Morning sunlight spilled lazily through the broken window of Kent’s room in the Half Moon Inn, washing over the shattered remains of last night’s chaos—the cracked floorboards, the scorched herbs, the exploded cauldron, and the faint scent of roses that still lingered in the air like the ghost of a forbidden secret.
Bai Qi slowly opened her eyes.
Her body ached in places she didn’t know could ache, bruised from the beating, her meridians still throbbed from the spirit lock Kent had used on her. She tried to move but found herself lying on the side of the bed, now properly unbound yet heavy with shame.
Then she noticed him.
Kent sat calmly across the room, dressed in fresh robes, sipping a steaming cup of tea. Another cup rested on a small wooden tray beside her—still warm.
“You’re awake,” Kent said without even turning his head, as if he had been expecting her eyes to flutter open at that exact second. He rose and walked toward her slowly, placing the tea beside her. “You should drink. It’s a mild spirit-calming blend. Good for broken pride and sprained egos.”
The words hit harder than a hammer.
Bai Qi clenched her fists beneath the covers and lowered her head, her face burning. Then, unexpectedly, tears welled up in her eyes.
The once fearsome disciple of the Divine Fist Sect—known for cracking boulders with bare hands and breaking the bones of arrogant male disciples—was crying.
Kent sighed softly.
“Don’t cry over what already happened,” he said, his voice calm, without a trace of mockery. “I won’t tell anyone. After you cross that door… we both go back to being strangers.”
That made her shoulders tremble even more. She didn’t respond at first, just kept her face turned away as the tears slipped silently down her cheeks. The quiet in the room was thick, broken only by the soft clink of Kent’s teacup.
Finally, she turned to face him, her eyes red and puffy. “You… why did you take advantage last night?”
Kent blinked. “What kind of man do you think I am?”
“You beat me, tied me up, and I came to kill you,” she said, trembling. “You could’ve—”
“You came at the wrong time,” Kent interrupted flatly.
She was quiet for a long time, then, almost out of nowhere, muttered, “Then… marry me.”
Kent choked on his tea.
“Marry you?” he coughed, wiping his mouth. “Are you serious?”
Bai Qi looked down, shame and defiance warring in her expression. “You… already humiliated me all night. If word gets out, I—”
“I already said I won’t tell a soul,” Kent interrupted again, this time chuckling. “But marriage? Hmm… I already have more than fifteen wives and concubines. If I added another, my estate would collapse under the weight of jealousy.”
Bai Qi gawked. “Fif—fifteen?!”
Kent nodded, pretending to look thoughtful. “It’s hard, honestly. Remembering birthdays, which side to sleep on, whose spirit beasts to feed—”
“Y-You shameless dog!” she burst, reaching for the pillow to throw at him.
He caught it with one hand, smirking. “That makes twenty-three insults this week. Try harder.”
“I hate you!” she screamed, face red with both anger and humiliation. She shoved the tea aside and ran out of the room barefoot, hair in disarray, sobbing into her sleeve.
Just as she flew past the second-floor hallway, Lin Lin and Yun Rou were coming up the stairs.
They watched Bai Qi tearfully sprint away like a madwoman, disappearing into the morning crowd with red eyes and trembling shoulders.
“Was that Bai Qi?” Lin Lin asked, stunned.
“She looked like she’d been crying,” Yun Rou added, blinking.
Kent walked out just in time, sipping his tea as if nothing had happened.
“What happened?” both girls asked in unison.
Kent shrugged casually, leaning against the railing. “She came to attack me again. I defeated her.”
That simple.
No embellishments. No smugness.
The two girls exchanged glances. Given Bai Qi’s history with Kent—how he once strung her upside down from a tree after a public brawl—it made perfect sense.
Yun Rou sighed. “That woman just doesn’t know when to quit.”
“She deserves another round,” Lin Lin muttered with a pout. “Ruining your sleep before the Lecture? So rude.”
Kent just smiled faintly and looked toward the horizon where Bai Qi had vanished into the haze of morning sunlight.
He wouldn’t forget the look in her eyes.
Nor the tea left untouched on the side table.
Some fights didn’t leave visible scars.
—
Kent barely managed a sip of his morning tea before he was dragged by both arms—Lin Lin on the left and Yun Rou on the right.
“You’re coming early this time!” Lin Lin declared with mock sternness, yanking his sleeve.
“Last time we sat behind a fat alchemist in the last seat who blocked the whole stage,” Yun Rou added, pulling harder. “Not again!”
Kent sighed but let himself be pulled like a bag of spirit herbs. “Why does it feel like I’m being arrested?”
Lin Lin giggled. “Because we’re doing it lovingly.”
They reached the large open courtyard of the Pill King Pavilion, where tens of thousands had already gathered. But thanks to the two ladies’ early tactics, they slipped into the front rows, just behind the inner sect alchemists and noble lineages.
