The scent of dried herbs still clung faintly to Liam's clothes as he stepped out of the apothecary.
The wooden door closed behind him with a muted creak, muffling the cheerful voice of the shop attendant who had just bowed him out with more respect than he'd shown when Liam entered.
Inside, the man had been surprised — almost shocked — by Liam's casual wealth. A single customer walking in and asking for "a bit of everything" was unheard of.
Even rich young masters from cultivation families came with attendants, argued prices, and sniffed at quality before buying a handful of pills or rare roots.
Liam, however, had swept through the aisles with calmness, lifting jars of pills and bundles of herbs without hesitation, stacking them like someone picking groceries rather than treasures.
The sales attendant had nearly lost his composure when the total tallied to six hundred and forty-three gold coins.
