The tenth floor city was still a day's journey away.

And yet, the City of Black Tortoise already felt alive—busier than ever before, its people moving with purpose, its air vibrating with unseen excitement.

Luciel was in the hall, working on something that would soon become the emblem of this rising city. The symbol—its first flag.

A long table stretched beneath the soft morning light, and across it lay a broad swath of black cloth. Luciel leaned forward over it, a brush in hand, steady and sure. The ink shimmered faintly as he wrote, not painted, wrote—two white characters across the black.

Yue Qinlan stood nearby, head tilted, brow gently furrowed. "Aren't you drawing a pattern?" she asked. Her voice held polite confusion. "Wouldn't a pattern—something visual—be easier to recognize? Other powers, other cities, they might remember it better."

Luciel didn't look up. His brush moved again, silent strokes forming elegant curves of Huxia script.

"This is enough for now," he said finally. His tone was light, but firm.

The two characters he wrote—Black Tortoise—glowed pale against the dark fabric, simple yet unyielding.

"The flag of Black Tortoise, on black," he murmured. "This will be our symbol."

Perhaps later, when the city grew stronger, when it stood proudly among other powers, he'd add more—a crest, a mark, a patterned border. But for now, this would do.

Yue Qinlan rose from her seat, smoothing her long skirt. "I'll have someone hang it up," she said, taking the banner carefully in her hands.

Her steps echoed softly on the stone floor—

—until another, much quicker set of footsteps came flying toward her.

Step—step—thud!

A small figure nearly crashed into her.

"Wei Youlan," Yue Qinlan sighed, catching the little maid by her shoulders before she could fall.

"I—I'm sorry, Madam Yue!" the girl blurted, eyes wide, breathless.

Yue Qinlan smiled faintly, tapping her head with a gentle finger. "Next time, no running through doors or corners. You'll break your neck one of these days."

"Yes, ma'am," Wei Youlan said quickly, watching as Yue Qinlan walked out with the banner.

When she turned back, Luciel was watching her. Calm, unreadable. "What happened?" he asked.

"Youfeier—Miss Youfeier—she asked me to tell you," the girl said, clutching her apron, "the strengthening secret medicine... it's finished. She's made it successfully."

Luciel's lips curved into a quiet smile. "Finally." He stood, brushing his hands clean. "Good. Very good."

He had to see it himself.

He was too short on capable hands—too few with true strength. Barely twenty people in the whole city could be called warriors.

If this secret medicine worked—if it truly strengthened the body—they could form more hunting teams, stop relying so much on domesticated beasts.

The city would grow. More people would come. And he couldn't have giant lizards charging into the streets to catch intruders forever. Rule by humans, he thought. Not beasts. Beasts could defend, yes, but people—people must be the heart of the city.

He stepped outside.

A strange scent met him halfway down the corridor—a mix of smoke, herbs, and something sharp, chemical, almost metallic.

He frowned.

When he reached the Youfeier Institute, he pushed the door open. It wasn't locked, only nudged closed.

Inside, chaos.

The place was a battlefield of glass and clay, pots stacked on shelves, herbs drying on ropes, and half-broken tools scattered across the floor. The smell grew thicker inside, rich with alchemy and fatigue.

Then—

"Here!"

A voice came from under the table.

Luciel blinked. A head popped up—a mop of tangled blond hair, glinting faintly in the dim light.

Youfeier crawled out, clutching a clay pot like it was her child.

"Why are you under the table?" Luciel asked, half amused, half exasperated. "And… how long has it been since you last bathed?"

She froze, a sheepish grin flashing briefly. Her clothes—exactly the same as days ago.

"This place has water, you know," Luciel added, glancing toward the corner basin. "You could use some."

"No time," Youfeier said, waving her free hand. "Baths waste time. Science doesn't wait."

Luciel sighed. "You also need rest."

He reached to steady the pot before it slipped and gently pulled her up from the floor. She flushed, realizing his arm was still around her.

"This," he asked, glancing into the pot, "is the strengthening secret medicine?"

A faint green liquid swirled within, luminous under the light.

