The Alchemist's Guide to Flesh and Blood Ascension

Chapter 147 Long-Awaited Daily Life

What is it like in Hart City when there is no "Holy Light Curfew"?

After that historic execution, everyone watched the first rays of sunlight streaming down from the horizon and fell into deep thought.

They have forgotten "habit" for so long that they are even more alarmed by this relatively "eternal" freedom.

Some people instinctively looked up, waiting for the melodious chimes from the cathedral's bell tower—only to find it completely empty.

Creatures from the "roots" tentatively emerge from manhole covers, drains, and even shadows, breathing the long-lost air.

When their eyes met, both of them momentarily forgot how to take a step.

"They'll get used to it—just like they'll get used to the oppression of being 'churned'," Yune said, sitting on a broken stone beam that had been cut in half, shaking a bottle of unopened, aged rum from Old Mike's Tavern.

Even though the black-robed alchemist had repeatedly refused, the bald boss insisted on stuffing the bottle of "the store's prized possession" into his arms.

But alcohol numbs his senses—he hasn't drunk a drop of alcohol since he came into this world.

Thinking of this, Yoniv sighed helplessly.

"Yonev, is that... is that the sixth one?" Iseria sat opposite the black-robed alchemist, stretching out her hand and pointing to the former tax office not far away.

The building was also affected by the flames from the burning Cathedral of Holy Light, and almost an entire wall was blackened by smoke.

The familiar, short, stout ratman was directing several strong ratmen to carry out boxes of barely usable metal components from the bottomless "root".

At this moment, Lao Liu was like a law enforcement officer maintaining order, his waving front paws never stopping since the two of them sat on the stone pillar.

Yunevo looked at its silk vest with gold coins embroidered on the cuffs, instinctively bending his arm to block the reflected golden light, and answered Iserlia: "Yes—it gets up very early every day, saying it wants to turn Hart into a world-class business center."

The short, fat rat-man's shouts grew louder and louder, revealing an unprecedented confidence: "Those worthless taxes levied by those white-robed officials—we're going to turn them all into circulating coins!"

Of course, Lao Liu did not only take over the business; he also took over Lin's old business and quickly established an intelligence network covering the entire process by taking advantage of the rat people's "innate" sensitivity to geographical structures.

At this moment—any rumor on the surface can be transmitted through the underground system called the "Resonance Box" to the entire information channel in just half a minute.

On the other side of the city, the moat that residents once avoided and which reeked of foul odors has become crystal clear, and the waves are carrying young frogmen eagerly trying to swim on the banks.

The machine next to it was labeled with the words "High Frequency Oscillator" in large characters, and the signature below it was Moke.

That alchemist who sacrificed himself to create the future.

Yonivore leaped down from the stone pillar, looking at the alchemy workshop rising from the ruins of the church, his hand tightly gripping the "Gradual Roundness."

.

It's time to return it to its rightful owner.

"W-what? Lord Yunevo, this is not right, this is not right—"

After Mok left, it was this one-eyed old alchemist named Gide who took over everything.

But at this moment, even someone who prided himself on having seen it all shook his head frantically, "No, Lord Yunevo, I can't take this back!"

"Logically speaking—this thing is a token of the past presidents. I consider myself just a deputy, so—you should take it?" Gide opened his only eye and simply put his hand behind his back.

"You mean—I've become the president?" Yunefu was somewhat amused and exasperated, yet also felt it was perfectly natural.

After all, back in "Roots," Mok handed this thing to him. Although the act of "putting it in his pocket" might have seemed like stealing, Mok, who had long dealt with precision instruments, wouldn't be so old and blind as to do that.

“We know you’re busy—and you won’t be staying in Hart City for long,” Gid said softly, looking at Yunevo. “So we’ve made another decision behind your back.”

"You are the honorary president of the Alchemists' Guild, enjoying all the powers that a president should have—without having to handle anything."

He hesitated for a long time before finally managing to utter his last, almost pleading words: "Alchemists—need a light to guide them forward."

Yunevo's pupils twitched, but he withdrew the "Gradual Rounding" he was about to return. Turning around, he slowly said, "I will send you a replica of the 'Gradual Rounding' before I return to Starmoke."

"Let's go, Iseria."

"Where are we going next?" The fair-haired girl blinked, took three quick steps to Yunefu's side, and gently pinched the hem of his clothes as she asked.

"Let's break a rule," Yoniv said, his steps lighter than ever before.

"Huh? What rule are you breaking?"

Completely bewildered, Iseria followed the black-robed alchemist out of the reconstructed upper city and unknowingly arrived at the square where Uriel had been executed a few days earlier.

The latter held an unopened rum in one hand and a communication crystal in the other, dialing the "numbers" stored inside one by one.

"So, you called me here just to drink this stuff?" Nehta wiped the mud off his nose and spread a handful of nuts on the table. "Nuts' ready, but what about the roast meat? The beer?"

"You ran fast that day, kid—you didn't get caught by those crazy civilians," the ratman ranger seemed to recall the tragic scene that day, and subconsciously touched his sore waist.

"Otherwise, you'll end up like me," it taunted, "being tossed into the air, only to have it veer off course when being caught, and then 'thud!' crashing to the ground."

Yunevo chuckled and retorted, "Aren't you always so arrogant? Now—are you satisfied?"

"Screw you, it's just the two of us—" Nehta looked at Iseria and Ionevo sitting opposite her, then changed her words, "Just the three of us?"

"Iseria is a child, she can't drink alcohol," the black-robed alchemist shrugged, shaking the communication crystal in his hand. "So I called someone else—"

"I told you I'm not a child—" Iselia hadn't finished speaking when she was "silenced" by a box of frothy milk pudding brought by Yunevosai.

Outside Old Mike's tavern, two figures walked slowly in—Dark and Spel, two of the most outstanding arcane artificers in the Counterattack War.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Dark waved and led Spel to sit on the small wooden stool on the north side as if they were old friends. "Sixth Brother will be here soon. As for Tedes—he's already on his way to the Endless Abyss."