Chapter 024: Painful Reproach

The three alchemy furnaces atop the stone table looked nearly identical at first glance, similar in size, each a square cauldron with four legs, measuring a foot in length, width, and height. Yet, upon closer inspection, their differences became apparent. Most notably, perched upon each of the four corners were small, lifelike animals.

The furnace on the far left bore four dragons, the one in the center had four tigers, and the one on the right was adorned with four oxen. Each creature was exquisitely crafted, so vivid that they seemed almost alive—one could almost hear the dragons’ roars, the tigers’ howls, and the oxen’s bellows.

In terms of appearance, these were little more than finely made artifacts, not so different from ordinary alchemical furnaces, save perhaps for their exceptional craftsmanship. Yet Mu Tianhen knew that anything worthy of the title “Ancient Divine Alchemy Relic,” as described by the Alchemy God, could not be so simple. He did not understand their use or even what material they were made of.

“No matter, I’ll take them and figure it out later. For now, I need to find a way out.”

So Mu Tianhen thought to himself, reaching out to lift the three cauldrons. But as soon as he finished, something unexpected happened.

Suddenly, a flash of blinding white light erupted from the stone table, so intense that Mu Tianhen instinctively turned away and closed his eyes to shield them. In that very instant, he felt his hands grow light—the three cauldrons had vanished without a trace, leaving him utterly astonished.

Yet as the white light faded, a swelling sensation surged in his mind. Quickly, he summoned his spiritual sense to investigate.

“What is this…”

To his amazement, hovering above the vast sea of qi that had expanded to span a hundred miles at his brow, there now floated several objects, all glowing faintly. There were three books—The Infinite Heart Method, the Azure Lotus Sword Technique, and the Divine Alchemy Codex—as well as the three cauldrons: dragon, tiger, and ox.

They had not disappeared, but had instead entered his sea of qi, becoming one with him.

“Dragon Cauldron!”

Testing an idea, Mu Tianhen focused his will to see if he could retrieve a specific furnace. In a flash, the dragon cauldron vanished from his qi sea and appeared in his hand, identical to how it had looked atop the table.

This thrilled Mu Tianhen. He tried several times, and whether storing or retrieving the cauldrons, it was effortless—merely a thought sufficed.

With the cauldrons now merged, the stone table itself transformed, much like that small area outside, faint runes shimmering upon its surface. Having learned from his last experience, Mu Tianhen was prepared this time. He leapt atop the stone table, and, enveloped in golden light, was abruptly transported out, sending the still-frenziedly digging Little White flying, landing heavily on the ground.

“Master!”

Little White ignored its own pain, rushing over in alarm, eyes brimming with tears—whether out of sorrow just past or present joy, it was hard to say.

“Little White, your paw…”

Mu Tianhen’s heart ached to see the beast’s front paw, flesh mangled to the bone. He hurried forward to scoop Little White into his arms and gently blew on the wound.

While tending to it, he asked, “Little White, what happened? How did you get like this? You—”

Turning to look back, Mu Tianhen saw that the small area behind was now a deep pit several feet across, dug by Little White. The bottom was littered with stones, all stained with Little White’s blood.

“Foolish thing! Why are you so foolish!”

Mu Tianhen scolded softly, his heart aching as he continued to blow on the wound and wiped it gently with a piece of clothing, just as he would have for Mu Tianxue.

Though Little White grimaced in pain, its eyes were filled with happiness. It whimpered softly, apologizing and thanking Mu Tianhen.

“You must never do this again, understand?”

Mu Tianhen stroked Little White’s head and cradled it in his arms. “Didn’t you say there are many spirit herbs here? Show me the way, so I can find something to stop your bleeding.”

Little White lifted a paw, pointing to the left. “Master, over there. I’ll be fine if I eat a little. There’s also a Blood Spirit Grass there—you should take that one too.”

Blood Spirit Grass!

At those words, Mu Tianhen’s eyes flashed with excitement and he quickened his pace. This was a genuine spirit herb of no small grade. Most importantly, it was an essential ingredient for refining the antidote to the Winter Poison.

According to the herbal chapter of the Infinite Heart Method, the world abounds with myriad herbs, each with its own effect—some heal, some harm. Based on their efficacy and rarity, herbs are classified into six main categories: common herbs, rare herbs, ordinary spirit herbs, rare spirit herbs, divine herbs, and holy herbs.

Within each category, herbs are further divided by their stage of growth: seedling, juvenile, mature, and complete form—making for a total of twenty-four levels across the six categories.

Ordinarily, when common folk fall ill or are injured, they use only ordinary herbs, most of them below the mature stage. Beyond that, only the wealthy can afford better.

As for martial cultivators, illness is rare; their medicines are for advancing cultivation or healing battle wounds, so their standards are much higher. Any herb they deem worthy is at least a rare herb—ordinary ones are useless to them and not worth the effort.

Naturally, the higher the grade, the rarer the herb, with ever-increasing demand and skyrocketing prices. Often, there is simply no supply, no matter how much money one has.

The Blood Spirit Grass Little White mentioned was a true spirit herb—a rare one, in fact. In a small fifth-tier city like Shunan, such a thing would never be seen. Even a seedling form would be worth a king’s ransom!

If the herbs are so precious, then the pills refined from them are even more so. After all, it takes three pounds of herbs to refine a single pill, and failure is common.

Thus, within the same category and stage, pills command prices at least ten times higher than the raw herbs.

Moreover, pills have another critical metric: fusion rate—the proportion of medicinal efficacy that can be absorbed, directly reflecting their quality.

A fusion rate above sixty percent is considered a success. At seventy percent, the pill becomes highly sought after and expensive. If it reaches eighty percent, people will go mad for it.

A fusion rate above ninety percent is legendary—enough to drive men to draw blades against each other, even against kin.

A perfect hundred percent is unheard of; no alchemist would ever sell such a pill, and it remains theoretical—no one is known to have achieved it.

The fusion rate is the measure of an alchemist’s skill. To consistently produce pills at seventy percent or higher guarantees fame and enthusiasm wherever one goes.

Every power would compete to recruit such a talent, offering extravagant terms.

Thus, being an alchemist is both lucrative and highly respected. With the Divine Alchemy Codex, Mu Tianhen would soon become an alchemist, ensuring no shortage of funds for his family’s development—though that was for the future.

For now, his task was clear: to follow Little White and gather spirit herbs, especially that Blood Spirit Grass!