Chapter 20: The First Spark of Alchemical Flame

“This is the alchemical fire.”

That day, upon returning to his room, Li Ji’an once again attempted to conjure the alchemical fire. The moment a faint, yellowish flame rose from the center of his palm marked the point at which Li Ji’an could, by the barest margin, be considered an “immortal.” For this was the very first spell he had mastered.

Alchemical fire was similar to the fireball technique, both requiring the gathering of magical energy. The difference lay in the former’s need for a sustained infusion of power, with constant adjustment to the fire’s temperature and the proportion of spiritual energy within. The latter, in contrast, could be released with a single burst. Thus, strictly speaking, one capable of conjuring alchemical fire could easily perform the fireball technique, but not necessarily vice versa.

Yet just as Li Ji’an was about to savor, for the first time in five lifetimes, the thrill of wielding a power beyond human means, the already insubstantial flame flickered out with a soft sputter.

“My magical power is still far too thin!” he muttered, trying several more times with identical results. At the first stage of Qi Refining, his dantian’s reserves were meager—he could not sustain the flame for more than three breaths.

He had steeled himself for this; after all, in this world, only cultivators in the middle stages of Qi Refining and above could truly wield spells in combat.

“Refining pills is out of the question for now. I wonder if I can simply release it?” With this thought, Li Ji’an gathered the alchemical fire once more. This time, instead of focusing on the balance of spiritual energy or temperature control, he drew forth the largest flame he could muster in a single instant.

Having fully grasped the core principles of condensing magical power from the dantian, the logic and method of this kindred spell came easily to him.

With a roar, a fist-sized ball of fire erupted from his palm. Yet, his dantian could not provide the power needed to send it forth, and within a heartbeat the fireball sputtered out.

“It seems I really must reach mid-stage Qi Refining before I can wield spells in battle... But there’s no rush. I’ve already stepped into the middle stage of the first rank in body cultivation... Oh?” A sudden idea flashed through his mind. Li Ji’an smiled, and gathered another fireball.

This time, as soon as the fireball took shape, his vital blood surged with a wild fury, pouring from his palm beneath the fireball and propelling it straight toward the wall before him.

With a crash, sparks flew—on the wall, supposedly constructed by a late-stage Earth Element cultivator to withstand the attack of a mid-stage Qi Refiner, there appeared a hole the size of a fist.

“The power actually combined!” Li Ji’an was elated. He had tried channeling his vital blood before, but as long as it was not his own flesh striking the wall, there had been no effect. Now, by using his vital blood to propel the fireball, physical force and magical explosion merged to create a remarkable effect.

He could not help but recall, during that sandstorm, how two cultivators at the fourth stage of Qi Refining had hurled fireballs at him. Their attacks were slow—his reflexes and movement allowed him to dodge with ease. Yet, facing a fireball head-on, he had lacked the confidence to withstand it.

But now, with the vital blood of a mid-stage first-rank body cultivator, fused with a fireball condensed from magical power, he had perfectly solved the problem—speed and power united!

In this way, if he ever needed to attack, he would no longer be forced into close combat.

“Be content!” Li Ji’an nodded in satisfaction. This was one of his greatest gains over the past half year.

The method of condensing alchemical fire could be bought at the market, but the process was closely tied to pill formation. Different methods produced different kinds of alchemical fire, with vast differences in spiritual energy infusion and temperature control.

Naturally, Master Mo’s method of condensing fire was superior. But learning it had not been easy. For the first three months, Master Mo had only allowed him to prepare materials and clean up afterward, strictly forbidding him from observing the pill refining process.

It was not until three months later, when Master Mo saw that Li Ji’an was steady, diligent, and seemingly resigned to his fate—showing no impatience, discontent, or ambition, especially given his age, cultivation, and spiritual roots—that he judged Li Ji’an incapable of aspiring to be an alchemist, and finally allowed him to participate fully.

