..."
Amid the dead silence, Ye Chun closed her eyes in despair.
Yet Ji Jue's eyes lit up, flashing with an almost bloodthirsty gleam...
In that single instant—
—The grind demon's berserk transformation: complete!
Chapter 113