Fei Ming smiled knowingly. "You've arrived at the perfect time. This competition draws participants from everywhere. Association disciples. Clan geniuses. Independent alchemists. Even hidden sects occasionally send people."
Jin Bao scratched his head. "Can we watch?"
"Of course. The competition is open to spectators."
By late afternoon, Fei Ming led them through several quieter streets before stopping outside a modest stone courtyard. Unlike the bustling inns near the market, this place sat tucked behind flowering trees, the sounds of the city fading into something pleasantly distant the moment they stepped through the gate.
Fei Ming smiled, bowed, and left them to it.
They rented the courtyard without hesitation — two rooms, a small training yard, a quiet study. Simple, comfortable, and exactly what four people who'd just crossed half the continent needed after everything they'd been through.
After settling down, Lianyan immediately stretched out across one of the wooden benches, clearly intent on doing nothing productive for the rest of the day. Mo Xuan stood quietly beneath the courtyard's lone maple tree instead, his thoughts circling back to one place in particular.
The Alchemy Association.
Finally, he spoke. "I'm going out."
Lianyan lazily cracked open one eye. "Where?"
"The Alchemy Association. To have a look around."
With that, he stepped back out into Skyreach City's evening streets.
Skyreach City's evening atmosphere carried an entirely different character than its daylight bustle. As dusk settled, countless lanterns awakened one after another, their warm light reflecting off the spirit-jade streets until the entire city resembled a river of stars flowing beneath the heavens. Merchants were still conducting business, cultivators still came and went along the wide avenues, and the city showed no sign of slowing simply because night had arrived.
Mo Xuan walked alone, unbothered by the solitude. The Alchemy Association remained easy enough to find even in the dark — its towering pillars dominated the district regardless of the hour, and the fragrance of herbs seemed permanently woven into the surrounding air no matter the time of day.
When he reached the entrance, he paused briefly, taking in the glow of the banner still hanging above the doors, before stepping inside.
The bustle of the city became muffled behind thick stone walls. Inside, order replaced noise entirely. Apprentices carrying trays of carefully sorted herbs moved briskly between corridors, elders discussed formulas in low, measured voices, and somewhere deeper within the building, furnaces released soft, rhythmic rumbles.
Mo Xuan inhaled quietly. The scent here was unlike anything he remembered from the medicinal fields he'd guarded for a year — richer, more layered, carrying traces of dozens of different processes happening simultaneously.
A kindly clerk noticed him almost immediately. The middle-aged man wore simple Association robes embroidered with a bronze cauldron, marking him as junior staff rather than one of the senior alchemists who wore silver or gold. His smile was welcoming all the same. "Young friend. Is this your first visit here?"
Mo Xuan cupped his hands. "Yes."
"What are you looking for?"
"Beginner alchemy manuals."
The clerk's expression softened further, and he gestured for Mo Xuan to follow him deeper into the building. They entered a quieter wing lined with towering bookshelves, each one arranged according to an alchemist's progression, each section leading naturally into the next.
The clerk selected four thin volumes and set them onto a wooden table. "These are enough to build proper fundamentals," he said, introducing each one in turn — their focus, their difficulty, the order he recommended reading them in. Mo Xuan picked up each book carefully as it was named, turning through a few pages before setting it back down.
After selecting a handful of beginner manuals, he paid for them and made his way back out.
By the time he left the Association, the moon had climbed high above Skyreach's skyline, an ocean of lantern light shimmering below like scattered stars fallen to earth. The massive competition banner still hung above the entrance, and several young cultivators lingered nearby, trading speculation about tomorrow's participants.
"I heard the Cloudriver Clan's genius made it through the preliminaries."
"Only nine spots left for the finals tomorrow."
"The Silverflame Ji Clan too."
"Firemist Hall never misses this competition."
Mo Xuan listened quietly as he passed, filing the names away without comment, and made his way back to their rented courtyard.
When he returned, the courtyard had settled into stillness. Lianyan was asleep on the wooden bench exactly where she'd declared she wouldn't move from, true to her word in the most literal sense possible. Jin Bao had somehow managed to fall asleep mid-count, an abacus still resting on his chest, rising and falling gently with each breath.
Only Lianxue remained awake, seated beneath the maple tree, quietly polishing her frost-white sword by lantern light. She looked up as Mo Xuan entered.
He nodded in greeting before settling down nearby, and the two of them fell into quiet conversation, trading small observations about the city and what tomorrow might bring until the night grew late enough for them to rest.
