Blossoming Path - A Xianxia LitRPG

Elder Zhu stood a few paces away, explaining how a pill furnace worked to me. It was hard to reconcile how...ordinary it looked. Whenever they described it in books, they made it sound like a contraption beyond human comprehension, fraught with profundities that a mortal's mind couldn't understand.

Sure it didn't look easy to handle, but my mind wasn't turned to mush by the sheer complexities of the pill furnace. It reminded me of the forges in Master Qiang's smithy, just much smaller and intricate.

"Think of this pill furnace, Kai, as a sophisticated cooking pot," Elder Zhu began, his voice clear and grounded in simplicity. "But instead of preparing food, we are refining and combining various herbs and minerals to create medicinal pills."

Ah, I remember having this conversation with Feng Wu before.

"Inside the furnace, we place our ingredients. The furnace's job is to evenly distribute heat, which we control not just with fire, but with our own qi. This ensures that the ingredients don't burn but slowly blend together."

He tapped on the furnace, before moving onto the beetle shells preserved neatly in a jar. Elder Zhu turned them into dust with his skillful usage of the mortar and pestle.

On my own desk, I mimicked the action, listening to his explanation as the careful sound of grinding echoed throughout the room.

"Imagine you're steeping tea," he continued. "The water’s heat extracts the tea’s essence, right? Similarly, the furnace's controlled heat extracts and merges the essences of our ingredients, transforming them into something much more potent."

"So, it's all about controlling the heat and knowing your ingredients," I ventured. Elder Zhu's explanation was so simple, that I felt that the kids from back home could understand what he was saying!

Although I must admit, comparing the pill furnaces I had envisioned as heaven-defying treasures to a teapot made me sigh. It wasn't as cool as I had made it out to be.

"Exactly," Elder Zhu confirmed with a nod. "And your qi is the key to that control. It's like turning the knob on a stove, but using your inner energy. Master that, and you master the heart of alchemy."

That was easier said than done, that's for sure.

I glanced towards Tianyi, who was fluttering around the workspace, her antennae twitching as she inspected the array of ingredients with a curious and discerning gaze. Every so often, she would flit towards me, offering silent encouragements or perhaps sharing her own insights from her own vantage point. It was nice having someone familiar with me here.

Elder Zhu, with a subtle gesture, turned his attention to the pill furnace. "Now that the ingredients are prepared, we approach the crux of our endeavor—the pill furnace. This is where the true alchemist emerges, through attention to detail and the passage of time. The furnace does not forgive haste nor ignorance."

I nodded. I was ready, all my years of reading novels have culminated to this point.

This was it, the moment where raw materials would transcend their mundane origins to become something... divine. I couldn't help but be swept up in the moment, my thoughts echoing the grandiloquent style of Liang Feng, the author of my favorite works!

Behold, as the gates of alchemical mastery beckon, I stand on the threshold, ready to meld the essence of heaven and earth with the fervor of my spirit. The furnace, this celestial cauldron, awaits the touch of a true alchemist to awaken its dormant might!

As I focused on the task at hand, the measured addition of ingredients, the careful modulation of qi to stoke the furnace's flame, the grandiosity of my thoughts felt increasingly out of place.

This was more similar to cooking than I thought.

The furnace, for all its mystical significance, responded not to the poetry of my inner monologue but to the precision of my actions.

'Eh, I don't get it. Let's just focus on what's happening here. I'm not getting any of the enlightenment those novels talk about.'

The profound transformations and mystical insights I had expected, the ones so vividly painted in the pages of my beloved novels, seemed... absent.

With a mental shrug, I redirected my focus to the tangible, the real. The heat of the furnace against my skin, the subtle changes in the color and consistency of the mixture within, these were the signs of alchemical progress, not the flowery language of my internal narrative.

I snuck a glance at the mixture in my furnace and the one inside of Elder Zhu's. The difference was like night and day.

His mixture had a consistency that was smooth and even, glowing with a subtle inner light that seemed to pulsate in rhythm with the gentle hum of the furnace. Mine, on the other hand, was less...inspiring. The realization hit me; perhaps emulating Elder Zhu's movements, his subtle manipulations of qi and ingredients, could bridge the gap between my crude attempts and his masterful precision.

With renewed determination, I tried to mirror his every move, the way his hands seemed to dance with an almost imperceptible grace around the pill furnace, the slight tilts and turns that suggested a deep, unspoken communion with the elements at play. Yet, try as I might, my movements felt hollow, lacking the depth and intuition that Elder Zhu's possessed. It was like trying to capture a shadow; the form might be similar, but the essence was worlds apart.

