The Lotus Hall breathed with a steady rhythm of flickering flames, bubbling cauldrons, and the faint scrape of pestles on stone.
Only Elder Yan's heartbeat refused the calm, pounding in frantic irregularity.
Unaware of the storm he had stirred, Arthur moved on to Controlled Heating and Refining. His temperature cycles rose and fell like the tide, coaxing the essence from each ingredient without a trace of wastage. Condensation began, and the pill core formed with steady, even layers.
A faint medicinal fragrance unfurled in the air.
Around the hall, disciples' cauldrons began producing finished pills, which were solidifying and gleaming faintly with spiritual luster.
Arthur was still in the stage of Essence Condensation and Pill Core Formation.
Only one incense stick remained.
He glanced at the thin ash column, crumbling grain by grain toward the base. A prickle of tension ran through him. His shoulders stiffened.
In that moment of anxious focus, he failed to notice the shock that carved into Elder Yan.
The pill within his cauldron began to solidify.
Then —
The final pinch of incense ash dropped.
Arthur's heart sank. He was too slow.
But then he exhaled with relief, the weight in his chest was lifted.
Why am I so worked up?
Yes, the time had passed — but he realized he was enjoying the process far more than expected. The strange rhythm of Qi infusion, the dance of heat control… this was his first creation in this strange new world.
So he continued, steadying the flame, stabilizing the temperature until the pill's energy settled.
When he finally lifted the lid, a single pill sat within — deep red, with a faint flaming sheen flickering across its surface.
A smile crept onto his face. Not the triumphant grin of victory, just the quiet satisfaction of a beginner who had done something… uniquely his own.
He exhaled, feeling the drain in his meridians. The method consumed far more effort than expected.
If this is the simplest pill, he thought, then what of Xu Lianhua's recipes? How many lifetimes would it take to master them?
He looked up and froze.
Every eye in the room was on him. He thought he had made a mistake.
The test was not yet complete; the next step would be Elder Yan's verification. If the pill proved worthy, it would be sealed in a storage jade. But did he even qualify to be tested?
Arthur's gaze searched for Elder Yan and found him far closer than expected. Elder Yan stood beside his table, hands trembling faintly, a sheen of sweat on his brow.
"What… did you just do?" Elder Yan's voice was low, almost trembling.
Arthur blinked at him, baffled.
"Apologies, Elder Yan, for being late. I will work harder."
"What… did you just do?"
Arthur blinked, confused. He wanted no trouble and moved instinctively. He bowed deeply this time.
"Apologies, Elder Yan, for being late. I will work harder."
But Elder Yan did not move.
Arthur straightened, bracing for the rebuke, but the elder's eyes were fixed on the pill within the cauldron, and an unreadable storm was swirling in him.
Slowly, with hands as steady as a swordmaster's final draw, Elder Yan reached forward. His spiritual sense unfurled, wrapping around the pill like a silken cocoon.
But his fingers trembled.
First came the test of potency — measuring the strength of spiritual energy within the pill's core. His Qi brushed against it… and recoiled, as if it had touched a blazing sun.
Next was the test of efficacy — whether the medicinal essence was fully bound to the Qi channels of the pill or scattered and incomplete, determining how faithfully it would produce its intended effect. Elder Yan's senses traced the flow. Seamless. Not a single leak.
By now, sweat was dripping from his brow. Arthur, watching him, began to suspect he had done something extraordinary.
Finally came the test of purity — the hardest to achieve, the true crown of alchemy.
Within the Nine Provinces of Tianyu, purity was judged in tenths:
Three-tenths — a passable pill.
Five-tenths — a work of skill.
Seven-tenths — a master's handiwork.
Eight-tenths — the pride of a sect's alchemy product. Recognized as a perfect pill.
But Nine-tenths…it was the whispers of legends, capable of raising the stakes of any sect that produces such pills.
Elder Yan's eyes narrowed as his Qi thread slid through the pill's structure. His own best efforts on this recipe had never exceeded eight-tenths, considered as the pinnacle among alchemists of Tianyu.
Then his senses froze. His breath caught.
"Nine-tenths… pure."
He staggered back a step. The hall rippled with gasps.
And then, hoarse, he spoke — half to himself, half to the heavens:
"Nineteen-twentieths potency… nine-tenths efficacy… nine-tenths purity… A triple crown… achieved by an Ember Ignition novice… Impossible…"
His composure cracked.
"How? How did you refine this pill? What… did you do? How did you infuse your Qi?" The questions tumbled out in a broken chain; his voice was shaking.
The room had gone deathly silent. Not a single disciple dared to breathe too loudly; they had never seen Elder Yan lose his composure.
At last, he straightened, forcing himself back into the shape of authority. He stepped close, voice dropping to a whisper meant for Arthur alone.
"The rewards will be given to you… Congratulations."
The temperature in the Lotus Hall seemed to drop by several degrees. Elder Yan did not so much as glance at another cauldron. No comments. No corrections.
With utmost care, he stored Arthur's pill in a jade box engraved with preservation runes, handling it like a celestial treasure.
"Class dismissed."
The disciples filed out in a hushed tide, their whispers slithered like wind through a bamboo forest.
And at the center of every murmured speculation… was Arthur, now Qing Tian.
As the last pair of students left the doorway, Elder Yan's voice rang out — quiet, but sharp enough to cut through the air.
"Boy… you come with me."