Between the two of them, the air was laden with strategies and layered thoughts-so deep that no outsider could possibly glimpse their true contours.
It was Han Xiaofeng who averted his gaze first.
He let out a quiet sigh.
"I truly did not expect," he said slowly, "that within this vast world-where knowledge is bound by so many visible limits-there would still exist someone capable of concealing himself so flawlessly."
With that, he subtly shifted the direction of the exchange.
Rather than pursue the unanswered questions, he turned to ask something else entirely.
"To encounter a genius," he continued mildly, "one whose breadth of understanding stands on equal footing... such people are exceedingly rare."
A faint smile surfaced on his lips.
Then he spoke a single sentence that caused the entire inn to stiffen.
"May I ask... would you be willing to allow this one to know your honored name?"
Silence descended upon the inn.
It was a silence without sound-yet within that emptiness, it thundered louder than any clamor.
Someone whispered shakily,
"T-This... this is the First Disciple of Grandmaster Huangfu Yan personally asking his name... just who in the world is that man?"
The man in question did not answer at once.
He merely lifted his teacup.
Slowly.
Unhurriedly.
He took a measured sip, then gently set the cup back onto the table, as though the weight of the world could not hasten his movements. Only then did he speak-his tone indifferent, almost careless.
"Is it truly necessary for you to know my name?"
His gaze drifted, unfocused, as if looking past everyone present.
"On the roads of cultivation, there are countless passersby-faces that appear for a moment, then vanish. Why should one trouble themselves to remember the names of those without consequence?"
A faint curve appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"As for those with talent..." he added softly,
"There are many who wish to know my name."
He paused.
"But tell me-what, exactly, is so important about that?"
Han Xiaofeng frowned imperceptibly.
He tried to parse the words.
They sounded ordinary. Almost casual.
Yet no matter how he turned them over in his mind, he could not grasp their true meaning.
The man finally glanced toward him.
His eyes were dull-stripped of vitality-yet somehow deeper than an abyss.
Then he spoke again.
"In the second round of the Talent Competition, which is soon to begin," he said calmly,
"if you still wish to learn the name of this worthless one..."
"...then it would be my honor, indeed, for a heaven-endowed genius such as yourself to deign to remember it."
With that, he rose.
No flourish.
No farewell.
He walked out of the inn as though nothing of significance had occurred.
Han Xiaofeng remained seated, his brows knit tightly as he replayed those words again and again.
Was he... deliberately toying with me?
He shook his head, casting aside the distracting thoughts. His expression soon hardened, returning to its usual seriousness, before he too stood and departed.
By the end of the day, news spread like wildfire.
The arrival of Han Xiaofeng-the First Disciple of the greatest alchemist under heaven-had already shaken the region.
Yet even more eagerly discussed was the strange encounter he had experienced in that inn.
A nameless man.
A man who, with a few obscure words, seemed to shatter Han Xiaofeng's confidence in his own alchemical knowledge-and then vanished without even leaving behind a name.
The tale became a source of heated debate and fascination, spreading beyond the city itself, reaching other regions and even the ears of powerful factions.
...
...
At dawn the following day, everyone gathered once more at the very site where the first round of the Talent Trial had begun.
This time, all participants were transported aboard flying vessels-craft capable of traversing the skies-greatly shortening what would otherwise have been a long and arduous journey, while offering unmatched convenience.
One by one, the competitors boarded these flying vessels, bound for the venue of the Second Round.
When Han Xiaofeng stepped onto one such vessel, an immediate stir rippled through the crowd. Whispers spread like wildfire, excitement barely contained.
"Look-there! That's Han Xiaofeng, the First Disciple of Grandmaster Huangfu Yuan! To be aboard the same vessel as him-this is truly a stroke of heaven-sent fortune! To behold the foremost disciple of such a peerless master!"
Praise and admiration poured forth without restraint. Even some of the young women aboard could not help letting their thoughts wander-even serving as his maid would be worth a lifetime, they mused.
