The next morning began with the usual routine.
Alexei woke in his own room and spent a few minutes organizing his inventory before heading out.
Qingxue was nowhere to be seen. She was probably in the cultivation room he had built near the spirit fruit grove. She had been spending most of her time there recently.
Yan had mentioned two days ago that the fox had advanced to low-tier spirit beast status. Apparently that was significant. He had examined the fox after hearing the news, looking for changes.
He had found none. It looked exactly the same. The only difference was that cultivators could now sense spiritual energy coming from it, which was not helpful for someone who could not sense spiritual energy in the first place.
He made his way through the courtyard and down into the mob farm.
The observation window he had left in the zombie villager holding cells showed the same thing it had shown yesterday: five zombie villagers.
"This is taking forever."
The only consolation was that another zombie villager had spawned yesterday. That brought his total count to six, though five were still mid-conversion. The new one was a toolsmith by profession, which was not terrible. Toolsmiths could eventually sell diamond hoes, which would theoretically solve his diamond supply problem.
Except it would not, because he could change any villager's profession to toolsmith just by placing a smithing table near them. The profession itself was not rare, only the conversion time was.
He moved to the collection platform and started gathering the overnight mob drops.
Three golden helmets, one pair of iron boots, one iron sword, and various pieces of leather armor that he barely bothered counting anymore.
Total yield: fifteen gold ingots and six iron ingots.
He also collected all the rotten flesh. It seemed useless now, but once he had a cleric villager, he could trade thirty-two pieces of rotten flesh for one emerald. At his current accumulation rate, that would be at least eighty or ninety emeralds once trading started.
He glanced at the zombie villagers again through the observation window. The golden particles were still rising steadily from their bodies.
"Maybe tomorrow."
---
After storing the mob drops in his sorting system, Alexei started thinking about his next project: paper production.
Once the villagers were fully converted, he could assign one of them the librarian profession. Librarians sold enchanted books, which would be considerably more efficient than his current method of obtaining them through fishing.
Fishing for enchanted books worked. It was just painfully slow.
Paper production, fortunately, was straightforward.
The conversion chain went like this:
Use glass bottle on beehive → obtain honey bottle.
One honey bottle crafted into three sugar.
Three sugar deconstructed individually into three sugar cane.
Three sugar cane crafted into three paper.
Therefore: one honey bottle equaled three sheets of paper.
The bottleneck was honey production. Each beehive or bee nest produced roughly one bottle of honey every three days. At eight bees, that meant two to three bottles per three-day cycle, which translated to six to nine sheets of paper.
Not fast, but sustainable.
He would need to build more beehives eventually. Paper demand would only increase once he started mass-producing books for enchanting.
He walked to the courtyard, where the bee nests and beehives were distributed among the spirit fruit trees, and lit campfires beneath each one. The smoke prevented the bees from attacking when he harvested honey or honeycomb.
He collected one honey bottle from a beehive using a glass bottle, leaving the rest of the hives to be harvested with shears for honeycomb. Honeycombs could be crafted into new beehives, which he would need for expansion.
Back at his crafting table, he converted the honey bottle into three sugar.
Then he picked up all three sugar and thought the command.
Deconstruct.
[Honey Bottle ×1]
He stared at the single honey bottle that had appeared in his inventory, replacing the three sugar.
"Of course it does not work that way."
The system had interpreted "deconstruct three sugar" as "deconstruct the material those came from" and returned the original honey bottle.
He crafted the honey bottle back into sugar, then picked up one sugar and tried again.
Deconstruct.
[Sugar Cane ×1]
"There it is."
He repeated the process with the other two sugar, deconstructing each one individually. Three sugar cane appeared in his inventory.
Now for the final step: bone meal.
He had more than enough bones from the mob farm. He planted the sugar cane in a small plot he had prepared near the water source, applied bone meal liberally, and watched it grow to full height in seconds.
Within ten minutes, he had several stacks of sugar cane ready for crafting.
