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Book 12: Chapter 18: Crazy (3)

Dyon shook his head at the pathetic sight.

The truth was that he hadn’t exactly tried to injure the old woman, it was just that she was so frail and close to death to begin with that without the protection of her qi, any immortal level strength could do that to her.

Dyon knew that his concoctions would be incredibly expensive. Top grade pills of any kind were fought over everywhere. That much, Dyon had long since learned on the mortal plane. However, it seemed that concocting immortal grade pills was even more difficult.

This made sense, though. The common to star grade was only foundational. Only half-immortal grade pills began to truly use techniques and could be considered the start of true alchemy.

“… He… He has an innate aurora…”

One of the long robed older alchemists trembled, waves rippling through his wrinkles. He nearly fainted under the agitation.

Had it not been for the old man’s words, Dyon would have nearly forgotten that his innate aurora was most definitely not a normal thing. He had practically been surrounded by many soul path geniuses on the mortal plane, so it hadn’t clicked for him that his existence was shocking to many.

‘… Hm, that could be useful.’

Just as Dyon was thinking this, the heavy clinking of armor emitted from the alchemy guild. Tall double doors slid open to reveal a small squad of five guards, each covered in glistening bronze plates of armor that sizzled under the high sunlight.

Scanning the area, their gazes landed on the madly scrambling hook-nosed lady. In unison, they acted as one, marching to her side and lifting her up.

“No… No… My pills… I’m sorry… my pills… They’re mine! They’re mine!”

It seemed there was a reason she was too scared to make any noise. However, her madness over Dyon’s pills had dulled her judgement. She was likely the closest to death in this place, so she was aware that she didn’t have much time left.

In reality, for Immortals, advancing in cultivation didn’t extend their lives. What it did do was give them a stronger connection to the Heavens that would allow them to deeper their comprehension. Once they did this, they could strengthen their Dao Hearts and thus live for longer.

So, even though advancing to a new realm didn’t guarantee living longer, it definitely increased the chances.

The hook-nosed woman had once been a top tier beauty who stepped into the Peak Immortal Essence Realm. Yet, after being stuck there for tens of millions of years, she turned to alchemy, hoping to find a way to break through. After investing tens of millions of years more, she had barely managed to consistently concoct low grade lower venerable pills.

However, such pills had no ability to help her progress to become an Immortal Saint. For that, she would need at least higher venerable pills. But… She had no time to reach such a level.

The guards took her away, kicking and screaming.

Dyon found it odd they didn’t directly kill her, but he thought nothing of it. Maybe this city killed mortals on sight, but immortals who had committed ‘crimes’ got a fair trial.

“I always thought that one would grow tired of living for so long after a certain point…” Saru said softly. “… But it seems that even immortals fear death.”

Dyon remained silent for a moment. He didn’t feel any pity for the hook-nosed old woman, but Saru’s words still resonated with him.

“… Then I’ll make sure we just don’t die.”

Dyon’s words were simple, but they filled the hearts of the two women with a reverberating shudder. They knew things Dyon didn’t, and they could also feel his undying conviction nonetheless.

The bronze armored guards hadn’t even sent a glance toward Dyon, while the remaining older alchemists looked toward him like fiendish, hungry hounds.

Dyon smirked. It seemed they were all eager to capture him to either refine pills for them or were competing to see who could snatch and refine his soul first.

The mortal plane might not have had the ability to do it, but Dyon didn’t underestimate the immortal plane. There were definitely individuals here who could snatch his soul in an attempt to take his Innate Aurora for themselves. The soul arts of this plane were far better than those of the mortal plane.

“Good luck.” Dyon said casually.

Seeing his smirk, they shuddered. They could only watch as Dyon ignored themselves, strolling in after the bronze armored guards as though he owned the place. Even the stone faced guards couldn’t help their expression flickering.

They had ignored this little mortal because they couldn’t be bothered to raise a hand against him, yet he dared disregard them like this?

Maybe in the outer city, mortals were forced to wear collars and leashes. However, in this inner city, mortals running errands for their masters were commonplace, after all, since when did the rich and powerful follow the rules? So, they hadn’t put Dyon in their eyes.

However, the issue was that Dyon didn’t respectfully wait for them to disappear. Instead, he strode into the guild building as though they had been there only to open the doors for him. In fact, even when they stopped in shock, he swept a glance in their direction before walking past and into the quiet lobby with just a single receptionist.

It was only then that they realized Dyon wasn’t wearing a collar. Not having the leash was fine, but the collar was the bear minimum. Only this way could the owner be identified and take responsibility for any mistakes.

Dyon made his way toward the circular desk that manned the lobby, his expression indifferent. However, the female receptionist, seemingly sensing the presence of a mortal, continued to file her nails. She was actually quite decent to look at, it was just too bad her nose was practically angled above her gaze.

How one managed to look down on people while sitting in a chair was beyond even Dyon.

Unfortunately for her, Dyon didn’t have much patience for her antics. 

His palm slammed into the table, the reverberating impact sending a violent boom that was louder than even the old woman’s shriek had been. In fact, even that same hook-nosed old woman, still hanging from the arms of the guards, snapped out of her maddened state to look at Dyon as though he was crazy.

The violent winds blew the receptionist’s hair back, her hand pausing on its file as she looked up in shock to see a shallow handprint in the desk before her.

The sound of swords being pulled from sheaths sounded behind Dyon, but he hardly reacted as he stared toward the receptionist.