John slowly turned over the smooth wooden badge in his hand, the number etched into its surface catching the glint of spiritual light overhead.
"Number 159," he read quietly.
His gaze swept across the enormous hall, scanning rows upon rows of cauldrons, alchemy kits, and nervously shifting cultivators, each standing near their designated refining stations.
Some were already checking the ingredients.
Others were fidgeting with nervous anticipation, whispering among themselves or meditating silently in place.
John's eyes narrowed as he searched for his number among the countless rows.
Then he saw it.
His steps paused as a faint sigh escaped his lips.
Station 159 was right next to Riara GreenBlade.
Of all the placements…
It wasn't that he feared her, far from it, but dealing with her relentless boasting during the examination was bound to be a distraction.
Still, he had long since learned to keep a calm face under any circumstance.
He stepped forward, quietly weaving through the other contestants until he reached his station.
Riara was already there, her elegant fingers arranging her herbs in a meticulous sequence, root types grouped to the left, leafy greens to the right, and medicinal fruits stacked by size.
She noticed him immediately.
Her eyes lit up with a flicker of amusement, and she turned toward him with a smug grin.
"Well, well," she said, tapping a jade pestle against the stone table lightly. "We meet again. Seems fate enjoys our company."
John nodded politely, saying nothing as he surveyed his own station.
It was identical to the others, a mid-grade spirit cauldron with embedded runes, a wide table filled with high-quality herbs, and a sealed container holding the tools for refining, jade mortar, spirit thermometer, and herb blade.
Riara leaned a bit closer, lowering her voice to just above a whisper.
"But now that we're neighbors," she said, "don't get any funny ideas."
John looked at her with a neutral expression. "Funny ideas?"
"You know," she said with a mock-serious tone, flicking her wrist theatrically, "trying to copy me, or peeking at my technique when you start to fail."
She laughed lightly, as if she had just cracked a clever joke.
"But don't worry," she added, raising her nose slightly, "if you get stuck, I might help you. Just… don't beg. It's awkward."
John tilted his head. "I'll try to preserve my dignity then."
That answer made her blink, for a moment she wasn't sure if he was teasing her or being completely genuine.
She narrowed her eyes but said nothing more, turning back to her table and beginning to sort her spirit grasses with swift, efficient hands.
John exhaled quietly and looked down at the ingredients in front of him.
There were herbs he recognized from his studies, Azure Flame Grass, Mountain Root Ginseng, Dragonblood Vine, all essential for crafting Grade Three pills.
The complexity of the combinations was clearly meant to separate true alchemists from the fakes.
So this is the first round, he thought, adjusting his stance and placing his hands behind his back as he assessed the material flow.
He could already feel the subtle pressure of Spirit Qi swirling in the air.
It wasn't hostile, but it was dense, meant to challenge their focus.
The Blue Cauldron Sect had truly pulled out all the stops.
He inhaled slowly and allowed his Level Five Meditation Skill to stabilize his thoughts, tuning out the murmurs, the distant clangs of cauldrons being tested, and Riara's self-important humming.
A new smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
After a few long hours, every single station in the massive alchemy hall was filled.
From every direction, the subtle crackle of spiritual energy in the air grew denser, as hundreds upon hundreds of cultivators took their places, adjusting their cauldrons, sorting herbs, or simply sitting cross-legged in deep meditation.
The murmurs slowly quieted when a ripple of spiritual pressure spread through the hall.
All eyes turned toward the raised platform at the far end of the chamber.
From a hidden doorway behind the platform, a group of dignified figures stepped forward in unison.
Their matching blue robes shimmered like flowing water, embroidered with a golden cauldron insignia on their chests, the unmistakable mark of the Blue Cauldron Sect.
At their center stood a white-haired elder, his posture erect and his eyes glinting like moonlight on steel.
Though aged, there was nothing frail about him.
His mere presence exuded power and calm authority, a silent pressure that made even the most confident cultivators straighten their backs.
Flanking him on both sides were several younger disciples, each also wearing the sect's robe, their gazes sharp, their expressions cold and reserved.
Clearly, these were inner disciples or perhaps core disciples, sent to observe and assist during the examination.
As silence fell over the crowd, the elder finally stepped forward and raised his hand.
His voice, though not loud, carried effortlessly through the hall.
"Thank you all for presenting yourselves for the entrance examination of our humble Blue Cauldron Sect."
There was a stillness in the air, the kind that settled when a blade was drawn but not yet swung.
"As you are all aware," the elder continued, his voice calm yet firm, "only five hundred among the ten thousand who applied will be granted the opportunity to enter our sect as outer disciples this year."
A ripple of shock spread through the crowd.
Previously, rumors had circulated that only fifty disciples would be accepted this year, causing many to question whether the sect had become more selective or if the examination was purely symbolic.
