The alchemy furnace sat at the center of Lin Xuan's room like a silent beast waiting to be awakened.
It was low-grade—there was no mistaking that. The metal was slightly dull, the engraved formations shallow and utilitarian rather than elegant. Still, the structure was stable, the internal channels intact. For a beginner, it was more than sufficient.
Lin Xuan studied it without impatience.
Seven grades of items—this knowledge surfaced naturally from the alchemy basics infused by the system: Low, Common, Refined, Spirit, Earth, Heaven, and Divine.
In theory, all seven existed. In practice, the distance between each grade only widened as one climbed higher, creating a clear divide within the cultivation world.
Earth Grade items marked the threshold of true high-tier resources. While still rare, they were not unattainable in powerful cultivation environments. Large sects, wealthy clans, trade associations, and cultivators with deep pockets could obtain Earth Grade items through auctions, inheritances, or long-term accumulation of resources. In regions where cultivation flourished, Earth Grade treasures were symbols of status rather than miracles.
Heaven Grade items, however, crossed into a different realm entirely. These were usually possessed only by top-tier sects, imperial families, or ancient powers with histories stretching back thousands of years. Their existence was known, but their movements were carefully concealed, revealed only during moments of overwhelming necessity.
As for Divine Grade items… those bordered on legend. Publicly acknowledged Divine Grade treasures could be counted on one hand, most of them controlled by the imperial family. Only two or three ancient sects were rumored—never confirmed—to possess such artifacts, and even then, their true capabilities remained unknown.
Below Earth Grade, Spirit Grade items formed the backbone of regional power. Rare but achievable, they were the treasures that allowed clans and sects to establish and maintain dominance.
The Lin Clan was no exception.
Within the clan vault rested a Peak Spirit Grade sword, an ancestral weapon passed down through generations. It was one of the core pillars supporting the Lin Clan's authority, alongside its massive manpower, cultivated elders, and tightly controlled internal hierarchy.
Lin Xuan absorbed this information calmly.
The true depth of the Lin Clan… I'll understand it in time.
For now, the low-grade furnace before him was more than sufficient.
Beside it, Steward Han had arranged the materials neatly before leaving. Bundles of herbs rested in identical groupings, each tied with plain twine and marked with subtle ink seals to preserve freshness.
Ten batches.
Ten chances.
Lin Xuan's gaze lingered on them for a moment longer than necessary.
No margin for waste.
He exhaled slowly and sat down cross-legged before the furnace.
He did not touch it.
Not yet.
Instead, he closed his eyes.
Qi circulation began—not fast, not deep, but steady. His breathing slowed as he guided the thin stream of energy through his body, carefully skirting damaged meridians, allowing the familiar pain to surface.
It hurt.
A dull, burning ache, as if needles scraped gently along cracked glass inside him.
Good.
He welcomed it.
I need to know this pain. If I can't endure it calmly now, it will sabotage fire control later.
Alchemy was not brute force.
It was balance.
Timing.
Mental stability.
And for someone with broken meridians, discipline mattered more than talent.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
Only when his breathing remained steady even as pain persisted did Lin Xuan open his eyes.
He reached out and placed his hand against the furnace.
"Activate."
A thin wisp of qi entered the formation.
The furnace hummed softly, its interior warming as faint orange light flickered into existence.
First batch.
Lin Xuan laid out the herbs precisely as instructed by the Basic Vitality Pill recipe—nothing fancy, nothing dangerous. A beginner's pill. Stable. Forgiving.
Or so it was said.
He introduced the first ingredient.
The flame responded sluggishly.
His brow furrowed.
The damaged meridians made fire control feel delayed, as though his will reached the flame a heartbeat too late. He adjusted, compensating instinctively—but the delay compounded.
The flame surged.
Too much.
The furnace rattled faintly.
Lin Xuan's eyes sharpened.
"Too fast—"
He pulled back immediately, cutting qi supply.
The flame sputtered violently, destabilizing instead of calming.
A sharp crack echoed from inside the furnace.
The scent of scorched herbs filled the air.
Lin Xuan shut the furnace down completely.
Silence returned.
He opened the lid.
Inside, the herbs were charred, their medicinal essence completely dispersed.
Batch one—ruined.
He stared at the remains for a moment.
Then calmly cleaned the furnace.
Poor fire control. Reaction lag due to damaged meridians. Overcompensated.
