That night, Adrian walked through the marketplace.
The empire was growing.
The missions were, too.
He stopped in front of a spirit stone stall and studied the prices.
One hundred mid-grade spirit stones.
About a thousand euros, roughly.
Five hundred stones.
Five thousand.
His mind began calculating automatically.
If I can control the distribution network across all of Tianxu...
The numbers stopped being interesting.
They became absurd.
"Millions a year," he thought, a faint smile appearing on his face. "Without cultivating a single herb."
He turned to head back toward the sect.
He didn't make it ten steps.
"Adrian Valmont."
The voice was gentle.
Too gentle.
He stopped.
Five people surrounded him.
Not aggressively.
That would have been simple.
They had positioned themselves with precision, blocking every exit while carefully maintaining their distance, making it perfectly clear that this conversation would happen here—and nowhere else.
Adrian examined their formation for a second.
They weren't warriors.
They were negotiators.
People who understood that the right amount of pressure accomplished far more than a sword ever could.
A woman stepped forward.
She wore a translucent veil that didn't hide her face, only made it harder to read.
Her beauty was undeniable, but that wasn't what caught Adrian's attention.
It was her control.
Every movement seemed calculated.
Every pause carried purpose.
"Please don't be alarmed," she said. "We're from the Flowing Jade Pavilion, one of Tianxu's commercial guilds."
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
"Well."
He glanced around.
"I thought it would take you longer."
The people behind her frowned.
The woman, however, smiled.
"So... you expected us."
"It was inevitable."
Adrian folded his arms.
"When someone changes a market, the people losing money are always the first to show up."
She inclined her head slightly.
"Our organization has suffered losses."
"No."
Adrian corrected her calmly.
"You're losing a system that no longer works."
A brief silence followed.
Interesting.
She continued.
"You started with basic pills. Increased production, shortened delivery times, and stabilized prices."
"I optimized."
"You disrupted the balance."
"The balance was inefficient."
She studied him for several seconds.
She wasn't used to hearing answers like that.
"You only produce a few batches a day. Hardly an impressive amount."
Adrian smiled.
"But I control the flow."
She said nothing.
Because it was true.
Adrian stepped closer.
"The product matters."
A pause.
"But distribution decides who wins."
For the first time, the woman's expression shifted ever so slightly.
Not surprise.
Interest.
Adrian recognized it immediately.
It was the same look investors wore when someone uncovered an opportunity too large to ignore.
"Let's walk," she said.
It wasn't an invitation.
It was a decision.
And for the first time since arriving in Tianxu...
Adrian Valmont wasn't looking for a way to survive.
He had finally found people who understood the game.
A few minutes later, they sat inside a private room within the Pavilion.
Tea had been served.
The doors were closed.
Silence filled the room.
Adrian didn't speak.
Not because he lacked an answer.
Because he understood something simple.
The first person to fill the silence was usually the one who needed something more.
Several seconds passed.
The woman yielded first.
"You're disrupting the market."
Adrian picked up his teacup.
"That means the market had a flaw."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Or it means you're the problem."
He took a sip.
"A problem is something you eliminate."
He gently placed the cup back onto the table.
"I generate profit."
"So I'm managed."
For the first time, she truly looked at him.
"You produce very little," she said. "But you produce consistently. You control your suppliers. You maintain stable prices. You're building a supply chain that didn't exist before."
Adrian nodded.
"Infrastructure."
"Call it whatever you like."
She placed her folding fan on the table.
"We'd like to avoid unnecessary conflict. Operate under our name. We'll handle distribution."
A pause.
"Seventy percent for us. Thirty for you."
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
He wasn't looking at the percentage.
He was examining the premise.
"Your proposal begins with a false assumption."
She waited.
"You believe you control the market because you control the points of sale."
Adrian lifted a scroll.
"But real power exists long before that."
He opened it.
There were no exact numbers.
Only trends.
Production.
Demand.
Growth.
"I don't sell pills."
He looked directly at her.
