Fortunately, the leap from primary to intermediate apprentice in terms of spiritual power wasn't as obvious as the transition from ordinary person to apprentice.
As long as he didn't deliberately show it, even official sorcerers would have a hard time sensing his true level, unless they actively used mental probing. This gave Robb the chance to keep his strength hidden.
"In a place where the weak are prey, showing your hand too early isn't wise."
The market was as bustling as ever. Apprentices moved between stalls, voices haggling and shouting echoing from every direction.
Robb headed straight for the herb section. He first restocked the critically low supplies of moonshade and velvet pollen, then added some basic ingredients like dewdrop grass and firesnake scale powder.
After paying, he noticed a fellow apprentice leading a fur-covered catgirl by a chain. A thought suddenly crossed his mind:
"If I pass the potion master exam and get assigned an independent workshop, I'll probably need some assistants to help with daily tasks."
The other human apprentices weren't trustworthy, they all had their own agendas. There was no guarantee they wouldn't steal from him or leak his research.
"A slave dealer might be the better choice," he considered. "Nonhuman slaves bound by contract seals can at least guarantee basic loyalty and diligence."
"There's a foreign slave market on the east side of the market... I might as well take a look."
…
Elsewhere, Andrey was standing in a secluded clearing surrounded by broken stone pillars etched with faded runes.
This place had once been the lab of a Black Mist Order sorcerer. Now abandoned, it served as the perfect spot for secret training.
He closed his eyes, body swaying with a specific breathing rhythm.
A burning-hot scorching oil had been carefully applied to key meridian points on his body. His skin was red from the heat, but his expression remained calm.
Just as he completed the third cycle of his breathing technique, Andrey pulled out a small vial from his robe, filled with dark red liquid.
It was a blood-tonic potion, crafted by Robb specifically to help him break through his knight training bottleneck.
He drank it without hesitation. Instantly, the heat in his body collided violently with the potion, sparking an explosive reaction.
"Ah!"
The blond youth let out a deep, uncontrollable grunt, dropping to one knee and clenching his fists tightly.
His muscles trembled violently, clearly enduring immense pressure.
His meridians swelled with energy, pushing his body to the brink.
Boom!
There was no sound, but something inside him had just detonated.
A flood of energy broke through the bottleneck that had trapped him for so long, surging through every fiber of his being.
His body changed in that instant.
His muscle lines grew denser, his bones let out subtle crackling noises as if realigning, and his skin glowed with a healthy sheen. Even his breathing felt steadier and stronger.
"Finally…" Andrey exhaled deeply, his face filled with joy and relief. "I finally became stronger!"
He stood, feeling the new strength flowing through his veins.
"I should go clean up and tell Robb the good news!" he thought excitedly.
But when he returned to his room, he found a letter waiting at his door, clearly left by someone who knew where he lived.
The joy on Andrey's face froze instantly. The letter bore the unmistakable wax seal of the Farwynd royal family.
Taking it inside, Andrey frowned as he carefully broke the seal.
To His Highness, Prince Andrey,
Lady Cynthia has inquired multiple times about when you will pay her a visit. We must express the royal family's growing disappointment.
As the Thirteenth Prince of the Kingdom of Farwynd, it is your duty to fulfill basic obligations.
You are expected to arrive at Lady Cynthia's tower by the beginning of next month, no further delays will be tolerated…
Though politely worded, the letter's tone left no room for negotiation.
Andrey's expression darkened.
He knew what this message really meant, the royal family had grown impatient. They intended to send him to that infamously sadistic noble apprentice, Lady Cynthia, to be her next plaything.
"Damn it…" he muttered under his breath, then quickly collected himself.
He drafted a reply:
To Sir Lance,
Thank you for your letter. I must share some exciting news, I've recently achieved a major breakthrough in my knight training and reached the third stage.
According to royal tradition, I am now eligible to begin preparations for the Bloodline Awakening Ritual, a critical step toward becoming a true knight.
This ritual requires a month of focused retreat and preparation…
Such a justification would be difficult for even the strictest royal advisor to dispute.
"At least this buys me a month." He exhaled in relief and sealed the letter.
Now that he had taken this crucial step forward, he was more determined than ever to become a full knight.
Once he completed the final breakthrough, he could escape the fate of being handed off as someone's bed toy.
And all of it… was thanks to Robb's potion support.
Without those carefully prepared blood-tonic brews, he might have been stuck at that bottleneck for months, maybe longer.
"Robb… I never expected you would be the one to change my fate…" Andrey muttered, his eyes reflecting a swirl of complex emotions.
…
Meanwhile, with the morning still young, Robb headed for the eastern edge of the market to visit the slave trader.
Having paid for and packed his materials, he now turned down a different road.
This part of the market was a stark contrast to the lively merchant stalls, low, shadowy buildings surrounded him, the air thick with the mixed stench of sweat, blood, and strange incense.
A wooden sign hung over a crooked post: "Blake's Exotic Trade Post."
Several eerie green oil lamps hung over the door, casting their sickly light on two hulking half-orc guards squatting by the entrance.
Robb gave them a glance and headed straight for the main entrance.
The guards, who had been ready to stop any unfamiliar visitor, instantly straightened and became respectful when they saw the apprentice badge on his chest.
They lowered their scarred, ugly heads and stepped aside.
"Welcome, noble apprentice, to Blake's Exotic Exchange."
A short, portly man hurried out from within at the sound of footsteps. Each step made the key ring on his belt jingle.
"We just received several new batches of… inventory. They might be of interest to someone of your standing."