Grace immediately understood that something was off, altering her performance as soon as she glanced at Liam.

"Master William," Grace said, placing a hand on Liam’s forearm. "Your humility is inspiring, but you promised you wouldn’t have shied away from praise."

From the outside, Grace’s tone was full of concern. Her voice even carried a tinge of shame, as if it pained her to force such a pure soul to play into the dirty world of business.

Still, Liam saw and felt something Grace had made sure to hide from everyone else. Her grasp was tight, too tight, and her green eyes conveyed a loud, silent threat.

"Fellow Chiefs, I apologize," Grace promptly turned, letting go of Liam to smile at the merchants. "Master William’s mind only has room for alchemy. He cares not for fame or unbecoming business practices."

That wasn’t the first impression Chief Kent or Chief Leo had. They weren’t stupid, but Grace’s intervention had been quite timely.

Moreover, if the burly figure the cloak hid truly belonged to an alchemist, the two Chiefs had to play along to hope to befriend him. Those experts were often eccentric anyway, but the benefits they provided vastly outweighed those shortcomings.

"I shall set up shop now," Grace announced. "I am indeed late."

Grace waved her hand, a series of poles and curtains appearing on the ground, and her single glance at Liam earned him his help.

A vast tent came to be in no time, and Liam and Grace entered it to finish setting things up. She did everything, furniture appearing whenever she waved her hand, but her glare fell on Liam once she was finished.

"William," Grace called, approaching Liam until she was right before him, looking up at the darkness of his hood.

Still, a sigh soon escaped Grace’s mouth, impending problems replacing her already-vanishing anger.

"It’s just the two of us," Grace said, sincerity in her voice. "I can’t use Old Joe here, and my merchants are obviously unreliable, so I only have you."

Liam knew Grace wasn’t pretending because he could read her. Her expression was the same as always, but he saw some vulnerability, as well as anxiety.

Grace had shown nothing but confidence, but that step was make-or-break for her. Losses aside, her reputation would suffer an irremediable blow if her plan failed.

And an untrustworthy merchant couldn’t be a merchant. For all the rebukes, threatening glares, and bossy character, Grace had entrusted Liam with her business, which was her life to her.

"You asked if you could trust me," Grace exclaimed. "I need you to do that now. I’ll shout lies, make up stories, and exaggerate things. You just focus on concocting and let me handle everything."

Liam could only nod at that quasi-request, and Grace wore a smile he had never seen on her before. It didn’t carry the brightness of when she looked at money, but it was no less powerful, tiny but heartfelt.

Sadly, that rare smile only lasted for an instant before a domineering expression replaced it.

"Time is money," Grace declared. "Go out and be my good, silent alchemist. I’ll join you soon."

Grace turned to summon more items, including ingredients Liam had to use. He also activated his ring, materializing his cauldron, logs, and talismans, wanting to limit it to the privacy of the tent.

Liam brought everything out in one trip, using the cauldron as a cart, but a different scene awaited outside. The two Chiefs were still there, but other emblem-wearing cultivators had joined them, attracted by Grace’s previous claim.

Liam dismissed the audience entirely, finding a flat spot in front of the tent and digging a square on the ground with his foot, placing the cauldron at his center. That would be his laboratory’s perimeter.

One by one, Liam placed the talismans in different corners of the square. The air, temperature, humidity, and more changed with each inscribed strip of paper he activated, creating something devoid of damaging variables.

Then, Liam retrieved a few logs and arranged them in a pile, followed by ingredients, before sitting behind the cauldron and beginning his concoction.

Voices had reached Liam throughout the process, but he had ignored them. He was uncompromising with alchemy. That was the only allowed approach, a resolve intensified by Grace’s previous request.

After all, if Grace had asked Liam to trust her, it meant she already trusted him, and he couldn’t disappoint.

Nevertheless, the concoction was for a rank 1 ointment, something Liam had mastered to perfection while dealing with his Master’s interrogations, so he noticed Grace’s return.

Grace carried an open shelf outside and placed the concentrates inside for everyone to see, which was the final step to start her performance.

"I see that the Fellow Daoists from the Enforcers, Mercenaries, and Messengers have also gathered here," Grace announced, smiling at the small group beyond her stand. "I promise Master William and I will make it worth your while."

While Grace spoke loudly, the attention was on Liam, and the trend wasn’t limited to the audience. Even people from the stands on the valley’s slopes had started looking in his direction as soon as he lit up the log.

"First, an announcement," Grace declared. "Alchemical products will become the core of my business. I know many relied on me for ingredients, but my fateful encounter with Master William demanded such a sudden change."

The people Grace was addressing weren’t there, but news spread quickly, and she knew it. The yellow-robed foundation expert wearing the emblem of a feather even wielded a black jade that was already relaying her words.

"However," Grace continued, looking up at the valley’s slopes. "All my former customers will have competitive prices to apologize for the trouble."

Grace let her words settle to give her time to run her eyes over anyone looking in her direction. They obviously weren’t checking her, their attention glued to the cloaked expert at her side.

Reading people was one of Grace’s specialties, but she didn’t need to employ that skill there. After all, she knew what everyone was experiencing.

Concoctions weren’t flashy. They involved long periods of just alchemical flame management.

Nevertheless, excellence could make the most boring practice appealing. Just like Horace’s talk about greatness had acted as a reflection of the brilliance only he could see, Liam was doing the same through his concoction, albeit in a limited manner.

