The Azure Dragon Sky Sect's alchemy halls were vast, rows of pill furnaces lining the stone chambers, dragon runes etched into the walls to stabilize qi. It was a place where countless disciples had honed their craft for generations.
But that day, all eyes were on one man.
Haotian stood at the center, sleeves rolled back, qi flowing calmly from his fingertips. Before him floated a mid-grade dragonfire furnace, its metal shimmering under his steady flame. A dozen elders and nearly a hundred disciples had crowded in, curious to see what their so-called "miracle Saint Son" would do.
"Primordial Harmony Refinement," he whispered, pressing his palms together.
The herbs entered the furnace in a perfect sequence, not one out of order. Instead of burning individually, their essences merged seamlessly into a unified current of qi. There was no smoke, no wasted energy, no struggle between elements—only harmony.
A disciple watching muttered, "Wait… he's refining all at once? Not step by step?"
Another slapped her forehead. "That's impossible. The essences will clash—!"
Her words were cut off as the furnace flared with a rainbow glow. Runes spiraled across its surface, each mark a perfect sigil drawn into being by Haotian's will.
Moments later, he raised his hand, and the furnace lid opened with a soft hum. The air filled with the fragrance of pure qi.
Pills floated out—streaming like pearls of light, each etched with natural runes of vitality. They hovered in rows before settling neatly into jade bottles that Haotian had prepared.
Someone gasped. "Three… hundred… and eighteen…?"
Haotian calmly capped the bottles. "Healing and Spirit Recovery Pills. A standard batch."
Silence hung in the hall for a beat. Then chaos.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN STANDARD?!" one disciple shrieked, clutching her head.Another threw herself onto the floor. "I spent three months to refine thirty pills—and lost half of them! He makes three hundred in one sitting!"A third simply leaned against the wall, muttering, "What have I been doing with my life…"
Even the elders were pale. One of them croaked, "Three hundred pills… in less than an hour. His technique… it isn't alchemy, it's creation itself…"
Haotian, unfazed by the wails and groans filling the room, simply set another batch of herbs into the furnace. His qi flared again, steady as flowing water.
He spoke quietly, almost to himself: "If I cannot provide the resources for this war, then all other efforts are meaningless. Pills are the lifeblood of armies. If I must drown the battlefield in medicine, then so be it."
The onlookers watched in horror as, once again, rainbow light flared, runes etched themselves onto every pill, and another three hundred plus floated neatly into bottles.
By the third round, disciples were openly crying."WHY WAS I BORN IN THIS ERA?! WHAT IS THE POINT OF ME ANYMORE?!""My hands are worthless! Just cut them off now!"
Haotian's lips curved faintly. Not mockery, but calm purpose. If this is what it takes to prepare the world, then this will be my burden.
The Azure Dragon Sky Sect's alchemy halls were vast, rows of pill furnaces lining the stone chambers, dragon runes etched into the walls to stabilize qi. It was a place where countless disciples had honed their craft for generations.
But that day, all eyes were on one man.
Haotian stood at the center, sleeves rolled back, qi flowing calmly from his fingertips. Before him floated a mid-grade dragonfire furnace, its metal shimmering under his steady flame. A dozen elders and nearly a hundred disciples had crowded in, curious to see what their Saint Son would do.
"Primordial Harmony Refinement Method," Haotian murmured, pressing his palms together.
The herbs entered the furnace in a perfect sequence, not one out of order. Instead of burning individually, their essences merged seamlessly into a single current of qi. There was no smoke, no wasted energy, no violent clash of elements—only harmony.
A disciple watching stammered, "He's… refining all of them at once? That's suicide!"
Another whispered hoarsely, "That's not possible. The essences should annihilate each other—"
Her words cut off as the furnace flared with rainbow light. Complex runes spiraled across its surface, each mark a perfect sigil drawn into being by Haotian's will.
Moments later, he raised his hand, and the furnace lid opened with a soft hum. The air filled with the fragrance of pure qi.
Pills floated out—pearls of light, each etched with natural runes of vitality. They lined themselves neatly in the air before settling into jade bottles Haotian had prepared.
Someone gasped, voice breaking. "Three… hundred… and eighteen…?"
Haotian calmly capped the bottles. "Healing and Spirit Recovery Pills. A standard batch."
