CHAPTER 292: THE STARS ABOVE

"...If you're serious about this, I can offer a bit of help. The fact that the elves were willing to give you a Seed of Eden to you clearly shows you're worth investing in."

Icarus glanced thoughtfully at Wang Yu and his companions, then gave a slight nod. He no longer questioned their plans. Instead, he retrieved a card like the identity cards from earlier and handed it to Avia.

"This is a vendor permit for one of the merchant alleys we passed earlier. It's not terribly expensive—our Council of the Arcane holds a number of such licenses. Think of it as a small gift from us."

He explained its purpose: it was something akin to a deed, though only for a street stall rather than the licensed shops built into the city's master plan.

This sort of permit was designed to give alchemists and scholars space to conduct independent trade on a small scale. Within certain limits, temporary, dismantlable structures could be built to serve as storefronts.

"Thank you for your generosity."

"It's nothing. I imagine we'll be working together again in the future. If you have any other questions about the Skyborne City, let me know. I'd be happy to answer them while I'm still around, but I may not be available later on."

He looked at the group, ready to address their uncertainties.

"I have a question," Wang Yu said, raising his hand.

Once Icarus gave a nod, he continued. "Is there any knowledge in the city concerning the starry sky above us? Has anyone ever reached outer space?"

Though it seemed to have come out of nowhere, this question mattered greatly to Wang Yu. If this world was a planet, as he suspected, and if the Skyborne City had access to space, then perhaps—just perhaps—there might be a path back to Earth.

"The stars?" Icarus frowned slightly, clearly surprised. "What makes you ask that?"

His reaction made Wang Yu pause. Was there something about this world's cosmos that was even more alien than he'd imagined?

"No," Icarus shook his head. "No one has yet reached the stars. Only a rare few astrologers can harness even a portion of the power of starlight."

He paused before adding gravely, "If you truly wish to understand the stars, I suggest trying your luck in the Grand Archive of the Central Assembly. But you'll need at least a ‘Professor'-level identity to gain access—and you'll have to barter with knowledge of equivalent value."

He leaned in slightly and gave a quiet warning. "Just a word of personal advice: the stars above are beautiful, yes—but it's best to avoid going too far. History is full of those who reached for the beauty of the cosmos—but few such stories ever have a happy ending."

"I understand."

Wang Yu nodded solemnly. He took the warning to heart.

It wasn't entirely unexpected. The void that pervaded this world seemed to be tinged with the hues of outer space. It was plausible that there was a deeper link between the void and the cosmos, but just what could have caused Icarus to issue such a warning?

He chose not to pursue the topic further. After the other elves had finished asking their questions, the group took their leave.

"You're really trying to learn about the stars?" Sieg asked after they parted from the others.

"Yes. Didn't you ever try flying upward to see what's out there?"

Wang Yu had never considered asking Sieg before—no better time than the present.

"I don't know much about the stars either," Sieg replied. "But if you keep flying upward... you'll enter what's called the 'Dissociation Layer.'"

"The Dissociation Layer?" Wang Yu repeated, puzzled.

"Yes. Once you pass into that layer, your body begins to break apart, starting with any transcendental essence. It'll disintegrate slowly, piece by piece. Eventually, even your soul will unravel. No one has ever made it through."

Sieg's explanation laid bare one of the great obstacles that prevented this world's inhabitants from venturing into the high heavens.

"There's such a thing out there...?" Wang Yu muttered, scratching his head. "Then I guess we can shelve our plans for now. First, we need to earn enough to fund a planar gate."

He couldn't hope to cross the Dissociation Layer yet. For now, he had more immediate goals—like helping Sieg open the path to the realm of the dead.

Only the Skyborne City had the technology to create a stable planar portal. Meeting in another plane was the silver dragon Aurelian's way of keeping their reunion secret.

"Professor," Wang Yu said, "are you sure selling your scales for funding is going to work?"

