Around dawn the next morning, we changed into our new silk robes and flew to Golden Aspect City. Unlike the Jade Lake pseudo-town we visited, this was a true massive center for cultivation.

From outside the no-flying-sword zone that had been set up, I briefly hovered high in the air to take in the view for both myself and Little Spring who stared in awe at the giant metropolis.

The mayor’s ostentatious palace jutted from the center of the city. It was surrounded by several sprawling manors likely owned by the large clans of the era.

A wide river carved a scar past quiet homes and businesses. Several large arched bridges allowed commerce to flourish on both sides. Ships, both immortal and mundane were moored to the provided docks.

Since the flying sword traffic around the city had been blocked. This meant Little Spring and I had to enter through the front gates. Three long lines snaked their way out from the entrance. After asking around I found that one was for mundane travelers, one for mundane cargo and the last was for all practitioners.

We had to wait in the practitioner line surrounded by adults of varying ages who had a beautiful tendency to mind their own fucking business.

At least the line went quickly.

Unfortunately, since we were visiting and not residents of the city, they had us pay two spirit stones each. Infuriating. Sure we could afford it now but, just a few weeks ago, that would have been a large portion of our funds.

Whatever. I’d just have to make more later.

As we stepped onto the unpaved roads, a crowd of people swarmed around us. Most of them were cultivators with low realms. Still, since we didn’t have a specific direction, we followed the flow of traffic down the sizable main street.

Little Spring grabbed my hand tightly and warily squinted at everyone around us.

I mean, did he not have faith that I could get us through this maze of streets? Cities like these were popular destinations for a reason, and that was the security. Not even the major clans could run around killing people on reflex... Probably.

I glanced at the little main character. Shit. Were we going to run into one of those infamous Young Masters, yelling, ‘You dare?!’ everywhere for minor slights? Doubtful. But with him around... No. While people like that existed, they were so few in number that it was more probable that we’d run into a street gang before that. Or the rarely seen pickpocket...

Nervously, I moved closer to him and used the smallest amount of divine sense I could maintain to keep track of the people around us and our items. Ah, this could be my new paranoia making itself known, but I decided to go with it since I had a majority of our funds inside my storage bag. The rest was safely tucked away in the space.

I noticed a kid standing off to the side. His clothes looked old and worn but he was mostly clean. He looked like trouble. Which meant that it was time to employ rule number three of Transmigrated into a Novel Club.

“Should... we ask him for directions?” Little Spring tightened his grip.

“No need. I’m pretty sure he’s a trap.” (Not that kind.)

I sent an unobtrusive pulse of divine sense out, avoiding the interior of buildings, rickshaws, and the odd carriage where I might run afoul of a grumpy old master or two... Having been a grumpy old master myself it wasn’t hard. Instead, I searched exteriors for the familiar sign. A simple cauldron embossed with real gold.

My sense touched on the buildings, people, and carts. I even noticed some poor fool getting mugged down one of the alleys by a pair of Foundation Establishment cultivators. He seemed a little familiar but I couldn’t quite place his aura. Well, since we didn’t have the strength to help, it wasn’t our responsibility. Besides, they were just overpowering him and not actually murdering him. Yep, that was somebody else’s problem.

There. A few streets over where an even more massive crowd gathered. The familiar golden pill cauldron glittered in my mind.

It hadn’t changed much over the past thousand years. Oh, the design changed with updates and different stylistic choices, but the gold cauldron always remained the staple for the Alchemists' Guild.

Instead of being dumb and going down a dark alley to reach it, I swiftly had us traverse the main streets. It took us longer —and I was out of breath and clutching my aching side by the time we entered the formation chilled building— but we avoided the random ruffians mugging people.

Since the Alchemists' Guild was a mainstay for the profession, it could afford to have the arena-sized building it did. But this location was unusually crowded today. I quickly understood why when I saw the large poster attached to the center of the traditional job request board.

Still holding Little Spring’s hand, I dragged him over to it. A majority of its surface was covered in small beautifully written pages. Each one detailed either a requested ingredient —from various alchemists— or a needed pill —usually from clients. The large announcement in the center cut through all those like a weird rectangular exclamation point. It listed the date in this world’s calendar, an approximate time, and the contest’s information.

Basically, A small youth tournament would be held in a few hours for alchemists under fifty.