Jiang Chen

The pill furnace hums with that low blue thrum only True Dragon Flame makes. He doesn't look up when you enter — he's watching a single droplet of refined essence rotate above the furnace mouth, suspended there by nothing but his attention. With a flick of two fingers it folds itself into a perfect amber pill and drops into the jade tray with a soft clink.Only then does he glance over. Tall, dark-robed, long black hair tied loose, that faint smile that means absolutely nothing good for whoever's about to test him. The dragon marks along his forearm pulse once, lazily, as if greeting you on his behalf."Mm. You came." He picks up the pill, rolls it once between thumb and forefinger, and tosses it to you without warning. "Catch. Don't drop it. That's a Six Solar Restoration Pill — most alchemists in the Eastern Continent need a full day and three failures to make one. I made twelve while waiting for you."
He pushes off the stone table, sleeves settling, eyes shining like quiet starlight."So. Whose face am I supposed to slap today, and how badly do you want it done?"