The room went dead silent.
Then chaos erupted.
"STANDARD?!" one disciple wailed, pulling her hair.Another clutched her chest. "I slave for weeks to get thirty pills, half of them cracked—and he calls this standard?!"A third disciple slid to her knees, whispering hollowly, "Three hundred… I should just abandon alchemy forever."
Even the elders looked rattled. One finally spoke, his voice shaking. "Three hundred pills in under an hour… this… this isn't alchemy. This is transcendence."
Haotian ignored their outcries. His qi surged again as he set another batch of herbs into the furnace.
He spoke quietly, almost to himself. "If armies are to survive, pills must flow like water. If resources are scarce, then I will refine without waste. If war demands a mountain of medicine, then I will give the world rivers."
Once more, rainbow light burst from the furnace. Another 318 pills floated out with flawless purity.
By the third round, the hall was filled with despair."Why was I even born in this era?!" one disciple sobbed.Another buried her face in her hands. "The Saint Son's method… it makes us all look like children smashing rocks together…"
Haotian's expression did not change. He bottled the pills, his mind steady, his heart calm. This is my duty. My method is not for pride—it is for survival.
The Azure Dragon Sky Sect's alchemy halls were vast, rows of pill furnaces lining the stone chambers, dragon runes etched into the walls to stabilize qi. It was a place where countless disciples had honed their craft for generations.
But that day, all eyes were on one man.
Haotian stood at the center, sleeves rolled back, qi flowing calmly from his fingertips. Before him floated a mid-grade dragonfire furnace, its metal shimmering under his steady flame. A dozen elders and nearly a hundred disciples had crowded in, curious to see their Saint Son's skill.
"Primordial Harmony Refinement Method," Haotian murmured, activating the circulation of qi.
The words made several elders stiffen. One of them whispered in shock, "That… that's in the archives."
A disciple blinked. "The archives?"
The elder's hands trembled as he explained, "Yes… a legendary method. It was recorded in the oldest volumes of the sect. Said to refine every herb in harmony, without waste, producing hundreds of flawless pills in one attempt. But no one has used it in ten thousand years. It was thought to be theory… a myth!"
Gasps rippled through the room.
Haotian's qi flared, feeding into the furnace. The herbs within did not burn individually—no smoke, no crackle of conflict. Instead, their essences merged seamlessly into one flowing current, as though all elements obeyed a single law. Runes spiraled across the furnace in perfect order, responding to his will.
Moments later, the lid opened with a hum, and the air filled with fragrance so pure it made disciples dizzy.
Pills floated out—three hundred and eighteen—each glowing faintly, etched with natural runes.
Haotian capped the bottles with calm precision. "Healing and Spirit Recovery Pills. A standard batch."
Silence.
Then pandemonium.
"STANDARD?!" one disciple screamed.Another collapsed onto her knees. "I spent weeks for thirty pills, and half were trash—how… how…"A third disciple sobbed, "Ten thousand years! We've been wasting our lives repeating crude methods while this exists!"
Even the elders looked stricken. One whispered hoarsely, "The archive said… perhaps three hundred per batch. But he does it as though it were breathing…"
Haotian placed another batch into the furnace. His voice was steady, almost quiet:"Resources will run short when war comes. Pills are the blood that keeps an army alive. If others cannot bear this burden, then I will."
Rainbow light flared again. Another 318 flawless pills.
The disciples clutched their heads, wailing. "WHY WAS I BORN IN THIS ERA?!""I can never touch a furnace again—what's the point?!"
Haotian's expression remained calm. He bottled the pills, one by one.This method was buried in the archives. But in my hands, it will feed the world.
The Azure Dragon alchemy hall thrummed with quiet expectation. Furnaces lined the walls, lids polished and runes warm—but Haotian didn't touch a single one.
He stepped to the center of the chamber, sleeves tied back. Dozens of disciples and a ring of elders watched, confused.
One elder frowned. "Saint Son… your furnace?"
Haotian shook his head. "Not needed."
He raised his palm. Herb bundles floated up from jade trays and unraveled in the air, fibers separating into shimmering motes. With the lightest thread of qi, he extracted each essence, measuring by feel—one breath's weight from snow ginseng, half a breath from azure marrow grass, a grain and no more from dragon-tongue leaf—until the air glittered with suspended colors.