Then, a gentle and refined voice sounded.
"It is an honor to meet the foremost disciple of a great Grandmaster-First Disciple Han Xiaofeng."
Han Xiaofeng glanced toward the source and saw that the speaker was none other than Xuan Yue, the head of the Sovereign Pavilion.
Far from displaying arrogance, Han Xiaofeng returned the greeting with courtesy.
"The honor is mutual. To share the same vessel with the overseer of the Sovereign Pavilion is itself a rare opportunity-this one is deeply honored."
Xuan Yue shook her head lightly.
"How could I dare place myself above the disciple of a great Grandmaster? It is my honor to share this vessel with you, Young Master Han."
Han Xiaofeng voiced a thought that had crossed his mind.
"I heard recently that the Sovereign Pavilion has begun recruiting top-tier talents to become official high-ranking members. Might that be true?"
Xuan Yue was taken aback. She did not answer at once, pondering briefly before speaking.
"The rumors are true-I did make such an announcement. However... I doubt it would catch Young Master Han's interest."
Han Xiaofeng did not attempt to conceal the truth.
"You are not mistaken. I have no such intention. After all, I am already aligned with the Alchemist Alliance."
Xuan Yue could not help but feel a trace of regret. Though the Sovereign Pavilion was vast-its influence spanning the entire continent -she herself oversaw only a subsidiary branch. Even so, its reach was formidable.
Yet compared to the Alchemist Alliance-the very cornerstone upon which cultivators and even great powers relied-it still fell short.
The Alliance could provide high-grade pills, meticulously refined and exceedingly effective, capable of breaking bottlenecks or even elevating the cultivation of top-tier experts. Such influence forged unshakable ties and backing far surpassing what the Sovereign Pavilion could offer.
It was a pity she could not draw in such a gifted alchemist... but she made no attempt.
Who would dare steal a disciple from a great Grandmaster?
Four hours later, they arrived at their destination.
The flying vessels docked at the aerial port. Everyone disembarked and followed their guides straight toward the Second Round's venue.
Upon arrival, many were struck by surprise. The place was prosperous beyond expectation-vibrant, alive, and brimming with vitality.
The guide stepped forward and introduced himself.
"This old one is named Chun Zi. You may simply call me Elder Chun."
He gestured toward the distance.
"The pill-refinement competition will be held in the vast arena you see there. This place lies at the heart of Bei Chen City. You have six hours to prepare. Be sure to gather at the arena on time to register."
Someone in the group asked,
"Elder Chun, will competitors from other cities and realms also be participating?"
Chun Zi answered immediately.
"Correct. Other cities and realms each hold their own preliminary trials.
Those who pass the first stage are summoned here. This competition is not limited to one city-but spans many cities and realms. You will be facing outsiders. Remain vigilant."
Everyone nodded in understanding. Soon after, they dispersed to make their own preparations.
Trailing behind, Wu Ming noticed that everyone had already gone their separate ways. Even the First Disciple of the great Grandmaster had departed. Only Xuan Yue remained, accompanied by Mei Xue at her side.
Wu Ming approached them quietly, still concealing his aura. Yet before he could speak, Xuan Yue spoke first.
"Junior Sister Xuan Li, do you think that boy named Wu Ming truly has the ability to pass this alchemy competition?"
Xuan Li replied with confidence.
"If compared to those who have studied pill refinement and alchemy in earnest, he likely cannot match them. However, if you ask whether he can pass... there is a chance. He healed Senior Sister's internal injuries-this suggests his alchemical skill should be at least above average."
Xuan Yue raised an eyebrow, thinking, then sighed softly.
"Haa... I believe you're not far from the truth. Still, I've yet to sense him at all. Could he have been assassinated? Ever since boarding the vessel, I haven't detected even a trace of his aura."
Wu Ming, still hidden and suppressing his presence, fell into deep thought.
Mei Xue... yet now she is called Xuan Li. And they share the same surname.
He let out a quiet chuckle.
