A horse—a horse nearly run to death—burst into the morning of Saint Jia Ma City, the Imperial Capital.
Its entire body was soaked in sweat, white foam continuously spilling from its nostrils and mouth. Its four hooves struck the hard bluestone pavement, no longer producing crisp clops, but a dull, mournful sound of a creature nearing its limit.
The guards at the city gate did not even have time to shout a warning before the horse became a black blur, charging into the Imperial Capital's broad main avenue with reckless, death-defying resolve.
The person on its back was no less bedraggled.
His fourth-tier alchemist's robe, which should have been spotless, was now covered in dust and creases. His ornate hair crown sat crookedly, while several strands of black hair clung to his deathly pale cheeks with cold sweat.
It was Liu Ling.
His eyes were bloodshot. The composure and arrogance of the Imperial Capital's genius were gone from his face, replaced by an expression tangled with extreme exhaustion, boundless fervor, and profound awe.
He resembled both a believer who had just completed a pilgrimage and a sinner who had narrowly escaped the depths of hell.
"Move! All of you, move!"
"Urgent dispatch from the Alchemist Guild! Anyone blocking the way dies!"
He roared hoarsely, his voice echoing over the early morning streets and drawing countless startled gazes.
He paid no attention to anyone.
He had only one destination.
The Pill Tower, rising at the very heart of the Imperial Capital like an obsidian sword piercing the heavens.
Alchemist Guild headquarters, top-floor meditation chamber.
The air was permeated by the tranquil fragrance naturally released by century-old medicinal herbs.
Fa Ma, the Guild President, held an ancient jade slip in his hand, his eyes closed in concentration.
The chamber door was