Chapter Sixty-Four: On How a Sword Cultivator Refines Pills

When Pan Yang took out his medicine cauldron, He Lin likewise tossed a small cauldron that spun in the air, catching the wind and swelling to enormous size before crashing heavily onto the ground.

This cauldron stood over half a yard tall, its body forged from metal and coated in a layer of glaze, gleaming with a deep crimson hue. The entire vessel radiated a sense of weight and solidity. Seeing it, Lin Ze felt an inexplicable longing stir within him.

“Haha, this is an old relic passed down by the founder of Little Pill Peak. Elder Lin, even if you’re fond of it, I couldn’t bear to part with it,” He Lin said, his smile tinged with pride.

“The pill aura is rich, its size adaptable. This Scarlet-robed Great Sparrow is a standout even among spiritual cauldrons,” Pan Yang remarked in envy. As Little Pill Peak’s heirloom of a thousand years, it had passed through the hands of several elders. Not to mention sixty spirit stones—even six hundred wouldn’t tempt the old man to sell.

Lin Ze could only smile wryly and shake his head at their words. He wasn’t truly coveting their spiritual cauldron. It was simply that the ruined cauldron used by the Taoist in the simulator impaired his sense of refinement; today, he’d simulated three times and still failed to craft the pill on the final formula to his satisfaction.

Seeing the pair begin their preparations, Lin Ze calmed his mind and observed intently. As Pill Peak’s elder, witnessing He Lin’s alchemy firsthand would surely be rewarding.

Su Bailu quietly brought him a bamboo chair. Her master had never touched alchemy, yet had watched here for two days and nights without rest, presumably for the sake of his disciples.

“How’s your injury?” Lin Ze glanced at her.

“It’s much better now, Master. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to bring home a good result in the competition,” Su Bailu replied sweetly, smiling.

“Don’t dwell on it. Just rest and recuperate,” Lin Ze comforted her casually, then sank into the bamboo chair with ease.

To comprehend sword intent required total immersion in that mysterious state. His joining the sect had unsettled this girl’s heart; gone was the mindset from the simulator where she could linger in the courtyard for three months without distraction. Now, wounded as well, she was denied entry to the inner sect. It was a pity.

Lin Ze had thought of a better place for her, no worse than entering the inner sect, but whether she could seize it depended on her own fortune.

“I understand,” Su Bailu nodded outwardly, although her thoughts differed within. By time spent on Little Azure Mountain, she should be considered the junior disciple, yet Bao’er called her Third Senior Sister, and Yang Mu followed suit. The two younger disciples were still children, so the burden of restoring Azure Mountain naturally fell to her as senior sister. She couldn’t let two early-stage Qi Refining children fight duels for her. While her master didn’t wish to pressure his disciples, she couldn’t afford to disappoint him.

At that moment, Pan Yang began processing the medicinal ingredients. He withdrew from his storage pouch a segment of black spine, about the length of a forearm. The bone had been soaked and reduced to a fraction of its original size, yet traces of its owner’s ferocity remained visible.

Black Spine Dragon Bone. Despite the name, it was actually a beast resembling a wild boar. This creature was robust, its twin tusks sharp as dragon horns; agile and savage, it loved moisture and often rolled in mud, appearing like a fat, vigorous old dragon churning through clouds.

Its spine, used in medicine, was prized for fortifying the body.

Pan Yang glanced across at He Lin, who smiled and took out a comparable segment of black bone. Not only in length but quality, they were nearly identical. Clearly, victory would hinge on technique rather than materials.

“You old rascal, you’re determined to see me embarrassed,” Pan Yang grumbled, realizing He Lin intended to craft the same pill as he. If he lost, he’d have no excuse.

Yet neither noticed Lin Ze’s expression shifting strangely on the bamboo chair.

One of the third-rank formulas recorded in the Longevity Pill Manual: Dragon Bone Pill. Due to the rarity of its ingredients, even after simulating three times today, over nine years, he’d only refined two or three dozen batches in total. Moments ago, Lin Ze had been pondering the failures of his last attempt. Now, with the chance to watch others try, he felt a surge of anticipation.

Pan Yang produced a small knife and began measuring the spine. After much deliberation, he cut off a large chunk and tossed it all into the cauldron. Since the pill was meant to strengthen the body, the more dragon bone, the greater the effect.

He Lin’s eyes flashed with a faint smile. Lin Ze, expressionless, rubbed his forehead: Why not just throw in a whole Black Spine Dragon, add some vermicelli, scoop in a couple ladles of soy sauce, and stew it for extra flavor?

Next came the refining of the dragon bone—a process both lengthy and demanding, testing the cultivator’s control of heat and reserves of spiritual energy. In this, Pan Yang clearly had the advantage; his cultivation was higher, and he deliberately increased the spiritual fire, showing off as he glanced at He Lin.

He Lin, however, focused entirely on his cauldron, ignoring the provocation.

As the aroma of roasting bone filled the air, Lin Ze unconsciously swallowed—he felt that Elder Pan was more suited to being a chef than an alchemist. The pill-making truly whetted the appetite.

In truth, Pan Yang did not typically refine pills in this manner. It was only that he’d never succeeded with this formula before, and his opponent was Pill Peak’s elder; his nerves led him to rush, hoping to win through cleverness.

Even if my pill’s appearance isn’t as good as yours, its potency is stronger and it forms faster—how can you judge victory so easily? You say ordinary people can’t take this pill? Well, it’s not meant for ordinary people!

In short, he was trying to bend the rules.

He Lin clearly saw through this and refrained from commenting. After all, the true purpose of the Pill Conference was to support Azure Mountain’s disciples, not to determine a winner or loser… Besides, with Pan Yang’s method, the likelihood of success was slim.

Indeed, once the dragon bone was refined, Pan Yang took out two stalks of Meridian-transforming Grass. As its name implied, this herb was used to neutralize the overpowering energy of the dragon bone, making the pill easier to absorb. He pondered and then carefully tore off a small piece to throw into the cauldron. Were it not for fear of the cauldron exploding, Lin Ze suspected he’d have skipped even that.

He Lin quietly moved his own cauldron further back.

Three hours passed. Sweat beaded on Pan Yang’s forehead; the great cauldron before him simmered like a boiling pot, bubbling loudly. If not for his forceful suppression with spiritual energy, the lid would have flown skyward.

“Master, what is Elder Pan doing?” Su Bailu asked, puzzled. Even she, a disciple entirely ignorant of alchemy, sensed something was amiss.

“Go fetch a bowl,” Lin Ze replied, forcibly averting his gaze. “It’s nearly cooked.”

If Elder Pan stopped now, he might salvage a pot of fragrant, rich pork bone soup.

Instead, Pan Yang snorted angrily. He slapped his storage pouch repeatedly and sent forth six long swords, which hovered in the air in an orderly formation, connected by lines of white light.

“Sixfold Demon-suppressing Sword Array—seal it!”

Sword energy instantly enveloped the cauldron, murderous intent nearly spilling forth.

He Lin’s hand, holding his ingredients, trembled slightly. He looked up in astonishment and asked, “Has your medicine cauldron become sentient?!”