He converted it all to paper at the crafting table, stacked the sheets in his storage system, and made a mental note to expand honey production as soon as possible.
Paper secured. Next problem: where was he going to put all these villagers once they finished converting?
He made his way back to the holding cells to check on their progress one more time.
---
Five days after feeding them golden apples, one of the zombie villagers finally completed its transformation.
The change happened overnight. Alexei opened the observation window that morning and found himself looking at a young man, nearly two meters tall, wearing a white apron.
The man was looking back at him.
"Can you talk?" Alexei asked.
The villager tilted his head slightly. "Hmmmm?"
"I should have expected that."
He removed the wooden fence blocks and reached through to touch the villager's arm.
The skin was warm. His breathing was steady. Alexei could see the faint pulse at his wrist.
The villager was, for all practical purposes, a living person. Just one with extremely limited cognitive function and no apparent ability to communicate beyond basic sounds.
"How am I supposed to get you upstairs?"
But before dealing with transportation logistics, there was something more important to test.
He pulled a wooden barrel from his inventory and placed it on the ground next to the villager. Both the villager and the barrel began glowing with a faint green light. The white apron vanished and a straw hat appeared on the villager's head. The profession indicator in Alexei's interface shifted from Butcher to Fisherman.
Job site blocks worked exactly as they did in the game.
Now for the critical question: how did trading work?
He walked in a slow circle around the fisherman, looking for some kind of interaction prompt.
Nothing appeared.
He tried speaking. "Trade."
An interface materialized in the air in front of the villager.
[Fisherman]
[Level: Novice]
[String 20 | 18 → Emerald ×1]
[Emerald ×1 + Raw Cod ×6 → Cooked Cod ×6]
He stared at the first trade.
Twenty string for one emerald. The curing discount reduced it to eighteen.
String was one of the few resources he did not have in abundance. His attempt to build a string farm weeks ago had failed to produce any string at all.
He needed better trades.
He broke the barrel with his hand, watched the straw hat disappear from the villager's head, and placed the barrel again.
"Trade."
[Fisherman]
[Level: Novice]
[String 20 | 18 → Emerald ×1]
[Emerald ×1 + Raw Cod ×6 → Cooked Cod ×6]
"Why did it not reroll?"
He broke the barrel and placed it a third time.
"Trade."
[Fisherman]
[Level: Novice]
[Coal ×10 | 6 → Emerald ×1]
[Emerald ×3 | 1 → Cod Bucket ×1]
He stopped mid-motion, his hand halfway to breaking the barrel again.
Six coal for one emerald.
He had lots of coal. A full stack of coal blocks could be broken down into nine stacks of coal, which would convert to ninety-six emeralds.
And the second trade: one emerald for a cod bucket.
Cod buckets could be deconstructed into three iron ingots each.
One stack of coal blocks, converted through this trading chain, would yield ninety-six buckets of cod, which would deconstruct into two hundred eighty-eight iron ingots.
"That is better than the string trade."
But the real value was not in the level one trades. It was in the level two upgrade.
He opened the villager's full trade list and checked the apprentice tier.
[Fisherman]
[Level: Apprentice]
[Raw Cod ×15 | 9 → Emerald ×1]
[Emerald ×1 + Raw Salmon ×6 → Cooked Salmon ×6]
Nine raw cod for one emerald.
He had over five stacks of raw cod sitting in storage from his fishing sessions. That was more than enough to level the villager and generate a significant emerald surplus.
He pulled thirty coal from his storage chest and completed six trades, leveling the villager from Novice to Apprentice and earning five emeralds in the process.
Then he ran back upstairs to his storage room and retrieved all his raw cod.
Villagers could complete up to sixteen trades before needing to restock. Restocking happened twice per day, once at 8:00 AM and again at 4:00 PM. In Bedrock Edition, cured villagers provided permanent discounts to the player who cured them, with temporary price increases immediately after restocking that disappeared after the next restock cycle.
