The Alchemist's Guide to Flesh and Blood Ascension

The Mage Guild is located in the northern part of Starmoke, as the great "North Star" that points the way in the star system formed by the crystal towers.

Twelve sharply angled obsidian towers form an ineffable geometric structure, their spires shrouded in a dazzling yet constant arcane glow that dyes the surrounding night sky, spanning nearly a hundred meters, a deep indigo.

Fred led the way for Yunevo and Iseria, passing through layers of obscure rune arrays used for verification, and finally stopped in front of a smooth, mirror-like silver-white door.

"The president only invited the two of you, so relax... The old man is very easy to talk to when he's in a good mood," Fred stepped aside, "and most of the time, he's in a good mood."

The door opened...

The room's extremely simple decor was revealed, with the magic lampstand on the table being a common wholesale item found everywhere in the Miracle Alchemy Street.

Of course, there is also a large floor-to-ceiling window that can take in the entire Stamok, with wild vines, still full of life, hanging on the window.

There stood a man by the window, wearing a pure white mage's robe without a single stain, his long gray hair reaching his waist.

The old man, with his hands behind his back, slowly turned around; there were no badges of any power hanging on the front of his robe.

His aged yet kind face appeared before the two of them.

Time has left its mark on the face of this monk, especially around his somewhat sunken eye sockets.

It also wore a monocle, the gold frame of which shimmered with a unique light, while the gray-blue eyes behind it remained deep and majestic.

A ninth-tier mage, the only one of its kind in the world.

The power gap between mages becomes as vast as an insurmountable chasm after the seventh rank, with each rank representing a difference of several orders of magnitude.

If the cheerful old dean is like a vast lake with hidden currents, then the president of the association is more like a boundless deep sea.

"You've arrived? Please have a seat," the old man said in a hoarse but gentle voice. "You must be very tired. Please rest."

Seeing the two somewhat at a loss, the chairman smiled and shook his head, pointed to the armchair on the side, and sat down in the wicker chair by the window. He took a wooden pipe and filled it with some ordinary tobacco leaves.

The bluish-gray smoke rose slowly, but not a trace dissipated... Yonivo didn't even smell the slightest bit of smoke.

"The tea is in the cupboard... If you're thirsty, make yourself some. The old man's health isn't very good," the guild master said leisurely, holding his pipe.

It was like an elder chatting casually, without a trace of intimidation.

"That punch... used all your strength, right?" The old man chuckled again, then continued, "You hate Uriel that much?"

Eunicev did not deny it.

"Above Uriel, there is Goethe... right here in Speranza, the main city of the Church. If this is the path you are taking... then the road is still very long."

"But it doesn't matter, you have allies... This evidence is enough for me to have ample reason to purge problematic members of the association. The Mage Association will always stand on the side of pursuing the truth," the old man said, looking out at the sea of ​​light.

Under his rule, the Mage Association was the purest of the three associations... Those with ulterior motives dared not do too many things that went too far.

But clearly, the matter of "objectifying the god" has completely crossed the old chairman's bottom line, which is why he wants to meet with Yunevo—he needs an ally with an absolute stance.

"As for the Alchemist Guild, which exists in name only... I personally feel powerless to do anything about it. Let's talk about the substantial support we can offer you."

"Besides some intimidating titles, what the old man can give you is the right to mobilize mage towers below the seventh rank, and the indefinite right to use all alchemy laboratories under the Mage Association..."

The guild master looked at the three badges hanging on Yunefu's chest, then at Yunefu's slightly weathered face, and said, "The rest of the support will be listed by Fred. The old man has a bad memory and is too lazy to go on and on."

Then, he turned to Iserlia and carefully examined her, his smile kind: "Girl, this old man has heard you like reading. From now on... you can study any of the large 'books' in this city. How about that?"

The mage guild master was referring to Stamock's Great Library, where he had granted Iseria the right to freely roam and read without hindrance...

He had heard of the two "rising stars" of the Tuss College before, and seeing them today... they certainly lived up to their reputation.

But they all carry burdens that are beyond their years.

"Kids, don't push yourselves too hard... When you have time, take a good stroll around Starmok and rest a bit," the mage guild master nodded slightly, picked up his pipe, took a deep drag, and waved goodbye to the two.

Walking down the corridor leading away from the Mage Guild, Iseria naturally took Yunevo's wrist and asked softly, "That old man... it was a pity when he talked about the Alchemist Guild."

"It's all the fault of the Alchemists' Guild. They... wanted to touch the forbidden 'life' transmutation."

"The church offered them generous benefits, and they went... Those who didn't go, those who pursued the truth, will die sooner or later," Eunicev said with unparalleled calmness.

"Why?" Iseria pressed.

"Because the truth... will overturn their long-established position."

"So...this is how they intend to exterminate disobedient alchemists, is that it?"

……

Thousands of miles away.

In the underground level of Hart Cathedral, Uriel, clutching his chest in phantom pain, stood before a crystal... without uttering a word.

The Templar Knights behind him knelt on the ground, not daring to even breathe loudly.

After a long silence, the purple-haired bishop finally spoke slowly: "Any news about the Holy Remains?"

No one answered.

Uriel didn't ask any further questions, but stared at the crystal whose light had been extinguished for who knows how long, as if looking at the black-robed figure who never turned back.

"Send three more excavation teams to Morse and tell them... if they don't find the relics, they'll all die in the desert."

The relics of the Holy One might be a good vessel for the "materialization of God" project... There are records of it as early as the time when the ancient church existed, but unfortunately the documents are incomplete, and all we know is that it once appeared in that dead desert.

"If there are any conservatives involved in this operation, everyone will be treated as heretics."

Uriel paused, then turned around.

"Without further ado, all of you may leave."

He kept his eyes down, without losing his temper or roaring... he simply walked slowly into the depths of the corridor.

Instead of wallowing in self-pity, it's better to plan for the future to avoid repeating the same mistakes.