"So they still don't trust me-not even fifty percent. Still... you underestimate me."
"I'll show you that my two hundred days of cultivation in the World of Will were not mere ornamentation."
His original intention to gather information and assess the situation-vanished, replaced by cold indifference.
Those who wager on him yet harbor no confidence are no different from people who would betray themselves in the dead of night.
Turning away at once, Wu Ming headed in another direction, preparing for the remaining six hours before the Second Round began.
Just as he turned to leave, a voice stopped him in his tracks.
"It would seem you are not one who enjoys speaking behind another's back."
Wu Ming's POV
I halted and turned toward the source of the voice. Standing there was an elderly man who appeared exceedingly calm. Yet beneath that serenity flowed a dense, awe-inspiring aura of truth-one that commanded instinctive respect.
I brought my hands together and bowed with due courtesy.
"May I ask what Elder means by that?"
I spoke as though genuinely perplexed.
The old man let out a soft chuckle.
"Child, I believe you should learn to let go of certain things. When one shoulders a great burden in pursuit of a goal, hardship and danger will inevitably come from all directions."
He paused, his gaze steady.
"But knowing when to release, and when not to rush, will often lead you further. One need not stand out deliberately-success itself will cause the world to turn its head."
I remained silent, offering no immediate response. After a moment, I asked calmly,
"What, exactly, is Elder trying to convey? I have little time to spare if this is merely idle talk. Every moment before the competition is precious-Elder should understand that well."
The old man smiled faintly before replying in an unhurried tone.
"You possess both talent and patience. Should you ever feel you have reached a dead end, with no path left to walk, you may seek me out at any time. In Bei Chen City, simply speak my name, and those here will know where to find me."
The instant he finished speaking, his figure vanished-as though he had never existed at all.
Wu Ming was quietly astonished. To think that such a place still concealed figures of this caliber... Yet this only made him more vigilant. If individuals like this harbored ill intent, they would pose a danger beyond reckoning.
He quickly departed and headed to a nearby trade hall, exchanging some of his resources for mid-grade and high-grade spirit stones.
He had already used up nearly all of his century-old herbs while refining pills within the World of Will. In the end, he managed to exchange them for only fifty thousand mid-grade spirit stones. As for millennium-grade herbs, he had merely two stalks remaining, which yielded five thousand high-grade spirit stones.
Only then did he truly realize how exorbitant the cost of living in Bei Chen City was.
Even the winnings he had secretly amassed earlier-by wagering on himself during the first round-were far from sufficient here.
Merely renting a room at an inn consumed a full one thousand mid-grade spirit stones.
By the time he finished preparing and securing lodging, five hours had already slipped away. He now had only one hour left before the registration for the second round closed.
By the time he finished preparing and securing lodging, five hours had already slipped away. He now had only one hour left before the registration for the second round closed.
Without hesitation, he set off at once-leaping across rooftops and structures, his figure a blur as he rushed toward his destination.
.....
.......
Registration Grounds
Han Xiaofeng arrived first and became the very first to register for the competition.
The crowd was shaken.
With a direct disciple of a great Grandmaster participating, how could the rest hope to contend for first place-or even the top ten? This realization dampened the spirits of many, causing some factions to waver.
Whispers spread quickly.
"Why would a First Disciple of a great Grandmaster even bother joining this competition?"
Then someone revealed new information.
"I heard that yesterday, he encountered a mysterious man-someone who questioned the very foundations and flaws within the alchemical realms Han Xiaofeng explained. It seems his confidence took a blow."
"Not only that," the man continued, lowering his voice, "that stranger never even revealed his name. And it's almost certain he'll be participating in the second round as well. That's why Han Xiaofeng registered-to see for himself just how capable that man truly is."
Once this information leaked out, the discussion grew even more heated.
After most had completed registration and entered the second-round venue, only a few minutes remained before the deadline.
Then, at the very last moment, another man arrived.
The registrar blinked in surprise.
