What bloodline was it? Dorian couldn’t tell by cursory inspection. Frowning, he leaned in and felt for the energy signatures. Then he tried channeling his qi in, feeling for a response; he got back a hot, unstable, angry essence. Some kind of bear, or boar, or bull, perhaps? Still he couldn’t tell. Interesting…

Kaya was still ecstatic. “No way,” she said again. “Can I?”

Then she snatched it straight out his palm.

This time he’d even started to draw his hand back in anticipation. But Kaya’s hand speed was a sight to behold.

He gave her a deadpan stare. “Yes. Thanks for asking.”

As she ogled it, he tried to make sense of it.

It was long and curved; a large fang or a small horn. He was leaning toward boar. But some species of Spirit boar, in a desert? Was it gotten through trade networks? How big was Ylterra really, outside this vast and mostly barren desert?

As for the bloodline’s nature, it was slightly less oppressive and robust than the Frost Python. Its effect was wholly different. Rather than freeze and slow, it incited the blood to boil; its aura was a call to violence.

Despite Kaya’s histrionics, all Dorian felt was mild disappointment. The thing about bloodlines was, once he imbibed one he was stuck with it—and to ingrain another bloodline down the line, he’d need to remove this one; a painful, immensely complicated process he wasn’t even sure was possible on this realm.

So a solid second-Tier bloodline simply wasn’t good enough. Not for a years-long commitment. Even with every conceivable purification and upgrade, he’d wager this bloodline would max out its potential at [Demigod], perhaps even [Celestial].

This Desert had intriguing depths, but maybe he’d expected too much to get a top-tier bloodline straight off…

“Is it dragon teeth?” gushed Kaya.

Dorian made a face. “What is it with you and dragons?”

“I always wanted one,” she said distractedly. “If I ever got rich enough to emigrate to an Oasis, it’s the first thing I’d get. They’d make such good pets! Cute, low-maintenance…”

She caressed the horn.

“Uh-huh.”

“So…what are we supposed to do with it? Swallow it?”

“I think so,” said Dorian. Then, as she licked her lips—“But don’t! That’s mine.”

She shot him a nonplussed glance. “[Sheesh.] You know me. I wouldn’t do that to ya.” Then she went back to looking at the bone the way a widow looks at a locket of a long-lost lover.

To assimilate the bloodline wasn’t as simple as swallowing it, of course; once within, the user refined it in a specific cycling pattern to integrate the bloodline within. For bigger Prime Bones they consumed it in sections.

This method also lost upwards of half of the bloodline essence within the Bone.

Dorian rubbed his chin. What to do? He had a strong suspicion, but no certainty, that there were true apex bloodlines on this plane. That bone must be worth a decent sum, but if there were at least two such bloodline relics in one dinky tribe, he was sure he could find a third. In time.

If he wasn’t using this Prime Bone, then he supposed he could stash it. It’d make for a solid bargaining chip. But if all went to plan, he’d soon be bargaining with bigger chips than this anyways… and despite her words, Kaya did seem eager for it…

Which all led him to a choice. A choice he made sure to vet very carefully.

First he ran through his thoughts. Was his reasoning sound? Yes. Was it based off of some lingering feeling of affection, leftover from the previous Io? He frowned. Admittedly, just a smidge—he’d need to get around to stomping that remnant fully out. But was it clouding his judgment enough to affect his logic? He thought for a second. No.

One of his cardinal rules: never get attached. To anything—to objects, people, even identity; attachment drove people insane. It was a principle crucial to the success of all his endeavors, especially speedruns.

So he asked himself: Am I doing this out of altruism? Am I doing this out of love?

Once he was certain the answer was a resounding ‘no,’ he opened his mouth with a smile.

“Actually…I change my mind. Take it.”

“Wha?” Kaya looked like she didn’t believe her ears.

He shrugged. “Swallow it. Refine it. Go ahead.”

“Whaaaa—“

“Shh!” Dorian’s smile turned enigmatic. “As a wise man once told me, if you get a gift, don’t question it! Just take it.”

She swallowed, her wide eyes flickering between him and the bone, uncertain. “Are... are you sure you don’t want it?”

She bit her lip. “It could be a once-in-a-lifetime chance, bro.”

