The players on site were still abuzz with discussion about this strange phenomenon. Jiutian was always full of oddities and eccentrics, but today was especially so.

Frank Walker paid no attention to any of this and headed straight for the Alchemist Guild. As the most mercenary and arrogant guild leader among the city NPCs, the Alchemist Guild President “Paul Cooper”—an extremely sleazy old man—shuffled out, belly wobbling, as if he were greeting his ancestors, bowing at a ninety-degree angle.

“Most—most noble *** sir, you’re here, please, this way, please. Your presence graces my humble shop, truly bringing light to my humble abode. Thank you for giving me the chance to serve you.” His sycophantic manner made countless players who had suffered his harshness want to bite him to death on the spot. This bastard was the nightmare of countless alchemists, always making things difficult for players.

What rank was “sir”? Everyone present was an alchemist, many of them high-level—masters, grandmasters, or even Zizaitian?

But no one had ever heard of such a title.

Alchemists weren’t a combat class, but their role was crucial and they were highly respected by players. Whether player or soul beast, healing, advancement, survival—all depended on potions. It was the perfect class for grinders. A good alchemist could easily get rich, and many combat classes chose alchemist as a secondary profession because potions were just too expensive.

Frank Walker clearly didn’t want to bother with him. “I’m here to turn in a quest.”

Paul Cooper was slightly taken aback. “What quest are you turning in?” That couldn’t be right, all the quests should be completed already.

Wait a minute… “Could it be you’re turning in that quest?”

Paul Cooper was a bit excited too. This—this was an impossible quest!

Paul Cooper began to express his admiration, thinking his alchemy shop was about to become famous, but Frank Walker waved his hand, not giving him a chance to flatter.

Then, batch after batch of potions started coming out. First-class regular potions, the kind you could find anywhere in the shop.

The players nearby didn’t know what they were doing, but after all that buildup and tension, to pull out a pile of “junk” like this felt like a waste of emotion. Especially since most of those present were alchemists themselves—they couldn’t help but feel a bit conflicted. This level was something they could easily achieve too.

A full thirty-six types of first-class potions, one batch of each, all handed in. But Finn Lincoln’s speed in producing potions didn’t slow down in the slightest.

Two batches of berserk potions, two batches of feign death potions, two batches of minor spirit-gathering beast potions, two batches of low-frequency soul-training potions, two batches of void-breaking potions...

There were far more types of second-class pills than first-class ones. Frank Walker kept pulling them out for a full five minutes...

The onlooking players clearly sensed something. Even though second-class potions weren’t worth much, it was rare to see someone hand them over so readily and in such complete sets. And judging by his approach—first-class, then second-class—would he continue with third-class pills next?

Frank Walker did not disappoint and began producing third-class pills.

Three batches of soul-gathering potions, three batches of minor closure potions, three batches of gangsha fire potions, three batches of soul-condensing potions...

After third-class came fourth-class, requiring four batches each, then fifth-class with five batches each, sixth-class with six batches each... The entire guild was packed with people, yet not a sound could be heard. Everyone’s eyes were glued to this alchemist’s hands. By the time he reached six batches of sixth-class, the players were already on the verge of losing their minds.

Even gathering all the alchemists in an alliance would hardly make this possible.

Even Paul Cooper’s hands were trembling, and beads of sweat were faintly appearing on his forehead.

“Seventh-class potions…” a player swallowed hard. “Is this guy really going to hand in seven batches of every seventh-class pill too?”

The voice was quiet, but it spoke everyone’s mind.

Frank Walker didn’t keep them waiting long—seven batches of seventh-class potions!

It was a feeling of dry mouth and tongue. What he was pulling out wasn’t just potions, it was a dream—a dream of becoming a top expert, a dream of ruling supreme. Someone had already started livestreaming. What kind of alchemist was this?

Eight batches of life-creation potions, eight batches of soul-scattering potions, eight batches of flesh-regeneration potions... Nineteen types of eighth-class pills, not a single one missing, all in eight batches.

“Ninth-class! Ninth-class! Ninth-class!”

“No way, absolutely impossible. If he pulls those out, I’ll eat shit live on stream!”

“If you’re going live, I’ll help you set it up!”

“No way, how could there be any? I’ve played alchemist for eight years and only made one!”

When Frank Walker finished handing over all the eighth-class potions and paused to shake out his hand, the surrounding players couldn’t help but shout like they were possessed. The realm every alchemist dreamed of, a potion worth its weight in gold: “Ninth-class! Ninth-class!”

“Damn it, stop pushing me, there’s no room left!”

Players from all over the city were crowding in. At this moment, on every related Jiutian website and forum, the mysterious alchemist’s appearance at the Alchemist Guild had shot to number two on the trending searches.

………………

In almost an instant, the players were about to go crazy, and the top twenty guilds in Jiutian had already mobilized hundreds of thousands of members, offering huge rewards for any clues related to this mysterious “Mark Walker”.

Frank Walker, not disappointing anyone, continued to reach into his spatial pouch, pulling out pills like a magician. He had waited a long time for this day, and those people surely knew what he was up to!

Nine batches of Angel’s Kiss, nine batches of Hell’s Carnival...