"Absolutely," Sieg replied. "As long as I don't touch the organs near my heart, my body will regenerate quickly. Scales will grow back in no time.

"Back when I first came to the continent with Noelle, I earned coin the same way by selling blood and scale samples. It's a little nostalgic, to be honest."

Wang Yu nodded. "Very well."

The next day, the residents of Skyborne City walking through the commercial quarter noticed something new. On a street often dotted with down-on-their-luck alchemists and scholars hawking their wares, someone had erected a rather refined stone hut. Hanging above the door was a wooden sign that read, "Mature Dragon Scales For Sale."

"Dragon scales? Hasn't it been ages since dragons last appeared on the continent? Most of the old stock was used up long ago. Who'd be selling them now?

"And even if someone does have that kind of high-grade alchemical material, why would they be selling it here, of all places? It's probably some sort of fake, or maybe even damaged scraps.

"Sure, they've built a decent-looking hut, but that's not enough to convince me. It's probably a scam."

Most passersby—alchemists, scholars, and casual practitioners alike—shook their heads and moved on. Surely this couldn't be genuine.

But there were always people out there hoping to strike gold.

Roughly half an hour later, one alchemist finally stepped through the door. He appeared to be in his thirties, and seemed to have been in Skyborne City for quite some time.

He took a quick look around the stone hut. Stone partitions divided the small space into two: a counter at the front, and what seemed to be a workspace at the back, concealed by a curtain and arcane wards.

"Good day. Are you here for dragon scales?"

The man behind the counter greeted him. Seated beside him was a red-haired girl, quietly absorbed in a book.

The alchemist glanced at the man behind the counter. With his gold-rimmed monocle, mild manner, and warm smile, he exuded the calm air of a true scholar. He didn't look like a fraud.

"I'd like to see a sample, if you don't mind."

Regardless of what he thought of Sieg, he intended to examine the wares for himself carefully.

"Of course," said Sieg.

He reached below the counter and produced a small box. Within it was a palm-sized scale, black streaked with crimson. It was rough, perhaps two or three centimeters thick, and etched with subtle, intricate ridges.

The moment the alchemist laid eyes on it, he was certain it was real. The color variations matched precisely what was described in his textbooks—a sure sign of a dragon that had transitioned from youth into maturity.

"Feel free to pick it up, or use an instrument if you prefer. No need to take my word for it."

Sieg slid the box toward him.

"Much appreciated," the alchemist replied.

The alchemist was visibly surprised. It wasn't common for a merchant to let customers handle high-grade alchemical materials directly—any damage could result in a significant loss.

He carefully picked up the scale with a pair of fine-tipped tongs, then tapped its surface with a silver probe that shimmered faintly with magical light. The probe slowly changed color, shifting to a pure, translucent blue.

"Top-tier magical affinity. Hardness is within standard range. All the characteristics match what's documented in the texts. It's genuine—definitely a dragon scale. What's the price?"

The alchemist's eyes gleamed. He had come here on a whim, hoping to find a rare material suitable for his latest project. To think he'd actually stumbled upon one of the most coveted reagents in modern alchemy—it was almost too good to be true.

He just hoped the price wouldn't be beyond his means.

"1,000," Sieg replied calmly, raising one finger. "Non-negotiable."

The alchemist didn't hesitate. "That's more than fair. I'll take one. Do you have more in stock? If so, I'm happy to let a few of my fellow alchemists know."

He retrieved his identity card and prepared to transfer the funds over. The price was the standard going rate for high-tier materials—and considering how rare dragon scales were, it was practically a bargain.

Even if his fellow alchemists didn't want the scales for themselves, they could surely resell them for a higher price.

"There are a few more left," Sieg replied, making a show of rummaging under the counter before producing a small stash. "But not a lot."

Sieg had been quite careful with his pricing. He had researched the going rates for premium materials across Skyborne City and found that even 1,500 per scale wouldn't have been unreasonable.