I couldn't sense the qi in the same way he did, couldn't feel the subtle shifts in temperature and energy that dictated the precise moments to add, to stir, to infuse. My hands moved, but they were like a puppet's—lacking the soul that animated Elder Zhu's artistry.

As I stood before the esteemed furnace, envisioned as the crucible of the dao, where elements danced to the tune of ancient cultivators, I couldn't help but reminisce about the tales of immortal alchemists. These were beings who, with a mere gesture, could coax the heavens and earth into their cauldrons, their concoctions capable of defying the very cycle of reincarnation. Each ingredient was not merely a plant or mineral but a treasure bathed in the essence of the universe, each pill a convergence of yin and yang, a microcosm of the dao itself.

Yet, here I was, grinding beetle shells as one might season a particularly stubborn stew, the grandiose symphony of creation reduced to the culinary equivalent of following a slightly burnt recipe. The pill furnace before me, far from the cosmic cauldron I had envisioned, seemed more akin to an ornate teapot, albeit one that demanded a peculiar blend of finesse and internal energy rather than loose leaves and boiling water.

I had dreamed of standing amidst the swirling energies of creation, a conduit for the profound laws of nature.

Instead, I was a humble apprentice, sweating over the alchemical equivalent of not burning the rice.

It appeared the true essence of alchemy wasn't found in the dramatic manipulation of qi and essence but in the quiet dedication to perfecting one's craft – less a battle against the heavens, more a patient courtship of the natural order.

That was no problem! I, Kai Liu, would embrace the true spirit of alchemy, with missteps and all to bring my image of alchemy to life!

In my focused mimicry and monologue, I barely registered Elder Zhu's voice, calm and steady, cutting through my concentration. "You may want to reduce the qi input. You're pushing too hard."

Startled, I glanced at my furnace. The mixture had begun to clump, a sure sign of overheating, of qi infused with too much haste and not enough finesse. Panic fluttered in my chest as I hastened to adjust, to salvage what I could of the process. I reduced my qi flow, but the damage was done. The once-promising blend of ingredients had suffered under my heavy-handed attempt at control.

With a hesitant hand, I opened the furnace, bracing myself for the sight. The powder lay there, clumped and sullen, a stark testament to my failure. It was a far cry from the vibrant, potent concoctions I had read about, the ones that seemed to leap off the pages of my novels with their promise of power and enlightenment.

Elder Zhu, his attention still on his own work, spoke without looking up. "Alchemy is not just about following motions, Kai. It's about understanding the why behind each movement, the how behind each adjustment of qi. It's a language of its own, one you must learn to speak with your heart, not just your hands."

His words hung heavy in the air, a gentle yet firm reminder of the gap between rote imitation and genuine understanding. I stared at the disappointing result of my efforts, a lump of misshapen intentions and misguided execution. It was a hard pill to swallow, realizing that my eager attempts to replicate Elder Zhu's graceful mastery were akin to a child mimicking the brush strokes of a master calligrapher without grasping the essence of the art.

As I sifted through the process in my mind, reviewing each step and trying to pinpoint where my understanding had faltered, Elder Zhu turned to me, his expression softening. "Do not fear failure, Kai. We did not bring you to the Verdant Lotus sect for your expertise in alchemy, but for the potential we see in you to become a true alchemist."

His words, meant to comfort, only served to deepen my resolve. "May I try again?" I asked, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. "I have...a different approach in mind. Something that might align more closely with my understanding of herbalism."

Elder Zhu regarded me for a moment, his gaze piercing yet not unkind. "Altering the recipe increases the volatility of the process. There are countless ways to achieve similar ends in alchemy, but the method we've been using is the most stable."

I nodded, understanding the weight of his caution. "I'm aware of the risks. But I believe this could work. I want to show the sect that their decision to sponsor me was the right one."

Elder Zhu's smile was a mix of admiration and apprehension. "Very well, Kai. Show us your path."

Turning back to the task at hand, I poured over the recipe once more, my mind racing. The plants, the heart of the concoction, seemed to whisper their secrets to me, their potential begging to be unleashed in ways the traditional recipe did not account for. The ginger root, in particular, called to me. If the goal was to enhance vitality and yang energy, then surely the fiery essence of ginger could be harnessed more directly, more potently.

I had the skill just for the occasion.

For a moment, the thought crossed my mind. Should I reveal this right here, right now?

But I knew that there were times when one had to show what they were capable of. This was one of them.

With a deep breath, I reached for a fresh ginger root, my fingers tingling with anticipation. I closed my eyes, focusing on the dense, vibrant life force within the plant. Slowly, carefully, I coaxed the pure essence of the ginger root into my palm, where it shimmered like a captured star.

The gasp that escaped Elder Zhu's lips was so uncharacteristic of the composed elder that it jolted me from my concentration. His wide eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something like disbelief—or was it recognition?—in their depths.

