Orson’s heavy iron tongs clanged against the furnace rim as he hoisted a glowing, crimson-ringed sphere into the morning air.
A wave of dense, sweet pill-fragrance rolled across the stone dais.
Around the outer perimeter of the pill, two distinct silver rings circled the jade core, pulsing with vibrant spiritual light.
“Witness,” Orson shrieked, his face covered in soot and sweat as he held the sphere toward the judgment pavilion. “Tier Three Nine-Breath Ash Pill. Eighty-eight percent Ringed-Grade purity.”
The five thousand spectators in the plaza erupted into an uproar.
Eighty-eight percent.
Even with forbidden Chimera Blood, reaching eighty-eight percent on a complex Tier 3 recipe was a feat few grandmasters in the prefecture could ever achieve.
In the gambling rows along South Market, bookmakers screamed in excitement. Runners waved stacks of betting slips, preparing to collect the massive nine-to-one pools placed against Master Ash’s representative.