"Oh? You're registering as well? You're quite lucky, boy-only a few minutes left before registration closes! Fortune truly smiles upon you!"
The man was Wu Ming.
He said nothing more than,
"Indeed... I am quite fortunate."
...
....
Inside the Arena
The arena was vast beyond expectation. At its center stood a massive platform, enclosed by walls and divided into four distinct sections-each allocated to competitors from different regions and realms, preventing any intermingling.
One man stood quietly, scanning his surroundings as though searching for someone-yet failing to find his mark.
A disgruntled voice spoke up.
"Isn't this trial unfair? Some people never even cultivated the path of alchemy. Asking sword cultivators to refine pills-what kind of sense does that make?"
Another could only sigh in response.
"You're not the only one. I didn't know anything about alchemy either. I only found out two days ago that the second round was a pill-refinement trial. I rushed to learn the basics, and in the end, I can only refine the most ordinary healing pill-barely enough to treat a child's injury."
Some glanced toward a man who clearly walked the Sword Path. His sword aura was sharp, his cultivation deep-yet they could only sigh.
Such a man would surely fall in the second round.
A voice rang out, attempting to rally the crowd.
"What's there to fear? Just do your best! Even if you rank last, there's still a chance to enter the challenger selection!"
A mysterious man turned his head toward the familiar voice.
It belonged to Zhang Yun.
And the one who had been searching earlier was none other than Yin Tian.
So I've finally found you.
I can't deal with you here-too exposed. It would violate the rules.
But outside the arena... who's to say the rules still apply?
His gaze sharpened.
Yet the chill within Wu Ming's eyes was fleeting-gone as swiftly as it appeared, buried beneath layers of deliberate calm. In an instant, he withdrew his killing intent, allowing his expression to return to its usual indifference, as though the sharp edge just now had been nothing more than a trick of the light.
This was not the place.
Nor the time.
A low, resonant hum suddenly rippled through the arena, like a dragon stirring beneath the earth. The chatter died away almost at once.
At the highest platform, an elderly figure stepped forward.
His robes were plain, unadorned, yet every step he took caused the spiritual energy of the surroundings to subtly converge toward him, forming faint eddies in the air. His presence alone pressed upon the crowd like an invisible mountain.
"Silence."
The single word was neither loud nor harsh, yet it echoed within every participant's meridians, causing many to stiffen unconsciously.
"This old one is Chun Zi," he said calmly, his gaze sweeping across the arena. "I will oversee the Second Round of the Talent Competition."
A brief pause.
"The second round," Elder Chun continued, "tests not combat strength, nor cultivation base-but comprehension, control, and foundation."
With a wave of his sleeve, dozens of black cauldrons descended from above, each landing before a contestant with a deep, muffled thud. The ground trembled faintly as they settled into place.
"These are standard Spirit-Grade Cauldrons. No one gains an advantage."
Another flick of his finger.
Bundles of medicinal herbs appeared midair, neatly arranged and floating before each participant.
"Your task is simple in words-but cruel in execution."
He looked toward the crowd, his tone turning colder.
"You are to refine a Clear Meridian Stabilizing Pill."
The moment those words fell, the arena erupted.
"What?!"
"That pill requires precise balance between Fire Qi and Wood essence!"
"It's a mid-grade pill at the very least-how can this be a second-round test?!"
Faces drained of color. Several sword cultivators stood frozen, their expressions bordering on despair. This was no crude healing pill one could brute-force through trial and error. A single imbalance would ruin the batch-or worse, cause backlash from the cauldron.
Elder Chun's gaze remained indifferent.
"You have three attempts," he said flatly. "Six hours."
With a wave of his sleeve, dozens of black cauldrons descended from above, each landing before a contestant with a deep, muffled thud. The ground trembled faintly as they settled into place.
"These are standard Spirit-Grade Cauldrons. No one gains an advantage."
Another flick of his finger.
Bundles of medicinal herbs appeared midair, neatly arranged and floating before each participant.
"Your task is simple in words-but cruel in execution."
