The sunlight filtered through thin clouds as morning descended upon the Feilun Sect.
Tian Shen stood at the edge of the alchemy courtyard, his robes fluttering gently in the breeze.
The fragrance of herbs filled the air, pungent yet oddly refreshing, as if the entire sect were breathing through leaves and flowers.
The path before him was not one of swords or bloodshed today, but one of cauldrons and fire essence.
Behind him, Feng Yin adjusted the satchel slung across her shoulder and raised a brow.
"Going to cook pills again? Don't blow up another furnace."
Tian Shen snorted lightly, "The cauldron was just too weak, not my fault."
Feng Yin clicked her tongue, clearly unconvinced.
"Good luck then, Master Alchemist. I'll be at the Talisman Hall—my instructor promised to teach me the Thunderweave Script."
Tian Shen watched her saunter off, her slender form weaving through sect disciples. Even now, a few of them spared jealous glances in his direction.