"The archive…" an older alchemist whispered, eyes widening. "Primordial Harmony Refinement Method—the cauldronless variant. I thought it was a legend."
Haotian brought his hands together.
The motes drew inward, merging into a single sphere of essence the size of a basin, layers rotating in opposite directions like twin currents. Impurities surfaced as dark dust; a flick of his fingertip burned them off in silent sparks. The sphere brightened—clear, dense, alive.
A low gasp rippled through the hall.
Then, with a twist of his wrist, the sphere split cleanly—first into four, then sixteen, then a snowfall of evenly sized orbs rotating in formation.
"Condense," Haotian said, voice barely above a breath.
At that exact instant he engaged runes—sigils sketched into the air with lines of qi: restoration, marrow-binding, spirit-clarity. Each rune settled onto a waiting orb at the condensing phase, fusing properties into form instead of engraving them after.
Light folded. Essence tightened.
One after another, pills clicked softly into being—pearl-smooth, faintly luminous, each stamped with a natural rune and a second, finer sheen from the overlay.
The last glow faded. A quiet drift of pills hung in the air like a constellation.
A disciple counted aloud, voice cracking. "…three hundred… and… eighteen."
Haotian guided them into jade bottles without triumph, only focus. "Healing and Spirit Recovery Pills," he said. "Runes engaged at condense for added potency. One batch."
Silence.
Then the hall exploded.
"ONE BATCH?!" a girl shrieked, gripping her hair."I use a furnace and get thirty—half cracked!" another wailed, sliding down a pillar.A third stared at her hands. "Ten years… I've been boiling soup."
An elder swallowed hard. "The archive warned: essence must be balanced in the air, not a cauldron. One mis-measure and it collapses." He looked at Haotian like a man seeing a myth walk. "You make it look… easy."
Haotian lifted another set of herbs. They unraveled, glimmered, merged.
"Armies bleed," he said quietly. "Pills are their blood back. If we're short on furnaces, I'll use the sky."
Essence gathered—one great sphere, then a hundred small suns. Runes flashed. Another 318 perfect pills settled into waiting bottles.
By the third round, disciples were on the floor.
"Why did I even learn alchemy—just stab me now!""I'm going to raise spirit chickens. I can't do this anymore."
Haotian capped the last bottle, calm as still water. "Copy the measurements from today," he told the scribes. "Record timings, ratios, and rune sequence. Start with small counts—eight pills, then sixteen. No one touches triple digits until your essence control is exact."
The elders bowed their heads despite themselves.
"This disciple… accepts instruction," one said, voice humbled.
Haotian only nodded. "Good. We'll need every hand."
The alchemy hall was silent. Rows of furnaces stood unused, their lids cold. Yet Haotian stepped into the center without touching a single one.
He lifted his right hand, fingers curled like claws. Instantly, the trays of herbs before him unraveled into drifting motes of light. Roots, stalks, petals, and marrow-essence dissolved into pure qi threads, streaming upward as though obeying his command.
Gasps echoed.
The motes converged, compressing until a single massive sphere of essence hovered above his palm—swirling with countless colors, alive with elemental resonance.
At the same time, his left hand blurred with seals—each strike sharp, precise. A lattice of light unfolded in the air around him: a qi-gathering formation, a stabilizing web, and auxiliary refining arrays layered atop each other, holding the volatile mass steady.
The sphere pulsed, stabilized, and began to shine brighter. Impurities rose like smoke. With a flick of his wrist, they disintegrated into nothing.
"...He's holding all of it at once," a disciple whispered, trembling.Another elder's voice cracked: "That's the Primordial Harmony Refinement Method. Recorded in the ancient archives, but none since the dragon ancestors ever mastered it…"
Haotian exhaled slowly. His right hand pressed down.
The great sphere shivered—then split cleanly into dozens, then hundreds of perfect smaller spheres, each rotating in formation within the stabilizing runes his left hand had anchored.
His voice was calm, steady: "Condense."
The stabilizing formation flared. At the final instant, Haotian's left hand wove additional seals—runes of recovery, marrow-binding, and spirit-clarity—which imprinted directly onto the condensing orbs.
