The court session having concluded, Baibai learned of the proceedings from her elder sister. Although her sister hadn't displayed any distress, assuring Baibai she could persuade those old men, the young girl knew it was merely a comforting lie. Having reached the Third Level, she was no longer a child easily fooled by adults.

Yet, her sister’s comfort only fueled Baibai’s anger. She hated being utterly unable to help, always treated like a child by her Empress Mother and her sister. After some thought, she excused herself from her mother and pouted her way over to Yang Ying.

“That simply won’t do, Princess. A princess shouldn't speak that way.” Yang Ying listened to Baibai’s complaints without confirming or denying anything, merely smiling as he gently pinched her soft, rosy cheek with a small hand.

“Ouch,” Baibai protested, rubbing her face ruefully. “I—I’m angry!”

“Mhm, I know.” Yang Ying shifted to stroke her head, his fingers grazing the edge of her princess crown. “I’m very glad you rushed over to tell me.”

Baibai immediately became self-conscious. Her face flushed hot, and she lowered her head, though a sweet warmth filled her heart. In her eyes, hearing those words from Yang Ying was the greatest reward she could receive.

“Don’t worry about those old fogeys,” Yang Ying said, withdrawing his hand with a smile. “They can’t do anything to me.”

The confidence radiating from Yang Ying’s words settled Baibai’s heart, but then she remembered her Empress Mother and sister, and her lip began to tremble again. “Brother Yang Ying, can you figure out a way to help Sister? It’s too exhausting for her to handle all those stubborn old nobles alone. Those elders rely on their seniority and high status, daring to shout down even Mother. I desperately want to help them, but I can’t.”

At this, Baibai’s eyes welled up, and she sniffled, looking on the verge of tears.

“Stop, stop!” Yang Ying hurried her. “You’re a small master of the Third Level; why are you still crying? What if someone sees? They’ll laugh at you…”

Baibai nodded, taking a deep breath, and completely suppressed her tears. As a Level Three master, under focused concentration, she could control nearly every cell in her body; inhibiting the tear ducts was extremely easy.

“How about this,” Yang Ying suggested. “Go back and tell them that I just need them to do one thing for me: stall. Stall for as long as possible—six months would be best. If that’s not possible, it doesn’t matter. Just announce that they are expelling me and Daofeng.”

The three Shadow Consuls of Protoss were not on the Royal Consecrated list. Although Sandover’s faction knew the three wouldn't stand idly by if things went south, they could only initially focus their fire on Yang Ying and Daofeng.

“But—” Baibai immediately panicked when Yang Ying said that, waving her hands. “No! No! Brother Yang Ying, don’t abandon me.”

“I won’t abandon you, I promise,” Yang Ying assured her, stroking her head again. “This is just putting on a show. As for the secret of my advancement to the Fourth Level Limit that those old men covet, tell your sister to let them come find me herself. If a few of them could extract that secret from me, I might as well have cultivated my whole life in the gutter.”

Baibai quickly grabbed his hand, shaking her head stubbornly. “Brother Yang Ying is not—not that kind of person.” Then, she broke into a smile. “Sister also told me it’s fine, but I always feel she’s desperately holding on while hiding it from me. But when Brother Yang Ying says it’s fine, I believe you’re telling the truth.”

“That’s because your sister carries too heavy a burden; she has too many considerations. Unlike you, Brother Yang Ying, who can just punch someone who displeases you. You must never learn that behavior.”

“Mhm!” Baibai nodded vigorously.

Watching the little girl leave again, cheerful and skipping, Yang Ying allowed a knowing smile to cross his face. What he told Baibai wasn't an exaggeration. It was expected that Sandover would pressure the Royal Family through those elders, and Yang Ying had long prepared his countermeasure.

Moreover, when the court session began, his counterattack had already started.

The starting point of this counterattack lay in a star sector in the central part of the Empire—the Ice River Star, where Yang Ying had once resided for two years. “Laiya, Dimas, Dannan, today is your first time attending the annual Pharmacist Symposium hosted by the Alchemists’ Association. Almost everyone here is a Grand Alchemist. Remember to listen more and speak less; there are many things you can learn here.”

In a magnificent hall, Professor Faskerlun, Dean of the Alchemy Department at the Central Ice River Academy, was speaking to several young people.

“Sigh, Igor gets a chance to present, and we don’t. People really make you feel inadequate,” Laiya glanced toward Igor and sighed softly.

After Yang Ying ascended to the Fourth Level, he left a clone at the Central Ice River Academy to replace Igor’s identity. Now, this clone sat with them, dressed in formal attire, a sapphire ornament set upon his brow, its core flashing with a symbol denoting the status of a Grand Alchemist.

