Steadily Upgrading Everything!
Chapter 31: They let pigs wear silk robes now?

Chapter 31: They let pigs wear silk robes now?

As more time passed, the vast hall continued to stir with waves of tension and expectation.

The number of successful participants slowly climbed, one after another stepping forward with their completed Rapid Blood Pills, faces lit with a mixture of pride and relief.

John, now standing calmly among the first ten qualifiers, kept a subtle watch on the unfolding events.

His gaze moved thoughtfully from face to face, then down the long row of participants still working feverishly at their cauldrons.

He noticed something that made his eyes narrow ever so slightly.

"Not a single one of them is unaffiliated," he thought, studying the robes and insignias that marked lineage and allegiance, Greenblade Clan, Ironpeak Pavilion, Sun Lotus House, Roaming Earth Clan, and more.

Even those that appeared less flamboyant bore subtle embroidery or color codes marking family ties.

"So I really am the only rogue cultivator among the qualifiers," he mused, exhaling slowly. "No wonder alchemy is seen as a money-burning profession."

His thoughts drifted for a moment. If it weren’t for my panel... would I even have made it this far?

He knew the answer.

Even with decent comprehension and effort, creating a Grade Four pill was considered a milestone of talent, and luxury.

Between ingredients, cauldron quality, fire control, and repeated failures, most alchemists only succeeded thanks to deep-pocketed families backing their every mistake.

"Without my upgrade system, I wouldn’t have lasted two days in this field." He shook his head with a slight smile.

"Even geniuses here are spending fortunes just to compete."

His thoughts were interrupted as the ninety-ninth participant stepped forward.

A tall, thin-framed boy with an angular face and sleek black hair.

His robes bore the subtle crest of the Violet Ash Sect, embroidered in fading gold.

John barely gave him more than a glance.

He turned his attention instead toward the one person he was silently rooting for.

Riara Greenblade.

She stood beside her cauldron, hands steady, eyes burning with fierce concentration.

Beads of sweat dotted her brow, slipping down the sides of her temples, but she didn’t flinch.

Gone was the earlier arrogance, the lofty pride, replaced by raw determination and quiet grit.

John’s gaze softened slightly. "If she doesn’t complete a pill now, she won’t make it."

He hadn’t known her long.

In fact, their interactions were more teasing than friendly, but in this overwhelming sea of clan members and unfamiliar faces, she was one of the few people he could count as... familiar.

"I hope she makes it," he thought. "It’d be good to have someone like her during the combat round. Someone I can at least talk to."

He studied her movements, the careful adjustments of the flame, the steady rotation of her qi, the placement of ingredients with meticulous timing.

She wasn’t rushing.

She wasn’t panicking. Just focused.

"Hmm... she’s refining perfectly this time... if she maintains this, she should produce a pill in about ten minutes."

Just as that thought crossed his mind, his eyes drifted a few stations over and fell on another girl, one with long chestnut hair tied in a warrior’s braid.

She too was in the final stage of refinement, her expression calm and composed.

Like Riara, she was on the cusp of success.

"These two... they’re neck and neck," he thought. "Everyone else... they’re either too behind or have already failed multiple batches."

The rest were either adjusting their flames with trembling fingers or adding ingredients with such caution it bordered on hesitation.

Few had the calm resolve that Riara and the other girl radiated in that moment.

John folded his arms across his chest and leaned slightly, watching. "Come on, Riara... prove them wrong."

The atmosphere thickened.

Even the Blue Cauldron Sect disciples were watching more intently now, murmurs spreading like waves across the testing ground.

Then, as if striking a bell in the silence...

"Finished!"

The clear, confident voice rang out like a chime through the enormous chamber.

All heads turned.

Some expressions blank with surprise, others mildly annoyed or impressed.

Even the judges lifted their eyes.

John couldn’t help the smile that curled onto his face.

Riara stood upright beside her cauldron, her expression flushed but triumphant.

Her hands, though sweaty, were steady as she held up a jade bottle with a single crimson-gold pill glowing faintly inside.

She looked around, seeking acknowledgment, and her eyes landed on John.

He met her gaze, nodded, and smiled gently.

Not the teasing smirk she may have expected, but one of silent encouragement.

Riara blinked, then quickly turned away, a flush of color rushing into her cheeks.

"Tch... idiot," she muttered under her breath, but a grin betrayed her effort to stay composed.

John chuckled softly.

"I guess we’ll be heading to the combat test together after all."

As Riara stepped up to the platform, a blue-robed disciple approached and accepted the jade bottle from her outstretched hand.

She straightened her back and tilted her chin ever so slightly, pride gleaming in her eyes.

The elder on the stage took the bottle and examined the contents within.

After a few seconds, he nodded.

"A pass," he announced with a calm voice that nonetheless echoed across the testing grounds. "You are the one-hundredth participant to succeed."

Gasps spread across the room, many who were still working on their batches suddenly stiffened in despair.

The chance to qualify was now gone.

Riara turned back toward her station, her steps light and graceful.

As she walked, her eyes searched, locking onto John, who stood to the side of the stage with the other qualifiers.

