Forty-One: Hundred Peaks Discuss Alchemy

Qin Chuan moved quickly, taking advantage of the sparse crowds at Yuanfeng Market to hurriedly gather the herbs he needed. Yet one item proved particularly troublesome—a rather obscure mineral, rarely used in alchemical recipes. He searched two streets before finally finding a piece of Geng Earthstone.

The Geng Earthstone wasn’t a rare mineral, but its uses were so limited that most shops couldn’t sell even two pieces a year, naturally removing it from their shelves. Aside from the effort spent on this item, everything else went smoothly.

Those with some foundation in alchemy could earn spirit stones swiftly, but the investment was equally substantial. If not for the help continually provided by that peculiar creature here, and the ancient texts in the Hall of Divination, Qin Chuan would never have achieved such rapid progress.

The array of herbs he gathered consumed nearly all his spirit stones and Qi-Gathering pills; he had to buy more herbs just to replenish his supply of pills. Fortunately, the earthfire in Area A was quite stable, allowing him to refine three batches in a single day. With time, he could recoup the losses spent on researching new recipes.

Thus, after another three or five days, he finally had enough herbs and began to attempt the refinement.

One batch failed, then another exploded...

Gradually, even Qin Chuan didn’t realize how obsessed he’d become—his mind filled with recipes, pills, herbs, spiritual energy, and dust essence!

He even considered tasting the Geng Earthstone. Luckily, at a critical moment, the creature snapped him back to sanity with a bite.

The Geng Earthstone was no ordinary thing; for cultivators, it was poison. In fact, poison pills might be less dangerous than this mineral. Swallowing a poison pill might be reversible, but ingesting Geng Earthstone could destroy cultivation at best, or rupture the dantian and kill at worst!

Qin Chuan knew this well. He’d tasted every herb and mineral he bought, save for the Geng Earthstone. Yet, unable to produce a successful pill, the idea crept up on him unintentionally.

“If you want to die right now, just grind it into powder and swallow it whole!” the creature mocked, watching him with amusement.

Qin Chuan had tried nearly every method he knew to refine a pill, with the only result being a chaotic stone chamber, his body covered in wounds and scabs, his robe charred and tattered, and a floor strewn with herbal dregs and waste stone.

Even the usual blue-black cauldron couldn’t withstand the force of the explosions, fissuring in several places.

Now, only one cauldron remained in the stone chamber—the other shattered days ago in the most violent explosion, leaving its marks on Qin Chuan’s body, though fortunately, the wounds were superficial.

Even this cauldron might not last much longer.

If Qin Chuan stayed still, one would hardly take him for a living person; his face covered in soot and yellow stains, even the back of his neck not spared. Lifting his collar revealed a stark line between clean and dirty.

One fingernail had already fallen off, bloodied and trailing a piece of flesh, discarded carelessly in a corner. Thankfully, his body refinement had reached a minor stage, so with enough spirit stones and pills, even such injuries would heal.

He pushed aside his weed-like hair, revealing bloodshot eyes, and stared at the creature. In a daze, he realized the creature seemed fatter than before!

“Huff, huff...” For a moment, Qin Chuan resembled a bull in rut, breathing heavily.

After all this effort, he still felt something was missing from the recipe. Repeated attempts yielded nothing. Now, seeing the frost-white thickening on the creature’s body, he realized the answer.

Qin Chuan remembered when he healed Wang Hao—the purple-black mark shaped like a demon’s eye on his left arm vanished with a single application of Jade Rust Balm.

Later, he realized that the gray smoke threads were actually dust essence, and Jade Rust Balm worked wonders against it.

Looking back, the solution had been there all along, yet he hadn’t noticed. He couldn’t help but laugh bitterly, as if fate were toying with him. Had the creature not reminded him today, what would his destiny have been?

The Jade Rust Balm layered on the creature seemed uncomfortable, so Qin Chuan used Jade Boar Hands, splitting into countless soft tendrils to gently scrape it off. The creature squinted in apparent enjoyment.

In a short while, the frost-white was completely removed, lying in a porcelain bowl in Qin Chuan’s palm.

He knew little of the balm’s pharmacology; perhaps the creature would enlighten him. Qin Chuan felt exhilarated, all the frustration weighing on his heart swept away.