Still, that limited version was enough to warn the audience that something great was unfolding. The feeling wasn’t rational. It was instinctive, echoed from each of Liam’s gestures.

Even Liam’s mere motionlessness conveyed the culmination of his training in that field, and it wasn’t little.

’If only he showed his face, too,’ Grace sighed internally while her smile remained bright and ready to resume the performance.

"Introductions are in order," Grace exclaimed. "Master William just stepped out into the world, after a seclusion that stretched as far back as his first step into the cultivation journey due to a lucky encounter."

Grace was being vague on purpose, but the glances the Guild members exchanged validated her strategy. Only an inheritance could turn a lone cultivator into an alchemist. She didn’t say it, but hinting at it was enough to create a believable backstory that could justify Liam’s skills.

"I was the first to meet Master William after his long seclusion," Grace added. "One taste of his products, and I felt as if the Heavens were begging me to make his mastery known to the world. It was destiny from which I couldn’t shrink back."

That part was to justify Grace’s sudden change of business, removing any rumor of incompetence. She hadn’t failed to satisfy her customers due to her shortcomings now. She had instead received a higher calling.

Also, Grace wanted to earn goodwill. She could have kept Liam hidden, using slower methods to make the market accept his products. Instead, she had allowed the world to know about him, and, possibly, steal him from her.

"I have Master William’s concentrates on display," Grace said, pointing at the shelf. "At the risk of being insulting, I must sell such a peerless Master’s products at a lower market price. However, fear not, for more will fill my wares, and they will be made in front of you all."

Grace joined her hands on her waist at that point, smiling at the audience, but not adding anything. Her expression didn’t even falter at the lack of customers.

Concentrates weren’t worth much, and they even came from the still-unreliable Liam, but things would change soon enough. Grace was sure of it.

It took a while, but Liam eventually slapped the cauldron’s side. Impurities shot out as grey smoke, which the talismans quickly pushed further up in the sky.

Liam tasted the yellow ointment with a finger before scooping it out. There was a lot of it, enough to split it into six parts, but he put everything in a big box.

Grace waited outside the square Liam had dug to receive the box before he went inside the tent to clean himself and retrieve more ingredients.

Meanwhile, Grace placed the box on the shelf, announcing the addition. "Freshly concocted ointment for flesh wounds is now on the market, and more wares will come!"

Naturally, no one arrived to make purchases even now. Still, Liam’s distracting performance was over, so the audience finally addressed it.

"Chief Grace," Chief Leo called, "While Master William looks to be the expert you claim him to be, you can’t expect cultivators to just part with hundreds of spirit stones over untested and unvouched-for products."

"Chief Leo is correct," Chief Kent nodded, caressing his messy beard. "Master William’s performance captivated me and earned my trust, but many might think that he is a Master of pretenses."

That was a business strategy. Chief Kent had said otherwise, but mentioning the idea that Liam was good at faking could raise suspicion. After all, there was greatness in acting, too.

Grace had been ready for that, and even had a solution. She had spotted it before Liam could finish concocting.

"Why not receive feedback then?" Grace wondered, pretending to look at the fighting platforms. "Ah! Junior! Junior, come here."

Some lone cultivators had already fought and were now meditating between the platform and stages, recovering as best they could, which meant mere bandages in case of bleeding injuries.

Alchemical products were too expensive for lone cultivators, so Carey almost couldn’t believe his ears when a rooting expert from the Merchants Guild called him. He actually had to do a double-take, dropping the bandages he was tying to his bleeding forearm.

Nevertheless, when a rooting expert called, a foundation expert had to answer. Such was the way of the world even before statues had anything to say on the matter.

"Senior," Carey bowed once he reached Grace, his right arm trembling due to the long, open cut on it.

"Junior, that’s a nasty cut," Grace gasped. "You can’t fight again in that state, not in any convincing manner. Luckily, my shop has an ointment perfect for you."

Carey was young, not even twenty. He had once seen the heights of a Sect, only to never make it past outer disciple and be kicked out, thrown into the unforgiving world of lone cultivators.

So, Carey knew the truth. He glanced at the open shelf and at the beautiful rooting expert, knowing that both were beyond his reach.

"I apologize, Senior," Carey said, lowering his head again. "I don’t possess the wealth to afford Senior’s priceless products."

"Didn’t I mention it?" Grace feigned realization. "Today, we offer one free sample to any first customer."

Grace moved, drawing a small case from her space-ring and filling it with the yellow ointment, handing it to Carey.

Carey held the ointment as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Honestly, he could make more than he had earned in years selling it, but his survival instincts suddenly screamed, drawing his attention to Grace’s smiling face.

"Junior, don’t hesitate to test it," Grace invited, despite her words sounding like an order.

Once again, when a rooting expert spoke, a foundation expert moved. Carey felt his heart bleed, but he removed his partial, drenched bandages, exposing the entirety of the wound before applying the ointment.

Everyone on the scene and beyond inspected the event, waiting to see what would happen, only for Carey to forget about that oppressive attention, his forearm claiming his entire attention.

The ointment had hidden the long injury, but that only lasted for a minute. Carey’s skin soon absorbed it, revealing the closed wound underneath.

The process was still ongoing. Before long, the spots where the cut had been shallower lost any trace of the previous injury, as if it had never existed.

"There’s something else," Grace exclaimed. "All our products will have a fixed price of one hundred spirit stones."