"I'll accept his challenge," the old rchant declared, gesturing toward . "One hour to refine a Breakthrough Pill."
"A Breakthrough Pill?" Jasper scoffed, his voice echoing across the market. "Not just a Fasting Pill now? You're setting yourself up for humiliation."
I smiled calmly. If this guild pharmacist wanted to witness true alchemy, I'd give him a demonstration he'd never forget. The Breakthrough Pill was far more complex than a Fasting Pill, requiring precise control and pure spiritual energy.
"Two Breakthrough Pills against your one Recovery Pill," I stated firmly. "Judge the results however you wish."
The crowd's murmurs intensified. Soone whispered, "Isn't that the man who challenged Master Adrian Whitlock?"
"Yes, and he defied the entire Blackthorne Family too," another voice added.
"I heard he's Miss Ashworth's husband."
Jasper's confident smirk faltered slightly. "Miss Ashworth? The Isabelle Ashworth?"
I didn't bother responding to the gossip. Instead, I began clearing a small space on the ground, preparing for the refinent process. Eamon stood protectively nearby, keeping the growing crowd at a respectful distance.
"You'll need proper equipnt," Jasper said mockingly. "A refined spiritual furnace, jade tools, purified water from mountain springs—none of which you have."
I pulled out a small pot from my travel bag. "This will do."
The crowd erupted in laughter. The pot was ordinary—sothing you'd cook soup in, not refine pills.
Jasper's laugh was the loudest. "You intend to make a Breakthrough Pill in a cooking pot? This gets more absurd by the minute."
I ignored him, focusing on my preparations. I arranged the herbs I'd need—Blood Ginseng, White Lotus Seed, Tiger Bone Powder, and several others I'd acquired at the convention. Each ingredient had its purpose, and the combination would create a pill that could help a cultivator break through a bottleneck in their training.
"One hour starts now," I announced, looking directly at the rchant.
The old man nodded solemnly and produced a small hourglass. "Begin."
I closed my eyes briefly, centering myself. The crowd's noise faded as I focused inward, drawing on my cultivation base. When I opened my eyes again, I extended my hand over the pot and summoned my Spiritual Fire.
Blue flas appeared above my palm.
The crowd gasped. Jasper's smug expression vanished.
"Blue Spiritual Fire," soone whispered in awe. "Only master alchemists can produce that color."
Jasper's face paled. "Impossible. You must be using so trick."
The blue flas danced above my palm, casting an ethereal light across the marketplace. I directed the fire into the pot, where it engulfed the herbs. The first step was to break down the raw materials and extract their essence.
"The temperature must be precise," I explained, partly for the crowd's benefit but mostly to irritate Jasper. "Too hot, and the spiritual essence evaporates. Too cool, and the elents won't properly combine."
I manipulated the flas with careful gestures, adjusting their intensity as I worked. The herbs began to dissolve, releasing colorful vapors that spiraled upward.
Thirty minutes passed this way, with guiding the refinent process while the crowd watched in fascination. Jasper had fallen silent, his earlier mockery replaced by intense scrutiny.
Then disaster struck.
A loud crack split the air as my pot fractured under the intense heat of the Spiritual Fire. The liquid contents began seeping through the cracks.
"Ha!" Jasper exclaid triumphantly. "As I said—proper equipnt is essential. Your common cookware can't withstand real alchemical processes."
I remained calm despite the setback. The pot was indeed failing, but I wasn't finished.
"You're right about one thing," I conceded. "Proper equipnt matters."
Without hesitation, I cupped my hands beneath the cracking pot, catching the escaping liquid. Then I set the ruined pot aside and held the partially refined mixture in my bare palms.
"What are you doing?" Eamon hissed in alarm.
I didn't answer him. Instead, I intensified the Spiritual Fire directly in my hands, continuing the refinent process.
The pain was imdiate and excruciating. Even for soone with my cultivation level, directing Spiritual Fire onto bare skin was agonizing. My hands felt like they were being seared to the bone, but I maintained my concentration, refusing to show any sign of discomfort.
"He's using his own hands as a crucible," an elderly voice explained from sowhere in the crowd. "I've only read about this technique in ancient texts."
Jasper was speechless now, his earlier confidence completely evaporated.