The creature was familiar with Jade Rust Balm, but never imagined it could be used in pill refinement. Qin Chuan knew many uses for it, but nothing related to alchemy, and was a bit disappointed.

Still, it mattered little; only time was required. After repeated failures, he had systematically eliminated every recipe he’d conceived, expending untold time and energy.

To refine pills, one must taste them. The Miscellany of Herbal Evolution had mentioned this; though Qin Chuan couldn’t discern all properties from a single taste, repeated trials gave him some insight.

...

To his surprise, the blockages in his meridians caused by random herb consumption over the past month began to clear after taking Jade Rust Balm. He quickly channeled spiritual energy to further unblock the loosened meridians.

With repeated attempts, he gradually understood its properties. Unbeknownst to him, he had only glimpsed the tip of the iceberg; but that was a story for another day.

The most urgent task now was to incorporate it into a pill.

Even a skilled cook cannot make a meal without rice; earlier failures owed much to incomplete herb varieties. Now, with Jade Rust Balm added, results finally appeared.

After two more explosions, he succeeded.

Unfortunately, the pill’s capacity for spiritual energy was too small, its power barely equivalent to a festive firecracker.

Even so, Qin Chuan was elated.

Days passed, and as half a month approached, constant recipe adjustments brought progress. Qin Chuan tried over thirty times and obtained two formulas.

One yielded three or four pills per batch, but each could only hold about a tenth of his spiritual energy, the effect mediocre. However, it was easy to refine; ten pills could be made in a day!

The other was much harder—each batch took three or four hours and produced only one pill.

Yet this pill could contain all his spiritual energy, even exceeding it. Roughly estimated, the pill, no larger than a thumbnail, could hold one and a half times his energy!

If he took its force head-on, he’d be lucky to survive with his skin intact. Pleased, he hurried to refine several more.

In the end, he abandoned the first recipe, spending the last few days in Area A’s stone chamber refining the second.

When the time came, Qin Chuan finished the final batch. He looked at the black-and-white patterned, jade-like pills in his palm, joy blooming in his heart and on his face.

“Why not call them Yin-Yang Thunder Beads!”

He laughed heartily and strode away.

Arriving at the plaza, just as he was about to submit his stone tablet and retrieve his considerable deposit, he noticed something different.

Qin Chuan was quite familiar with the place—there was still an hour until sunset, and normally, there shouldn’t be so many people.

The once empty plaza was now packed. Four white banners with black script fluttered in the valley breeze; he focused and read the words above—Hundred Peaks Alchemy Tournament.

Curiosity stirred, but he first had to hand in his tablet. Pushing through the crowd, he approached the steward, presented the tablet, and handed it over.

The steward took the tablet, probed it with spiritual sense, matched it, and drew a symbol on a white jade slip in his hand. “Here’s your deposit, take it back.” He produced spirit stones and handed them to Qin Chuan.

Qin Chuan, unsure why the place was suddenly so crowded, took the spirit stones and, seeing an opportunity, asked, “Steward, why are there so many people here all of a sudden?”

He deliberately fumbled, leaving a few spirit stones in the steward’s hand.

The steward, a middle-aged Daoist, had seen all manner of things in his years. He discreetly swept the stones into the pouch at his waist, his speed impressive.

“Ahem, you’ve come to the right person for this!” The Daoist spent every day here and knew the place inside out.

“This morning, the sect suddenly issued a notice. The details are displayed on the light screen.” He pointed to the screen built from eye-ear crystal stones.

Qin Chuan, caught off guard, realized he hadn’t noticed the change in the screen’s content amidst the jostling disciples and Daoists.

The steward, straightforward after accepting Qin Chuan’s spirit stones, shared more information. “The screen says that any disciple aged twenty-four or younger can register today in Yellow Springs Valley to participate in the Hundred Peaks Alchemy Tournament!”

“Oh?” Instantly, Qin Chuan thought of dozens of questions.

The Daoist observed Qin Chuan’s frown, sensing the youth’s sharp mind. With a growing fondness—and a few extra spirit stones in his pouch—a smile crept onto his face.

Such disciples were rare; he decided to offer more advice.

“The sect certainly has deeper motives for this event—it won’t be so simple. In all my years, I’ve never seen an alchemy tournament held like this.

“In a single day, only four registration points in Yellow Springs Valley, and only disciples aged twenty-four or younger can enter. The tournament itself is scheduled for just half a month from now!”