While someone was happily plotting to abuse the silver spoon that had been laid before him, Wen Ran’s master, on the other hand, felt an eerie shiver crawl down his spine. The sense of unease gripped him, as if an invisible force was closing in.
"Just what the hell is that brat planning?" The old man couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. A sense of unease crept through his bones, and though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, he had the distinct impression that Wen Ran was up to something—something that could turn the tables in a way he hadn’t expected. The old man’s mind raced, but he had no idea just how deeply his disciple was plotting against him. The realization would come too late.
For an entire month, Wen Ran locked himself away in his private quarters, tirelessly refining pills. The days bled into each other, marked only by the flickering flames of his furnace and the relentless grind of his focus. Outside, the entire sect was in turmoil, unaware of the brewing storm within its walls.
Zhang Dawei, enraged and relentless, searched high and low for Wen Ran. The man’s fury knew no bounds, and he had engaged in several confrontations with Luo Feng, demanding answers about Wen Ran’s whereabouts. Luo Feng, ever the sly fox, denied knowing anything, feigning ignorance with an ease that only someone so skilled in deception could manage. He wasn’t concerned with Zhang Dawei’s threats.
In truth, Luo Feng didn’t care about Wen Ran’s well-being—he had no loyalty to his "sworn brother" beyond the convenience of it all. What kept him intrigued was the unpredictable chaos Wen Ran had brought into their lives.
Luo Feng had never been one to seek trouble, but he relished watching others dive headfirst into it. I wonder how strong he’ll be when he emerges, Luo Feng mused, his mind fixated on Wen Ran. He couldn’t help but admire the genius behind the mess Wen Ran had created. The chaos, the audacity—it was all too much to resist for someone like him. Wen Ran was a problem maker, a force that thrived in the face of adversity, and Luo Feng admired that.
He couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of amusement at the thought. Though he didn’t want to stir the pot himself, he was more than happy to watch Wen Ran continue to fuel the fire. To Luo Feng, that was entertainment, and he had a front-row seat to the spectacle.
"But I do wonder, where did this fellow crawl out from? He’s too talented to not be from a powerful family, but the Wen family... I’ve never once heard of a powerful force by that name. Something’s not right, and I can’t wait to unravel just who this Wen Ran really is. How... mysterious and entertaining." Luo Feng sipped his tea with an almost bored expression, surrounded by beauties who hung on his every word. To any man, his life would seem enviable—wealth, power, and admiration—but at this moment, none of that mattered. His thoughts were consumed by one person: the man he had taken as a brother.
The entire sect was waiting for the day Wen Ran would finally step out of hiding. Some ridiculed the youngster, calling him a coward, unable to dare show his face. Others, however, commended his judgment, saying that he was smart enough to lay low. Yet, none of them could have imagined that the very person they were gossiping about was drenched in sweat, laboring under the heat of the pill furnace.
During the past month, Wen Ran had pushed himself to the limit, steadily increasing his success rate to fifty percent—an impressive feat that even made his master feel a sense of awe. The old man, an alchemy master of great renown, had tried to replicate Wen Ran’s technique and recipe. But no matter how many times he tried, he had failed more than ten times before finally producing something that resembled a result. The old man was left stunned—how could a mere junior outdo him?
As Wen Ran worked, the master stood by, watching in a mixture of disbelief and growing respect. The final set of medicinal herbs was nearing its conclusion, and the old man couldn’t help but comment, though his voice was heavy with frustration and resignation.
"Child, this is the last set I can get for you. If you keep draining me like this, I’ll be bankrupt before you even finish." He sighed deeply, his voice laced with a blend of annoyance and admiration.
But Wen Ran didn’t even spare him a glance. His focus was entirely on the last pill, his hands moving with the precision of someone who had long ago shed any fear of failure. If he succeeded with this final batch, he would have an entire mountain of pills at his disposal—pills that could elevate his cultivation to unimaginable heights.
"You never listen to me, do you?" The old man sighed as he watched from the side. Wen Ran’s movements were now in perfect harmony with the furnace, as if he were an extension of it. At that moment, even the old man had to admit that Wen Ran had more natural talent than he ever had for alchemy. The idea of keeping Wen Ran as nothing more than a slave suddenly began to crack in the old man’s mind. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore—did he want Wen Ran to be his most beloved disciple? Or did he want him as a tool for the sect, a weapon to wield? Either way, he realized, he could have both, as long as he treated Wen Ran well.
But his thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a shout that sent a jolt through his chest.
"I succeeded!"
The old man jumped in place, startled by the sudden outburst. He hadn’t expected such a loud reaction, but the moment his eyes landed on the small pill rolling out of the furnace, his shock turned to awe. The pill shimmered with an iridescent glow, like a jewel polished under the light, and he could feel its power radiating from it.
This chapter is updat𝓮d by freēwebnovel.com.
"Supreme Grade..." The old man muttered under his breath, his voice low and filled with a sense of disbelief. He stared at the pill in Wen Ran’s palm with predatory gaze.