Chapter 502 - Ripples (IX)

Chapter 502

Ripples (IX)

Lao Shun felt warmth cruise through him. It was the kind of warmth that he only ever heard of in the stories or from that Senior who descended from above for a brief while.

The warmth of Dao.

He had aspirations of crafting a Dao-blessed set of pills since he learned of it and was not short of conviction that he could do it. However, with each passing year, and then a decade, he grew less and less certain. At some point he stopped believing entirely, resigning himself to reality that he would simply be yet another one of the alchemists who died yearning for something that may as well not even exist.

Even after joining Lu Qi and witnessing all the miracles the man brought forth, he still didn't believe; he had merely hoped to one day break through into the World Gathering Rank, something he was told from his childhood was a pipe dream.

And yet, now, he was basking in the beautiful, delirium-inducing hymn of Dao. The unity was specifically praising him, rewarding him for his efforts.

As he opened his eyes, he found himself sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of a cauldron that had opened, its lid flung to the side. Above the cauldron's opening, twenty perfectly round and resplendent pills floated gently in midair. The scent was powerful yet soothing, and there was a thin sheen surrounding every pill, protecting it from external toxins.

Just like the books said.

He stood up and looked at them closely; there were no imperfections, not one. It was well known as one of the fundamental laws of Alchemy--there was no such thing as a 'perfect' pill. Though pills did have that grade, that 'perfect' was simply the best a human could achieve. The 'perfect' pills still had flaws and still had residual toxins within them, it was merely that was the limit of an alchemist.

The only truly, unquestionably 'perfect' pills--though even then not perfect--could be made in just one way: through Dao. They would be shorn of imperfections, shorn of flaws inherent to the human ways. But there was a caveat there, too; not all pills that evoked Dao would be made perfect by it.

In fact, most would not.

There had not been one case in the history of Alchemy Tower of a near-perfect pill, though there had been quite a few of alchemists invoking the Song of Dao.

But he was blessed, completely. He reached over and grabbed them gently; the pills were barely the size of a fingernail, all twenty neatly fitting the palm of his hand. They were slightly warm to the touch, invoking the kind of resonance that Lao Shun believed parents felt when they looked at their children.

"... did that really just happen?" Zi Jia's voice dragged him out of his thoughts as he glanced to the side and saw her staring wide-eyed at the pills in his hands. Though she likely didn't know the full extent of just how impossible this was, she knew well enough to be horrified.

"I can't believe it, either," he said.

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"Good job," another voice startled him so much he nearly yelped; quickly turning around, he saw it was Lu Qi, who was still leaning against the wall on the other side of the chamber. He'd even forgotten the man was still there. "You forgot I was here, didn't you?"

"... of course not. You are rather unforgettable, Master," the man silently rolled his eyes before commenting further.

"You really did put on one-of-a-kind show," he said. "So much so I'm afraid you won't even give me the pills."

"I--"

"--so I will trade for them," the man said before suddenly procuring five items and placing them on a table near Lao Shun. "Those five things for the two sets of pills."

Lao Shun wanted to groan but endured; he would have naturally given the pills, as they were relatively useless to him. Even if Void-Nullifying Pills were rare and had a decent use, he was hardly the sort to test his luck within spatial tears or storms.

Nonetheless, this was probably just Lu Qi's way of giving him things, and Lao Shun wasn't going to say no; every time that man procured something, it turned out to be life-altering in ways that were difficult to describe.

He casually tossed the two sets of pills toward him, catching Zi Jia's pained reaction from the corner of his eye but ignoring it, walking over to the table. The first item that he was naturally drawn to was a small, black ball bundled inside a glassed box that was no larger than a fist. He casually picked it up before his mind came to a screeching halt.

He actually recognized it.

By some miracle, he knew precisely what it was.

... though he wished from the bottom of his soul that he did not.

It was Voidfire.

An Alchemy flame so potent and so repulsive that the highest order of Alchemist, Heavenly Alchemy Grotto, had hunted it down and destroyed it. The reason was deeply selfish but necessary; the flame caused such conflict due to its nature that alchemists were forgoing all reason in an attempt to own it. But the flame switched hands over a thousand times within the span of just a year, a year that was eventually dubbed the 'Long Nightmare' due to the fact that it led to the death of over half a million alchemists.

And yet, it was right here, in the palm of his hand... that had suddenly started shaking.

How?

How did he do it?

Just how does he keep pulling things out that should not exist? Fearful and terrified, he quickly put it away into his spatial ring and used Qi to forcibly stabilize his mind. All the while, he never even looked in the man's direction, worried he might speed over and use a scalpel to cut open his skull and see what existed in there.

The next thing he focused on was a set of parchments loosely strung together. Whatever it was, he gathered, it would not be more insane than Voidfire, so he picked it up with ease.

And then he read the first line.

Recipe for Immortal Pill.

There was only one pill in the history of alchemy that was ever called the 'Immortal Pill'. Though many, many, many pill names do contain 'Immortal'--Immortal Rejuvenation Pill, Immortal Bastion Pill, Pill of Qi Immortality, and so on--only one had just that.

The Immortal Pill.

The pill that had granted a random, mortal woman a life so long that many believe she was still among the living. He did not need to peruse any further than the title; despite having just invoked the Song of Dao, Lao Shun knew from the bottom of his soul that he would die a thousand times before ever being able to concoct this pill.

Ignoring the required materials--as he was more than certain that creature he called 'Master' would be able to somehow procure them--there was likely no Alchemist even in the Heavenly Grotto capable of concocting it with a 1% success rate, let alone anything more than that.

The recipe would become like a garish painting within a noble's castle: a mere decoration void of all meaning.

Just a few moments ago, he was indelibly proud of having invoked the Song of Dao, of having become the first alchemist of the Alchemy Tower to ever procure a 'near-perfect' pill. And yet, all that pride was dashed immediately; his Master procured at least two things that were about ten billion times more impressive.

Things that every single Alchemist currently alive would kill everyone and everything they loved to get their hands on.

Things that, if the world ever learned were in their possession, would undoubtedly cause the Heavenly Court to issue a Writ of Death unto all their names.

Things that bent reality to the point of leaving him numb and desolate.