Kent sat on top of gathering with a divine pill in hand.
The excitement that had gripped the Pill Ascension Grounds slowly gave way to tension. A council of the Nine Elders stood behind their divine cauldron, their expressions unreadable—yet the air trembled faintly with restrained dissatisfaction.
The golden aurora screen hovered above the platform, displaying only one image now: Kent, the young man standing at the very top, holding the Sage Pill that had chosen him. Whispers had turned into full-blown debates among the millions present. Accusations, envy, curiosity—all began to swirl.
After a long silence, Elder Qing Hou stepped forward, his voice heavy with authority.
“Young man. We ask you to return the pill to the cauldron. It was born of our flames and techniques—it belongs to the elders.”
Kent glanced down at the glowing pill resting in his hand. It pulsed weakly now, as though unsure. But Kent nodded.
With calm steps, he descended. Yun Rou and Lin Lin watched anxiously from behind.
“Be careful,” Yun Rou whispered, tension etched on her face.
“This doesn’t feel right…” Lin Lin added.
Kent walked toward the center stage. The crowd parted slowly like a tide. Everyone stared, some with reverence, others with resentment. Reaching the cauldron, Kent hesitated only for a breath… then extended his hand.
The Sage Pill floated into the air once more and gently returned to the massive alchemical vessel.
For a moment, all was still.
Then…
Crack!
The pill’s outer glow flickered violently.
Pop!
A faint cry—like a whisper of sorrow—echoed through the silent field as the pill shuddered, then vanished into ash, its spiritual core dissolving before the crowd’s eyes. The cauldron shivered with a ghostly hiss, and a golden wisp of light scattered into nothing.
GASPS. SCREAMS.
The elders’ faces turned ashen.
“The spirit… it’s gone!”
“He returned it too late! He killed the pill!”
“Such a waste of divine materials—this is blasphemy!”
Accusations burst forth from all directions like arrows:
“He’s not even an alchemist! He doesn’t deserve to touch the Sage Pill!”
“A thief! He forced it to bond and destroyed it!”
“Punish him!”
Kent stood alone on the platform, the center of a brewing storm. A thousand fingers pointed. A thousand voices condemned.
But he didn’t flinch.
Instead, he looked toward the elders and spoke—his voice cold, sharp, unafraid.
“You asked me to return it. I did.”
“But the spirit pill had already formed its bond. You forced it back into a vessel it no longer belonged to.”
His voice rose, echoing across the divine steps.
“Do you elders not teach that forcing a spiritual pill to separate from its master… is death for the pill?”
The murmuring crowd wavered.
“You blame me for what your pride could not accept.”
The elder in blue robes—Elder Qin Jian—stepped forward, eyes narrowed. “You dare lecture us?”
“No,” Kent replied calmly. “I simply remind you of your own teachings.”
An awkward silence hung for a moment—until a high-pitched voice yelled from the crowd:
“He’s lying! He must have stolen the pill’s will with some demonic technique!”
“Look at his eyes—he has strange cultivation! Who knows what trick he used?!”
“He should be stripped of the pill and punished!”
More and more voices joined in. A wave of anger surged.
Kent said nothing. But slowly… he reached inside his inner robe.
With a flick of his fingers, he pulled out a thin silver token. The moment it touched the light, an ethereal aura burst from it like a roaring wind. The token spun once in the air and then settled into his hand—shining with golden light.
The entire crowd went silent.
The Immortal Master Token.
The same one gifted to only one person each century—chosen by an Immortal Alchemy Master himself.
Elder Qing Hou’s face paled. Elder Yuancheng stepped back with disbelief.
“That token…”
“Impossible… that belongs to—!”
“I-is it real?”
The token pulsed again, revealing the distinct emblem of the Celestial Flame Sect, granted only to one recognized as a future Pill Sovereign.
Knt looked around, voice calm now, like thunder after the storm.
“This token acknowledges me as a worthy bearer of the highest alchemical path. I am recognized by a true Immortal Master. If that is not qualification enough to receive a pill’s bond…”
He paused, letting the weight of his words drop like a hammer.
“…then perhaps your standards no longer align with the heavens.”
No one spoke.
No one could.
The elders exchanged glances, shamed and shaken. Elder Qing Hou finally sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Let it go…”
One by one, the elders stepped down, leaving the cauldron behind.
