Chapter 381: A Miracle Elixir

Chapter 381: Chapter 381: A Miracle Elixir

Chapter 381: A Miracle Elixir

Three afflicted tribesmen with pale faces were carefully escorted to the very center of the gathering square.

By Fridleif’s strict orders, these three had intentionally not consumed their daily ration of the Spring of Life.

The corrupted energy of the Marrow-Rot Plague was already awakening in their meridians, causing intense pain.

Anya walked forward, presenting each of them with a glowing, emerald-green Epic-Grade pill

"Swallow it," Rhain ordered.

The three tribesmen didn’t hesitate. They tossed the pills into their mouths and swallowed.

Buzz—!

Almost instantly, a gentle white light enveloped their bodies.

The sickly pale colour of their skin visibly receded, retreating as the pure medicinal essence ruthlessly suppressed the invasive corruption.

"The pain..." one of the men whispered, pressing his hands against his chest in sheer disbelief. "The pain is completely gone! My meridians... they feel so warm. It feels even purer than the Spring of Life!"

The other two tribesmen also circulated their essence freely without a single hindrance.

"It works! It actually works!"

Instantly, like a volcano erupting, the square exploded.

"A MIRACLE!"

"THE PLAGUE IS SUPPRESSED! WITHOUT THE SPRING WATER!"

Tears of joy streamed down the faces of the hardened warriors and the elderly alike.

One by one, the tribespeople dropped to their knees, pressing their foreheads against the stone floor.

They looked up at Rhain with fanatical reverence, worshipping Rhain as if he were a true god who had descended from the heavens.

For five hundred years, their people had been chained to the dwindling Spring of Life, living in perpetual terror of the day it would finally run dry.

And now, this dark-robed youth had shattered those chains in a mere handful of days.

Rhain allowed them to celebrate for a while, before he slowly raised his hand.

The deafening cheers abruptly ceased.

"Do not celebrate a victory you have not yet won," Rhain delivered the harsh truth, "This Epic-Grade pill does exactly what the Spring of Life does. It simply suppresses the plague. But it does not cure it."

A pin-drop silence returned to the square.

"To completely eradicate the Marrow-Rot Plague from your bloodlines permanently, a Mystic-Grade pill is required," Rhain explained as he saw the frowning tribesmen.

"I possess the formula for the cure. However, refining a Mystic-Grade pill requires a vast Soul Power that no one in this valley currently possesses. Even the experienced master rank Alchemists are entirely incapable of withstanding the mental burden of a Mystic-Grade refinement."

The elders exchanged heavy glances.

"It is enough, benefactor," Fridleif said, his voice full of profound conviction. "You have given us the key to our survival. We have time now to nurture a Grandmaster."

"Indeed, you do," Rhain replied. He turned his gaze toward the valley gates. "Now, open the gates. It is time to fulfill my promise to the Bone Skull Tribe."

---------------

A few hours later, at the towering gates of the Crystalveil Valley.

Skarn and a delegation of Bone Skull warriors stood anxiously in the desolate gorge.

When Rhain and Fridleif walked out of the valley, the giant chieftain’s yellow eyes narrowed with hope.

"Have you truly found it?" Skarn asked, his voice shaking with a suppressed emotion.

Rhain did not waste a single breath on words.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed a jade bottle directly at Skarn.

Skarn caught it, hastily pulling the cork. A profound medicinal fragrance wafted out, causing the nearby Bone Skull warriors to widen their eyes.

"Give it to one of your afflicted," Rhain commanded.

Skarn hesitated for a fraction of a second before handing the pill to a warrior.

The warrior swallowed the pill.

Within moments, the warrior gasped, his hollow eyes suddenly shining with an unprecedented vitality.

A pure white aura flared around the savage warrior. The sickly paleness vanished, replaced by the vigorous flush of a healthy man.

"Chief..." the warrior cried, "It doesn’t hurt anymore... I... I feel completely normal! It’s entirely different from our suppressant elixirs."

Skarn’s massive hand clamped onto the warrior’s wrist. He forcefully sent a thread of his perception into the man’s meridians.

His yellow eyes instantly enlarged.

The dark corrupted energy that had plagued their bloodline for five centuries was now ruthlessly suppressed and sealed into a dormant state!

From their centuries of research, although they had found the ways to minimize the pain, but this level of utter suppression was simply unimaginable for them.

