Pillar of Yita

But now it is still far from sufficient, the Tower Guard silently watches Fang Hong, and in fact, he has been paying attention to him since the young man entered the first test in the Hall of Thousand Doors. The Tower Guard has met countless craftsmen, but only a certain type of person would impress him deeply in the first test.

A foundation as solid as a rock, attesting to their understanding of the essence of Alchemy.

And indeed, this young man did not disappoint him. To have the Tower Guard issue a reminder is not a common occurrence; many geniuses passing through this place have only left a fleeting glimpse in his mind, a short-lived impression.

Then, they vanished without a trace.

What surprised him somewhat was that this youth hesitated only for a moment before considering his advice. Originally, he thought it was mere innocence, but later realized it seemed not to be the case.

This young man who shares the same name with another seems to hold more secrets within him. Moreover, the Tower Guard constantly felt that some of the young man’s actions subtly reminded him of familiar air—the way the Silver Tower operated, yet the true Silver Tower has long secluded itself from the world.

Anluose suddenly halted his thoughts.

Because he saw Fang Hong not far away opening his eyes.

The first round of refining had ended.

Fang Hong exhaled lightly, gazing at the gleaming Cold Iron in his hand, its form faintly taking the shape of a shell’s prototype—that evidently is the core tool of an Alchemist, the shape of a Control Glove. But it is nonetheless Cold Iron, far sharper than ordinary metals.

This made the prototype of the glove already appear chillingly menacing, with its sharpness fully exposed.

It resembled the claw of a dragon, dark and frightening.

Yet, Fang Hong saw not the exterior, but the interior. Amongst the nebulous starry sky, each star currently shone brightly, amidst countless structural points, resembling numerous Novastars blossoming.

It was a universe filled with light.

Though the feeling seemed only momentary, silently, two hours had already quietly passed.

Four hours remained until the zero hour of this day.

Fang Hong rested for only a brief moment and then began the second round of refining, derived from the fine-tuning skill of the Ishurian School’s Magic Guided Basic Theory. The second fine-tuning was longer than the first, taking two and a half hours, yet Fang Hong felt not a trace of fatigue but instead felt invigorated.

He knew he was nearing success; he set aside the glove shell and began weaving the inner lining using a rare animal fiber, derived from the fleece of a jellyfish residing above the Cloud Sea, along with some Mithril Thread.

Luckily, there were endless, inexhaustible materials available here, so he didn’t need to dismantle Parker’s Mithril Mask.

In just moments, the preparations had concluded.

Then came the engraving of the internal array, selection of crystals, installation of cable reels and the Magic Guided Engine, various plugins ensuring stability—the cooling system was the last. But when these components were all successfully completed.

Fang Hong finally exhaled deeply.

He looked at the time; there were fifteen minutes left, but it was more than sufficient.

He closed his eyes just for a moment and then began the final assembly, using the solid basic skills cultivated over a long period to exceed normal speed and precision, making each movement in the Tower Guard’s eyes appear like art.

Anluose gently nodded; this is the quality Alchemists and craftsmen should possess.

Rather than the frivolous surface those outside pursue.

The final minute.

Kapuka’s cold night, on the long street, the midnight bell was about to ring.

But before that, Fang Hong had already completed the final step. He carefully placed a Moonstone into the slide rail below the glove with near-sacred attitude, and heard a soft ’click’ sound.

And this soft sound witnessed the birth of a legend—

Just like the pair of daggers Fang Hong crafted for Elisa’s sisters before, once again the system did not offer him a chance to name the legend.

And as the sensory of that legends quietly slipped from his mind with his final step of work, the nebulous inspiration simultaneously transformed into reality—and realized in his hands. The glove, dark and sharp, obtained its own name:

Pride of the Lonely King (Magic Guided Conductor, Equipment Level, S+)

Basic Attributes: 112-127

Block Value: +470

Plugin Addition: Evasion Sensing, Preemptive Strike

Special: Magic Power Repulsion

Weight: 0.4kg

Interface/Output Occupation: Control Glove Universal

’The noble king needs not follow—’

Required Level: Level 17 Combat Artisan or related professions

The hall was briefly silent, and a pin drop could be heard.

Fang Hong, nearly reverently, stepped back and then raised both hands to lift the glove, placing it gently on the long table at the center of the hall.

This is the will of the King, and the creation of legends is like a piece of perfectly refracted art; it seemingly should not exist in this world. It’s just presented to the world with the hands of the most top-tier craftsmen.

Its attributes seemed irrelevant, as described in the inscribed words above: ’The noble king needs not follow—’ Though it remains at S+ level, compared to Dawn gifted to Elisa’s sisters, it’s clearly at a different tier.

’Dawn’ appears more like the first cries of a newborn, while ’Lonely King’ is mature and steady.

When Fang Hong gently set it down,

Precisely at this moment, the long chime of the cold night bell rang, and a soft sound echoed in the hall, not far away the Red Gate opened with a response, behind it was a faint white light—that’s the road leading to the Eternal Court.

Fang Hong raised his head, looking only at the night outside the window in Kapuka.

Momentarily, he felt neither joy nor sorrow.

He knew, he had finally crossed this threshold.

And after the World Sword, Loofah the Executioner of dusk, finally, the first Alchemist to pass the seventh test was born—Fang Hong steps forward, pushing open the seven hundred and eighth wooden door.

He didn’t think too much, because the eighth test was already before him.

Only behind him, in the silent night of Eteliria, people seemed uncertain about what title to give this newly emerged Alchemist.

Only the Tower Guard watched him leave silently, then quietly stepped forward.

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