"I build the ability to produce them."
Silence.
"With more capital, I double production."
"With better routes, I reduce costs."
"With more suppliers, I eliminate risk."
He rolled up the scroll.
"Your commission shouldn't come from the margin."
A faint smile appeared.
"It should come from growth."
The woman remained silent for several long seconds.
Not because she lacked an answer.
Because she was recalculating.
"Fifty-fifty."
Adrian slowly shook his head.
"Forty for the Pavilion."
The expressions of the people behind her changed.
"That isn't negotiable."
Adrian leaned back in his chair.
"Yes, it is."
A pause.
"If I reject your offer, I'll still be producing tomorrow."
He glanced toward the window.
"My customers already know where to find me."
Then he looked back at her.
"But if you reject mine..."
"In a few months you'll be competing against an organization you could have been leading yourselves."
It wasn't a threat.
It was simply reality.
The woman remained silent.
Adrian hadn't asked for protection.
He hadn't asked for assistance.
He had come to the negotiating table having already demonstrated something far more valuable.
He could survive without them.
"Tianxu isn't the only market," he added.
"It's merely the first."
She looked at him for a long time.
For the first time, she wasn't evaluating him as a merchant.
She was evaluating him as a strategic risk.
"Thirty-five percent," she finally said.
"Membership in the Flowing Jade Pavilion."
"Full protection."
"Access to major trade routes."
Adrian paused.
"And I retain complete operational control," he added.
"You audit results."
"Not processes."
Silence.
Finally, she nodded.
"Deal."
She extended her hand.
Adrian shook it.
It wasn't a firm handshake.
It was exact.
"Welcome to Tianxu's true world of commerce," she said.
Adrian released her hand.
"No," he corrected.
"Today, Tianxu has just entered modern commerce."
In the distance, the System vibrated.
[Pending Mission]Object of Devotion: Lin YueRequired Action: Mild Emotional InteractionDeadline: Tomorrow
Adrian sighed.
"There's always paperwork."
While Heaven continued writing heroes...
Adrian had just secured something far more dangerous.
A permanent seat in the world's economy.
A monopoly was no longer an ambition.
It had become a consequence.
The alchemy hall was silent.
Not the silence of admiration.
The uncomfortable silence of people watching someone try to change something that had remained unchanged for centuries.
Six alchemists.
All veterans.
All with decades of experience.
Some had devoted half their lives to perfecting a single recipe.
And now they stood there...
Listening to a young man who couldn't even refine a pill himself.
Adrian stood before the central table.
No alchemist's robe.
No insignias.
No spiritual authority.
Only scrolls.
"Repeat the process," he said.
"But not together."
One of the alchemists looked up.
"...Excuse me?"
"Divide the recipe."
Adrian pointed at the diagram.
"Extraction. Preparation. Purification. Final fusion."
The men looked at the scrolls.
Then back at him.
"That would destroy the harmony of the process," one of them said.
Adrian met his gaze.
"No."
A pause.
"It would destroy tradition."
The entire hall froze.
The alchemist pressed his lips together.
"You don't understand. Every stage depends on the one before it. The alchemist must feel the changes in the flame, the reaction of the ingredients, the breathing of the spiritual energy."
Adrian nodded.
"Exactly."
He picked up another scroll.
"Which is why only the final stage requires an alchemist."
He pointed at the earlier steps.
"But these don't."
Silence.
"For centuries, you've trained masters capable of doing everything."
His eyes swept across the room.
"I want to build a system where a master only does what no one else can."
No one answered.
Because the idea was offensively simple.
Which made it difficult to reject.
An elderly alchemist picked up the scroll.
Read it once.
Then again.
Slowly, his expression changed.
Not acceptance.
Not yet.
Something more dangerous.
Curiosity.
Adrian recognized it.
It was the same look entrepreneurs had when they discovered an opportunity capable of changing an entire industry.
Su Meilan watched from the side.
Arms crossed.
Expression calm.
She didn't interfere.
There was no need.