Before sunrise, the Alchemy Association had already become crowded. The four of them arrived early, and still hundreds of cultivators had beaten them there. The Association had opened its enormous outer square for the occasion, transforming it into a viewing area surrounding several raised stone platforms.
Each platform supported a single bronze cauldron. Nine platforms. Nine cauldrons. Nine competitors would refine simultaneously during each round, and even their positioning followed formation principles — viewed from above, the nine platforms together formed the shape of one great cauldron.
The four of them made their way to a sitting area, finding seats near the middle rows that gave them an unobstructed view of the stage.
One by one, the contestants entered. A young woman wearing silver robes embroidered with flames. A broad-shouldered man carrying his own personal cauldron rather than using one provided by the Association. A calm cultivator representing some smaller sect Mo Xuan didn't recognise. Several others from clans he'd never heard of at all. None of them appeared older than twenty-five, yet each carried themselves with confidence.
The air hummed with expectation. Around them, whispers stirred about famous young alchemists, secret clan techniques, and rumours of particularly influential judges attending this year's event. But Mo Xuan didn't listen to any of it. His gaze had already locked onto the pill furnaces below.
A few minutes later, a disciple struck a bronze bell.
Dong—
The competition officially began.
Attendants delivered identical baskets of herbs to every participant, and Elder Xu addressed the crowd calmly. "Welcome to the last day of the competition." He let his gaze sweep across the nine platforms. "First round. Refine a Grade Four Spirit Recovery Pill. No substitutions. No additional materials." He paused. "Begin."
Nine competitors moved almost simultaneously, flames igniting across every platform as each one summoned fire directly from their own Spiritual Energy, tossing herbs into their cauldrons one after another in careful sequence.
Mo Xuan's attention sharpened. No movement was wasted. Every gesture carried purpose, even the small, seemingly incidental adjustments to timing or heat.
Less than ten minutes later, a loud hiss echoed across the square. One competitor's flame surged violently, his expression shifting from focus to alarm in an instant.
Too late.
Bang! Smoke erupted from his cauldron.
The audience gasped collectively.
Unwilling to give up, the competitor instinctively reached for the remaining herbs before freezing, realising the ruined batch had already ended his attempt, the rest of the competition continuing around him as though nothing had happened at all.
As the refinement progressed, Mo Xuan studied how each remaining participant controlled their flames — some holding a steady, unwavering heat, others adjusting constantly in small, deliberate increments that seemed to respond to something happening inside the cauldron he couldn't see from the stands.
The bronze bell rang once more.
Dong—
The sound spread across the square, and the first round reached its conclusion. One by one, the competitors extinguished their flames, and attendants stepped forward to carry each finished Spirit Recovery Pill to the judging platform. The audience finally began speaking again, the earlier tense silence breaking into a low murmur of commentary.
Elder Xu inspected each jade dish personally, neither praising nor criticising immediately. Instead, he examined the colour, the fragrance, the purity of each pill in turn, working methodically down the row. Only after inspecting all nine did he finally speak.
"Seven pass. Two eliminated."
The two unsuccessful competitors bowed respectfully before stepping down from the platforms without complaint, their disappointment carefully contained behind practised composure.
Attendants replaced the ingredients, and this time the baskets were noticeably smaller. Inside lay only six herbs, yet each one radiated a denser Spiritual Energy than anything used in the first round.
The surviving seven exchanged glances across the platforms before turning back to their cauldrons.
Elder Xu spoke calmly. "Second round. Refine a Grade Four Greenheart Liquid." He paused meaningfully. "Unlike pills, liquid refinement requires balance. The slightest excess, the slightest deficiency, and the medicinal properties collapse entirely."
The bell sounded, and seven flames rose in answer. This time, the competitors moved much more slowly than before. Nobody rushed. One herb entered the cauldron, then another, each addition following careful, deliberate timing rather than the brisker pace of the opening round.
Halfway through, a competitor from a smaller clan frowned, his flame suddenly turning unstable, flaring violently without warning. A heartbeat later, thick black smoke rushed out from inside his cauldron.
Elder Xu didn't even need to inspect it. "Failed."
The competitor lowered his head and stepped off the stage without protest.
The second round ended shortly after, and while attendants cleaned the platforms in preparation for the next stage, spectators began moving about — some discussing the surviving contestants, others drifting off to purchase refreshments from vendors circling the square.
For the first time that day, Elder Xu's expression hardened as his gaze settled on the remaining competitors.