Dorian blinked. She was way too nice. It was not a good thing. Frankly it was a miracle she’d survived this long, that this dreg of an environment hadn’t sanded the kindness out of her.

“I’m sure,” said Dorian easily. “It’s yours.”

She held his gaze and saw the faked sincerity in his eyes. Her own eyes watered a little.

“Aww…bro…”

She rushed in and enveloped him in a bone-crunching hug. Dorian sucked in a breath; black spots appeared in his vision. How did an Origin Realm human get this strong? He could scarcely believe she didn’t have a bloodline already!

Then she let him go, nodded once, and raised the bone to her lips, trembling all the way. She swallowed.

Her aura flickered and shifted in an instant, overlapping with the Bone’s, but not melding; not yet. She scrunched up in concentration and went into the first moves of a Kata, cycling furiously, trying to defuse the bloodline. Wrestling with its contents.

In seconds, she was lost in another world. Soon her aura would gain a new tint, too, and Dorian in turn, would gain a stronger ally—with some added loyalty to boot.

At this stage, it was worth more to him than one measly bone.

Grinning, he emptied out the rest of the ring. There weren’t any more surprises. A few more inscrutable trinkets here and there and pouch full of coins—90 Lira, good enough to pay off the bulk of their debts.

That was all. Stretching, he sauntered over to the doorflap and stuck his head out. There was maybe an hour and a half before noontime, before he’d need to shuffle off to Hu’s place for Alchemy apprenticeship.

Which meant he had an hour to play with his new toys.

He settled down and scooped up two Silver Heart pills in one hand. In the other, he held a hundred-year ginseng.

He got to work.

The energies of heaven and earth cocooned him, seeping into his body and soul…

***

His progress was slowing—to be expected—but he was still a solid chunk of the way through the Third Level of the Origin Realm by the time he set off for Hu’s shop. When he left Kaya had dropped to a lotus position, sweating riverstones, so red she could’ve been cooking in a pot. He left her to it.

All he thought about on the way there was money. The Chief had hinted that they’d soon meet up with other tribes—that meant migration. That meant trade. Exchange. Lira was the universal currency of the Izod Desert, backed by repositories of Spirit Stones held at each of the major Oases; it was money that’d buy him treasures galore. With Hu, more than anything else it was money he aimed to earn.

Alchemy was not only a godsend for his cultivation, it was also a damn profitable profession. Now that he was an apprentice, he had a simple plan. Race past those initial ‘learning’ stages, get into the lab, mass-produce pills, and squeeze out every last Lira this tribe had to offer.

He was still high off of this dream as he stepped through the tent-flaps of Hu’s shop.

The man in question was bent over a cauldron, sweating profusely. He snapped up at Dorian’s entrance.

“Ah! My intrepid apprentice!” Hu waved him over with a hearty smile. “Just the boy I’m looking for. Let’s get started, shall we?”

Yes, let’s.

He rubbed his hands. “What’ll we learn, Master? Stirring technique? Plant properties? Essence mathematics? I’m ready for anything!”

Hu got a twinkle in his eye. “None of those, my silly apprentice. Even better.”

Then he grabbed Dorian by his smock and heaved him over ten feet in three big waddles.

“Behold!”

Dorian was not sure what he was supposed to be beholding.

“These… dirty flasks?”

“A fundamental tool of our honored craft,” said Hu, nodding. “Without them, we have no elixirs!”

He patted Dorian’s head.

“Your task is to clean them until they shine. There are forty.”

He picked a rag off of a nearby table and pressed it to Dorian’s palm. “Good luck!”

Hu turned like a big, tottering gourd.

“Wait!”

“Hmm?”

“Isn’t there supposed to be, er, instruction today?”

“Instruction?” Hu paused. “Right, right! Haha, how could I forget?”

Hu slapped his forehead, then waddled back and snatched back the rag. He wiped it twice on the flask. “And that is how you use a dishrag,” he announced. He put it back in Dorian’s hands, then gave him a wink and two encouraging back-slaps. “Ta-ta!”

He waddled away again, leaving Dorian speechless.

Really?

He sighed. If this was what it took to get to the alchemy, he’d suck it up.

