Shen Yuan stepped closer, observing her movements carefully. “Good. Keep that circulation gentle. And if it feels like it might die out, use those mental points we discussed—letting the lotus essence anchor the flame.”
Your next chapter is on empire
Qingyu’s eyes narrowed in focus, and the ember glowed a faint crimson, a swirl of delicate lotus-like wisps flickering around it.
Though a few stray sparks jumped every now and then, she maintained control, her brows drawn in determined concentration.
“Not bad,” Shen Yuan praised, giving her an encouraging smile. “Now, feed it a bit more Qi, see if you can hold steady at a higher intensity without the temperature rising too much.”
She exhaled once, then complied. The flame brightened, its color growing richer and deeper, yet it remained smooth and steady.
A slight bead of sweat formed at her temple, but she continued to guide the heat, balancing the Crimson Lotus technique’s rhythmic pulses. After a minute of stability, she allowed the flame to fizzle out, lowering her hand.
She looked at him, eyes shining with pride. “It actually feels a lot less chaotic than before.”
He nodded. “You’re learning how to control the flame instead of just summoning it. That’s the key to alchemical control. Keep repeating this until it becomes second nature.”
…
Their days slipped by in the time-dilated confines of the Dual Cultivation Chamber, yet outside only a fraction of that passed. The alchemy room became their second home—Shen Yuan and Qingyu alternating between short breaks and hours of focused training.
Each day brought new exercises: controlling flame under varying intensities, shaping the heat into precise streams, and stabilizing temperature for extended periods.
By the fifth day, Qingyu’s mastery of Lotus Spark was evident in how effortlessly she could maintain a carefully modulated flame, even while turning her attention to other tasks.
She now stood before the pill furnace, her posture relaxed. Her flame—a gentle, swirling crimson—remained steady at the base of the furnace. Shen Yuan handed her a set of basic herbs: ones typically used for low-tier Mortal-grade pills.
“All right,” he said, his voice carrying that teacherly tone she’d come to rely on. “Show me your best. Let’s see you concoct a simple Mortal-grade healing pill, the sort the lower disciples use to treat cuts and bruises.”
Qingyu took the herbs, inhaling slowly to calm her nerves. One by one, she processed them before adding them into the furnace.
Thanks to her improved flame control, the temperature stayed within the safe range—no sudden sputters or flare-ups. Now came the crucial moment of mixing each herb’s essence without letting them clash.
Shen Yuan observed quietly, occasionally giving a nod or murmuring a soft instruction: “Spread your Qi a bit more over that leaf,” or “Pull back the flame on the left side—there’s too much heat pooling there.” Bit by bit, she guided the herbs toward a seamless fusion.
A swirl of faint greenish mist wafted from the furnace’s mouth, but no signs of scorching or pungent over-burn. Qingyu’s lips curved into a slight smile as she nudged the mixture into the final condensation stage.
After a few moments, the furnace exhaled a gentle puff of steam, and a small pill tumbled out onto the waiting dish below.
She picked it up, carefully examining the dull green orb. It looked cohesive—no cracks or char marks. Though it radiated only a small Qi signature, it signaled a success. Her very first presentable Mortal-grade pill in this environment.
Shen Yuan gave an approving nod. “Congratulations. It’s not perfect, but it’s definitely a workable healing pill unlike…the last one.”
A rush of excitement colored Qingyu’s cheeks. “I can’t believe how… smoothly that went.” She placed the pill aside and turned to him. “Let me refine another or try something more advanced?”
He shook his head, though his expression remained kind. “Patience. Let’s work systematically—start from low-tier Mortal pills, then climb to mid, high, and peak. Once you’re consistent, we’ll move on.”
She nodded, brimming with newfound confidence. “All right, Teacher Shen Yuan. I’m ready for the next batch.”
…
Though the chamber’s time dilation made the timeline fluid, they effectively spent nearly a month within.
Each segment of “days” in their little domain allowed Qingyu to churn out batch after batch of Mortal-grade pills, each step a careful study in precision.
Low-tier Mortal Pills: She refined healing or minor restorative pills, occasionally producing pills slightly below top quality but always learning from the errors.
Mid-tier Mortal Pills: She ventured into stamina-recovery blends, focusing on balancing multiple herb essences at once. Her flame control shone here—fewer mistakes, smoother fusions.
High-tier Mortal Pills: Trickier recipes, often with at least one “stubborn” herb that required pinpoint temperature shifts. She fumbled at first, scorching a couple of attempts. But Shen Yuan’s calm guidance helped her realize the nuance of quick, slight temperature pivots.
Peak-tier Mortal Pills: The apex of Mortal rank, requiring more focus. She spent a solid stretch of “days” practicing the final condensation stage, ensuring each pill formed a perfect core with minimal impurities.
By the time she got it right, the pills gleamed with a vibrant sheen—a testament to her honed flame mastery.
Between forging attempts, Shen Yuan would occasionally tease her about turning into a pill-crafting machine, but underneath the banter was genuine pride at her growth.
He offered subtle tips on Qi flow management and repeated Crimson Lotus Flame Art drills, ensuring each success ingrained deeper into her muscle memory.
The breakthroughs were steady. When she finally managed to consistently produce peak-tier Mortal-grade pills, she almost cried with relief—only the knowledge that she could do even better kept her forging onward.
…
By the end of those weeks, the noob had become a full-fledged Mortal-grade alchemist, confident before her pill furnace.
Shen Yuan guided her to a neat shelf on which sets of higher-quality herbs awaited: blossoming flowers that pulsed with faint Qi, glimmering roots that thrummed with spiritual energy.
“These,” he explained, “are the ingredients we use for basic Spirit-grade pills. Nothing too fancy, but definitely a step up from Mortal rank.”
Qingyu’s eyes wandered across the vibrant leaves, luminescent petals, and swirling essence trapped within the translucent roots. She could almost feel their potency. “So… this is the next mountain to climb?”
He nodded, tapping the side of the furnace thoughtfully. “Exactly. The Spirit-grade threshold demands sharper flame control, plus a deeper understanding of how each herb’s essence interacts. The margin for error shrinks dramatically.”
She straightened her shoulders. “I’m ready to learn. I want to push this Lotus Spark technique as far as it can go before I even think about Blossoming Inferno.”
He smiled. “Then we’ll do it step by step, just like before. A simpler Spirit pill first—maybe something for replenishing spiritual power. Once you nail that, we’ll look at more advanced recipes.”
Qingyu reached out to gingerly pick up one of the glowing petals. “Alright,” she said, voice laced with anticipation. “Let’s begin.”
Shen Yuan gave Qingyu’s shoulder a comforting squeeze before releasing her to the newly arranged Spirit-grade material. “You’ve got this,” he said softly. “I’ll leave you to tinker with those herbs for a while. Just call if you need me.”
Qingyu nodded, her eyes already observing through the recipes he’d laid out. “Alright. I’ll try to refine a small batch of spiritual-recovery pills first.” She offered him a brief, encouraging grin. “Thanks for all your help.”