Kent’s eyes widened slightly as he caught sight of the man stepping up onto the stage.
It was him—the same elder who had casually handed him the Immortal Cauldron Master token in the chaos of the market a few days ago.
The man with cloudy white eyes, a curved back, and yet an inexplicable air of divine presence.
From the sidelines, a powerful voice echoed, announcing his name, “Elder Mu of the Lim Family, Spirit Fire Alchemist of the Ninth Vein.”
The crowd went still.
Beside the elder stood a poised young woman—elegant, reserved, but sharp-eyed—Nasa Lim, his granddaughter, dressed in soft silver robes. She supported the elder as he gently moved toward the main platform.
Elder Mu didn’t bother with greetings. He simply raised his hand, and with a flick of his sleeve, a vast transparent formation expanded over the area, enclosing it in a dome of sound-insulating silence and spirit clarity. Even the wind outside stopped howling.
“The final lecture will begin,” he said, his voice ancient yet clear. “Today, we return to the foundation—what most have forgotten in their pursuit of heavenly flame and legendary cauldrons.”
Kent immediately sat straighter.
Instead of dazzling with rare pill fire techniques or dazzling secret formulas, Elder Mu took a different route—he walked them through the essence of pill refinement itself.
The lecture touched on basic herb processing, spiritual essence control, flame stabilization, and even detailed examples of why 70% of alchemists fail their second evolution in Immortal Realm alchemy.
“Before you chase divine pills,” Elder Mu said, pointing to the sky, “you must first understand how the herbs weep, how the flames whisper, and how the cauldron sings. Listen—not just with ears, but with your soul.”
Kent’s mind trembled with inspiration.
Many of the concepts Elder Mu spoke of aligned with the mystical insights from the Pleasure Master’s Last Dream manual and his own failed experiments. Dots began to connect. Blind spots became clear.
He felt as if an unseen fog in his mind had lifted.
By the time the lecture ended, even Lin Lin and Yun Rou looked visibly moved.
The elder slowly turned and whispered to his granddaughter. Nasa Lim nodded, then walked gracefully toward Kent.
“Alchemist Kent, my grandfather wishes to see you,” she said politely, her voice calm but curious.
Kent followed her behind the main stage, where Elder Mu was seated on a carved stone chair under a protective array.
“You seem impressed with my lecture?” the elder asked with a tired smile.
Kent bowed respectfully. “Yes, Elder Mu. It’s an honor to learn under your lecture.”
“No need for flattery,” the elder chuckled. “You understood more than half the lecture today… which most fourth-tier alchemists here failed to grasp.”
He gestured to a group of attendants. From behind them, a massive golden cauldron was wheeled out—its size human, its body etched with unknown runes, and its surface faintly humming with energy.
“This cauldron is… mysterious,” Elder Mu said thoughtfully. “No one has been able to name it. It resists refinement, yet accepts spirit flame without complaint. It’s silent, but not dead. I sense… it’s like your flame.”
Kent stepped forward, placing his palm on the golden surface. A jolt ran through his fingers—not violent, but familiar, like an old beast stirring from slumber.
“I cannot refine this cauldron,” the elder continued. “Nor can I sell it. But I believe it may listen to you… or not. Either way, it’s yours. A gift—and a compensation for my elder alchemists blunder. They shouldn’t have snatched that pill from you.”
Kent bowed deeply, stunned and grateful. “I… will cherish this gift, Elder Mu. Thank you. And thank you… for today’s wisdom.”
The old man waved lazily. “Ahh, take it and go before I change my mind. You may contact me if it ever sings for you. Here—my jade slip.”
Kent received it with both hands.
As he turned to leave, Nasa Lim followed quietly.
“I’ve never seen my grandfather speak so highly of a young outsider,” she said softly, glancing sideways at Kent. “That was impressive.”
Kent gave a faint smile. “I’m still learning. I make a lot of mistakes.”
“Even so,” she said, her voice growing curious, “you answered questions in the lecture that stumped half the crowd. May I ask… how did you know about blood-meridian fire sequencing?”
Kent shrugged. “I failed three pills last night. That taught me more than any book.”
Her eyes widened slightly, then she laughed—a soft, rare laugh like a bell in spring rain. “I see… trial by fire. No wonder you and that cauldron seem destined.”
They walked for a few more moments in silence before she spoke again.
“Would you… perhaps share a few more insights later? My spirit flame keeps collapsing during the second breath of refinement. I’ve tried ten times—”
“Stop breathing during that phase,” Kent said instantly. “Let your cauldron take over. You’re interfering too much with your flame’s natural rhythm.”
She blinked in stunned silence.
“…That makes sense. Spirit! I didn’t think of that!”
Kent nodded politely and began to leave, dragging the new cauldron into his spirit ring.
Behind him, Nasa Lim watched with quiet eyes.
Now she understood why her grandfather praised Kent not as a rising alchemist—but as a future Pill Sovereign.