No one dared to accuse Kent anymore.
And in that lingering silence, as Kent turned back to the top steps, the token glowed once more in his hand, then faded—its light satisfied.
Somewhere far above, in the drifting clouds, an invisible spirit smiled.
–
Late evening…
As twilight deepened over the Pill King Market, lanterns flickered to life like floating stars, bathing the sprawling streets in a warm golden hue. The eastern quarter of the market pulsed with a subtler kind of energy—less crowded, more ancient. The fragrance of rare herbs lingered in the air, mixed with the scent of old paper and aged ink.
Kent walked with Lin Lin and Yun Rou, his hands tucked behind his back, his gaze sweeping every wooden sign and iron-locked shelf.
“This place feels… forgotten,” Lin Lin murmured, eyeing the withered storefronts and crooked banners.
“That’s where the real treasures lie,” Kent replied calmly.
Yun Rou raised an eyebrow. “Most of these shops deal in scraps. Even the recipes they display are either incomplete or outdated.”
Indeed, in the eastern end, knowledge was traded like shadowed whispers. Scrolls covered in dust, manuals with cracked bindings, books that had once passed through the hands of great alchemists but now sat discarded, forgotten—these were the soul of this hidden corner.
The trio stepped into a narrow alley where an old man with a crooked back and a crooked grin was seated on a tattered mat, a pile of torn books before him.
“Pill formulas! Rare recipes! Manuals from lost sects! Take a look, young ones! Take a gamble with fate!”
Most buyers ignored him.
Kent didn’t.
He knelt before the pile and began flipping through the manuals. His fingers moved fast but with focus, brushing away dust, skimming ink strokes, feeling the weight of knowledge—or the lack of it.
Lin Lin crouched beside him, peeking at a few titles.
“‘Blazing Root Restoration Pill’? That’s just for spirit exhaustion…”
“‘Lily Dew Fireflower Soup’?” Yun Rou frowned. “That’s not even a pill…”
Kent said nothing. His gaze was elsewhere—drawn like a moth to something strange.
Then he paused.
Beneath a curled, half-burned scroll with missing edges and faded ink, his fingers landed on a book bound in torn red silk, half-charred at the spine.
Across the blackened front, the name was barely legible.
“Pleasure Master’s Last Dream.”
Kent gently opened the cover. A gust of aged heat brushed past his face, like the manual itself still remembered the fire it had endured.
The first page was surprisingly intact.
Ninety-nine pill names. Written in elegant, extravagant calligraphy.
—Lust-Suppressing Lotus Pill
—Spirit-Cleansing Joy Pearl
—Heart Entwining Jade Flame
—Harmony Dew of Duality
—Heaven-Shaking Yin-Yang Catalyst
—…
Each name struck the air like a whisper from some forgotten era. Every title pulsed with both mystery and danger.
But beyond the first page…
Ash. Char. Missing ink.
Formulas broken halfway, scattered characters, portions that looked to be burned intentionally. There were no complete recipes.
“What kind of manual is that?” Yun Rou asked cautiously, peeking over his shoulder. “Sounds like something from a forbidden dual cultivation sect…”
“Or someone with a wild imagination,” Lin Lin added with a smirk.
Kent didn’t answer.
He could feel something else—deep within the book. The residues of powerful intent. An obsession. A soul that had lived and died chasing something extraordinary. A divine flame of alchemy… that had turned into ashes.
“I want this,” Kent said suddenly.
The old vendor blinked. “That one? Hah! It’s just a joke manuscript. Found it with a pile of burned books near Lust God Peak. No one’s bought it for years. I’ll give it to you for… five spirit stones.”
Kent dropped ten without blinking.
“What a waste…” Yun Rou muttered, but her gaze lingered on the title.
As Kent turned to leave, the old vendor added with a grin, “Boy, you sure about this one? They say the man who wrote that book went mad trying to perfect the final pill. Dreamed of pleasure, but died in pain.”
Kent only smiled faintly.
“Then maybe I’ll help him finish his dream.”
They walked back through the alley, the market lanterns beginning to dim as stars took over the sky.
Kent didn’t speak the rest of the way.
But deep inside his robe, the half-burned manual pulsed faintly with warmth.
And somewhere in the smoke-stained pages… the spirit of the Pleasure Master waited.