Which meant, if he maintained consistent trading, he could functionally purchase cod buckets for one emerald each indefinitely.
And if his memory of the version he used to play was correct, curing zombie villagers also reduced all emerald-cost trades to one emerald, not just the trades from the cured villager.
He would know for certain once the other five villagers finished converting.
He returned to the fisherman and began trading.
Sixteen trades of nine raw cod each consumed one hundred forty-four raw cod and generated sixteen emeralds.
Total emerald count: twenty-one.
He immediately spent sixteen emeralds purchasing sixteen cod buckets from the fisherman.
The buckets materialized in his inventory, each one containing a live cod.
If he deconstructed all sixteen later, he would recover forty-eight iron ingots. The remaining raw cod in his inventory could complete two more full trade cycles, generating another twenty-seven or twenty-eight emeralds, which would convert to another seventy or eighty iron ingots.
He looked at his inventory, which was now completely full of cod buckets, and reconsidered.
"Where am I supposed to put all these fish?"
The cod were alive. They needed water. He could not just leave them in buckets, that would be cruel, and also impractical for long-term storage.
He needed a proper containment system.
After thinking for a moment, he decided to dig out a dedicated pond in the courtyard.
That way, fishing in the future would be much more comfortable, wouldn't it?
Before leaving the mob farm, he took one more look at the zombie villagers still emitting those spiraling golden particles.
With the fisherman already converted and offering the trade of one emerald for three iron ingots, his expectations for the remaining villagers were, quite frankly, astronomical.
Based on the curing progress, another one was nearly finished. The golden glow had intensified, and while the villager's face still looked dead, the rest of him had improved considerably.
Even his clothes had stopped falling apart.
There was still plenty of time before the next villager finished converting, which meant he could finally deal with the live cod situation.
He had sixteen buckets of fish that needed somewhere to live.
He stepped out of the hidden passage, spent a minute at his crafting table making an iron shovel, and headed into the courtyard.
Building a proper fish pond would solve multiple problems. First, the cod would have living space. Second, he could fish there whenever he wanted without hiking back to the forest stream. Third, it would look significantly less insane than having sixteen buckets of live fish sitting in his storage room.
The location he picked was near the cliff edge, where there were no massive spirit fruit trees blocking the view. The mountain peak had only a thin layer of soil, which meant most of the excavation work would be done with his enchanted pickaxe rather than the shovel.
He designed the pond as a 9×5×12 rectangular prism.
The most annoying part was water physics.
In normal Minecraft, kelp could convert flowing water into source blocks instantly. Here, he didn't have kelp, which meant he had to use the tedious method of waterlogging trapdoors and then breaking them to create proper source blocks.
---
It took him five full hours of non-stop work to excavate the pond, waterproof it properly, fill it with water, and finally release all sixteen cod into their new home.
He watched them swim around for a moment, looking considerably happier than they had in their buckets.
He deconstructed the now-empty iron buckets.
[Iron Ingot ×48]
Not a bad haul for what had essentially been a side project.
He headed back down to the mob farm platform, and as if the universe had perfect timing, the second zombie villager finished curing right as he arrived.
The villager was another young man, completely unremarkable looking.
Alexei pulled out the smithing table he had been carrying and placed it next to the villager.
Immediately, the man's clothes shifted.
"Welcome to capitalism," Alexei told him. "You're employed now. Congratulations."
He could have placed a blast furnace and made him an armorer instead. Armorers offered better iron ingot profits in the long run. But with limited resources, the toolsmith's upgrade path was smoother. Aside from the novice-level stone tools, almost everything a toolsmith sold was valuable.
He could clear out the entire shop after each restock without thinking.
"Trade."
The interface appeared.
[Toolsmith]
[Level: Novice]
[Coal ×15 | 9 → Emerald ×1]
[Emerald ×1 → Stone Pickaxe ×1]
[Toolsmith]
[Level: Apprentice (Locked)]
[Iron Ingot ×4 | 1 → Emerald ×1]
[Emerald ×36 | 1 → Bell ×1]
The novice trades were boring. But that apprentice-level trade...
