The old man stopped dead in his tracks, completely shocked and flabbergasted. His eyes widened as he gazed at the pill in Wen Ran’s hand, unable to process what he was seeing. "This... this... how...?" His words faltered, failing to capture the disbelief flooding his mind.
He had never imagined that Wen Ran would succeed, let alone craft something like this. The pill shimmered in the light, its scent filling the room with an otherworldly fragrance—far more refined than any pill the old man had ever created. He could feel the powerful spiritual energy emanating from it, almost overwhelming.
"A high-grade pill... and it must have at least seventy percent of the spiritual strength still intact... maybe even more," the old man whispered to himself, his throat dry as he swallowed hard. His hands trembled slightly, unable to hide the awe he felt. This was no ordinary creation. Wen Ran had managed to do something that even the master, with all his years of experience, could not replicate.
He turned his gaze to Wen Ran, who, in his ignorance, simply stared back at him. The old man could see the hesitation in his disciple’s eyes, the uncertain but proud glimmer of someone who knew they had accomplished something monumental. And yet, despite the moment of triumph, Wen Ran’s instinct was to hide the pill.
Before the old man could speak, Wen Ran quickly cupped his hands and bowed deeply, his voice steady despite the undercurrent of nervousness. "Disciple Wen Ran greets the master. Welcome back."
The old man stood frozen, his mouth hanging open as he stared at Wen Ran, unable to find words. He looked at his disciple as if he were some sort of monster, utterly baffled by what had just happened. The method Wen Ran had used was unlike anything the old man had ever seen before. It was a ruthless, almost reckless approach to something as sacred as an alchemy furnace, and the blatant disregard for the materials had shocked him. Yet, the result was undeniable. The pill that now rested in Wen Ran’s hand was nothing short of miraculous.
"Tell me," the old man’s voice trembled with excitement, though he tried to mask it. "How much of your power did you use to craft this pill? And how many of these can you craft in a day?"
Wen Ran looked at him, still unsure of the full scope of what he had just created. But to the old man, the answer was of little consequence compared to what lay beneath the surface. His mind raced with possibilities. If Wen Ran could replicate this process, the implications were enormous.
Not only would Wen Ran’s cultivation soar, but the potential of this pill... it could elevate him to unimaginable heights. The old man’s thoughts began to spiral, fueled by a new, dangerous ambition. The pill at the Nascent Soul realm, crafted with the same precision and power, could enhance his own strength beyond measure.
In that moment, the old man’s true intentions began to form in his heart. He had already wasted enough materials on Wen Ran—materials that had seemed pointless, that had been written off as failures. But now, things were different. He saw the potential in this young man, a potential he could exploit.
With a dark smile tugging at the corners of his lips, the old man made his decision. He would provide Wen Ran with the best cultivation materials, the most advanced knowledge—everything necessary to grow him into a true alchemist. But there was a deeper, more selfish reason for this generosity.
The old man didn’t care about mentorship or disciple loyalty. His mind was already made up. Wen Ran would be his tool, his slave—a pill maker to serve him for the rest of his life, crafting pills without question, without the need for compensation. The prospect of that future sent a rush of excitement through him, one he had not felt in years. He would make sure Wen Ran would never leave his side.
"Disciple has barely used five percent of his spiritual energy reserves," Wen Ran replied respectfully, his voice calm but guarded. "I can craft way more pills." He knew the old man must have seen something special in his pill, and that was why he was so agitated. He could even see his master’s eyebrows twitch uncontrollably, his excitement practically palpable. Wen Ran couldn’t quite imagine what was going through the old man’s mind, but one thing was clear: he wouldn’t allow himself to be played by some creepy old man.
"Good, good, good," the old man beamed, his voice thick with enthusiasm. "You are truly a genius, Wen Ran. To think you could even enhance the simple recipe for the Flowing Essence Pill... You are a one-in-a-million-years student. I’m proud to raise someone like you. From today on, you’ve truly passed your test and become my disciple."
The old man’s words rang out in the quiet space, but Wen Ran couldn’t shake the unease in his gut. The flattery felt hollow. He knew what was coming next.
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"Come, come, kowtow before your master and prove your loyalty. After that, we can celebrate together."
Wen Ran’s mind erupted with frustration, but he held it back, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. On the outside, he gave the old man a fake smile, his fists clenched. Inside, however, a storm of rebellion raged within him.
Who the fuck would kowtow to you, you old fossil... fuck... I have no way out. This doesn’t count... it’s just playing along... it doesn’t count. I will never truly kowtow to anybody in my life!
His thoughts were a whirlwind of anger and defiance, but he knew better than to show it. Slowly, with clenched teeth, Wen Ran lowered himself onto his knees, performing the act of submission—yet in his heart, it felt like an act of betrayal to his own soul.
"Good, now…" The old man’s voice was laced with smug satisfaction. "Pass the pill."
That was the last straw. Wen Ran’s patience shattered.
"Old man, you’re pushing it! Not in a million years, that’s mine!" Wen Ran snapped, his voice filled with a ferocity he could no longer hide. The rage he had kept bottled up inside finally erupted, and the emotions he had forced down exploded out of him.