The carcass of the Stag-Horned Panther was quickly stripped of its valuable antlers by Master Olin's practiced hands. As they began the trek toward his hidden cave, the tension remained thick. Vincy, clutching the stolen storage rings, felt the weight of his own ignorance. He had the resources of a high-ranking clan, but he had no idea how to use them without killing himself.
"Sera," Vincy whispered, leaning toward the silver-eyed girl. "How do we know if these pills are actually 'High Purity'? Is there a way to test them?"
Seraphina tightened her grip on her rapier, her gaze fixed on the trail. "My knowledge is limited to the Sect's curriculum. We are taught to recognize the color and the scent. Gold for vitality, red for Qi, blue for spirit. If it glows, you swallow it. The rest is for the Alchemist Hall to fret over."
Master Olin, walking ahead with his massive basket rattling, let out a dry, hacking laugh.
"Recognize the color? If it glows, you swallow it? My girl, it's a miracle the Myriad School hasn't turned its entire student body into glowing piles of sludge."
He stopped, turning to face them. He looked at Vincy's confused face and Seraphina's defensive posture, and let out a long sigh.
"Sit. If I'm going to have guests, I won't have guests who think alchemy is just colorful cooking."
Olin sat on a stump and began sketching in the dirt with a charred stick. "Listen well, boy. Alchemy is the art of condensing the universe into a marble. It's governed by three pillars: The Material, the Alchemist, and the Product."
1. The Grades of Materials
"Everything starts with the raw stuff," Olin said, pointing to the herbs sticking out of his basket.
Mortal Grade: Common herbs with trace amounts of Qi.
Earth Grade: Plants like your Moon-Scented Peonies. They've survived for decades and absorbed local ley-line energy.
Heaven Grade: Materials that have survived a tribulation or exist in 'glitch' zones. They don't just have Qi; they have Laws.
Divine Grade: Mythical. Things that shouldn't exist, like a petal from the World Tree.
2. The Soul of the Forge: Alchemy Flames
"You can't cook a Heaven-grade pill with a campfire," Olin grunted. "The flame is the alchemist's scalpel. There are three types of fire used to refine the world:"
Earth Fires: Sourced from volcanic vents or geothermic ley-lines. They are hot and steady, perfect for bulk refining.
Beast Fires: Harvested from the core of fire-type magical beasts. They are volatile and aggressive, but they add 'potency' to combat-oriented pills.
Heavenly/Primordial Flames: Sentient fires born from the stars or the void. They don't just burn; they 'purify' by deleting the flaws in a material.
3. The Grades of Alchemists
Olin tapped his chest. "Not everyone with a furnace is a Master. We are ranked by the 'number of fires' we can control simultaneously."
Apprentice: Can barely keep a single flame steady.
Adept (1-3 Fires): Can refine Common and Uncommon pills.
Master (4-6 Fires): Can handle Earth-grade materials.
Grandmaster (7-9 Fires): Can refine pills that have their own heartbeat.
Alchemical Sovereign: Legends say they can turn a mountain into a single pill.
4. The Grades of Pills
Low Purity (30-50%): Tainted. They give you power but leave 'dregs' in your meridians. Take too many, and your cultivation path hits a wall.
High Purity (70-90%): The gold standard. Minimal side effects.
Transcendent (100%): No dregs. The pill is perfectly absorbed, leaving the soul untouched by toxins.
Olin reached out and plucked a Blood-Ignition Pill from Vincy's open palm. He held it up to the sunlight. "This? It looks 'High Purity' because of the shine. But look at the bottom—see that tiny black speck? That's Heart-Rot Lead. The Great River Clan didn't give these to the brothers to help them win; they gave them these to ensure the brothers could never grow powerful enough to challenge the Clan Head. It's a leash in pill form."
Vincy felt a cold sweat break out. He looked at the mountain of treasures he'd stolen.
Suddenly, they didn't look like prizes; they looked like landmines.
"And you?" Seraphina asked, her silver eyes narrowing. "What grade of Alchemist are you, Master Olin?"
The old man just smirked, picking up his basket. "I'm a man who enjoys his privacy and his soup. Grades are for people who still care about titles. Now, keep moving. My cave has a protective formation that's about to reset, and I'd rather you didn't get turned into stone on my doorstep."
"He's hiding his cultivation," Piet's voice returned, low and sharp. "His internal fire is suppressed, but it's ancient. He's no simple hermit, Vincy. Be careful. He may not see me, but he's smart enough to know that a boy like you shouldn't be holding treasures that belong in a King's vault."