Chapter Nineteen: Cultivating the Art of Alchemy

Inside the stone chamber, after a month spent in meditation and cultivation, Ge Qian found that his supply of elixirs was nearly exhausted. Consolidating his cultivation truly consumed a great deal of pills—the five remaining Marrow Cleansing Pills in his storage pouch were evidence enough.

After much contemplation, he realized that breaking through to the second layer would require more than double the amount of pills compared to the first. Without finding a way to acquire more, even four years might not see him reach the third layer. It seemed he would have to earnestly study the art of alchemy.

He took out the jade slip Elder Cui had given him, which was inscribed with detailed explanations of alchemical techniques, methods, and some of the elder’s personal insights. Swallowing a Fasting Pill, he pressed the slip to his forehead and read intently.

After finishing, his heart was filled with emotion—the difference between professions was like a chasm. The art of alchemy required selecting various spiritual herbs in precise proportions, mastering the timing and blending, and skillfully adjusting the furnace’s flames. Generally, it took seven days to complete a single batch. The process was divided into melting, refining, and extracting the pills, and every stage required meticulous control of the fire.

He read the jade slip a dozen times until he could recite it from memory. Then he retrieved a low-grade pill furnace, formed a hand seal, and the furnace spun to life, expanding to three feet tall, inscribed with fire runes that glimmered as tendrils of fire spiritual energy seeped out.

Ge Qian prepared the ingredients for a batch of Fasting Pills—five herbs in all, each common and of little value: long green grass, jade cockscomb, and malan as auxiliaries, with sea chrysanthemum and wood essence as the main ingredients. The main ingredients could not be substituted, but there was flexibility with the auxiliaries.

He divided the five herbs according to their required ratios and arranged them in order. Forming another hand seal, he activated the furnace and began to channel his spiritual power. Flames burst out from beneath, surrounding the furnace in a wave of heat. Ge Qian watched intently, not daring to be careless.

Soon, the furnace glowed red-hot and the runes expanded, enveloping it completely to contain the heat. Feeling the temperature was right, he cast another seal and the lid flew open. Swiftly, he tossed in the first herb and the lid snapped shut.

Carefully controlling the flame, he adjusted with hand seals to manage the melting of the herbs. Suddenly, a wisp of acrid, burnt smell drifted from the furnace vent.

Ge Qian shook his head and muttered, “Alchemy seems simple, but the slightest misstep turns everything to ash. I must be more careful next time.”

He cleaned the furnace and began again. With the first attempt behind him, the second try went better—a fragrant scent of herbs soon filled the chamber. Ge Qian smiled and added the second herb, proceeding with care. Yet soon, another wave of burnt odor made it clear he had failed again.

Frowning unconsciously, he realized that alchemy was anything but simple. Still, he persisted, refusing to believe he could not succeed. For several days, he failed every attempt.

He was left with enough herbs for only one more batch—enough spirit herbs wasted to buy a dozen bottles of Fasting Pills, and yet he hadn’t produced a single pill. The loss was heavy, and Ge Qian finally understood how difficult it was to train an alchemist.

Only powerful sects could afford to cultivate alchemists. No wonder, despite Elder Cui’s eccentricities, the Celestial Star Sect dared not offend him in the slightest.

An alchemist was highly respected, but their energy was consumed by their craft, leaving little time for cultivation. Thus, high-level alchemists were rare—Elder Cui himself was still at the late Foundation Establishment stage, unable to break through.

Understanding all this, most people would have given up long ago. In truth, an alchemist merely made robes for others—those Nascent Soul ancestors of the Celestial Star Sect all relied on Cui Yun’s pills.

Yet Ge Qian had his own intentions. Ever since he advanced to the second layer, the tender shoot in his dantian had doubled in size, which explained some of his pill consumption.

With that tender shoot, as long as he had pills, his cultivation path held hope. Given his mediocre talent, the sect would not value him unless he mastered a skill, so he resolved to become an alchemist.

After these days of effort, his spiritual power was nearly depleted, even though he’d alternated between meditation and alchemy to recover. He took another pill, restored his strength, and rested for a day.

When his spirit was replenished and his power full, he sat cross-legged, carefully reviewing his alchemical experiences and fire-control techniques. He realized his mind often wandered during the process.

He began to recite the nameless heart scripture, clearing his mind completely. He took out his last batch of herbs, cast a seal on the furnace, and waited for the temperature to reach the right point. He tossed in the first herb, and half an hour later, added the second.

After another two hours, he carefully added the two main herbs together, treading as if on thin ice to control the flame. At last, he threw in the final auxiliary herb, cast several seals in succession, and began the fusion process.

The furnace spun slowly, and as the fragrant scent of herbs stabilized, Ge Qian increased his output of spiritual power. The temperature surged, and the refining process began.

When a scent of rice mingled with the herbal fragrance, Ge Qian’s eyebrow lifted—he knew it was time. He swiftly opened the lid, cast a seal, and with a tremor, the furnace spat out ten pills.

With a gesture, the pills fell into his hand—five exuded a rich medicinal aroma, while five were blackened, charred, and acrid. He smiled wryly. With a fifty-percent success rate, turning spirit herbs into spirit stones was no better than buying pills from a shop—he had gained nothing but wasted time and effort. Anyone could see it was a losing proposition.

Alchemists were ranked into four grades: lower, middle, upper, and supreme. Those who could refine lower-grade pills were lower-grade alchemists, and so on up to the supreme. Within each grade, the success rate was divided into five levels, with a ten-out-of-ten rate as the highest. Ge Qian was barely a first-level lower-grade alchemist—just scraping by.

With this in mind, procuring herbs became a problem. Elder Cui’s supply had run out, and he could not touch those in the sect’s herbal garden. Venturing into the mountains to pick them himself, without the ability to fly on a sword, would be courting death.

Suddenly, inspiration struck him. Disciples like Wang Meng gathered herbs to exchange for spirit stones or pills in Five Peaks City, risking their lives on the way—murder and theft were common in the cultivation world.

But if he offered to refine pills for them at the rate of five per batch, they would surely agree. Though it seemed the same as buying from a shop, it would save them the perilous journey and the risk of becoming a monster’s meal or being ambushed by stronger disciples on the way back.

As for himself, it appeared he gained nothing, but in truth, he could practice his alchemy for free. Once others grew accustomed and his success rate improved to sixty percent, an abundant stream of profit would follow.

Having made up his mind, Ge Qian packed away the furnace and opened the stone door. Sunlight flooded in, and after his first seclusion, the world seemed strangely unfamiliar.

The little white fox instantly scampered over, looked him up and down, and wrote with its paw: “You’ve been in seclusion for four months this time. Good thing you advanced, or I’d have thought you were slacking off! I’m exhausted from these days—now it’s my turn to rest!”

Mortal Road to Immortality, Chapter 19: Cultivating Alchemy—End of Update!