During this period, Li Ji’an had carefully noted every fragment of instruction Master Mo gave to Yan Qingwan, as well as the master’s own habits when condensing alchemical fire.

Day after day, these fragments gradually fit together. Today, at last, he had pieced the whole together.

Just then, the message talisman in his robe gave a slight vibration. Li Ji’an took it out—two message talismans, one of which flashed briefly.

“Yan Qingwan has returned?”

Raising an eyebrow, Li Ji’an clasped the talisman and focused his mind.

“The usual place.” A gentle, familiar voice sounded in his mind.

Without delay, he put away the talisman and made his way to the distinguished quarter on the west side of the market.

For the past three months, they had maintained contact in this secretive fashion.

Soon, Li Ji’an arrived by a familiar route at the back gate of a courtyard within the core spiritual vein district of the western quarter.

There was no need to knock. He guided his faint magical power through a specific route, the warding spell disengaged, and he entered smoothly.

He strode confidently into the main house of the inner courtyard.

This was Yan Qingwan’s pill room.

Yan Qingwan, dressed in a moon-white gown, greeted him with calm composure. At his arrival, she nodded slightly. “You’ve worked hard.”

Li Ji’an wasted no words, knitting his brows in feigned concentration, as though recalling something.

He then began to demonstrate the entire pill refining process Master Mo had carried out that day.

It was worth noting that, three months prior, Li Ji’an had deliberately pretended to be forgetful, prompting Yan Qingwan to personally teach him the secret method for refining spiritual consciousness.

Before then, he had only known that, after four rounds of “rebirth,” his soul was powerful, but he did not know how powerful—after all, the soul is formless and intangible, serving only to enhance stamina and sensitivity.

Only after learning Yan Qingwan’s technique for refining spiritual consciousness did he realize that, even at the first stage of Qi Refining, his spiritual sense already surpassed that of Yan Qingwan at the sixth stage.

For cultivators, the process of absorbing spiritual energy and refining magical power nourishes the body and hones the soul, strengthening both in tandem. Normally, unless one is born with a soul body or has studied secret arts for the spirit, those at the same level have roughly equal spiritual sense, regardless of the method used; at most, there are small differences in quality.

Li Ji’an, however, was a true anomaly.

Spiritual sense could clear the mind, enhance memory, and even allow for directional sensing. Though not as extraordinary as the divine sense possessed after reaching the Foundation Establishment stage—able to envelop an area and see through all—Li Ji’an still found it wondrous.

“How many pills formed in the end? What was their quality?” Yan Qingwan asked as usual once the demonstration was complete.

“Five pills formed—three superior, two inferior,” Li Ji’an answered honestly.

With a creak, the pearwood armrest in Yan Qingwan’s hand warped, a testament to the anger she suppressed.

Li Ji’an shook his head inwardly—he could not blame her for losing composure. Master Mo was truly unkind.

Though he was a mid-level first-rank alchemist, capable of refining intermediate pills—such as the Spirit Condensing Pill made that day, highly effective for strengthening the magical power of mid-stage Qi Refining cultivators and always in demand—he stubbornly refused to teach Yan Qingwan, always finding excuses.

Every time Yan Qingwan returned to her clan for business, he would seize the opportunity to start a batch, never allowing her even the chance to observe.

Now, burdened with heavy responsibilities for her clan, Yan Qingwan had even given up her residence at the clan’s second-rank spiritual vein to remain at the market for three years, yet had only managed to learn the basics of pill refining.

“Thank you for your trouble.” Once calm, Yan Qingwan forced a gentle smile and handed over two spirit stones in payment.

This reward was not part of the pill shop’s promised wages, but a personal gratuity befitting her status.

“Thank you, my lady,” said Li Ji’an.

For the past six months, these extra earnings had made life a little easier for him—at least now, he could afford a meal of spirit rice every three days, raising his efficiency in refining magical power by at least twenty percent.

“Wait!” Just as he turned to leave the pill room, Yan Qingwan called him back.

“Don’t go tonight...”