I want it all.
The master seemed entirely unaware, accepting the invitation to come to Biluofeng.
He neither provided an answer nor truly withheld one; in effect, his silence was as telling as words. Everything now depended on how Qin Chuan would choose.
Ascending the high platform, Qin Chuan saw that Fang Mu had been waiting for some time. Eyes closed in repose, he only opened them when his opponent approached, his gaze now steady and devoid of the hesitation and uncertainty of the previous day.
He uncurled his crossed legs, rose to his feet, and bowed deeply. “There was no opportunity in recent days, nor yesterday, so today I bow to thank Brother Qin for saving my life.”
Qin Chuan accepted the gesture with equanimity, neither dodging nor refusing; he had indeed earned this gratitude.
Just then, Hua Song, waiting outside the square, sensed the time was right. He floated up onto the high platform, infusing his voice with spiritual energy so it rang out far and wide.
“This Pill Gathering…”
He offered little of substance, merely emphasizing that the event was primarily for exchange and learning…
His words meandered on for the time it takes a stick of incense to burn, until sweat beaded on his brow and his mind began to drift. At last, he announced the competition would begin.
Today’s pill-forging contest was much the same as the second round had been yesterday. Using herbs supplied by the organizers, the contestants would be judged by the quality of the pills produced.
The pill furnaces and firestones were all prepared in advance; after five hours, whoever produced the highest-grade, most effective pills would emerge victorious.
However, as Qin Chuan swept his gaze across the array of herbs, his expression changed suddenly.
Though there were a fair number of varieties, none could quite be combined into a complete formula for any single pill!
It was as if this had been deliberately designed; every common pill recipe was missing one or two crucial spiritual herbs.
As his eyes passed over each herb in turn, his expression sharpened at the last.
With only these herbs, he realized he could produce just two things—a Fasting Pill, or that strange variant he had once concocted!
What Qin Chuan did not know was that the strange pill he created was called the Tempering Pill, its formula long lost to time.
With this missing piece of information suddenly in place, he was struck by understanding. All the oddities of this peculiar Pill Gathering now made sense.
He glanced at Fang Mu, who had already selected his herbs and begun preparing his furnace—further confirming Qin Chuan’s suspicions.
His mind racing, Qin Chuan suddenly asked a question: “How is Wantong?”
---
“Senior alchemists from Law Talisman Mountain and Pill One Pavilion have tried to heal her eyesight, but I suppose their help comes with conditions.”
In that instant, Qin Chuan understood why Fang Mu was participating in this Pill Gathering. It was not, as he had thought, because Fang Mu had truly been in Yellow Springs Valley that day, but because Pill One Pavilion had leverage over him, compelling his obedience.
Even if it had not been Fang Mu who tried to warn him during the second round, there must have been another “Fang Mu,” or perhaps Wang Hao, alerting him to hidden mysteries among the herbs.
Now, having reached the third and final round, the rules could be used to force him to concoct that strange, body-tempering pill!
Unless, of course, he was willing to forfeit the championship.
But the prize for first place was far too tempting—a Yellow Springs Fruit!
If he lost, he would suffer no real loss, and the secret of the Tempering Pill would remain safe. Its effects were extraordinary, and even recalling them now, he felt a deep sense of awe.
The decline of body-tempering arts was due in large part to the loss of the Tempering Pill’s recipe; without it, forging the body was a grueling, endless ordeal.
One could imagine the true value of the Tempering Pill. For an individual, it was a crowning glory; for a sect, it would be like wings to a tiger.
If he won, he would claim the Yellow Springs Fruit, and there was every likelihood the promise would be kept: Pill One Pavilion would help Wantong regain her sight.
Qin Chuan did not consider himself a saint; he could kill, and he could save. If Wantong’s injuries had nothing to do with him, he would feel no obligation.
But in the Domain Realm, she had shielded him from a fatal lightning strike. Without her, he would have paid a dire price.
Shaking off his reverie, Qin Chuan returned to himself.
He would not hand over the Tempering Pill; he would claim the Yellow Springs Fruit; and he would see Wantong’s eyes healed!
He wanted it all.
Turning his gaze to the viewing terrace, he saw the master nod gently, as if understanding his resolve.
“This child never disappoints,” murmured Xiefu Chengquan, her voice melodious and bright.
The pavilion master beside her narrowed his eyes. Hearing her words, he felt a pang of unease, but recalling his preparations, he slowly calmed.
The formula Fang Mu was using was his own invention from years past, shared with no one. Qin Chuan, if he wished to win, would have to produce a Tempering Pill. With so many skilled alchemists and elders present, deducing the formula would not be difficult.
He had even promised a Yellow Springs Fruit as bait; surely, under such temptation and coercion, a youth not yet twenty could never escape the palm of his hand.
---
The senior councilor grew increasingly self-satisfied, even letting out a cold laugh.
The order of heaven is changing, and our Green Mountain Sect must adapt. Fuluan clings to their traditions, stagnant and complacent; sooner or later, Pill One will surpass them, and a thousand years from now they’ll be no more than a yellowed page in some ancient scroll.
As for Pill One, as for Green Mountain, we shall endure for countless millennia!
Meanwhile, Qin Chuan in the arena selected only a small handful of herbs—barely a dozen.
Even this simple act sparked a flurry of discussion below.
“I’m inexperienced, but these are common herbs, meant for Fasting Pills. Is that what he intends? Or is there some hidden trick I don’t know?”
“You may not realize,” another replied, “but the Pavilion Master sent word that the formulas for the Tempering Pill and the Fasting Pill are extremely similar. Many elder alchemists have puzzled over it for days, to no avail. There must be a secret here.”
Indeed, the herbs in Qin Chuan’s hand formed nothing more than a straightforward Fasting Pill recipe.
He processed the materials with his jade knife, every movement methodical. But anyone observing closely would notice that he seemed distracted, his mind unsettled.
And for an alchemist, distraction is the greatest taboo.
Sure enough, disaster struck before long.
With a resounding bang, Qin Chuan’s pill furnace suddenly exploded, the heavy lid flying off and crashing to the floor in a cacophony of clanging metal.
Instantly, a collective sigh rose from the crowd, disappointment etched on every face.
“He’s wasted such a fine appearance; who’d have thought he couldn’t even make a Fasting Pill!”
“Even if there’s some hidden trick, every step he took matched the process for an ordinary Fasting Pill, and yet he still blew up his furnace—hardly convincing.”
“That such an alchemist could reach the third round of the Hundred Peaks Pill Gathering is unbelievable. Maybe that’s why we weren’t allowed to compete in the earlier rounds.”