Chapter 3: The Alchemy Institute
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Qi Source Prefecture, Chu Kingdom. An elder from the Xuanyuan Sect brought newly inducted disciples for a visit.
This news had already spread throughout the entire sect; even some cultivating families at the foot of the mountain had caught wind of it, and in these past few days, the whole sect was abuzz with discussion.
What status did the Xuanyuan Sect hold?
The unchallenged number one sect in Chu, the only seventh-tier sect. It had been established for over a thousand years, its heritage beyond question, and merely those Golden Core cultivators openly declared numbered three.
Looking back at the history of Chu’s cultivation world in recent generations, among today’s six great sects, only Xuanyuan could truly boast a Golden Core master in every generation.
In contrast, Dongyuan was but a rising star, founded only a few centuries ago. It also had a Golden Core master presiding, its strength decent, but its foundation ultimately lacking. Among the six great sects of Chu, it ranked last.
“Elder Shen, I’ll head back to the Pill Hall. Disciple, take Elder Shen and his guests around.”
Inside Dongyuan Sect’s inner gate, Dragonhead Peak.
Outside Evergreen Hall, Elder Shen Yu of Xuanyuan Sect led a boy and a girl out from within. The speaker preceding them was Elder Hu Zheng, head of the Pill Hall of Dongyuan Sect.
“Elder Hu, no need for formalities. This old man isn't visiting Dongyuan for the first time. Seven or eight years ago, I had the pleasure to visit.”
“Seven or eight years ago... Ah.” Elder Hu Zheng seemed to recall something. “Indeed, indeed. Back then, when hunting those two remnants of the demonic path, it was our two sects who contributed most.”
“Haha...” Shen Yu forced a bitter smile.
He could now be certain Hu Zheng hadn’t participated in that affair. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have brought it up—because the pursuit had failed.
“In any case, disciple, let us return to the Pill Hall and prepare. Elder Shen, young friends, feel free to stroll the sect for a while; I’ll send you a message, Elder Shen.”
“No trouble.”
Hu Zheng and his disciple Zhou Wen transformed into a streak of light and flew toward the Dao Gorge.
The warmth faded from Shen Yu’s face, his expression settling into calm. He formed a hand seal, and a soundproofing spell quietly took effect around the three.
“Wang Xi, in your view, how strong are these two true disciples of Dongyuan?”
They walked and spoke in low voices.
“...”
The youth curled his lip, his tone somewhat disdainful. “Yu Nanxi and Wang Renming are indeed formidable among their Chu peers.”
“But in Xuanyuan, they’d be merely above average.”
“That one still in seclusion, Song Zhenzong, shouldn’t be much different.”
“The next Great Competition of the Six Sects—there’s no need to concern ourselves.”
The girl followed beside them, her expression calm, silent.
“Elder Shen, Dongyuan is a rustic little sect. Picking the tallest among dwarfs, they call themselves one of the six great sects, but everyone in Chu’s cultivation world knows the reality.”
Wang Xi spoke as if it were obvious. “Dongyuan only has a single Golden Core master. If our Xuanyuan wants the spiritual vein of Yan’ou Mountain, we could simply take it. Why bother with roundabout schemes and secrecy?”
Shen Yu waved his hand as he walked. “True, if it were any other minor sect in Chu, we could do so.”
“But Dongyuan is troublesome. The sect leader, Daoist Li Jun, isn’t clever—in fact, you could say he’s mad.”
“Ah?”
Wang Xi was taken aback, incredulity on his face. Even the girl looked up, confusion in her eyes.
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“In short, pick any pretext. Otherwise, if that mad dog bites indiscriminately, it’s best avoided.”
“Choose some insignificant outer disciple. If he loses a favored true disciple, who knows what madness he’ll unleash.”
“The sect is preparing for the Immortal Reception. Best not to stir up trouble with such trivial matters.”
“Come, to the Pill Hall.”
...
Within his cave, Song Yan sat cross-legged, eyes closed, refining spiritual energy.
The cultivation method Song Yan practiced, ‘Condensation Chapter,’ was not complicated. Even where it was arcane, elders of the sect had left handwritten notes.