"It’s true..." Skarn muttered, his voice trembling uncontrollably. He staggered backward as if his soul had been struck by a heavy hammer. "It really works... The rot is entirely gone!"

The surrounding Bone Skull warriors frantically gathered around the man, meticulously inspecting his healthy complexion.

Clatter. Clatter.

All across the gorge, massive bone clubs and heavy axes slipped from numb fingers, crashing onto the stone floor.

"It’s real! He really found a cure!"

"My child... she won’t have to endure this pain anymore!"

Skarn stood paralyzed for a long time. He looked at the jade bottle in his hand, and then at the dark-robed youth standing across the gorge.

For the first time in his life, he felt an overwhelming urge to bow.

Thud.

Skarn, the imposing giant standing eight feet tall and infamous for his menacing presence, slammed his knees heavily onto the hard rock and knelt down before Rhain without hesitation!

"You...You saved the lives of all my descendants in the Bone Skull tribe! ..." Skarn’s voice was filled with raw emotions, "This kindness is greater than the heavens! From this day forth, my life, my soul, and the entire Bone Skull Tribe belong to you!"

Behind him, the fierce, blood-soaked Bone Skull warriors did not hesitate for a single second.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Hundreds of savage warriors dropped to their knees in perfect unison. The canyon echoed with their thunderous shouts of gratitude.

"We thank the benefactor!"

Rhain just gave a slight nod of approval, "I just did what I deemed right. You don’t owe anything to me."

With a flick of his wrist, a flash of spatial light illuminated the dim gorge. Four ancient-looking scrolls materialized in his palm.

He casually tossed two scrolls to Fridleif and the other two to the still-trembling Skarn.

"These are the formulas," Rhain explained, "The first scroll contains the formula for the Epic-Grade pill you just witnessed. The herbs required—Black-Thorn Root, Red Pith Leaves, and Crimson Dust Petals—are ordinary ones that grow abundantly throughout the Howling Dust Canyons. They can be mass-farmed endlessly."

Skarn and Fridleif clutched the scrolls as if they were the most priceless treasures in the entire world.

"The second scroll," Rhain continued, his tone turning profound, "contains the Mystic-Grade formula. The permanent cure that will eradicate the plague from your bloodlines forever. But it can only be refined by a Grandmaster alchemist."

Rhain’s dark grey eyes shifted between the two rival chieftains.

"The Spring of Life is no longer needed. The root of your five hundred years of slaughter has just been erased."

Skarn and Fridleif slowly looked up from the scrolls, their eyes locking onto each other.

For five centuries, their tribes had butchered one another.

Rivers of blood had been spilled, and countless generations of hatred had been carved into their very bones.

And all of it was for a dwindling pool of water.

Now, holding a scroll that required only common herbs to save their children, the sheer absurdity and tragedy of their endless war crashed down upon them.

Skarn slowly pushed himself up.

"Fridleif," Skarn spoke resoluty, extending a friendly hand. "Our children will no longer die in agony. We have no more reason to butcher each other. Let the hatred of our ancestors be in the past... Today, this war ends."

Fridleif looked at the extended hand. A look of relief appeared over his broad features.

Now that the shackles of survival have been completely severed, what reason do they have to continue that meaningless bloody battle!

Fridleif reached out and gripped Skarn’s hand.

"It ends today," Fridleif agreed firmly, "From now on, the Crystalveil and Bone Skull tribes will no longer be enemies. We will pool our alchemists, share our resources, and jointly research this Mystic-Grade formula together until a Grandmaster is born among us!"

It was a historic moment.

The five-century-long blood feud, which had seemed entirely unresolvable just days prior, was completely dissolved in an instant.

Watching these two tribal chiefs, whom they once wished they could tear apart alive, now making a historic vow of peace, a heavy pressure lifted from the atmosphere.

Standing on the ridge, Lyra’s usually haughty and arrogant demeanor completely softened.

A beautiful, breathtaking smile bloomed across her face, radiating a dazzling gentleness that could tip over a whole city.

Standing a few paces behind Rhain, Lyra watched the two chieftains shake hands.

Her crimson eyes softened, and a beautiful smile bloomed across her face.

"He actually did it," Lyra murmured softly.

Beside her, Karsten and the mercenaries exchanged joyous grins.

The moral deadlock of the Third Trial had been perfectly, flawlessly resolved.