He looked toward the crowd, his tone turning colder.
"You are to refine a Clear Meridian Stabilizing Pill."
The moment those words fell, the arena erupted.
"What?!"
"That pill requires precise balance between Fire Qi and Wood essence!"
"It's a mid-grade pill at the very least-how can this be a second-round test?!"
Faces drained of color. Several sword cultivators stood frozen, their expressions bordering on despair. This was no crude healing pill one could brute-force through trial and error. A single imbalance would ruin the batch-or worse, cause backlash from the cauldron.
Elder Chun's gaze remained indifferent.
"You have three attempts," he said flatly. "Six hours."
"Success is defined as producing a pill that meets the minimum standard."
"Failure..." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Needs no explanation."
The signal was given.
Almost instantly, flames ignited.
All across the arena, alchemical fires bloomed-some fierce and roaring, others trembling and unstable. The scent of medicinal herbs thickened the air, layers of bitterness and fragrance intertwining until it became almost suffocating.
Wu Ming stood still.
He did not move.
Around him, others were already sweating, hastily adjusting flame intensity, their brows knotted in concentration. Panic crept into many movements-too fast, too rough, too eager.
Only then did Wu Ming slowly place his hand upon the cauldron.
Clear Meridian Stabilizing Pill...
His eyes lowered, unfocused, his thoughts flowing like still water.
If refined perfectly, it would draw attention.
If refined too poorly, it would invite suspicion.
Average...
A pill that barely passes.
That will suffice.
He released a thin strand of spiritual energy, controlling it with extreme restraint. His flame ignited-muted, steady, unremarkable. Neither weak nor domineering.
Just... ordinary.
At the far end of the arena, however, a different scene unfolded.
Han Xiaofeng's cauldron radiated brilliance.
His alchemical flame burned with a refined azure hue, each pulse rhythmic and precise. Herbs entered the cauldron in flawless order, reduced to essence without the slightest waste.
Gasps echoed from the spectators' stands.
"To control the flame to such a degree..."
"As expected of the First Disciple of a Grandmaster!"
Han Xiaofeng's expression remained composed, yet his eyes-sharp and calculating-quietly swept across the arena, passing over face after face.
Searching.
Wu Ming did not look up.
He did not need to.
Meanwhile, Yin Tian's situation was far less elegant.
His flame surged erratically, flaring too high before abruptly dimming. Sweat slid down his temple as he cursed under his breath, forcefully injecting more spiritual energy into the cauldron.
Nearby, Zhang Yun scoffed loudly.
"Hmph. Such a simple pill, and you're already trembling?"
He spoke with arrogance, yet his own hands betrayed him-movements just a fraction too stiff, his control imperfect. The lid of his cauldron rattled faintly, a warning he chose to ignore.
Wu Ming observed them both through half-lidded eyes.
Struggling... yet still unaware.
Good.
The crackling of flames filled the arena. Time flowed on, grain by grain.
Within his cauldron, Wu Ming's refinement proceeded steadily. No flourish. No brilliance. He deliberately allowed minor inefficiencies-barely perceptible, but enough to dull the final quality.
As the medicinal essence began to coalesce, he adjusted the flame downward, his control so fine that even Elder Chun's gaze lingered only briefly before moving on.
To all appearances-
Wu Ming was merely another participant struggling to pass.
Yet beneath that calm exterior, his senses never left Yin Tian and Zhang Yun.
.....
.......
The air inside the Great Arena was wrong.
Not heavy in the way battlefield killing intent pressed upon one's chest, but dense-layered with refined spiritual fluctuations, the kind that slipped into the meridians without warning. It was the sort of pressure that gnawed at the nerves, quiet yet relentless, like standing beside a coiled serpent you could not see.
I folded my arms and exhaled slowly.
Tch... alchemists.
Round One had already ended, and Round Two bled into it without mercy. Flames rose and fell across the arena like a sea of unnatural stars. Each cauldron was its own battlefield, yet none of them felt honest. No clashing steel. No clear victor. Only patience, money, and meticulous control.
