Apocalypse Gachapon Chapter 1954: Eight Turn

He positioned himself before a stone table in the underground chamber, meticulously examining the potions laid out in front of him.

"Clan Leader He, take a look— we have exactly one thousand six hundred and seventy medicines in total. Of these, seventy-two qualify as four-turn, two hundred and forty as three-turn, four hundred and sixty-five as two-turn, and eight hundred and ninety-three as one-turn."

"Every one meets the standards."

A member of the Changxu Water Race stood in front of He, presenting details about these potions to her.

"Out of all these, thirty percent boost fighting power, whereas seventy percent focus on recovery."

Several other tribesfolk occupied the space as well. These were all the individuals He had managed to assemble on short notice. It had taken them almost a full month to produce such a vast quantity of potions.

Everyone present understood that these items were meant for the market, and deep down, they felt a strong reluctance. In the traditions of the Changxu Water Race, the potions they created were reserved strictly for their own people and kin.

Even though this mindset had shifted considerably in recent times, its impact lingered like an ingrained reflex. Refining potions demanded their personal Sacred Sigils and vitality; in a way, these creations felt like extensions of their very beings.

Yet, despite their inner hesitation, they recognized that trading these potions was an unavoidable necessity.

Ever since He's return from the Novice battlefield, the unrestricted tribesfolk had sensed mounting external pressures closing in. They understood the cause: He's remarkable feats had alarmed the powerful races, spearheaded by the Huo'er Star People, who feared that the Changxu Water Race might rise and stir up chaos.

Indeed, merely stirring trouble, not mounting a real danger to them. Still, that alone justified their aggressive moves.

At minimum, five unrestricted clansmen had been seized or apprehended by different races under assorted pretexts, forced into servitude. Another had perished in a desperate struggle.

This harsh turn of events left every Changxu Water Race individual on edge. Even those few elders who had once strongly opposed He's choice to swear loyalty to Ye Zhongming now held their tongues.

They had finally abandoned their final shreds of hope in the Cosmic Ten Thousand Races and, following He's lead, started wagering everything on Ye Zhongming, the newcomer from his distant homeworld.

That could well be their sole shot at survival.

Moreover, their sworn ally had supplied them with generous funding to acquire raw materials, allowing mass production of potions. All of this boiled down to resources—pure wealth.

To be fair, they had already surrendered every bit of their fortune to that very ally. This Moonspan Gold paled in significance by comparison, but the issue lay in the fact that neither the Changxu Water Race nor Ye Zhongming dared to utilize it. Raising the point now served no purpose.

How arduously had the Changxu Water Race strived to elevate their capabilities in these trying years? The reasons were manifold: their nomadic existence played a part, but above all, they lacked the funds to procure essential materials. And here, funds meant their own independent resources. While other races might offer supplies, the repercussions of accepting such aid remained perilously uncertain.

Last but not least, they grasped that this arrangement fostered mutual support. A short-term sacrifice might sting, but ultimately, it would prove far more advantageous for their patron, Ye Zhongming, to grow in strength.

Upon verifying the count, He gave a nod. A contemplative look crossed her weary features, and she declared, "We require a standout flagship item to draw in the crowds."

The surrounding tribesfolk exchanged glances. An elder among the Changxu Water Race spoke up: "Clan Leader, perhaps we should consider unveiling a few five-turn potions strategically."

Five-turn potions; numerous clansmen boasted solid success rates in crafting them, yet the scarcity of necessary ingredients had always constrained output.

This tribesman proposed it because he believed Ye Zhongming could handle sourcing materials going forward, rendering five-turn potions far less rare than before.

Nevertheless, He declined with a shake of her head.

"A five-turn level won't suffice to forge the prestige Ye truly requires."

At the clan leader's words, the man hesitated before inquiring: "In that case, why not offer a single six-turn?"

The five-turn threshold marked a critical divide. For the Changxu Water Race's leader, provided she had enough Sacred Symbols and gradual practice, refining such potions became reliably achievable.

However, surpassing to six-turn demanded genuine aptitude.

Even possessing six Sacred Sigils—or more—offered no guarantee; without talent, that level remained an impossible barrier.

Within the free ranks of the Changxu Water Race, merely five individuals could craft six-turn potions consistently, without wasteful failures—meaning those with a reliable success probability.

What had propelled He to clan leadership at such a tender age? Beyond her impressive ten Sacred Sigils, it tied directly to her early mastery of six-turn potion refining.

From her heritage and innate gifts, to the prowess and foresight she exhibited on the Novice battlefield, everything had secured her the tribe's admiration and trust.

"Eight-turn."

Those two syllables prompted all the clansmen below to leap to their feet.

Eight-turn! This transcended personal treasures—it embodied the tribe's most sacred assets!

As many recalled, beyond a rumored legendary eleven-turn potion tucked away somewhere, the pinnacle in their possession was a solitary ten-turn. Eight-turn potions held equal value, their count barely reaching a handful.

Unleashing such a priceless artifact... it bordered on insanity.

"Clan Leader, it's not a matter of being unwilling to share valuables at this juncture, but eight-turn potions have vanished from survivor fortresses for ages. Their emergence would surely unleash a storm. Then, neither the Star-Eye Clan nor the still-developing Ye Zhongming could shield us."

He found herself in agreement on this front. Yet, her perspective held that eight-turn potions would spark fierce bidding among races, without shattering codes of conduct entirely. After all, across the cosmic races, numerous master alchemists could produce equivalents or superiors to eight-turn effects. In essence, they were exceptional yet not unrivaled.

Potions at this tier would toe the boundary set by the great races. Transgressing it carried steep risks, rendering the payoff of an eight-turn far too meager.

In such a scenario, the odds of catastrophe proved far slimmer than those of smooth sailing.

They had to temper envy from others while establishing a formidable name. Eight-turn struck the ideal balance.

"Rest easy. I believe Ye has weighed these dangers thoroughly. For now, our task is to steady ourselves and focus on cultivation. Those above... their safeguarding won't endure forever."

With that, He gestured toward the building's upper level. There, Yisewei managed one final favor for White Robe and the Star-Eye Clan—she had summoned four powerhouses to reside here. They would guard the Changxu Water Race folk for half a cosmic year. Beyond that, their protection rested solely on their own efforts and Ye Zhongming's.