One iron ingot for one emerald.
He stared at the interface.
The fisherman traded sixteen emeralds for forty-eight iron ingots.
The toolsmith traded twelve iron ingots for twelve emeralds.
Which meant he could convert sixteen emeralds into forty-eight iron, trade twelve of that iron back for twelve emeralds, buy twelve bells with those emeralds, and deconstruct the bells into thirty-six gold ingots.
Net result per cycle: thirty-six iron ingots and thirty-six gold ingots, starting from just sixteen emeralds.
And he could generate those sixteen emeralds by trading coal or raw cod, both of which he had in massive surplus.
"This is absurd," he said aloud. "Why would I ever go back to mob farming?"
The toolsmith made no comment, presumably because he had the cognitive capacity of a particularly stupid brick.
Alexei ran the numbers again in his head, just to make sure he hadn't made some critical error.
Nope. The math held up. With these two villagers alone, he could generate at least thirty-six iron ingots and thirty-six gold ingots per day. That was equivalent to half a month of mob grinding condensed into a few minutes of trading.
And that was just from two villagers. He had four more still curing.
"I can make golden apples whenever I want now. This is..." he trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.
Broken. The word was "broken." This system was broken, and he loved it.
He spent the next few minutes leveling the toolsmith to Apprentice, then cleared out all his available trade slots. Twelve bells appeared in his inventory.
He deconstructed them immediately.
[Gold Ingot ×36]
[Stone Slab ×24]
[Stick ×12]
"Beautiful."
He glanced back at the remaining four zombie villagers. Based on the progress, they wouldn't finish until tomorrow.
He had already decided on their professions: two librarians, one armorer, one shepherd.
Librarians could roll enchanted books, which would be more convenient than fishing for them. They also had a fifty percent chance at Expert-level to sell compasses and clocks, which could be deconstructed into iron, gold, and redstone dust.
The armorer would provide additional iron income and guarantee at least two armor enchantments once fully leveled.
The shepherd would solve his wool problem. Currently, he was getting string by disarming skeletons with his knockback sword and deconstructing their bows, which worked but was tedious. An Expert-level shepherd could sell twelve banners per day, which deconstructed into seventy-two wool.
Much more efficient than sheep.
---
Ghost Sect outpost.
A red-haired man landed in the courtyard with the casual confidence of someone who had made this journey a hundred times before.
His name was Chen Wu, a newly appointed Nascent Soul deacon sent by the sect master to investigate Yuanzhao's disappearance. The assignment was meant to be routine. He only needed to inspect the outpost, gather information, and report his findings.
What he found instead made him uncomfortable.
The outpost members were weird.
Several of the male disciples were standing in small groups, talking in hushed tones and occasionally giggling. One of them had his hand positioned in that fingers-curved gesture that Wu had only ever seen women use at fancy tea ceremonies.
"What in the..."
He stopped himself, trying to process what he was seeing.
Another disciple walked past, gave him a respectful bow, and then... was that a wink? Did that man just wink at him?
He felt a chill run down his spine.
The way these people were looking at him wasn't quite respectful. Several of them kept glancing toward his backside.
He turned around quickly.
Just ask your questions and get out of here as fast as possible, he told himself firmly.
He focused on the mortal deacon who had come forward to greet him.
"Have you seen Elder Ming?" he asked, skipping all pleasantries.
The mortal deacon froze.
"Elder Ming?" he repeated.
"Yes. Elder Ming. He is a Nascent Soul cultivator. Ring any bells?"
The deacon's thoughts were practically visible on his face. Wu had interrogated enough people to recognize the calculation happening behind those eyes: Can I hide this? No. Will hiding it make things worse? Yes. Should I just tell the truth? Probably.