Several nearby cultivators gasped and muttered among themselves.
"Did he just say five hundred?" someone whispered.
John arched a brow at the announcement, glancing briefly at the enormous hall around him.
The scale of it all had always felt too grand for just fifty spots.
Still, it wasn't until now that the truth revealed itself.
Beside him, Riara scoffed loudly, flipping her long braid back behind her shoulder with flair.
"Haaa… These fools actually believed those back-alley rumors," she said with a haughty chuckle, not bothering to lower her voice.
"Did no one bother to use their brain? Why would the Blue Cauldron Sect construct an entire examination complex for fifty mere spots?"
John didn't respond, but inwardly, he agreed.
Now that he thought about it, the ten-day schedule, the thousand participants per day, and the resources invested all pointed to something much larger.
The elder's voice returned, silencing the rising murmurs once more.
"Let me be clear," he said, eyes sweeping across the crowd like a wind brushing tall grass.
"Today, only one hundred of you will be chosen to advance past the alchemy assessment. This will be repeated daily for the next ten days."
Gasps erupted again.
"Then, on the eleventh day, one thousand examinees shall remain. On that day, you will all undergo a second examination, a combat-based trial, and only five hundred shall remain standing."
The words dropped like thunderclaps in a dry valley.
John frowned slightly as realization struck. So it's true, this year, alchemists are expected to be more than just pill makers.
They must also be cultivators who can stand on their own in battle.
It made sense.
During the last few days, he had overheard many hushed conversations about how the Blue Cauldron Sect had suffered a beast tide the previous year, during which many disciples died because they lacked real combat training.
Alchemy alone wasn't enough to survive in a world that respected strength.
John folded his arms, his mind now steady as a stone.
Good thing I prepared both paths.
Riara, however, looked only more smug.
"Well, looks like half of these weaklings will go home crying," she said under her breath, flashing a glance at John. "Of course, people like us? We'll be just fine."
John gave her a small nod but said nothing. His attention was already shifting toward the front, where disciples were now moving down the rows, placing scrolls and instructions at each participant's station.
The true test was about to begin.
Soon the blue-robed disciples distributed scrolls to each participant.
The soft rustle of parchment spread across the enormous hall like a wave as hundreds of hands reached out to receive the sealed scrolls.
Each scroll was bound with a golden ribbon and bore the crest of the Blue Cauldron Sect, a mark that stirred awe in every aspiring alchemist present.
John glanced at the scroll in his hands, fingers tightening slightly around the ribbon.
He could feel the curious gazes of nearby participants as they held their breath in anticipation.
Up ahead, the old man in blue robes raised a hand, signaling for silence.
The crowd quieted swiftly, every eye fixed on him.
His voice rang out calm and authoritative.
"This scroll contains the manual for a Grade Four pill—the Rapid Blood Pill."
Gasps echoed through the hall.
Even among the more experienced cultivators, Grade Four pills were a significant leap in difficulty.
For many, it was an insurmountable wall.
"A Grade Four?!" someone exclaimed from the back.
"That's not just hard, that's brutal," whispered another.
Even John raised a brow in surprise.
Grade Four pills required an extraordinary level of flame control, precise timing, and a deep understanding of herb energetics.
The elder continued, undeterred by the rising murmurs, "This will be the only alchemy test. If you can successfully refine even a single Rapid Blood Pill, you will qualify for the combat portion of the examination."
"But be warned," he paused, letting his next words land with weight, "Only the first one hundred successful refiners will be chosen. If more than a hundred of you manage it, your timing will decide your fate."
Another wave of shock passed through the crowd.
"A race?" someone near John muttered.
"So, even if I succeed, it might not be enough?"
"Ridiculous! This isn't just a test—it's a slaughterhouse!" a participant blurted from a few rows away.
John remained calm, eyes drifting to the scroll again.
Next to him, Riara Greenblade clicked her tongue and smirked confidently.
"A Grade Four pill, huh? That's tougher than expected, but not impossible for me." She glanced at John with a look of superiority.
"I can probably make one... if I refine a hundred batches," she added with a proud flick of her long braid.
Her tone made it sound like a joke, but she was half-serious, and the crowd around her responded with awe.
"A hundred batches?!"
"She's insane. Who even has that kind of patience?"
Riara smiled as if she enjoyed the attention. "What do you think?" she asked John, eyes twinkling.
"You think you can pull it off too, mystery alchemist?"
John met her gaze and gave a quiet smile. "I'll give it a try."
"Hmph. Just don't explode your cauldron next to mine," she teased with a half-laugh.
As the scrolls were opened and the instructions read, the atmosphere thickened with nervous excitement.
The real test had begun, and only a hundred would move forward.