The Alchemist's Guide to Flesh and Blood Ascension

Unconsciously, Yunefu's fingertips rubbed against a "guide stone" in his pocket. It was given to him by the sixth brother along with some dry rations when he left. It was rough in texture and engraved with the lines of the ratman's two long whiskers.

There is also a slum in Zelharan, and the underground tavern "Empty Bones" in the slum is their next destination... Go to the tavern to meet the contact that Lao Liu had contacted.

The air here is much more suffocating than outside, filled with the smells of alcohol, cheap tobacco, and the scorched earth of crustaceans in the desert... it's unbearably heavy.

Iseria's sky-blue eyes kept scanning the people in the tavern—those withered and twisted magical energy veins were so different from those of the people from Tus Academy!

"This is it. We won't be here for long..." Yune sat down at a rough, uneven wooden table covered in grease and bloodstains.

The "contact person" sat opposite him; he was a skinny man covered in calluses—the marks left from years of scrubbing his body with coarse sand.

He was using a dull knife to pick at large pebbles under his fingernails when he saw movement on the other side. He then slammed the knife down on the table and looked up at Yonivore.

"You're the 'distinguished guest' that Lao Liu mentioned? Not bad, not bad. At least I can't see through you," the contact said, sizing up the black-robed alchemist in front of him with his cloudy eyes, before quickly glancing at Iseria, who was well-concealed.

"Now that you know why we're here, let's get straight to the point... and tell us about the 'changes' in Zehrhalan," Yunevo said decisively to the contact, his elbow propped on the table, his body slightly tilted to block Iseria's side.

The contact just chuckled, grabbed the cactus wine mixed with sand from the table, tilted his head back and took a swig, licked his lips with narrowed eyes, and then said, "Changes? Besides the dead and the increasing number of white-robed figures, what other changes could there be here?"

"Listen, if you want to take the Golden Trade Route... you should give up on that idea now."

"The Church won't stop all caravans in Zelharan, will it?" Yunevo retorted.

"Yes, you're right, but... there's also the 'royal family,' that damned 'Sand King,' who sold the entire trade route to the church for the 'holy spring' that the church promised would never run dry, and even built some kind of sentry post there, ostensibly to escort caravans and fight against the Iron Sand Demon Armor."

The contact curled his lip, spat out a mouthful of pale green saliva with disdain, and continued, "Anyone with eyes can see that they just want to collect some tolls, but the rat people have made enemies with the church."

"If you want to help Lao Liu... you'd have to uproot the king of Zelharan along with the church, and then cleanse the Golden Trade Route again, that would be about the right time."

Yunevo pinched his cheek, pondering, "If this is all the church has done, why send more people here?"

"I don't know. I heard that some kind of 'holy remains' appeared around the Golden Trade Route. It sounds like the remains left behind after their high-ranking members died," the contact said, finishing the last sip of cactus wine. He smacked his lips, took a silver coin from Yunefu under the table, and poured himself another cup of wine.

"Let's leave it at that since it concerns the church. Zehrharan... is there a problem with the faith here?" Yunevo leaned forward, his deep black eyes fixed on the contact.

The contact shrank back and moved the stool back a few steps, answering dryly, "This place... is somewhat polarized. The older generation says that what lies beneath is the wind and sand and the guardian god, while others say it's the remnant of a demon that cruelly stole its divine status."

"Speak like a human being," Yonivore said, squinting.

"Simply put, the merchants of our ancestors thought they were benevolent gods, while those gentlemen... well, tsk tsk."

The black-robed alchemist frowned even more deeply.

Could this thing possibly be connected to my fictitious parents, or even an entire family tree?

Stop joking, okay?!

Yunevo withdrew his hand from his cheek, got up with Iseria, and left the tavern.

The contact watched the two figures leave, then took another swig of cactus wine, tapping his fingers incessantly on the table, muttering to himself, "It's evening again..."

In this frigid air, only the hand held by Eunice Seria offered a unique warmth.

"Yonev, what are you thinking about?" Iseria shook their clasped hands, her eyes shining in the night. "Ever since you met that Sand Armor... your thoughts seem to have become very chaotic."

"I've been thinking about a lot of things, like those curses, those complicated relationships, or that 'Holy Remains,' or even myself..." The black-robed alchemist slowed his pace.

He hated this feeling of being completely bewildered, and the feeling of being "stared at by countless eyes in the dark"... just like the sense of powerlessness he felt in Hart City back then.

Then, a cold, cool object was placed in his palm—something that could never exist in the desert…

Creamy milk jelly.

Iseria put her storage bag back in and gave Yunevo a relieved smile.

She had seen Yonevru like this more than once, in every moment of silence, every quickening of his pace, and even when he pulled her behind him...

It was as if Yonivore's body remembered every moment that nearly killed him, even though he had mentally let go... his muscle memory remained.

Iseria felt that what she had to do was to stay with this suspicious alchemist as much as possible.

"Yonev".

"Um?"

"The creamy milk pudding...eat it as soon as you take it out, it'll put your mind at ease!"

Seeing that Yunevo hadn't moved for a while, Iseria puffed out her cheeks, put her hands on her hips, and blocked his way, continuing, "Eat up, eat up! I'll watch you eat! We'll go back after you're done!"

"Alright... then the old rule, shall we each have half?" Yonivo produced a second spoon from somewhere, opened the lid of the frothing jelly, held it in one hand, and placed it between the two of them.

The small frothy jelly was quickly devoured, spoonful by spoonful, and the long-awaited coolness relaxed Yunevo's nerves somewhat. He gazed at Iseria for a long time before finally speaking, "What do you think of... Zellharan?"

"Hmm... that's strange," Iseria replied.

"Yes, I also find it strange, from the sense of mission you felt, to that iron sand demon armor, and then to the sudden changes in those residents..."

"I was wondering, is something in this desert... pushing us forward?"