"Reporting to Deacon," the man finally said. "He did appear here several days ago. The remains of the Ming family's eldest grandson are still in my possession."
Wu's mind stuttered to a halt.
The Ming family's eldest grandson was Ming Heng. He had been Yuanzhao's favorite grandchild.
When had he died?
Not that he particularly cared, he had met Heng exactly twice, and both times the kid had been an insufferable little shit, but this complicated things considerably.
"Get to the point," he said flatly.
"He went to the Aureate Summit Sect."
Wu processed that information, felt several puzzle pieces click together in his mind, and wished they hadn't.
The Aureate Summit Sect was a small and unremarkable sect that was somehow tied to the Ghost Sect's century-long grand plan.
"Shit," he said aloud.
He didn't wait for further explanation. He activated his movement technique, grey mist swirling around him as he shot into the air and away from the outpost as fast as his cultivation would carry him.
Being stared at by those people had made his entire body feel wrong. He kept having the bizarre urge to cover his backside, which made no sense but also wouldn't go away.
As he flew toward the sect, his mind kept returning to the same conclusion.
Something had happened at the Aureate Summit Sect.
He needed to send scouts.
Because if Yuanzhao had died at the Aureate Summit Sect, then the sect master was going to be very unhappy. And when the sect master got unhappy, people tended to die in creative and unpleasant ways.
Wu pushed more qi into his movement technique, flying faster.
----------
[POV: Yi Mengyao]
Sitting cross-legged in a giant iron cauldron filled with medicinal liquid was not, strictly speaking, how Mengyao had imagined spending her afternoon.
But here she was.
The sensation was uncomfortable. She knew it was just a side effect of the body tempering process as spiritual energy restructured her physical form at a cellular level.
Knowing that didn't make it any less annoying.
She kept her breathing steady, even as her muscles twitched involuntarily beneath the surface of the bubbling medicinal bath.
This is nothing, she reminded herself. You have done this before. You can handle a little discomfort.
Except this wasn't quite like before.
In her previous life, body tempering had been a desperate, piecemeal affair. She had scraped together whatever resources she could find, mostly low-grade spiritual herbs of Yellow tier, with one Profound tier medicine if she was lucky. The results had been mediocre at best, leaving flaws in her foundation that had plagued her all the way to Core Formation.
She had only managed to patch those defects after stumbling into a secret realm years later and, through sheer dumb luck, discovering a Seven-Leaf Flame Flower growing in the ruins of an ancient sect.
That single tempering herb had cost her three months of recovery and had nearly killed her during the refinement process. Even so, it had been worth the risk. It repaired the damage caused by her flawed initial tempering.
But the medicinal bath her master had prepared was so far beyond anything she had experienced in her first life that it felt almost obscene.
She could identify at least five Earth tier spiritual plants in the mixture. In her previous life, she had never even seen an Earth tier tempering herb until she was in her thirties. And that was just the foundation, there were easily a dozen top-grade Profound tier medicines mixed in, their effects balanced to maximize absorption and minimize spiritual toxin buildup.
The sheer value of the herbs currently dissolving into her body was probably enough to buy a small city.
And Yan had prepared it like she was making soup.
Before deciding to come to the Aureate Summit Sect, her plan had been much simpler: reach Foundation Establishment through whatever means necessary, then travel three hundred kilometers outside Verdantree City to raid the hidden cave dwelling of a deceased medical cultivator.
That cave dwelling had become famous, or infamous, about a decade from now in her original timeline. A herb-gathering team would stumble across it by accident and find two Earth tier and thirty-some Profound tier spiritual plants growing in a sealed cultivation chamber. The team would immediately fall into violent disagreement over how to split the resources. Out of twelve people, ten would die in the resulting fight, one would escape, and the last would take everything.
The survivor, consumed by revenge, had spread the news far and wide. The one who had monopolized the herbs had eventually died, along with his entire sect, without ever learning who had killed them.
Mengyao had planned to get there first, claim the herbs, and use them to make up for her poverty-level starting resources.