With a resigned dip of his head he set to scrubbing.

Thirty minutes later, he reported back to Hu with forty squeaky-clean flasks. “Done!” He grinned. “Now, about the alchemy—“

“Hmm?” Hu strolled over and inspected the flasks. “Good. Excellent. Stupendous work!”

“Thank you.”

“Now, let us get to the meat of today’s work.”

Dorian’s sore wrists cried out in relief. Yes. Let’s. Please.

“Spoons!”

“…”

Dorian let himself be dragged over to a bucket. A bucket where it seemed Hu kept the last month’s worth of dirty spoons. Some still had bits of meat slouching off them.

“Spoons,” said Hu, wagging a finger, “are a fundamental tool of our honored craft. Without spoons, we have no elixirs!”

“…”

Hu pressed another rag to his hands, then lugged over a big water-filled pot. He smiled.

“Well then. Get to it!”

“Pardon my impudence, Master,” said Dorian, keeping his tone dead even, “But I was under the impression the instruction would be more alchemical in nature.”

“Ahh!” Hu recoiled. “No, no, no! My dear apprentice, you’ve made a fundamental mistake. Have some patience. You wish to run before you can walk!”

“And walking is…scrubbing spoons.”

“Precisely.”

“Pardon my impudence,” said Dorian, one eye twitching. “How?”

“Tch. So curious. Too curious!” Hu flicked him with a finger. “If you must know, I shall explain it to you after. Scrub scrub!”

Which was how Dorian found himself spending another hour scrubbing every dirty spoon Hu had.

By the end his wrists ached, his back ached, and he was feeling vaguely homicidal.

Twitching, he staggered over to Hu.

“Done,” he rasped. “May we please get on with the alchemy instruction?”

“Hmm?” Hu looked up. He looked up from his book. “Ah! Yes. You’re still here!”

“…”

“One more task,” said Hu with a big smile. He pointed over to a rack where several pairs of dusty leather boots stood.

“Shine those.”

It took a monumental effort for Dorian not to stab the man. The only reason he stomped over was because this, at least, seemed fast.

Ten minutes later, he stomped back.

“About the instruction on alchemy?” growled Dorian.

“What? Ho! Yes.” Hu sat up, put down his book, and smiled contentedly. “That was your instruction, apprentice. Well done! You’re dismissed.”

A vein was starting to bulge on Dorian’s neck.

“Sir,” said Dorian tautly, “How has doing things that have nothing to do with alchemy helped my alchemy?”

“Why,” exclaimed Hu, shooting up, “It has everything to do with alchemy!”

He dashed over to the flasks. “Look!”

He snatched up the rag and set to scrubbing the flask. “The motion of your wrist on the flask, flick up, flick down…is the exact movement you use to stir an elixir!”

He ran over to the spoons and mimed scrubbing them with a hand. “The motion of your thumbs on the spoons… is the exact movement you use to unstopper a flask!”

Harumphing, he drew himself up to full height. “In secret, dear apprentice, I’ve been teaching you the fundamentals of alchemy all along!”

…this was quite possibly the most bullshit excuse Dorian had ever heard.

“And the shoes?”

Hu froze.

“Ah. The shoes! Um. Hm.” Hu thought for a second. The second turned into ten. Then twenty.

“Err,” said Hu at last, scratching the back of his neck, “You were on such a cleaning spree I could hardly let it end there, could I?”

The only thing stopping Dorian from reaching out and strangling the man where he stood was one question.

“When,” he breathed, “will we get to actually brewing?”

“That?” Hu’s eyebrows waggled like a caterpillar. “Don’t think you’re ready just because you done a little free-brewing, young man! Brewing with instruments is entirely different. You’ll need to build up strong alchemical habits for that.”

“Which I’ll do by doing your chores.”

“And adding your little fixes to my recipes! Don’t forget that,” said Hu with a nod.

Dorian did a full-body twitch. “And… how long must I do this before I’m allowed to brew?”

“Oh, you. Bah. Again with the impatience!” Hu scratched at his chin. “We’ll give it some good time before we evaluate you, see if your habits’re up to scratch. Let’s say… ten years?”

Hu was a dead man walking.

Time Elapsed: 1 day, 10 hours