Her mere presence reminded the assembled masters that, for the first time in their lives, they were being asked to listen to someone who didn't belong to their world.
Adrian pointed at the scrolls.
"The problem isn't the recipe."
The alchemists remained silent.
"The problem is the method."
One of them frowned.
"Alchemy is not a mechanical process."
Adrian looked at him.
"And that's exactly why it's remained limited for thousands of years."
Whispers spread across the hall.
He wasn't criticizing a recipe.
He was criticizing an entire tradition.
Adrian continued.
"A master alchemist spends years learning every stage."
"Extraction."
"Purification."
"Fire control."
"Fusion."
"Stabilization."
He tapped the scroll.
"And then you expect one person to perform every single step perfectly, every single time."
A pause.
"That isn't mastery."
"It's a bottleneck."
No one replied.
Because they understood the concept.
Even if they hated the word.
Adrian picked up a brush.
"We'll separate the process."
He wrote several lines.
"Team One: Material Preparation."
Another line.
"Team Two: Extraction."
Another.
"Team Three: Refinement."
Finally—
"The alchemist only performs the final stage."
An old master frowned.
"That destroys harmony."
Adrian slowly shook his head.
"No."
A pause.
"It only eliminates waste."
Su Meilan studied the alchemists.
For the first time, they looked less offended...
And far more uncomfortable.
Because they were beginning to wonder if this might actually work.
"Reduce the spiritual flame temperature by twenty percent," Adrian ordered.
"Compensate with time, not intensity."
An alchemist looked up.
"That will reduce purity."
"Yes."
Adrian didn't hesitate.
"By roughly thirty percent."
Silence.
"But it'll increase product stability and dramatically reduce refinement failures."
The men exchanged glances.
He wasn't trying to create the strongest pill.
He was trying to create the most reliable one.
"Replace Heavenly Dawn Grass."
Another alchemist nearly stood up.
"With an inferior herb?"
"With three common ingredients whose properties complement one another."
Adrian pointed at the formula.
"I don't need one exceptional ingredient."
A pause.
"I need a system that doesn't depend on one."
That silenced them.
Because that single sentence was the difference between craftsmanship...
And industry.
The spiritual flames ignited.
Not one.
Six.
The process felt strange.
There was no inspiration.
No intuition.
No master overseeing every movement.
Only measurement.
Documentation.
Correction.
Repetition.
When it was over, one of the alchemists picked up the pill.
He turned it slowly between his fingers.
Examined it carefully.
First with his spiritual senses.
Then through a magnifying lens.
His expression grew increasingly confused.
"No..."
His voice came out barely above a whisper.
"This... shouldn't work."
The others gathered around.
The old master closed his eyes and sensed the energy sealed within the pill once more.
It wasn't dazzling.
It wasn't magnificent.
It didn't possess the overwhelming aura of a masterpiece.
But it was stable.
Perfectly stable.
"It doesn't have the purity of a Heavenly Pill," he whispered.
He opened his eyes.
"But neither does it have its flaws."
No one spoke.
"The spiritual energy doesn't fluctuate."
He looked at Adrian.
"Every batch will be identical."
Adrian said nothing.
Because that had always been the point.
Not to create a work of art.
To create a product.
One that could be manufactured a thousand times over.
Su Meilan stared at the small pill in the elder's hand.
At last, she understood what made Adrian Valmont so unusual.
Cultivators sought to create a single perfect masterpiece.
He sought to create a system where thousands of people could produce something that was simply... good enough.
And that...
Was far more difficult to stop.
Adrian watched them in silence, with the calm confidence of someone who knew he had just redefined what was possible.
"This..." one of the elders swallowed.
"This is impossible."
"No," Adrian replied.
"It's mediocre."
The word landed like an insult.
"It only achieves sixty-five percent of the original pill's effectiveness," he continued.
"But it never collapses."
"It never poisons the user."
"It doesn't depend on the alchemist's mental state."
He placed the pill on the table.
"And I can manufacture one hundred of these every day."