“Igor is already a Grand Alchemist. How can we compare?” [Dimas] shrugged, then clapped Igor on the shoulder, saying, “Don’t be down, brother. You have to work harder!”

“No problem,” Igor smiled.

Since advancing to the Grand Alchemist rank with this identity, the Central Ice River Academy formally invited him to stay and teach in the Alchemy Department. Igor accepted. As a Grand Alchemist, his official title placed him just below Dean Professor Faskerlun, slightly above Vice Dean Professor Tis’ah. Thus, upon entering the academy, he was immediately granted the position of Professor. However, due to his youth, lack of experience, and relatively low academic fame, many voices expressed reservations.

Therefore, Dean Faskerlun brought Igor to this symposium to gain some exposure. As for Laiya and the other two, as outstanding students of the Central Ice River Academy’s Alchemy Department, they were also brought along by the Dean to see the wider world. This symposium was one of the top summits for Grand Alchemists, discussing cutting-edge knowledge in pharmaceutics. It was held annually in different locations. If it hadn’t been for Ice River Star being chosen as the venue this year, and the Central Ice River Academy being the organizer, Laiya and the other two might never have entered this hall.

“Isn’t that Professor Faskerlun?” an elderly man approached. He possessed a long beard, just like Dean Faskerlun’s, snow-white and voluminous, nearly reaching his feet. His eyes shone with scholarly light, much like the old pedants often described in novels.

Indeed, many of the Grand Alchemists in the hall shared this appearance. They generally exceeded five hundred years of age, as obtaining a top-tier longevity potion was far easier for a Grand Alchemist than for ordinary individuals. Furthermore, many of them disliked appearing young again.

“Professor Lingfe, welcome.” Dean Faskerlun rose to shake the man’s hand. “I didn't see you at the last symposium. I heard others say you were leading an important study and couldn't pull away. You made it this time?”

“Alas,” Professor Lingfe shook his head. “Don’t mention it. Duke Kutovak hoped my laboratory could devise a method to substitute extinct herbs with existing ones to formulate the Level Ten, Class Nine Elixir of Immortality. He invested a large sum, but I designed over thirty formulas, and none met the criteria. One formula got close, but when transitioning from the virtual lab to animal testing, we hit a snag—the side effects were too severe. Even if it achieved immortality, they would die in agony, rendering it worthless.”

“Sigh,” Dean Faskerlun patted Professor Lingfe’s shoulder and sighed. “Alchemical experiments—that’s unavoidable. You’ll have to start over from deriving the equations.”

“It’s too late,” Professor Lingfe replied. “Last month, Duke Kutovak passed away at the venerable age of four hundred and fourteen. His son inherited his title and assets and immediately cut off funding to my laboratory. Otherwise, I might not have had the leisure to attend this symposium.”

“Alas,” Dean Faskerlun didn't know how to console him.

“If old Kutovak had died just one month later, perhaps there would have been hope,” Professor Lingfe said. “Professor Faskerlun, have you heard any news about the Resurrection Serum reappearing in the world?”

“Of course. It’s been the foremost major event shocking the alchemical world in recent years,” Dean Faskerlun nodded.

“That Limit Expert from the Sol System possesses materials for more than ten doses of the Resurrection Serum. Marquis Du Nei has already used it to revive Duke Anko,” Lingfe gasped. “If Duke Kutovak had died one month later, he might have had a chance to be revived again with the Resurrection Serum and restored to his eighteen-year-old self. It’s a pity the Resurrection Serum is only effective on those who have been dead for less than seven days.”

Saying this, he glanced at Igor standing beside Faskerlun, noticing the Grand Alchemist insignia on Igor’s brow, and exclaimed in surprise, “Who is this?”

“You’ve been deeply engrossed in research; you probably don’t know,” Dean Faskerlun smiled. “He is my student, a Grand Alchemist at such a young age. Today, he is scheduled to speak.” His tone carried a hint of pride.

Igor had prepared an academic report specifically for today’s presentation some time ago, discussing a method to improve a certain Level Ten potion. After absorbing the knowledge from the Xel’Naga, Yang Ying had gained many new perspectives on Imperial pharmaceutics; improving a potion was trivially simple.

Dean Faskerlun had praised Igor’s academic report after reviewing it, calling it a rare, breakthrough discovery in the field of alchemy in recent years, giving it the highest evaluation.

At this moment, facing Lingfe’s astonishment, Dean Faskerlun’s face was flushed with pride. He could already picture the entire hall rising to give a standing ovation to the student from his academy, and as Igor's teacher, he shared in the honor.

Yet, he remained unaware that Igor had already revised the report he was about to deliver—a report that would unleash a tidal wave affecting the entire Empire, an impact as profound as the collapse of the Origin Sea ten thousand years prior.