Now, sitting in a medicinal bath that made that cave's entire treasure trove look like pocket change, the plan seemed laughably unnecessary.
She had made the right choice coming here.
Not just because of the resources, although they certainly helped, but because she finally had a master who cared about her growth. She had fellow disciples who treated her like a person instead of a tool or a stepping stone. Her life had become simple and peaceful, free from the constant backstabbing and political maneuvering that had defined her past.
It made her want to lower her guard.
She knew how dangerous that was. Attachment created weakness. Comfort bred complacency.
But she couldn't bring herself to care.
She sent a silent thank-you to Changgui, who had set this entire chain of events in motion. Without that chance encounter, she would never have learned about the Aureate Summit Sect. She had probably be stuck in some mediocre third-rate sect right now, already worrying about where her next batch of cultivation resources would come from.
----------
Outside the cauldron, Yan monitored the temperature with her spiritual sense, occasionally tossing in additional herbs to maintain stability in the medicinal mixture.
The "iron cauldron" wasn't actually made of iron, despite the name. According to her master, the material was called stone-iron. It was a type of jade with unique heat-retention properties.
He had left it for her years ago without explaining its specific function. She had eventually started using it as a bathtub and discovered it made her feel unusually comfortable and refreshed after every bath.
She still had no idea what it was supposed to do.
But it worked great for body tempering, so she had stopped worrying about it.
She checked Mengyao's condition through her spiritual sense and nodded in satisfaction. The tempering was proceeding perfectly.
"Almost done," she murmured, reducing the spiritual flame beneath the cauldron gradually.
One more herb to add, and then it would be time for the final phase.
Inside the cauldron, Mengyao's complexion had turned a healthy, rosy color. Tiny sparks flickered around her body with each breath.
Then her clothes caught fire.
Yan blinked.
The thin fabric Mengyao was wearing ignited spontaneously in the water, burned away to nothing, and then the flames coalesced in midair, compressing into the shape of a tiny phoenix about the size of a sparrow.
The bird let out a soundless cry and dove straight into Mengyao's forehead.
BOOM.
A wave of heat burst outward from the point of impact and swept across the room. Wherever it passed, Mengyao's waist-length black hair turned a brilliant crimson, as though each strand had been submerged in molten metal. Sparks drifted around her in slow, spiraling arcs, and the medicinal liquid began to boil.
Yan stared.
"What the fu... Oh, Alexei is a bad influence. What's happening?"
She had supervised body tempering before. When her junior sister had undergone the process over a century ago, a thin layer of frost had formed inside the cauldron.
But this was fire and phoenix manifestations and spontaneous hair-color changes. None of it made any sense whatsoever.
"Is this... normal? Is my disciple supposed to be doing this?"
The fire faded gradually, sinking back into Mengyao's skin. The boiling medicinal liquid calmed and the sparks dissipated.
Mengyao let out a long, satisfied breath and slowly opened her eyes.
Her pupils, which had been normal black before, were now a brilliant gold-red color that seemed to glow faintly.
She blinked a few times, looking dazed but pleased.
Before she could investigate further, a pair of hands gripped her under the arms and lifted her bodily out of the cauldron with a splash of water.
Cool air hit her skin.
She shivered, then looked down.
Oh.
Oh no.
Her clothes had burned off.
She was completely naked, and her master was staring at her.
"Ah!" Her entire body flushed hot, which was unfortunate, because she could literally generate fire now and was pretty sure her embarrassment was making her skin steam. She scrambled to cover her master's eyes with both hands. "Don't look! Master, please don't look!"
"Don't be shy," Yan said, completely unrepentant. She gave Mengyao a quick once-over, checking for any tempering-related complications, then set her down on the ground. "We're both women. It's fine."
"It's not fine," Mengyao muttered, but she didn't argue further as Yan produced a set of fresh clothes and helped her get dressed.
Even after she was fully clothed, she continued glaring accusingly at her master.