Silence fell instantly.
Not surprise.
Not excitement.
Calculation.
Most of those present knew that historic auctions offered only ten or twelve pills of this quality every century.
What Adrian held in his hand...
Could surpass all of that.
One of the oldest alchemists turned pale.
He slowly bowed.
Not to Adrian.
But to the idea itself.
"If this becomes public..." he whispered.
"...the traditional market..."
"...will cease to exist."
Su Meilan smiled.
Not with joy.
With pure interest.
"It won't destroy it," she said.
"It will replace it."
She approached Adrian, measuring the situation like a general surveying a battlefield.
"A name?"
"Basic Stability Pill," Adrian answered.
"It performs no miracles."
"It won't turn anyone into a genius."
"But it guarantees consistent results."
She raised an eyebrow.
"It allows even mediocre cultivators to survive... and continue advancing."
"...That will reshape the balance of power."
Adrian nodded.
"Exactly."
"And I can produce it on demand."
"Every year."
"No more waiting a century for an auction."
"No more absurd prices."
"No more artificial scarcity."
The alchemists exchanged glances.
Su Meilan remained silent for a long moment.
She was evaluating.
The conference room of the Flowing Jade Pavilion was completely silent.
Su Meilan sat at the head of the table.
The other elders surrounded Adrian, studying every movement and every expression.
"Adrian Valmont," she finally said.
"Your operation has proven to be more than profitable."
"You've secured stable supply, consistent production, and an absolute monopoly over the Basic Stability Pill."
A murmur spread among the elders.
Some nodded.
Others frowned.
Not all of them were accustomed to watching a newcomer seize so much influence in so little time.
"Your negotiating ability and strategic vision have fundamentally altered Tianxu's commercial landscape," Su Meilan continued.
"So..."
She paused carefully.
"I propose that Adrian Valmont be granted the title of Associate Elder of the Pavilion."
The silence became even heavier.
"Associate Elder," Adrian repeated, tasting the title.
"So that means..."
"A vote in the Chamber's decisions."
"Influence over production quotas."
"Authority regarding commercial alliances."
Su Meilan nodded with a faint smile.
"Correct."
"Your voice will carry the same weight as any other elder."
"Your vote will help determine trade strategy, contracts, and future alliances."
Adrian folded his arms, calculating rapidly.
A slight smile appeared.
"So I won't just be selling a monopoly."
"Now I'll decide who enters."
"Who leaves."
"And who profits from Tianxu's commercial flow."
One elderly man snorted.
"This young man..."
"He doesn't merely negotiate better than us."
"He's rewriting the rules."
"Exactly," Su Meilan replied.
"And now..."
"Those rules include his vote."
Adrian inclined his head politely.
Though no one could fully read the calm calculation behind the gesture.
"Perfect," he murmured.
"Monopoly secured."
"Double protection."
"Direct influence."
"Now..."
"The real game can begin."
Meanwhile, in the Caverns of Jagged Shadows (Lower Level)
Ye Chen gasped for breath.
His once-white robes had become little more than blood-soaked rags stained with mud and beast blood.
A deep wound stretched across his shoulder.
His Qi flickered like the flame of a candle moments from extinction.
Before him lay the corpse of a Grade Four Obsidian Scorpion.
Six hours of combat.
Three protective talismans consumed.
And he had nearly lost an arm.
All...
For a single mushroom.
"Finally..." Ye Chen whispered, his voice hoarse.
"Frozen Marrow Mushroom..."
"Stabilized..."
With trembling hands, he carefully removed the small blue mushroom growing beneath a stalactite.
It was one of the essential ingredients of the legendary Stability Pill—
A resource that, according to every manual, could only be obtained by defeating a high-grade beast deep within a deadly region.
With this...
After days of forced meditation...
And accepting a forty-percent chance that his crude cauldron would explode...
He would be able to refine a single pill.
Just one.
Enough to break through to the next realm...
And perhaps...
Become worthy of Lin Yue.