With soft chimes, pills blossomed into being. Smooth, luminous, their surfaces etched with natural runes and layered with his deliberate seals, they floated in constellation-like clusters.
When the last glow faded, the pills descended neatly into jade bottles.
A scribe counted in disbelief. "Three… hundred… and eighteen…"
Haotian lowered his hands. "Healing and Spirit Recovery Pills. Balanced runes integrated during condensation. One batch."
The room exploded.
"ONE BATCH?!" disciples screamed."I've wasted my entire life slaving at a furnace—!" one collapsed against the wall.Another buried her face in her robes. "This isn't alchemy. This is divine punishment."
An elder covered her mouth, pale. "To extract all essences at once… to stabilize with formations… to split them without loss… I thought the archive was exaggeration."
Haotian ignored their despair. His right hand rose again, herbs streaming upward into another vast sphere. His left hand blurred with seals, anchoring new arrays in the air.
"This is what armies will need," he said softly, as motes swirled. "If we are to fight demons, pills must flow like rivers. If furnaces fail, then my hands will serve as the world's cauldron."
The second batch coalesced into another 318 flawless pills, each gleaming as they settled into bottles.
By the third round, half the hall was groaning on the floor.
"I can't compete. Just kill me now.""Why did I even study this art?!"
Haotian only bottled the pills with calm focus. This is my burden. My method is not for pride—it is for survival.
The alchemy hall was alive with quiet focus as Haotian stepped into its center. Rows of cauldrons sat dark and unused, but Haotian made no effort to light them.
Instead, he raised his right hand, fingers curling like talons. Instantly, all the herbs on the jade trays broke free and floated upward—petals, roots, stalks dissolving into slender threads of essence. Each gleamed with its elemental nature: the fiery herbs glowed crimson, water roots shone azure, earthy mosses emitted ochre strands, windleaf whirled out pale silver-green, metallic stalks shimmered gold, and neutral plants shed threads of soft, steady white.
The air above his palm became a living tapestry of color, each line weaving around the others—not clashing, but merging.
Gasps rippled through the hall.
A junior disciple whispered, "He's… he's not using a cauldron. Where's this coming from?"
Another, voice trembling: "He's absorbing essences directly… it's… unheard of."
Haotian's left hand blurred with seals, sweeping through the air. A sequence of formations appeared—first a qi-gathering web to hold the swirling strands, then stabilizing patterns, and finally refining seals that controlled the flow without conflict.
Silence pressed in.
Slowly, the rainbow threads consolidated—falling into a single, massive sphere of essence hovering above his right palm.
The sphere pulsed with layered light. For a moment, it wobbled, but Haotian's stabilizing seals flared, anchoring it. Dark specks of impurity rose to the surface and dissipated with a flick of his fingers.
Then he pressed down. The sphere quivered—but did not collapse. Instead, it split apart cleanly. From one came many, then hundreds of smaller spheres, each shining and balanced, drifting in formation within the stabilizing web.
Haotian spoke softly, "Condense."
At that precise moment, his left hand weaved additional seals—runes for healing, marrow restoration, and spirit-clarity—etched directly into the forming spheres.
Light compressed. With soft clicks, they became flawless pills, each pearl-smooth and etched with delicate runes. They floated in clusters before settling into awaiting jade bottles.
A disciple counted, trembling: "Three hundred… and eighteen…"
Haotian capped the bottles with calm precision. "Healing and Spirit Recovery Pills, condensed in one batch."
Chaos erupted.
"One batch?!" someone screamed."I can't even do thirty at once, much less three hundred!" another wailed.A third collapsed to her knees. "I've wasted my life…"
Even the elders stared, mouths agape.
One finally spoke, voice shaking: "I've never seen… condensed without a cauldron… and at this speed…"
Haotian ignored the despair. His right hand moved again, gathering new threads. His left hand cast the stabilizing formation once more.
"This is not for spectacle," he said quietly. "When war comes, pills are as vital as steel. If furnaces fail, let these hands be the forge."
Once more, rainbow essence coalesced, split, and yielded another 318 perfect pills.
By round three, many were weeping on the floor.
"I quit alchemy.""I'll go feed spirit beasts instead."
Haotian caped the last bottle, expression serene. This is no tradition. This is creation. And this is my burden.