"Yes. First-order enhancement formula," she said, all embarrassment gone the instant the topic turned scientific. "I used the herbs from our new plantation—the effect is double that of the standard mix."

"How many people can one pot treat?" Luciel asked, weighing it in his hand.

"Ten," she said without hesitation.

He nodded slowly, pleased. "That's good. Very good."

He looked at her again. "Is it difficult to make? The first-order type, I mean."

She tilted her head, thinking. "Not really. As long as we have enough herbs, it's easy. I could make hundreds in a day."

Luciel's eyes brightened. "Hundreds?"

"Yes," she said simply. "Once you've cracked the formula, it's mostly repetition."

He could already see it—hundreds of strong, capable warriors defending the city. A small army, born from clay pots and bright green liquid.

"I'll expand the herb fields," he said, half to himself. "And the second-order medicine? How close are you?"

"Soon," she said, eyes gleaming. "I've found the key resonance point. Just a few more trials."

"Good," Luciel said softly. Then, seeing her pale face and trembling hands, he added, "But rest first. You've been pushing too hard."

"No, no, I'm fine!" she protested. "I drank Angel's Tears! I could stay awake another ten days!"

Luciel raised an eyebrow. "Youfeier…"

"It's true," she insisted. "Just one drop, four days ago—it was like being reborn. No exhaustion, no sleepiness. Perfect clarity."

He only shook his head. "Even miracles need rest," he said gently. "You can study again tomorrow."

She opened her mouth to argue, but halfway through a yawn escaped, long and helpless.

Her shoulders slumped. "Maybe… just a short nap…"

Her words trailed into a drowsy murmur.

Before Luciel could answer, she was already asleep—head folded onto her arms, breath soft and even.

He looked down at her for a long time, then sighed. "You really can't keep this up, can you?"

Dark circles shadowed her eyes. He set the clay pot aside, then lifted her carefully—one arm beneath her knees, one behind her back. She barely stirred as he carried her into the next room.

The bedroom was clean. Untouched.

He laid her gently on the bed. The way she clutched at the blanket even in sleep made him smile.

"How many times has this bed even been used?" he murmured. The state of her lab said enough—she'd probably been sleeping on the floor again.

"Hm…" she mumbled softly, hugging the quilt. A faint smile touched her lips. Whatever dream she had, it was gentle.

Luciel covered her with the blanket and turned off the lamp.

Back in the lab, he surveyed the chaos once more but didn't call anyone to clean it. Her madness had its own order, he thought. Disturbing it would be a mistake.

He picked up the pot and left quietly, closing the door behind him.

Should he find her an assistant?

Maybe someone to handle the simpler brewing—grinding herbs, cleaning tools, cataloging samples. It would free Youfeier's time for real research.

He hesitated. Better to ask her first. She didn't like people making decisions for her.

Luciel still remembered what she had told him about her illness—the "Virtual Ghost Infection." How it made her wary of people, sensitive to intrusion.

Yes, better to let her choose.

When he returned to the City Lord's Hall, the sky outside had darkened into violet dusk. Inside, the girl with rabbit ears was hunched over the table, tongue caught between her teeth, practicing her handwriting.

Nine days had passed since the teaching began. Out of everyone, only two had managed to truly learn to read: Mino and Wei Youlan.

Luciel smiled faintly. "Mino," he said as he walked in.

She looked up, ears twitching. "Luciel! What's that?" she asked, pointing at the clay pot in his hands.

"Strengthening secret medicine," he said, placing it gently before her. "Want to try it?"

Her eyes widened, bright as the moon. "Really? We just… drink it?"

"It's meant for ten people," he said. "Fetch a few bowls, and we'll divide it."

He wanted to test it too—to feel its effect firsthand.

"Okay!" she said, tail swishing as she dashed off.

The pottery bowls she brought back gleamed faintly in the lamplight, perfectly shaped. Yue Feiyan's fire control had improved—each batch finer than the last. Some of the best were already being used here, in the city lord's mansion.

Luciel poured carefully, the green liquid shimmering like melted jade.

The City of Black Tortoise was changing—no longer a small refuge, but something greater, stronger, alive.

And as he raised the bowl to his lips, Luciel thought—

—this was only the beginning.

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