The Alchemist's Guide to Flesh and Blood Ascension

As the sky began to lighten with the first hint of dawn, the two of them thankfully did not encounter any monsters or cursed creatures during their long journey through the night.

This may be what makes the "Golden Business Route" so special.

Considering the bizarre motives behind the "Iron Sand Demon Armor," and this death desert filled with uncertain, cursed creations...

Out of caution, Yunevo did not use [Gale Rush] to cover the remaining distance on a large scale, but instead maintained optimal condition with Iseria as much as possible—after all, supplies were plentiful.

"Speaking of which... what's the name of that only city in the Morse Desert again, Zelharan?" Yunevo asked the girl behind him somewhat uncertainly.

"It's called Zehrhalan... In ancient Morse, this word is called 'Eternal Oasis'," Iseria replied.

"It looks completely different from an oasis..." Yunevo pointed to the silhouette of the towering, desolate city not far away.

Ancient cities were generally built around water sources, and cities in the desert should follow this pattern even more closely.

In contrast, in Zerhalan, or rather the entire Morse Desert, not a single trace of water can be found; oases do exist...

Could it be that Zerhalan was built on what was once the only oasis, and that oasis... may have gradually disappeared for some reason?

In that case, the only way to obtain water might be through cacti... and trade routes, those trade routes that were cut off by the church.

"The atmosphere of this city... seems drier than black bread," Iseria said, raising her hand to shield her forehead. Although the sun had not yet risen, the scorching temperature had already begun to rise.

"Drink some water. After we enter the city... try not to reveal to others that we have a water source," Yunevo said, taking a water bottle out of his storage bag and handing it to Iseria. Then he squinted and looked at the city, which was dark yellowish-brown in color.

To be precise, it's a settlement.

A settlement built from weathered, extremely hard red sandstone and the giant skeleton of an unknown creature, supported by a gelatinous substance that acts as an "adhesive".

Like plants yearning for water during a long drought, they send their roots deep into the ground and into the rock walls.

As the two approached the black stone-constructed, scarred city gate, they began to smell a faint "human scent."

The stench of sweat accumulated over the years, combined with the smell of rotting food, evaporated into gases that diffused in the air.

The guards, naturally drowsy and listless, suddenly perked up when they caught the "outsider" scent emanating from Yonivo...

Like vultures that have smelled carrion, they suddenly looked up, their eyes sharpening as they stared at the two.

The leading guard looked at Yunefu's tattered but still exquisite black robe, swallowed hard, and said hoarsely, "Entry into the city... ten copper coins, or... two sips of water."

He stretched out his calloused hand and pointed to the exquisite water storage container in the shadows on one side of the city gate.

Yunevo didn't speak, but simply slipped a silver coin into the lead guard's hand, saying politely, "Thank you for your trouble. We're just traveling merchants... There shouldn't be anything taboo here, right?"

"Trade merchants? You—" The leading guard was about to speak when Yunefu calmly slipped a silver coin into his palm.

"Taboos? Ha, what taboos could there be besides water thieves... Alchemists can't make anything without water; the amount of water in one potion is enough for one person to drink lavishly for three days!"

"Many people tried to steal water from the old well... and then had their claws chopped off and hung on the edge of the city as road signs."

"Understood, thank you..." Yunevo pulled Iselia's hood down a little, took her hand, and stepped into this bizarre and desolate city.

The roads in Zehrhalan are not only narrow, but also made of a mixture of yellow sand and monster excrement. The houses on both sides are generally low, with almost no windows, which is designed to minimize indoor moisture loss.

There isn't a single patch of green here that symbolizes "life".

The furnishings that should have served as fountains or reservoirs were now completely filled with fine sand...

The Zerharan people's bathing method is called "sand bath".

Ionevoy witnessed it firsthand.

Under the scorching sun, a tiny child nestled in a wooden basin filled with scalding hot sand by the roadside, scooping up sand with a spoon bigger than his head and pouring it over himself... rubbing it together with a mixture of blood, sweat, and dirt.

Beside the little one was a general store, and the shopkeeper was yelling hoarsely at the person dressed as a mage: "Get away, remnant of the Old Gods! We don't have your glowing potions here, nor any of those messy boards and scrolls!"

To the indigenous people of Zelharan, the existence of the concept of "mage" is like a kind of... unique "luxury".

They can summon wind and rain, and even create the water most needed in this deadly desert—but unfortunately, this "water" cannot be consumed by ordinary people, and is therefore called "false grace."

Just like using extreme cold magic to create "ice blocks", these "liquids" are also composed of pure water magic source. Although they are no different from regular "water" in appearance and taste, the amount of water magic source inside is astonishing.

For the Zehrharan people, who lacked magical talent and whose bodies were adapted to the hot and arid environment, this was undoubtedly a potent poison.

For a Tide Mage, or rather, a second or third-tier mage who has entered the realm and can control and transform the source of magic within their body, this is naturally something they can drink.

But it is not water after all, which is why most mages are unwilling to set foot here—the discrimination from the local residents, and that damned supply problem.

It is precisely because of this that the people of Zehrhalan regard the magic that "can only be seen, not drunk" as a mockery. The mages recklessly squander the lives they so desperately crave, yet are so stingy that they refuse to share a single drop of "sweet rain."

The people of Zerharan refused to listen to the monk's explanation; they simply perpetuated the misunderstanding—from ancient times to the present.

As for the alchemists? Yunefu was truly glad that he had put all those badges into his storage bag before entering the city.

After all, in Zelharan... behind every gleaming bottle of alchemical potion lies a life that could have been brutally taken away and died of thirst.

"Let's find a place to rest. We've been traveling all day... and while we're at it, let's see if we can find out any other information about the Gold Trade Route."

Yunevo pulled his mask and hood tighter, and he and Iseria walked through several scrutinizing gazes toward a building that looked like an inn, shrouded in shadow.