Moreover, he had studied medicine from a young age in his village, intimately familiar with meridians and acupoints—this alone eased much of the difficulty.
Once his circulation was complete, Song Yan’s spiritual power returned to its peak.
“Once I finish these few days’ tasks at the Pill Hall, I’ll attempt a breakthrough.”
He ended his cultivation and stepped out of his cave.
The ninth day of the third month.
Springtime in the green mountains, gentle winds and warm sun.
Mist wreathed the peaks, encircling the spiritual mountains at the horizon—a scene befitting immortals.
Song Yan stretched lazily and set off toward the Pill Hall.
As for that mysterious stone bead, Song Yan was full of unanswered questions.
Where did it come from, who made it, why did it bear signs of recent opening yet was discarded...
Unfortunately, there was not a single question he could answer.
Unable to fathom it, he put it aside—work was more pressing.
Outer disciples differed greatly from those of the inner gate; without performing menial tasks, the sect would not grant him even a single spirit stone.
About two months ago, Song Yan had taken up a menial task at the Pill Hall. The task lasted three months, and he had a month left before claiming his reward.
Those below the sixth layer of Qi Refinement had weak spiritual power and could not fly on swords, so he traveled to the Pill Hall on foot.
The Pill Hall, like the other three halls, was situated in Dao Gorge.
He walked from the outer disciple peak, passing the Spiritual Herb Hall.
Towering pavilions, jade tiles, crystal halls, temples, strange rocks—these sights gave Song Yan an inexplicable sense of expansiveness.
On the mountain path, a few small figures in lotus-leaf hats suddenly darted out.
“Heehee... you can’t catch me! Haha!”
“Slow down! Wait for me!”
“No, no, you’re too slow!”
The translucent little sprites ran and played, making Song Yan smile.
“Eh? Brother Song?”
A tall, young man in green robes approached, smiling at Song Yan.
The ginseng fruit sprites were causing a ruckus; the rowdiest one clambered up the young man’s robe and settled on his shoulder.
The other two didn’t seem able to climb or perhaps were more polite, so they spun anxiously on the ground.
“You’re off to listen to a lecture at the Pill Hall?”
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The newcomer was Lin Qing, also an outer disciple—someone Song Yan knew fairly well.
“Play as much as you want, but don’t trip Brother Song,” he said gently, letting the sprite on his shoulder frolic, and bending to gather the other two.
“A lecture?”
Song Yan’s eyes lit up.
Normally, the four halls—Pill, Talisman, Artifact, Array—were places for disciples to cultivate, and menial tasks involved assisting them.
For example, in the Pill Hall, menial work usually meant helping disciples refine pills.
Besides earning a reward, there was an unspoken benefit: a chance to observe the skills and techniques of the hall’s disciples.
Another advantage was that when elders lectured, those on duty could listen quite closely.
“May I ask, Brother Lin, which elder is lecturing this time?”
Song Yan’s rudimentary pill-making skills had been cobbled together from observing disciples, listening to elders’ teachings, and reading the cheap pill books Granny Qin gave him.
Pillmaking was deep and complex; the more Song Yan learned, the more he realized how little he knew.
Lin Qing’s smile was mysterious. “Today’s lecture isn’t from our sect’s elders, but from Elder Shen Yu of Xuanyuan.”
“...”
Song Yan nodded thoughtfully.
But in truth, he’d never heard of Shen Yu.
However, the reputation of Xuanyuan Sect was immense—even a reclusive cultivator like him had at least heard of it.
“Brother Lin, when will you come play with us again?” asked one of the ginseng fruit sprites.
Lin Qing pondered a moment and answered seriously, “Hmm, probably tomorrow.”
“Oh...”
“Oh...”
“Hic~”
“Ugh, what did you eat? It stinks...”
“I didn’t eat anything! Just some Old Bai’s Golden Soil...”
“So smelly, so smelly—take that!”
The three little sprites wrestled furiously, one’s lotus-leaf hat knocked off in the scuffle.
Lin Qing smiled wryly and set them down, letting them tumble away.
“Brother Song, I’m heading to the lecture as well. Let’s go together.”
“Alright.”
Song Yan nodded.