But since these scales cost him essentially nothing, he didn't mind pricing them at a lower price to sell them all quickly so that they could immediately make enough to purchase their first set of alchemical equipment. Business wasn't their endgame, after all.

Satisfied, the alchemist completed the payment and left with the scale. Twenty minutes later, he returned with several fellow scholars and alchemists in tow. Each of them purchased a scale from Sieg.

As more customers entered and left the small shop, curious passersby began to take notice. Soon, others ventured in as well. The clear quality of the goods and astonishingly reasonable price meant that many of them ended up buying a scale each as well.

Before long, a short line had formed outside the shop. A good product would command its own marketing, even on a back-alley street—and this storefront was in a relatively prominent spot.

"I'll take everything you've got left,"

One man told Sieg. He seemed to be an agent for a local scholarly guild or alchemists' association.

"I have eighteen left. Are you interested in them all?" Sieg asked. He wasn't interested in artificial scarcity; it was better to sell everything at once and get started on assembling their equipment. He pulled out a stack of boxes from beneath the counter and set them down.

"Great. 18,000 it is. Allow me to verify the quality of the goods first."

The man opened each box and carefully inspected its contents.

"Damn, I didn't think they'd actually be real. Someone beat me to it..."

"I wonder if the owner has any more stashed away. At this price, missing out is going to haunt me. I'll come back tomorrow, just in case."

Those at the back of the queue could only sigh and leave empty-handed. First come, first served—fair and simple.

Once the last box was gone, Sieg shut the door and hung up a sign: Closed.

In just a single day, the modest stone hut had earned itself a fair bit of fame.

The next morning, the same alchemist who had first discovered the shop made a point to return early, eager to see if there might be anything else of value for sale.

From a distance, he saw that the stone building was still there. His heart lifted. Perhaps they had more goods to sell?

But as he approached, he noticed the sign had changed to "Grade-8 Tinker's Workshop." Beneath it was a short list of services: Alchemical Tool Repair, High-Tier Material Processing, and Herbalist Wares, among others.

"...Huh?"

He blinked in confusion. He understood the services listed, but what exactly was a "Grade-8 Tinker"? [1]

Still, his curiosity won out, and he stepped inside. The interior layout remained mostly the same, though the counter now displayed a neatly arranged collection of alchemical instruments—all of them pristine, and far superior in quality to his own. He couldn't help but eye them enviously.

The scholarly man from before was gone. In his place sat a younger man with a translucent, magic-forged lens strapped over his right eye. He was absorbed in scribbling notes while flipping through a thick book.

"Need help with something?" Wang Yu asked, glancing up.

The alchemist was just about to shake his head when he remembered something. From his pocket, he produced a silver object that resembled a pocket watch.

It was a Stabilized Timepiece—a high-precision alchemical clock designed to function even under extreme conditions, common among experienced alchemists and extremely expensive. His, however, had long since broken down.

Due to its fine-tuning, repairing it would be notoriously difficult. The slightest inaccuracy might ruin the mechanism. His own skills weren't up to the task—but perhaps this "Grade-8 Tinker" could give it a try.

"I'll have to take a look first, no guarantees. Hmm... Oh? That was easy. Here. Fixed."

Wang Yu accepted the timepiece. He inspected it with the Chariot, scanning and deconstructing the device.

Within seconds, he pinpointed the issue: one of the thousands of interlinked gears had warped from heat damage, a small but critical failure. With precise manipulation, he re-aligned the internal mechanisms through the casing itself.

"What?"

The alchemist blinked, stunned. Wang Yu had barely held the item for ten seconds before handing it back. Surely he hadn't done anything to it—was this some kind of joke?

But then he saw it. The previously motionless hands of the timepiece were ticking once more.

Wang Yu hadn't lied. The power of a Grade-8 Tinker was utterly terrifying.

1. "Grade-8 Tinker" is the direct translation of a Chinese regionalism that refers to a grandmaster craftsman, mechanist, etc. ☜