No frustration.
Just observation.
He sat back down and circulated qi again, longer this time, letting his breathing reset.
Second batch.
This time, he adjusted the flame output preemptively, accounting for delay. The fire stabilized more smoothly.
Good.
He added the first two ingredients successfully.
Then the third.
Timing mattered here—the fusion window narrow, fleeting.
He hesitated.
Just a fraction.
The herbs merged—but not cleanly.
The furnace didn't shake.
Instead, the flame dulled.
Lin Xuan felt it instantly.
"Medicinal properties collapsing…"
He tried to salvage it, subtly adjusting heat, but the internal balance was already gone.
The scent changed—not burnt, but flat.
Dead.
He shut the furnace down.
Second batch—failure.
He exhaled slowly.
Timing sensitivity. Theoretical knowledge isn't instinct yet.
This time, he stood up and walked a slow circle around the room before sitting again.
He drank water.
Let his mind clear.
Third batch.
The pain had been building steadily, unnoticed until now. Mental fatigue crept in—subtle, insidious.
He began carefully.
Fire control held.
Ingredient sequence flawless.
Then—midway through—the ache in his meridians flared sharply.
His focus wavered.
The flame flickered.
Just once.
That was enough.
The furnace vibrated erratically.
Lin Xuan reacted instantly, cutting the process short before it could explode.
When he opened the furnace, the contents were unusable.
Third failure.
This time, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
Longer rest.
Longer breathing.
Emotion influences fire. Fatigue magnifies instability.
He waited until his thoughts were clear again—until the pain dulled to a manageable throb.
Only then did he rise.
Fourth batch.
Everything slowed.
Fire introduced gently.
Breathing matched rhythm.
Ingredient placement precise.
No rushing.
No hesitation.
The flame moved like a living thing now—not aggressive, not sluggish.
When the final fusion occurred, the furnace hummed steadily instead of rattling.
A faint medicinal aroma filled the room—clean, invigorating.
Lin Xuan held the state for several breaths.
Then shut it down.
He opened the furnace.
Inside lay four pills.
They were slightly uneven in color, their surface matte rather than glossy—but intact.
Stable.
Usable.
Low Grade Vitality Pills.
Lin Xuan stared at them for a moment.
Then—
[Achievement Unlocked]
Newbie Alchemist — Baby Steps—You have successfully completed your first alchemical batch.
Reward: 10 System Coins
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…An achievement?"
He wasn't startled—just mildly surprised.
Reasonable. First successful production is a milestone.
He accepted it without ceremony.
Ten coins appeared in his system balance.
After cleaning the furnace, he didn't immediately start again.
Instead, he accessed the System Shop.
Miscellaneous.
Previously bookmarked.
He purchased the skill he had postponed.
Stillness of the Mind — 5 System Coins.
The moment the purchase completed, a subtle sensation spread through his consciousness.
Not strength.
Not clarity.
But quiet.
Like ripples on water smoothing themselves.
Lin Xuan exhaled slowly.
"…This will help."
He returned to the furnace.
Batch five.
Low Grade again.
Stable.
No surprises.
Batch six.
Halfway through, something clicked.
Fire control aligned more naturally.
Timing flowed.
The result—
Medium Grade Vitality Pills.
Three of them.
Better color. Stronger medicinal aura.
Lin Xuan allowed himself a faint nod.
Progress.
He continued.
Batch seven.
Batch eight.
Failures did not return—but neither did perfection.
Consistency first.
By the tenth batch, his movements were smoother, his mental fatigue managed carefully with pauses between cycles.
When he opened the furnace for the final time, the pills inside glowed faintly.
High Grade Vitality Pills.
Two of them.
No Flawless.
He hadn't expected any.
Flawless requires experience, talent, and luck. I have none of those in excess yet.
Satisfied, Lin Xuan cleaned the furnace thoroughly and stored the pills carefully.
Only then did he glance toward the window.
Moonlight poured in.
High.
Bright.
He blinked.
"…It's midnight."
The exhaustion hit all at once—physical, mental, emotional.
He lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Tomorrow—Heavenly Balance Trading Association.
Sell quietly.
Observe the market.
No Alchemy Association yet.
Too much attention while weak is dangerous.
His thoughts slowed.
Final conclusion settling firmly in his mind:
Survival first.Independence next.
Sleep claimed him before another thought could form.