SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS - Chapter 1096 - 1096: Gathering Ingrediants!
Just after Vice Matriarch Kim swept from the dais, her white-gold robes trailing like a comet’s tail, the Great Hall of Celestial Light Mountain exploded into chaos.
Disciples who had moments ago sat still and reverent now bolted like hounds loosed from chains. Robes flared, boots thundered across the polished floor, and the sound of thousands filled the mountain corridors as they scattered in all directions.
“The Ninefold Moon Lotus grows near the eastern caves—go, quickly!” one shouted, dragging two companions behind him.
“Idiot! The Frost-Petal Lotus is in the northern streams—it blooms at dawn, we must pluck it before anyone else!” another barked.
“The Shade-Lotus hides beneath willows! Move, before it vanishes!”
The frenzy was contagious. Squads formed instantly—friends, rivals, sworn enemies—all racing to scour the slopes. Some ran straight for the herbal gardens, others for the marshes, others still for hidden grottos whispered about in manuals. The promise of three thousand Academy points hung in the air like the scent of blood.
Kent stood still, hands behind his back, utterly unmoved by the chaos. His calm figure stood out like a rock in the flood. Slowly, he raised his hand and tapped the ring at his side. A faint ripple shimmered in the air, and from the shadow beneath the terrace, a small figure padded out—his one-eyed bandit pet.
The creature’s fur was scruffy, its single golden eye gleamed with uncanny intelligence. It perched on Kent’s shoulder with a sharp chirp.
“Go,” Kent commanded softly. “Bring me the finest lotuses on this mountain.”
The one-eyed bandit squeaked once, then darted away in a blur. It vanished into the undergrowth, weaving between panicked disciples with uncanny speed.
Gasps followed its departure.
“What was that?”
“A spirit beast—his pet!”
“He’s sending an animal to gather for him? Too arrogant!”
Kent ignored the mutters and left the great hall.
Soon…
He found Lan Xiang at the observatory, as he expected. She stood by the carved stone railing, her long hair loose, eyes fixed on the valley below. The last of the sunlight painted her in gold.
“You look thoughtful,” Kent said as he approached.
Lan Xiang didn’t turn, but her lips curved faintly. “And you look too calm for someone expected to brew a Nine Lotus Bewitching Potion by dawn.”
“Ohhh… you already knew?!”
“I will know everything inside this Academy.” Lan replied.
Kent joined her at the railing. “The potion itself doesn’t worry me. What interests me is the man who demands it. The Yellow Blossom River Prince. Tell me what you know.”
She sighed, finally glancing at him. “Persistent, aren’t you? Fine. The prince is no ordinary heir. He was orphaned young, but inherited control of the entire river network. The river cities—every merchant clan along its banks—pay him tribute. That makes him wealthier than most emperors. He is called Prince, but in truth, he is sovereign of commerce itself.”
Kent’s brows drew together slightly. “So the academy does not casually lend him aid. He can buy anything with gold.”
“Exactly.” Lan Xiang’s tone cooled. “Which is why I cannot tell you why he needs this potion. The Nine Lotus Bewitching Potion is not rare enough for him to pay such a price. Its uses are… limited.”
Kent’s gaze sharpened. “Limited how?”
Lan Xiang folded her arms, frowning. “It is normally used to treat women suffering from cold-qi diseases. Sometimes it is brewed to extend the life of frail elders, though only for a short while. Beyond that, its use is negligible. Hardly something a prince of rivers should covet.”
Kent’s voice was quiet, but it carried weight. “Unless he is desperate.”
Lan Xiang’s brows rose. “You think desperation drives wealth to beg for herbs?”
Kent turned back to the river below, its waters reflecting the sinking sun. “I think desperation drives even dragons to bow. If the prince wants this potion badly enough to stake the academy’s honor on it, then someone he values is dying. A woman, or an elder. Someone whose life holds his empire together.”
For the first time, Lan Xiang’s composure cracked, her eyes narrowing in thought. “That would explain… the secrecy.”
Kent nodded. “And if we know the truth, we know how to shape the potion. Not only to heal, but to please.”
Lan Xiang smirked faintly. “You sound like you plan not just to win, but to conquer the prince himself.”
Kent’s lips curved into the ghost of a smile. “Three thousand points, Lan Xiang. I don’t just plan to win. I plan to leave no doubt.”
She studied him for a long moment, then laughed softly. “You are strange, Golden Heir. Everyone else scrambles like dogs for roots, and you stand here asking why the meat was thrown at all. Perhaps that is why the heavens favor you.”
Kent inclined his head, then turned. “Favor or not, tomorrow’s cauldrons will tell. For now, my bandit gathers better than any hand.”
As if summoned, the one-eyed bandit reappeared at the doorway, its golden eye gleaming proudly. Balanced across its back were three glowing lotuses, each different—Moon-Seal, Frost-Petal, and Shade. It chirped sharply, tail twitching as if to boast.
Lan Xiang raised her brows. “So quickly? Your pet might shame half the disciples scrambling through mud.”
Kent crouched, gently taking the flowers. “It knows where to look. Tomorrow, the others will arrive with bruises and scraps. We will arrive prepared.”
Lan Xiang tilted her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Be careful. If you humiliate too many too quickly, you’ll make enemies faster than allies.”
Kent stood, the glow of the lotuses reflected in his eyes. “Enemies are inevitable. What matters is whether they bow or break.”
Later in the evening…
Back at the pavilion, Kent’s wives and companions gathered around the bandit’s prize. The one eyed bandit already gathered many lotus ingredients and resting inside the wooden house of Kent.
“These are the true cores,” Bai Qi whispered, awe in her voice. “With these, the potion will shine brighter than any ordinary attempt.”
Lin Lin nodded, fingers tracing the petals.
Amelia chuckled darkly.
Fatty Ben beamed, holding a basket. “I’ll guard these like my last dumpling!”
Kent only smiled faintly, laying the lotuses carefully on the table. The bandit curled at his feet, one golden eye closing in smug satisfaction.
Outside, shouts echoed as desperate disciples fought over scraps of herbs. But inside the bamboo pavilion, calm reigned. Kent’s household was not scrambling. They were preparing.
Tomorrow, the Nine Lotus Bewitching Potion would decide more than ten names. It would decide who stood above the mountain.
And Kent already knew whose name that would be.