Yan ignored it and pressed a jade bottle into Mengyao's hands.
"Take these Solid Origin Pills as soon as possible. I'll help you refine the first one. Once your foundation is completely stabilized, you can begin practicing the Body Tempering Art."
Mengyao accepted the bottle, which was about the size of her palm and surprisingly heavy.
She looked at it more closely.
Is this a wine bottle?
It looked exactly like the cheap jade bottles they sold liquor in at market stalls.
----------
[POV: Yi Mengyao]
After Yan left, Mengyao sat down cross-legged on a meditation cushion and opened the bottle.
Inside were pills that looked like amber. When she first opened the bottle, a brief medicinal fragrance wafted out, then nothing.
Which was, in itself, extremely suspicious.
She poured one into her palm and stared at it.
"This is a Solid Origin Pill?"
She had taken plenty of Solid Origin Pills in her previous life. Body tempering was a multi-stage process that required consistent medicinal support to maintain effects between sessions. She knew exactly what they were supposed to look like.
They were supposed to be earth-yellow, rough-textured, and slightly bitter-smelling.
But this pill was amber-colored, perfectly smooth, and had ten lines on its surface.
No, she thought. No, that's impossible. Those can't be pill patterns.
Pill patterns were the mark of quality medicine. Each pattern represented a complete cycle of refinement, a level of mastery in alchemy that most cultivators would never achieve in their entire lives.
Even a single pill pattern was considered remarkable for low-grade medicines.
Three patterns were masterwork quality.
Five patterns was legendary.
Nine patterns was the theoretical maximum. In her entire previous life, she had seen exactly two nine-pattern pills. Both had been treasured heirlooms of major sects, displayed in sealed formations and guarded like imperial regalia.
Nine patterns was supposed to be the limit.
Ten patterns shouldn't exist.
But even as she thought it, doubt crept in.
She had just used one of these pills. She knew exactly how effective it was.
The medicinal power was several times stronger than ordinary Solid Origin Pills. Even her inexperienced self could feel the difference in quality.
She peered into the bottle again. Every single pill looked identical.
"Could these really be ten-pattern pills?"
She poured out another pill and held both of them side by side, examining them closely.
There was no difference. They looked as though they had been formed from the same mold.
She understood what true master alchemists pursued. She had studied the ancient texts and listened to the old legends. They spoke of alchemy's final realm, where pills became so refined that they no longer leaked even the faintest trace of spiritual energy. Every fragment of medicinal power was perfectly contained, stable, and pure.
Pillless Pills. The legendary tenth realm.
She thought about how casually Yan had handed her the bottle.
Pills of this quality aren't rare here, she realized. Which means Master isn't just a good alchemist. She's... she's someone who could dominate the entire continent.
She couldn't think of any other explanation that made sense.
As expected of a hidden sect that treats Earth tier spirit fruits like snacks, she thought. Of course they had have legendary alchemists on staff. Why wouldn't they?
She placed another pill in her mouth and settled into meditation posture, preparing to refine it while the momentum lasted.
She took a deep breath, pushing aside the swirling thoughts.
Focus.
The pill dissolved on her tongue. She circulated her cultivation technique and guided the medicinal power through her meridians.
The second refinement went much faster than the first, over ten times faster, though the absorption efficiency was slightly lower. Still excellent by any reasonable standard.
She could feel her foundation solidifying with each cycle.
Three more pills, she calculated. And my foundation will be completely stable.
She opened her eyes as the sun outside sank toward the horizon.
She pulled out the jade bottle again, poured out another pill, and examined it one last time in the fading light.
Ten perfect patterns spiraled across its surface.
"Since I'm in a hidden sect like this," she murmured to herself, "I should maintain a calm and ordinary mindset. Getting surprised at everything would be inappropriate."
She placed the pill in her mouth and closed her eyes.
The pill dissolved, and she sank back into cultivation, pushing everything else from her mind.