Chapter 382: Master and Apprentice

Chapter 382: Chapter 382: Master and Apprentice

Chapter 382: Master and Apprentice

In the following days, Rhain devoted almost all of his time to the alchemists of the Crystalveil Tribe and the Bone Skull Tribe.

The central gathering square, which had once been a staging ground for a bloody war, was now lined with dozens of bronze and iron cauldrons.

Alchemists from both the Crystalveil and Bone Skull tribes sat shoulder-to-shoulder with eager expressions.

Standing at the front, Rhain delivered his lecture, imprinting the profound principles of refining and the control of heat into the minds of the alchemists of the two tribes.

Under his stern guidance, even the most dull-witted alchemists of the two races made rapid progress in their alchemy skills within just a few days.

However, despite the overwhelming success and the peace, Rhain’s dark grey eyes occasionally flickered with a hidden trace of doubt.

’Why hasn’t the trial ended yet?’ Rhain thought inwardly.

He had perfectly resolved the moral deadlock. The war had ceased. The plague was suppressed.

So what else was he missing?

But after pondering for a long while, he could not come up with an answer.

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

A few more days passed.

In the quiet guest courtyard, Rhain dismissed everyone and summoned Anya to his room alone.

She wore a clean white dress, her hands clasped respectfully in front of her.

"Benefactor Rhain, you asked for me?" Anya asked, bowing deeply.

Rhain gestured for her to step closer, handling her a white scroll.

It wasn’t the exact same scroll he had given to Fridleif and Skarn days ago.

This one was covered top-to-bottom in dense, meticulous annotations written in his own hand.

"Take this," Rhain stated, extending the scroll toward her.

Anya blinked her large eyes, carefully accepting the heavy scroll. The moment she unrolled a fraction of it, she knew what it was.

It was the Mystic-Grade formula for the permanent cure.

"I have watched your progress over the last few days," Rhain spoke, seeing her confused eyes. "Your foundation was shallow, but your comprehension and your instincts are exceptional. You are a true alchemy prodigy, Anya."

Anya lowered her gaze, embarassed from Rhain’s praise, but Rhain did not stop.

"It will take years, perhaps decades, for someone in these barren canyons to cultivate the Soul Power required to refine a Mystic-Grade pill," Rhain continued, his dark grey eyes locking onto hers. "But I have the highest hopes that you will be the first to step into the Grandmaster realm and refine this cure."

Anya clutched the scroll tightly against her chest, her heart hammering wildly. "Benefactor... I..."

"And that is why, I ask for one promise from you," Rhain interrupted, his tone turning as solemn as a mountain.

Anya instantly straightened her back, her expression also turning profoundly serious. "Anything, benefactor. I will do whatever you ask."

"If you succeed in refining this cure, you must promise me that you will never hoard it for your own tribe. You must share it freely with the Bone Skull Tribe, and any other who suffers from the plague. The sins of your ancestors must end with you."

Hearing his words, Anya instantly understood what Rhain meant. The cycle of blood and slaughter started with the selfish desire of hoarding the Spring of Life by their own ancestors.

Rhain was warning her to not repeat the history, and make the same mistake like her ancestors did once.

Rhain’s words struck Anya’s heart deeply, and after a moment of hesitation, she suddenly dropped to her knees.

"I swear it!" Anya declared, her young voice ringing with a fierce resolve. "I swear to the heavens, I will walk the path of alchemy with the exact same selflessness you have shown us! I will never let the tragedy of the past five hundred years repeat itself!"

As she said this, she gently bit her bright pink lips, her eyes filled with an unbridled fervor and reverence, and suddenly kowtowed deeply: "Please... take me as your disciple!"

Rhain was visibly stunned.

His typically placid expression shattered for a fraction of a second.

A disciple?

An image of a weeping, fanatical old man in the Mirravele City Alchemy Guild instantly flashed through his mind. Aldric was the only person he had ever formally accepted as a disciple.

To receive a second disciple, and a young girl at that, in the middle of a sealed trial realm... it was entirely unexpected.

But as he looked down at the determined girl kneeling before him, a gentle smile curled his lips.

Anya was incredibly brave. She had willingly endured the torturous awakening of the plague just so he could formulate a cure. She was hard-working, pure-hearted, and relentlessly stubborn.

Rhain slowly reached out his hand, gently patting the top of her head.

"I accept, from now on, you are my disciple," Rhain said softly.

Anya’s head snapped up, tears of pure joy spilling over her eyelashes. "Master!"

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Days later, a grand, unprecedented celebration was held in the beautifully decorated Crystalveil Valley.

Massive bonfires roared into the night sky, illuminating the lush greenery and crystal-clear streams.

Long wooden tables were filled with roasted beast meat and endless jars of shimmering wine.

For the first time in five centuries, the painful blade of the Marrow-Rot Plague did not hang over their heads.

Crystalveil swordsmen and Bone Skull brutes sat shoulder-to-shoulder, laughing loudly, clinking their massive cups together.

At the head of the feast, the towering eight-foot giant Skarn and the broad-shouldered Fridleif had their arms slung over each other’s shoulders.

The two chieftains, who had tried to brutally slaughter one another just weeks prior, were now drinking and laughing together like sworn blood brothers.

Standing on a slightly elevated ridge overlooking the vibrant celebration, Rhain watched all this with a serene expression.

Beside him stood Lyra. Her arms were crossed tightly beneath her chest, but the usual haughty scowl was nowhere to be found.

A smile graced her lips as she watched the joyous tribespeople.

"You have a way of making the impossible possible," Lyra murmured softly, the reflection of the bonfires dancing in her crimson eyes. "You saved them all."

Behind them, Karsten and the surviving mercenaries were grinning from ear to ear, raising their own wine cups toward the celebrating crowds.

"It’s a beautiful sight," Karsten chuckled, wiping a tear from his scarred cheek. "I haven’t seen people this happy for a long time..."

Buzz—!

Before Karsten could finish his sentence, the space around them rippled.

Rhain’s dark grey eyes instantly narrowed.

The invisible shackles binding his dantian shattered like fragile glass.

His four supermassive pitch-black cores ignited, roaring back to life with a torrential surge of dark essence.

The world laws were withdrawing.

"Rhain!" Lyra gasped, her own peak Core Formation aura erupting as the space around them began to spin wildly.

The trial had ended!

Rhain’s final act—securing the future of the two tribes by taking Anya as a disciple and breaking the cycle of hatred forever—had been the final key the old remnant soul was waiting for.

A blinding white light erupted from beneath their boots, engulfing Rhain, Lyra, and the mercenaries.

Down in the valley, the roaring celebration abruptly paused as the tribespeople noticed the blinding spatial distortion on the ridge.

"MASTER!"

A frantic voice tore through the night air.

Rhain turned his head just as his vision began to fade into pure white.

Through the rapidly collapsing spatial vortex, he caught one final glimpse of Anya.

She had dropped her wine cup, her white dress fluttering wildly as she sprinted frantically up the hill toward the ridge, reaching her small hand out with an incredibly anxious, tear-stained face.

But it was too late.

Swoosh—!!!

The white light consumed them completely, and Rhain’s group vanished into thin air, leaving the hidden valley of the Howling Dust Canyons far behind.