My eyes drifted toward the most conspicuous presence.
Han Xiaofeng.
Even without releasing a shred of aura, the man commanded attention. His posture was straight, his breathing steady, his flame calm to the point of cruelty. Watching him refine pills was like watching a seasoned general deploy troops-no wasted movement, no hesitation.
So this is what a true alchemical genius looks like...
Annoying.
Then I noticed them.
New arrivals-outsider alchemists from other realms. Their robes shimmered faintly with formation patterns. Their cauldrons weren't the standardized ones provided by the arena, but personal artifacts-polished, ancient, expensive enough to buy a city district. Some didn't even glance at the locals, their arrogance as natural as breathing.
My jaw tightened.
If I were to fight them head-on, I might win.
But offend them? Their masters? Their factions?
That was another matter entirely.
Alchemy was tedious-but dangerous in a way blades could never be.
My gaze shifted again, this time landing on a lone figure near the edge of the arena.
Wu Ming.
He looked... pitiful.
His shoulders were slightly hunched, sweat beading at his temples as he struggled to keep his flame from sputtering out. His cauldron rattled faintly, as though it might collapse from neglect rather than overload.
I snorted inwardly.
Wu Ming looks like he's about to faint.
Can his aptitude for alchemy really be this mediocre? When we spoke, his understanding of the Dao seemed so deep, so unshakable. But this performance... it is as if I am looking at a different person entirely. Is he simply one of those who are well-versed in ancient texts, yet lack the spark of true execution?
How he'd passed the first round was beyond me. Luck, perhaps. Or the kind of luck that only appears when mediocrity stumbles into a loophole.
A lucky pebble among gems, I concluded.
If he were on the battlefield, he'd have died before the second breath.
I turned away, already dismissing him from my thoughts.
All I needed was to scrape by.
Two rounds.
That was it.
After that... the final trial would return to matters of fists and steel-where men like me belonged.
.....
......
Boom-!
The lid of my cauldron nearly flew off.
Lun Fu: I slammed my palm down, forcing my Qi inward, teeth clenched as scorching heat licked up my arms.
"Damn it!"
The stench of herbs burned my nostrils-bitter, sweet, rotten all at once. Nothing like the clean smell of blood and iron. Nothing honest about it.
Alchemy was filth.
I didn't refine-l forced.
Internal Qi surged, crushing the medicinal essence together through sheer pressure. If it merged, it merged. If it exploded-
Then so be it.
The cauldron groaned, cracks of light flashing across its surface. Sweat poured down my back as the arena guards shifted uneasily, clearly ready to intervene if things went wrong.
"This trial's a joke," I growled under my breath. "What kind of man sits around cooking grass instead of tempering his body?"
I shot a glance to my side.
Yin Tian.
Zhang Yun.
Now those were men.
Their methods weren't pretty-rough flames, clumsy control-but they stood firm, jaws set, muscles tense. Even here, trapped in this scholar's farce, they refused to bow their heads.
At least they're not pretending to be weak.
My gaze drifted further... and landed on Wu Ming.
I scoffed openly.
That guy looked like a breeze could knock him over.
His flame flickered, barely alive, his movements hesitant. If not for the rules, I'd have mistaken him for a servant who wandered onto the platform by accident.
"Pathetic," I muttered.
Around us, the outsider alchemists began to draw attention. Their pills condensed smoothly, halos of spiritual light forming as cauldrons opened one after another. Their expressions were aloof, as though this entire competition were nothing more than a formality.
Even Han Xiaofeng cast a sharp look in their direction.
Tch...
So even the genius feels threatened.
Good.
Let them glare at each other.
As long as Yin Tian, Zhang Yun, and I passed-nothing else mattered.
The cauldron shuddered violently one last time.
Then-
Silence.
A crude, barely-formed pill rolled into view.
I grinned fiercely.
"Ha! See that?!"
Barely passable.
Ugly.
But alive.