A victorious smirk played on her lips.

"Guess you’re not the only impressive one, mystery man," she said as she reached him, placing her hands on her hips.

John chuckled, "That was cutting it close."

"I was just being dramatic for effect," she said with a dismissive wave, though the beads of sweat still glistened on her forehead. "You should’ve seen your face. You were worried about me, weren’t you?"

"I’m pretty sure you were more worried than I was," he replied with a half-smile.

She narrowed her eyes but grinned anyway.

Just then, the elder’s voice rang out once more. "These one hundred will move forward to the next stage, the combat examination, held on the eleventh day."

He paused, letting the murmurs die down.

"You will each receive a token by tomorrow morning. This token will act as your entry pass for the next trial. Rest well and prepare, combat is as vital as alchemy in the path of a true cultivator."

With that, the gathering slowly dispersed.

As the crowd thinned, Riara turned to John again, brushing her dark green hair back over her shoulder.

"Well, since we both passed," she said, eyes gleaming, "it’s only right that we celebrate."

John raised a brow. "Celebrate?"

She nodded firmly. "Yes! I’ll take you to a restaurant that only nobles and sect elites usually go to. You should feel honored."

"Generous of you," John said with a quiet chuckle. "You sure you’re not still trying to impress me?"

Riara gave a mock scoff. "Please. I’m just celebrating my own victory. You just happen to be tagging along."

"Of course," John said, humoring her.

Later That Night

The night breeze was cool and refreshing as John and Riara strolled through the bustling streets of Nine Sky City.

Spirit lanterns floated in the air, lighting the way like ethereal fireflies.

Merchants shouted about rare herbs, children laughed and ran between stalls, and the scent of roasted meat, fresh bread, and spirit wine lingered in the air like a temptation.

"I promised you something good, right?" Riara said with a proud tilt of her chin as they approached a towering structure near the city center.

John looked up and blinked.

The Moon Drizzle Pavilion stood like a glowing jewel against the night sky, four stories tall, carved from white spirit jade with flowing blue banners that danced on the wind.

Silver and gold spirit lamps lit the carved eaves, and a soft melody from zithers and flutes drifted through its grand open windows.

"It looks expensive," John commented, raising a brow.

Riara grinned. "It is. Only the best eat here. Sect disciples, noble heirs, even city officials. Think of it as a reward."

Before they could step forward, a mocking voice interrupted from the side.

"Well, well, look who thinks he belongs with the elites."

John turned.

Standing under a spirit tree, leaning with all the arrogance he could muster, was none other than Brandon Flamewell, the same golden-robed, pudgy participant who had been the second to pass the alchemy test.

Two youths flanked him, taller, sharper-faced versions of sycophancy.

All three wore smug expressions.

Brandon folded his arms and let out a condescending chuckle. "Didn’t expect a no-name rogue cultivator to show his face here. Are you lost, or just trying to impress a girl you can’t afford to walk beside?"

John kept his expression calm, but Riara’s smile turned into a sneer.

"Oh gods," she said loudly, "don’t tell me they let pigs wear silk robes now?"

Brandon’s smugness faltered for a second. "What did you say?"

"I said," Riara walked forward, hands on hips, her tone sharp as a sword, "that someone as bloated and red-faced as you should consider renaming himself Brandon Flamehog, not Flamewell. I could barely see your station during the test because your belly was blocking the sun."

The two lackeys tensed, but Brandon’s face was already flushed with embarrassment, and rage.

"You think you’re clever, Greenblade? We’ll see how clever you look when the combat test starts. I’ll make sure this nobody beside you gets booted out of the sect before he can take a single step in."

John stepped forward now, calm but resolute. "You can try," he said simply.

Brandon stared at him, eyes burning. "You got lucky once. Try not to cry when I crush you nine days from now."

"We’ll see," John replied, voice steady.

Riara let out an exaggerated sigh. "Come on, John. Let’s not waste time talking to flies."

She took John’s hand and walked past Brandon and his cronies, her hair swaying like a whip behind her.

As they entered the Moon Drizzle Pavilion, John could hear Brandon muttering curses under his breath.

Inside, the pavilion was a marvel. Silver floors gleamed under soft spirit-light, and dancers swirled gracefully in the central platform, their silk robes flowing like mist.

A zither quartet played gentle melodies on an upper balcony, while servers moved silently between tables with polished trays of food and wine.

"Don’t let people like that get under your skin," Riara said, settling into a private booth that overlooked a small indoor spirit pond. "They’re all bark and no bite."

John chuckled. "You’re surprisingly good at insults."

She raised her wine glass. "I had older cousins. All boys. You learn fast."

They toasted with a laugh, the tension of the encounter fading as the soft music filled the air.

After that they both bid farewell to each other and John reached the inn.

As he entered his quiet room and closed the door behind him, the fatigue of the day finally washed over him.

He took off his outer robes, stretched, and laid down on the bed.

Staring at the ceiling, he let the silence return.

Combat trial in nine days...

With a long exhale, he closed his eyes.

Sleep claimed him quickly.