The Alchemist's Guide to Flesh and Blood Ascension

Even as Iseria uttered those words, one tragedy after another continued to unfold before Yonevo's eyes.

The pipes that served as their dwellings were mostly flooded, and the ratmen, unable to receive timely rescue, slowly floated to the surface from the "bottom of the lake."

"Sixth Brother, I don't plan to go back to Starmoke for the time being," Yunevo said, pinching his cheek, his voice hoarse.

"Oh dear, how can this be? What kind of nonsense have we heard!" The short, fat ratman turned his head, and the few whiskers on his face almost stood up.

"No, no, business partnerships are all about give and take. That kind of business philosophy is enough for us... enough for us to live more than ten lifetimes!"

The black-robed alchemist waved his hand, shifted his position, and leaned against the slightly warm pipe to rest. "You've dealt with quite a few alchemists, but you should know... I'm the one who likes to get to the bottom of things the most."

"I just want to see how the 'root' grows now, like its operating logic and alchemical formula..." Yunefu spread his hands, half-squatting down to look at Lao Liu's extremely anxious rat face.

"What kind of logic formula is this? This is a complete mess, a complete mess!" The short, fat ratman was a little agitated, but seeing Yunevna's "I'm ready to talk you to death" expression...

It gritted its teeth, stomped its foot, and even its tail was drooping as it swept away the puddles on the ground.

"Alright, alright, I know I can't argue with you!" Old Six sighed and continued, "Then I'll be your tour guide this time and show you how many abscesses have grown in this 'mess'!"

After saying this, the short, fat rat turned his head and earnestly instructed the rescue team members, then took the brightest kerosene lamp from them and led the way.

"Tap," "tap"... The sound of the three people's footsteps echoed on the puddles that had receded a little.

The deeper you go, the less you see those boiler rooms and residential areas.

Instead, there are more and more pipes with black mold spots and a diameter of less than two meters. Along with them comes the stench of years of decay in the air, and the fishy and moldy smell that gradually develops after the water cannot be completely drained.

This is suffocating in every sense of the word.

Iseria walked slowly, her fingertips glowing with ethereal light sweeping over every rust mark, before bumping into Yune, who was stopped at the crossroads.

"Ugh!" The pale-haired girl was a little dazed, having finally managed to escape from Yunefu's "visual obstruction"...

She saw two withered families, the tattered rags the rat-men wore were soaked with sewage and clung to their bony ribs, their rumbling bellies audible from afar.

This is common among the "roots," but each of their leaders carries a "thing" wrapped in a yellowish-white cloth, about the thickness of a thigh, with no heartbeat.

There were no arguments or fights, and the hostility that should have been brewing in the shadows never even showed a hint of arose.

The rat-man, his paws trembling, reluctantly handed what he was carrying to the other side, who did the exact same thing...

Iserlia could tell from their lip movements, or rather, from the little ethers, that the two ratmen were saying the same thing—to eat sparingly.

The pale-haired girl caught a fleeting glimpse of soft whiskers.

On the other side, the smaller rat-man patted its belly and let out a low sob, but then the larger rat-man took out a dagger...

He plunged the knife into his own thigh, which was wrapped in filthy bandages, mixing the blood and flesh with the moldy grains, before handing it over in a clay bowl with several cracks.

"Those white-robed men have given the order that anyone who sends grain into Hart City will be held accountable," Old Six said, pulling out another pair of monocles from somewhere, wiping them, applying some glue, and sticking them to his nose.

"The flood cut off our food supplies, but nobody wants to be a bad guy... The living still need to eat, so..." The short, fat ratman didn't continue, but changed the subject.

"When you're hungry, your stomach rumbles louder than any prayer."

Iseria's face was pale, and Yunevo quickly caught her. Her voice was somewhat bewildered: "The sand in Zehrhalan is just dry, but here... everything here, except the soul, is rotten."

Compared to the timeless tragedy of Zelharan, every rust mark in the "Roots" is like "rotten flesh" cut off by Hart City for the sake of appearances, a testament to ongoing suffering.

Under the dazzling holy light, those in white robes shouted "God loves the world" atop the luxurious church.

Okay, if this is the "hope and warmth" that God left for people to feel, then God should be bound to the cross and the church should be burned to ashes along with him.

Yonivore looked at those "humble creatures" struggling in the darkness, yet still leaving their last bit of kindness for their fellow human beings, and sighed.

Everything here is for survival, for continuation, but this "truth" built upon moral ruins is simply...

"It's utterly rotten," the black-robed alchemist said, putting his hands in his pockets and turning to the sixth brother. "Are there... any ratmen here who can still wield a hammer?"

"Brother Yunevo, what are you doing? We..." The short, fat ratman scratched his head, "I have something to say, oh well! Never mind that, you must have your reasons."

"We trust you. The big business you bring us has never lost money!" Old Liu jumped up and down twice, leaving the lantern behind, and ran back the way he came in the dark.

"Yonev?" Iseria's face was still somewhat pale, and her eyes were full of doubt as she looked at the black-robed alchemist.

"Before, when Lao Liu said he couldn't open those holy lights blocking the valves... I said if a hammer can't break them, use a gun, use a cannon," the latter paused, and continued, "but clearly, they don't have the method to make such things."

He was a restless alchemist who also liked to spread "truth" to those beings who were truly in distress.

Since this "root" exacerbated the corruption because of his existence, he would burn away all the rotten flesh with "flames" and give it to Hart City...

Replace it with a heart that beats even stronger!

And this first step may well be about uniting all forces that can be united.

As far as Yunevo knew, this vast drainage system was not inhabited by only the ratmen. After all, when the church came to power, Hart City, a place where "a hundred flowers bloom," was subjected to a lot of rectification and purging.

Some races migrated north to the mountainous regions, where they struggled to coexist with mythical races such as dragons.

A small number were forced to settle in "Roots," beginning this unspeakable second half of their lives.