Soulbound: Dual Cultivation

Lucas let his gaze sweep across the chamber, taking in every stunned expression, every widened eye, and every mouth left slightly ajar in disbelief. What he saw on their faces was respect and a quiet profound acknowledgment that something extraordinary had just occurred before their very eyes. Something they might never witness again in their lifetime.

He felt it settle within him, a quiet sense of satisfaction, not born of pride or vanity, but from the knowledge that he had just made his mark. In this moment, surrounded by men who had studied alchemy for decades, some longer than he had even been alive, he had claimed a place none could contest. His name would not be forgotten. It would be spoken and shouted across academies, whispered in council chambers, sects, kingdoms and recorded in scrolls passed down for generations.

He knew what this meant.

From this day forward, the world would not look at him the same. He would no longer be dismissed or pitied, no longer viewed as the quiet, unassuming youth among masters. He was now something more, something greater. Revered not for age or lineage, but for undeniable skill. A single act had changed everything. The reignited meridians of a woman long thought beyond saving, these were more than mere demonstrations. They were declarations.

What made it all even more profound was his age. There had been prodigies in the past, yes, but none who had achieved what he had, and certainly not this young. His hands held the wisdom of centuries yet to come, his mind sharpened by experiences no one else could begin to comprehend.

And in the back of every alchemist's mind, that truth echoed, undeniable and quietly unsettling.

He was more proficient than even an Ascendant Ranked Alchemist.

It wasn't exaggeration or flattery, it was a fact. That was the power of a mind molded by the future. That was the unshakable advantage of knowledge not yet born in this era.

Alchemists who had previously scoffed at Lucas or looked upon him with patronizing amusement were now pushing past one another like eager disciples, each vying for his attention, his insight, his approval. They called out his name from every corner of the hall, their words tumbling over one another in an undignified scramble. Men and women who had once stood proudly aloof now acted as if they had always known he was special, scrambling to mask their shame beneath newly painted flattery.

It was a sight to behold. Scholars and artisans of renown, many revered across the continent, now appeared as little more than overeager apprentices before a single youth.

The grand elder, realizing the storm of excitement had gotten out of hand, immediately called the assembly to order. His voice rang across the room like a gong and brought silence down like a blanket. When all eyes turned to him, he let his gaze fall upon Lucas with something rare, genuine respect that ran deep and true.

He addressed the hall with a steady tone, laced with reverence. He praised Lucas, not only for his unmatched skill and the marvel he had just demonstrated, but for the quiet composure and humility he had maintained through it all. He spoke of the potion, the one that had reignited the meridians of a crippled cultivator after two decades of stillness, and declared that such a feat would send shockwaves through kingdoms. The innovation, he said, was not just remarkable, it was outrageous. Impossible, by the standards they had once accepted. Yet it had happened, and now the world of alchemy would never be the same.

After the formal words, the meeting slowly dispersed, but Lucas found no rest. Even as the event came to an end, he was swarmed once again by hopeful faces and trembling voices. They wanted to ask him questions, to seek guidance, to request a moment of his time, anything to catch a sliver of his brilliance. They smiled too wide, nodded too quickly, apologized too eagerly for the things they had said just hours earlier. He remained gracious, kind even, but politely kept his distance. He had given all he could today.

When he finally stepped outside into the soft glow of the fading evening, the attention did not fade with the event. Word had already spread, and others who had not even been in the hall now waited for a glimpse of him outside. Even when he returned to the inn, intending to retreat into silence and gather his thoughts, there was no escape from the relentless tide of visitors. Notes slipped under his door, knocks that came every few minutes, voices whispering his name from the corridor.

He had become a beacon, and it burned brighter than he ever anticipated.

It was Lady Isabelle who rescued him from the overwhelming tide. She arrived at the inn not long after he did, a slight smile playing at her lips as she observed the scene. Where others saw chaos, she saw exhaustion in his eyes. She knew he needed air, privacy and silence.

She offered him a way out. She had a friend, someone she trusted, who lived discreetly not far from the inn. If Lucas was willing, she would sneak him out through the back and take him there herself, far from prying eyes and persistent voices.

Lucas accepted without hesitation, the day had taken its toll, and he was far too tired to keep answering questions or bearing the weight of everyone's expectations. He followed her gladly, slipping through the back alleyways as dusk settled across the city, grateful for the cover and for the thoughtful gesture of the only person who seemed to understand what he truly needed in that moment.

When they finally arrived at the modest yet elegantly adorned residence nestled between two quiet streets, Lucas could feel the weight on his shoulders begin to ease.

The house was surrounded by a small stone wall, with flowering vines curling gently over the top. Lanterns hung by the wooden beams glowed softly, casting warm light over the porch as they approached. Lady Isabelle stepped forward first giving the gate a knock, almost instantly, the gate opened.

A woman stood there, her posture upright and her expression bright with recognition. She was dressed simply, yet with undeniable grace. The lines of wisdom on her face only added to the gentleness in her eyes. She didn't wait for an explanation. The moment she saw Lady Isabelle, she broke into a warm smile, and her gaze shifted to Lucas with genuine interest and welcome.

"I was expecting you," she said softly. "Your servant arrived a little while ago. Everything is ready."

There was no judgment in her eyes, no curious probing or sharp glances that Lucas had grown so accustomed to. Only kindness, and the kind of hospitality that expected nothing in return. She stepped aside and gestured for them to enter.

"Please, come in."

Lady Isabelle nodded gratefully, and Lucas followed her into the sanctuary of the home.