Shaking off the momentary distraction, I focused on the pill furnace. The introduction of the ginger essence seemed to calm the tumultuous mixture, lending it a stability that had been absent before. It was as if the essence acted as a mediator, smoothing over the rough edges of the other ingredients' interactions.

Yet, as I worked, I could feel my control over my qi beginning to wane, the delicate balance I had maintained starting to slip through my fingers like grains of sand. Just as I began to despair, a gentle fluttering by my ear heralded Tianyi's arrival. The qi flowing from the meridian on my like a breath of fresh air, rekindling my flagging spirits and bolstering my control.

With Tianyi's support, I dove back into the process, my movements more assured, my focus sharper. The pill furnace, albeit a far cry from Elder Zhu's operation of it, ebbed and flowed according to my will.

As the final moments of the process approached, I held my breath, my entire being focused on the furnace before me. The anticipation was palpable, a tangible force that seemed to fill the chamber.

And then, as I gently withdrew my qi, the furnace's glow subsided, revealing the fruits of my labor. The powder that lay within was unlike any I had seen before—vibrant, pulsating with energy, and imbued with the unmistakable essence of ginger. The consistency was far from perfect, but a marked improvement to my terrible first attempt. It was a bold departure from tradition, a testament to the synergy between herbalism and alchemy, and a clear indication of my unique path in this ancient art.

Elder Zhu approached, his expression inscrutable. He studied the powder for a long moment before turning to me, a myriad of emotions playing across his features. "Kai," he began, his voice steady yet tinged with an undercurrent of excitement, "this is remarkable. Truly remarkable."

Elder Zhu's fingers gingerly scooped a pinch of the radiant powder, bringing it close to his lips. His eyes, usually so revealing of his thoughts, now masked his anticipation. With a delicate motion, he tasted the powder, his expression unreadable as he savored the concoction.

After a moment, his face relaxed into a smile, nodding in approval. "Almost as potent as the original recipe, despite the imperfections," he mused aloud, his gaze now fixed on me with renewed interest.

The acknowledgment from Elder Zhu sent a wave of relief through me, mingling with a burgeoning pride. Yet, before I could bask in the glow of success, his demeanor shifted to one of curiosity, almost analytical. He picked up the ginger which had its essence taken. "That skill...you took the ginger's energy. Tell me, Kai, how did you achieve this?"

I hesitated, the weight of his question hanging between us. "It's from the Heavenly Interface," I began cautiously, "a reward, I suppose, after my Herbalism skill reached its maximum level."

Elder Zhu's brow furrowed slightly, his interest piqued. "And how do you use it, exactly? What effects does it have on the plants you apply it to?"

I explained as best I could, detailing the delicate process of coaxing the essence from the plants, how it seemed to distill their very life force into a purer form.

"Have you tried it on other ingredients? Metals or minerals, perhaps?" he pressed further, his questions flowing like a stream, each one probing deeper into the nature of my skill.

I shook my head, a frown creasing my brow. "No, I haven't. I'm not sure it would work the same way. My connection has always been strongest with plants."

Elder Zhu nodded, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. "And the essences you extract, have you used them in any of your other products?"

I recounted the few experiments I had conducted, the tentative steps I had taken in integrating the essences into my concoctions, each one a journey of discovery and learning.

With each answer I provided, Elder Zhu's expression grew more thoughtful, his gaze drifting away as if piecing together a puzzle only he could see. Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying a weight of consideration. "I need to do some research. There might be something in the sect's library that references a skill like yours. It's... eerily similar to something I encountered in my youth."

His words sparked a curiosity within me, a hunger for knowledge about this connection to Elder Zhu's past. "What was it?" I ventured, eager for any insight he might offer.

But Elder Zhu was cryptic, his usual openness replaced by what seemed to be nostalgia. I saw that expression on Elder Ming's face more times than I could count. "It's something I hadn't seen or thought would resurface again," he said, his tone final, leaving no room for further inquiry.

As he turned away, his steps hurried as if driven by a newfound urgency, I was left standing amidst the remnants of my experiment, Tianyi fluttering by my side.

"Come on, let's get going." I called out to her. Her wings glimmered as we left the area and headed down into the lobby of the alchemy pavilion. A couple hours had passed, and there were only a few people left inside. Most of them were engrossed in whatever they were doing, but a couple sneaked curious glances at me and Tianyi.

I left the pavilion and closed the door behind me, taking a deep breath and enjoying fresh air. I looked over the horizon with a small smile. Several disciples roamed freely, but Feng Wu was nowhere to be seen.

"Where the hell am I supposed to go?"

Damn it, Feng Wu. You were supposed to give me a tour of the sect.