I focused on the mixture in my hands, using the pain as an anchor for my concentration. The herbs continued breaking down, their essence combining in precise proportions. The blue flas danced between my fingers, changing color subtly as different elents activated.
Minutes stretched on, feeling like hours. Sweat beaded on my forehead, not just from concentration but from the imnse effort of enduring the pain without flinching. The crowd had fallen completely silent, watching the unprecedented display.
Forty-five minutes in, I began the final phase. The essence had been extracted and combined—now it needed to be crystallized into pill form. This was the most delicate part of the process, requiring absolute precision.
I focused my energy more intensely, compressing the liquid into a tight spiral between my palms. The flas grew brighter, and I could feel my skin blistering beneath their heat.
"He won't succeed," Jasper finally found his voice again, though it lacked conviction. "The final crystallization requires stable conditions. His hands are shaking from pain."
He wasn't wrong. My hands were trembling slightly, the pain becoming nearly unbearable. But I refused to fail. Not here, not with so many eyes watching, not with my reputation at stake.
I took a deep breath and pushed more of my spiritual energy into the process, stabilizing the tremors through sheer force of will. The mixture began to solidify, condensing into a small, glowing sphere.
As the hourglass emptied its final grains of sand, a brilliant flash of golden light erupted from between my palms.
"Ti!" the old rchant called.
I slowly opened my hands. There, resting on my reddened, blistered palm, sat two perfectly ford pills. They were golden in color with streaks of blue running through them, and they emitted a faint light of their own.
"Breakthrough Pills," I announced quietly. "As promised."
The crowd erupted in applause and exclamations of amazent. The old rchant stepped forward, carefully taking one of the pills for examination. He held it up to the light, scrutinized its texture, and even slled it.
"Perfect formation," he declared in awe. "I haven't seen craftsmanship like this in decades."
Jasper stood frozen, his face a mask of disbelief. "Let see that," he demanded, snatching the pill from the rchant's hand. Visit My Virtual Library Empire (*) for more.
He examined it thoroughly, searching for any flaw he could use to discredit . Finding none, he finally returned it to the rchant with trembling hands.
"This is... acceptable quality," he admitted reluctantly. "But using your bare hands was recklessly dangerous. No responsible alchemist would take such risks."
I looked directly at him. "Sotis the conventional path isn't available to those of us who weren't born into privilege. We find our own ways."
The old rchant stepped between us, sensing the tension. "The challenge has been t. Master Knight has successfully refined two Breakthrough Pills within the hour, using thods I've only heard of in legends." He turned to with newfound respect. "The Best Thin Armor is yours, as agreed."
I nodded gratefully. "Thank you."
As the rchant began gathering the strips of armor, Jasper leaned closer to , his voice low enough that only I could hear.
"You may have won today, but the Celestial Apothecary Guild doesn't take kindly to outsiders flaunting unorthodox thods. Consider yourself marked."
I t his gaze steadily. "I've been marked by more dangerous enemies than your guild. Add yourselves to the list if you wish."
His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more before turning and pushing his way through the dispersing crowd.
Eamon approached , concern evident in his expression. "Your hands..."
I looked down at my palms. They were an angry red, with blisters already forming. The pain, now that I allowed myself to feel it fully, was intense.
"Worth it," I told him quietly, accepting the package of Best Thin Armor from the rchant. "This will keep us alive in the battles to co."
The old man bowed deeply to . "This humble one is honored to witness true alchemy today. Your na will be spoken in these markets for years to co."
I returned his bow as best I could with my injured hands. "I'm glad we could do business."
As we walked away, the whispers followed us. Word would spread quickly about what had happened here today. So would call it impressive, others reckless. But no one would question my abilities again.
"Was it necessary to reveal yourself so publicly?" Eamon asked quietly.
I flexed my painful hands carefully. "Sotis you need to show your strength to avoid having to use it later."
With the Best Thin Armor secured, we continued through the market. I had made a powerful impression—and likely a powerful enemy in the Celestial Apothecary Guild. But I had also gained sothing more valuable than re armor or recognition.
I had proved, to myself as much as to others, that I could overco any obstacle placed in my path—even if it ant holding fire in my bare hands.
Reviews
All reviews (0)