Benjamin Franklin has been living in seclusion here for thirteen years. Nearly everyone in the Starforged World knows the master's intention: as long as someone can pass through the Cloak of the Goddess of Wisdom and meet the master in person, they will become his personal disciple. But thirteen years have passed, and countless talented youths from the Three Continents have come and gone, yet no one has managed to get through this barrier. Benjamin Franklin has waited thirteen years, but still hasn't found a disciple to his liking.

"Perhaps this is a joke played on me by the Goddess of Wisdom, or perhaps it's a clear path pointed out by the God of Fate. Whatever the case, this young man is the only one who could pass through the Cloak of the Goddess of Wisdom—he is my disciple." The master had finally accepted a disciple, and was delighted. With a casual gesture, he pointed at the pitiful little magical beast: "Emma Green, carry him inside." With that, he clasped his hands behind his back and walked back into the house.

Beneath the sky-blue dome, on the emerald green earth, there was a ring-shaped patch of scorched black. A simple wooden hut stood beside a grove of fir trees. Emma Green, who was only the size of a rabbit, stretched out her two ears, wrapped up the young man on the ground, and struggled step by step toward the hut, panting exaggeratedly with her tongue hanging out after every couple of steps, her eyes drooping as she lay on the ground to catch her breath. Benjamin Franklin said irritably, "Alright, I'll give you two extra hami fruits for dinner. Hurry up and bring him in."

Miss Emma Green's eyes snapped open, and in a flash, she carried the young man into the house and laid him flat on the wooden bed.

"It's morning again..." William Graham woke up. His first reaction was, oh no, I've missed my lessons and will be punished by my master again. The rules of Edward Graham are strict—if you're late for morning class, you're punished by copying the "Inner Chapters of Baopuzi" thirty times—not with a brush on paper, but with a brush on stone, requiring the strokes to be forceful and clear on the hard stone. After thirty times, even though William Graham was the most outstanding disciple of Edward Graham in his generation, he would be so exhausted that he couldn't straighten his back for half a day.

Thinking of the serious consequences of being late, William Graham tried to spring up like a carp, but as he opened his eyes wide, he found he couldn't adjust to the light, and it felt as if thousands upon thousands of hands were stabbing him with steel needles all over his body. "Aah!" With a miserable cry, he fell back down.

That fall truly woke him up: I've already graduated, I don't need to worry about my master's punishments anymore. On the way, I saw a spirit creature and was about to subdue it—how did I suddenly pass out for no reason?

My eyes hurt, my body hurts! What on earth is going on?

William Graham forced his eyes open a crack, and in a daze, saw a two-headed monster swaying in front of him. Even though William Graham was bold enough to steal from his master's daughter, he was so frightened that he let out a strange cry and shrank back. That movement made him relive the sensation of being stabbed by ten thousand needles all over again. William Graham was in utter misery—there was a monster eyeing him hungrily, and he couldn't move to escape. Was he just going to sit and wait for death? William Graham never imagined that after mastering the arts of alchemy, in the prime of his youth, full of ambition and yet to realize his dreams, he would die so young... And worst of all, he was going to be eaten by a monster!

William Graham was not an atheist, and Edward Graham could never produce an atheist successor.

"%￥#￥％￥￥..."

The two-headed monster babbled unintelligibly. William Graham felt sorrowful, thinking, as a dignified disciple of Edward Graham, I cannot die so disgracefully. Ignoring the pain in his swollen eyes, he forced them open wide, shooting out a sharp glare and shouted, "Hey! Eh..." This time, though it hurt to open his eyes, he could see clearly: standing before him was an old man with a white beard, dressed in strange clothes, with a furry little animal perched on his shoulder.

Earlier, in his daze, William Graham had mistaken the little animal on the old man's shoulder for another head, thinking he had encountered some kind of two-headed monster.

The old man actually looked kind and benevolent, the type who could easily lure little girls. Unfortunately, as soon as he spoke, it was all gibberish, and William Graham couldn't understand a word. Judging by his expression, though, he didn't seem malicious. William Graham clasped his hands in a respectful salute and asked, "Excuse me, sir, where am I, and how did I get here?"

He instinctively took the old man for a fellow cultivator, mainly because the pet on the old man's shoulder was clearly no ordinary beast.

As soon as William Graham spoke, Benjamin Franklin was stunned as well. But worthy of being the greatest alchemist under the stars, he rushed into his laboratory and, at top speed, concocted a potion. After heating it, the liquid in the conical flask was still steaming as he brought it to William Graham.

William Graham looked at the steaming liquid, sniffed it suspiciously, and gently shook his head. Benjamin Franklin was annoyed: how dare he doubt a potion made by the greatest alchemist in the Starforged World! The old man tried to persuade him for a long time, but the language barrier was insurmountable. After all that, William Graham still resolutely shook his head and refused to drink the liquid. The liquid, which had been steaming, had now cooled, turning a snake-like grassy green. Seeing this, William Graham was even more unwilling to drink it.