"H-how did you manage to do that?" The old man’s voice trembled as he stared in disbelief at the pill in Wen Ran’s palm, his face draining of color. He felt a deep, gnawing urge to shake the boy, to pry the secrets out of him. This pill, this level of craftsmanship—such a creation was beyond even his own reach, and he, an ancient demon, had no hope of replicating it. Tales of prodigies who crafted high-grade pills with ease had reached his ears, but he had never heard of anyone, let alone a young boy like Wen Ran, capable of forging a supreme-grade pill at his age. This was impossible. No matter how he looked at it, Wen Ran was a treasure—a priceless gem that any sect in the world would envy.
In his mind, the old man was already dancing with excitement. He knew, without a doubt, that he had stumbled upon a talent so rare, so astonishing, that it was worth protecting with his very life. This boy could not be allowed to slip through his fingers.
But Wen Ran seemed oblivious to the old man’s thoughts, entirely consumed by the pill in his hand. He was lost in it, his focus so absolute that the world around him ceased to exist. It was as if something within him was blooming—a new understanding, a path to greatness unfolding before his very eyes.
With great care, Wen Ran began recounting the process he had followed to achieve such an incredible feat. Yet, as the old man listened, his heart sank. The method Wen Ran described was beyond the scope of what he thought possible. Such a result, he believed, could only be the fruit of years of painstaking study and mastery. It was a method that defied all logic, and yet, here the pill was—proof of an impossible achievement.
But the truth was that Wen Ran had experienced a moment of sudden, almost mystical comprehension. As his flames carefully refined the medicinal powder, he realized he could manipulate the fire in a way that delayed the pill’s condensation, surrounding the powder without allowing the energy to escape. It was a delicate balance, one that could have easily led to catastrophe. The risk was enormous—if the flames were controlled poorly, the furnace would explode, most likely taking Wen Ran’s life with it. But he had not hesitated. He had pressed forward.
In that crucial moment, when the energy within the furnace began to violently struggle to escape, Wen Ran’s crimson spiritual energy surged outward, completely beyond his control. At that instant, everything became clear. The fire laws alone would not suffice. He had to tap into something deeper, something hidden within the flames themselves—a mysterious force tied directly to the crimson object deep within his dantian. It was as if the very essence of his being had become one with the fire, and everything he did now, every step forward, was connected to that singular power.
But no matter how powerful the force within him was, it left Wen Ran uneasy. He couldn’t rest until he fully understood what it was, what force had driven him to create such a pill.
"Wen Ran, can you hear me? Did this pill make you an idiot?" The sudden voice of his master cut through the haze in his mind, dragging him back to the present. Wen Ran blinked, looking at the old man standing next to him. For a moment, he felt something strange—a lack of greed, a sense of genuine concern. The old man, usually consumed by his ambitions, now appeared as if he were a true master.
"Ah? I’m sorry, Master. I was just absorbing the way I created the pill. Is there anything important you wish to ask me?" Wen Ran spoke with a distant, blank expression. His mind was still lost in the intricate world of alchemy, struggling to understand the depths of what had just occurred.
The old man sighed deeply, his words heavy with the weight of his thoughts. He had no response for the prodigy standing before him. Unknowingly, he found himself admiring his disciple—this boy was more than just talent; he was a freak of nature.
"Listen, Wen Ran," the old man began, his voice calm, steady. "Today, you managed to achieve something only a few masters ever will. You created a supreme-grade pill. I must congratulate you. From this day forward, you have stepped onto the path of supremacy." He paused, his gaze softening for a moment. "But don’t lose your heart over such minor achievements. Yes, you may have mastered crafting pills at this level, but when the time comes to learn a new recipe, you may find yourself struggling to recreate it."
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The old man’s words felt genuine, as if this was the first time he truly offered advice. He wasn’t just speaking from a position of authority, but from a place of experience—perhaps for the first time since they had begun their master-disciple relationship.
"Disciple understands," Wen Ran finally responded, coming back to himself. He bowed deeply to the old man, acknowledging his wisdom. But as he straightened, his eyes wandered to the empty mountain of medicinal herbs. He was already thinking of his next batch. But before he could speak, his master beat him to it.
"I have a new task for you," the old man said, his tone carrying a hidden smile. "This will involve your first creation of a vile pill. I’ll also need to leave the sect for a while."
Wen Ran raised an eyebrow, curious about what the old man had in mind.
The old man’s smile widened, clearly relishing the thought of cutting off Wen Ran’s resources. "You’ll need to travel outside the sect, to the mountains, and retrieve the blood and heart of the white tiger. And also..."
Suddenly, the old man pulled out a jade slip from his pocket. He handed it to Wen Ran with a flick of his wrist. "Place this to your forehead whenever you wish to read what’s inside. It contains the list of medicinal herbs you must retrieve."
Before Wen Ran could react, a mysterious force pushed him away. He stumbled back in surprise, losing his grip on the pill.
"And I’ll be keeping this," the old man said with a smirk, catching the pill with ease. He gave Wen Ran a mock salute before suddenly shoving him out of the door. Before Wen Ran could react, the door slammed shut with a resounding thud, leaving him standing outside alone.