Jason stepped fully into the alchemy room and immediately felt his mouth twitch. The place was a controlled disaster. Dried herbs and loose leaves littered the stone floor in uneven drifts. Mortars and pestles sat abandoned mid-use. Soot streaked the lower walls around each of the six heavy furnaces that dominated the wide chamber. The air itself carried a sharp, layered scent—bitter roots, sweet resins, and the faint metallic tang of refined spiritual energy.
He had expected order. What he found was the private workshop of someone who cared more about results than appearance.
"What are you standing there for?" the grand elder asked without looking up from the furnace he was monitoring. "Get to work before the others return."
Jason nodded once, located a worn broom against the far wall, and began sweeping. The motion was steady, but his thoughts were not.
*I spent weeks bleeding in that tournament just to end up as a cleaner.*
The grand elder's voice cut across the room, dry and precise. "Something to say?"
Jason kept his eyes on the floor. "Nothing, Grand Elder. Only that the room is large for one person to manage alone."
"We keep the number of people who enter this place deliberately low. Fewer mouths mean fewer leaks. That should answer your question. Continue."
Jason gritted his teeth and returned to the broom. Behind him the grand elder allowed himself a quiet, private chuckle.
*Let's see if the boy lasts a week.*
The sweeping continued in silence until the bracelet spoke inside Jason's mind, tone almost appreciative.
*This is an excellent place for you to cultivate Heaven's Law.*
Jason's grip on the broom tightened. *How? The floor is covered in dirt and scraps.*
*Not the dirt—the air. Every successful refinement leaves residual spiritual energy saturated with the essence of the herbs. Alchemists advance faster than ordinary cultivators for exactly this reason. They live inside a constant, low-level bath of purified energy while the pills they consume further cleanse their meridians. You are standing in the middle of a natural cultivation chamber.*
Jason paused, feeling for the first time the dense, almost syrupy quality of the spiritual energy in the room. It was thicker than anything in the outer camps or even the woods where he trained.
*Then this assignment is better than I thought. Paid work and free cultivation at the same time.*
He resumed sweeping, mind already turning over the possibilities. After a few more strokes he asked the question that had been forming.
*You've existed a long time. Do you know how to make pills?*
*In this form? No. I cannot control flame or cauldron.* A short pause. *But I know the processes. If you follow my instructions exactly, I can guide you through refinements without the usual catastrophic failures beginners produce.*
Jason's mouth curved. *That's more than enough.*
He finished the floor, collected the scattered herbs into their proper containers, wiped down the work surfaces, and finally set the broom aside. With nothing left to clean he sat on a low stool near the wall and simply watched the grand elder, who had not moved from his place beside the largest furnace. The old man's gaze never left the sealed lid.
*I wonder what the old geezer is staring at so hard,* Jason muttered internally.
"I can hear you," the grand elder said mildly, still not looking away from the furnace. "And for the last time, stop calling me old."
Jason's spine stiffened. *Dammit. I keep forgetting his ears are better than they have any right to be.*
He rose and walked closer, curiosity overriding caution. The furnace lid was firmly closed; no light or scent escaped.
"You wanted a look?" the grand elder asked, finally glancing sideways with a faint smile.
"I would," Jason admitted, "but that's impossible while it's sealed."
The grand elder chuckled. "How do you expect to keep the medicinal properties contained if you leave it open? The moment the seal breaks, half the efficacy bleeds away."
Jason accepted the logic with a small nod. "May I ask what you're refining?"
"A pill for healing internal injuries."
Jason's interest sharpened at once—until the bracelet's voice arrived, dripping with disdain.
*An internal-injury pill. And he looks so proud of it.*
Jason kept his expression carefully neutral and directed the question outward. "Grand Elder, I thought pills of that type were relatively straightforward. Why is this one taking so long?"
"If it were low-grade, it would have been finished long ago. This is middle-grade. The purification and condensation stages cannot be rushed."
Inside Jason's mind the bracelet nearly bristled. *Even a middle-grade internal-injury pill should not require more than an hour in competent hands.*
Jason chose not to relay the comment. He simply continued to study the sealed furnace, curiosity outweighing the spirit's irritation. After another stretch of silence he glanced around the still-empty room.
"Grand Elder, when will the others return?"
"They are out gathering herbs. A necessary part of the work."
Jason absorbed that. "Being an alchemist seems more demanding than I expected."
The grand elder's reply was calm and absolute. "There is no easy occupation in the cultivation world, boy. A blacksmith must still travel to gather ore. A formation master must still carve every line by hand. Will and patience matter more than talent alone."
Jason nodded slowly, eyes returning to the furnace. "How much longer for the pill?"
"An hour. Perhaps two, if the final condensation proves stubborn."
They settled into a shared, quiet waiting. Jason remained standing a respectful distance from the furnace, feeling the dense spiritual energy of the room continue to seep into his pores, while the grand elder watched the sealed lid with the patience of someone who had refined a thousand pills and expected to refine a thousand more. The first day as an errand boy had begun not with fireworks or punishment, but with a broom, a closed furnace, and the slow realization that the alchemy room might be worth far more than the title of tournament winner had first suggested.