The Alchemist's Guide to Flesh and Blood Ascension

"Two rooms, in the shade," Yunevo said, placing three silver coins on the counter and looking at the manager of the "Cracked Tongue" inn, a large, muscular man dressed in very little clothing.

The burly man stared at the three silver coins for a moment before speaking in a rough, weary voice, "Two people can only receive half a bottle of water every three days..."

"Understood. Also, I have another question..." Another silver coin "accidentally" slipped from between Yunevo's fingers. "I have a shipment and want to know if that gold trade route is still open..."

"The Golden Trade Route is a lie," the burly man said, refusing to accept the silver coin and instead flicking it back into Yonevo's palm. "The Church has helped us a lot on this Golden Trade Route, and has also taught us a great deal..."

The burly man paused, then continued to say to Yunevo, "If you want to know... go ask 'Sand Scorpion,' he's sitting in the corner."

Yonivore turned around and saw an old man in the corner, his body wrapped in a tattered cloak, curled up with his skin withered, so that even the slightest movement of his breath could not be seen.

So he nodded slightly, took the room key from the burly man, and led Iseria to that corner.

"The people here... are all 'cracked,' as if they've forgotten something and are living blindly," Iseria said thoughtfully, her fingertip touching her lips beneath the large cloak.

"Damaged soul?" Yunevo asked.

"No, it's the kind where they're forced to shake hands and make peace, and then after a while... they forget why the conflict started in the first place."

Just as the two sat down, the withered old man, "Sand Scorpion," spoke in a deep voice: "The Golden Trade Route is still waiting... Go if you don't care about your life, then you'll know why the sand in the latter half is blood red..."

Under the watchful eye of the church... would the latter half of the "Golden Trade Route" still end so tragically?

I was skeptical, but all the known evidence suggested that... this journey was far more complicated than I had imagined.

Yunefu frowned and decided to take Iseria back to her room to rest first, and secretly put some "protective measures" in the room.

After all, his act of taking out four silver coins in one go would probably be like a fat, greasy roast duck to some fearless madmen.

……

The so-called cool rooms at the "Cracked Tongue" Inn were just a few cold caves whose temperature was maintained by crude arrays.

This cave was even rented out by the "King," the lord of the city, to each innkeeper on a "temporary basis."

Commissions and taxes are both indispensable.

Yune sat on the edge of the bed, pinching his cheek in thought, while Iseria had already fallen into a deep sleep with her head on his shoulder. They rested like this for several hours.

After lunch, Yunefu buttoned up the collar of his black robe. "Let's go, it's time to see the 'truth' that belongs to this desert, Iseria."

The two left the inn and walked along the main road of Zelharan, which was called "Bone-Crushing Road." A gust of sand blew by, lifting the hood of Yoniv's robes...

*Snap*

Just as a burly man carrying half a basket of red stones was about to disappear into the shadows, his eyes met those of Yonivo... and the basket in his hands suddenly fell to the ground, with several pieces of ore rolling out.

The burly man's eyes were bloodshot and cloudy from the wind and sand... but at this moment he stared intently at Yonivo's face, his throat making a hissing sound like a bellows leaking air, standing there frozen in place.

"He...he's afraid of us?" Iseria lowered her head, pulled her hood tighter, and whispered to Yunevo, "No...it's fear, but why?"

Immediately afterward, an elderly woman who was washing a pottery jar with sand slowly stood up. Her hunched back was slightly stiff. Without hesitation, she casually tossed the pottery jar aside...

And so, under the horrified gazes of the two, his knees buckled...

He knelt heavily on the scorching sand.

"They...they have returned..."

The reaction didn't stop there; it was more like a domino that had been toppled.

On the left side of the street, the guards who had been looking gloomy threw down their spears and knelt down without hesitation. The residents who had been hiding in the shadows did the same, emerging from the shadows and kneeling down in large numbers.

A cultural disconnect? Or some kind of ancient memory ingrained in our minds?

Yonivore's brain was working at lightning speed.

He glanced at the people kneeling on the ground, their eyes filled with a chilling devotion.

Of course, there was also some fear involved.

It's like seeing your ancestor rise from the ancestral grave and swagger down the street.

"Yonev, the underground threads seem to be cheering and crying..." Iseria subconsciously took a step closer to Yonev and unconsciously grabbed the hem of his clothes.

In the absolute silence of kneeling, an old figure slowly emerged from the crowd.

It was "Sand Scorpion," the old man they had just seen at the "Cracked Tongue" inn—he had now removed his tattered cloak, revealing a body as withered as a dead tree, covered in strange tattoos.

The old man, whom the Zerharan people considered "not quite right in the head," struggled forward, his gaze fixed on Yunevo's pale, angular face.

"Sand Scorpion" laughed, with an unprecedented mix of ecstasy and despair.

He abruptly raised his head, staring intently at the blazing sun, and spread his cracked arms wide, shouting like a madman, "I knew it! I knew it! The Golden Trade Route will no longer be a silent graveyard! Iron Sand Ghost Armor... and, and..."

"Sand Scorpion's" gaze darted back and forth between Yunevo and Iseria, then turned back to the kneeling people and continued to roar: "You maggots, you maggots who have forgotten history! Look who it is, who has returned!"

Finally, without hesitation, he knelt on the ground...

Some of the residents were pale-faced, some were kowtowing desperately, and some were sobbing softly.

"Hurry up and go," Yunevo squinted, pulled up his hood, and quickly left the crowd with Iseria. He couldn't accept such a grand gesture.

Only after their figures completely disappeared at the end of the street did the residents stand up shakily, not even daring to pick up the pottery spears, before disappearing into the shadows.

"Morse's sand... will always remember your taste!" The gaunt old man, "Sand Scorpion," shouted towards the deserted "Bone-Shattering Road."

Even stranger, things are veering off course.

Eunicev originally thought he was just there to pay off a "debt" and take the opportunity to muddy the waters of the church.

But now, the truth is far more than that.