As soon as Chen Ping stepped into the Black Earth, a peculiar fragrance washed over him.

It was a refreshing, pervasive scent—delicate, sweet, and utterly captivating as it filled the small space.

Chen Ping’s heart skipped a beat.

He knew this smell. It was the unique aroma of the Origin Nourishing Fruit.

The clear sweetness, underpinned by the heavy, earthy depth of ancient vegetation, was the greatest reward he could have asked for after months of grueling labor.

He sprang into motion, crossing the distance to the Origin Nourishing Tree in three hungry strides.

The main trunk now stood five feet tall, its form gnarled and powerful. The bark was a deep, bruised purple, resembling ancient vines that had weathered centuries of wind and rain.

Three short branches forked from the crown. Perched atop each branch was a single fruit the size of a baby’s fist. They were smooth, lustrous, and possessed the oily sheen of fine jade.

The surface of the fruit was flawless, glowing with a warm, milky white hue. Beneath the skin, a faint golden halo seemed to flow like liquid light.

“Excellent. Truly excellent.” Chen Ping’s eyes were cold and evaluating. “The medicinal potency of these fruits is a cut above the trash sold at the market stalls.”

He nodded in satisfaction.

A fully mature Origin Nourishing Fruit, if left on the branch, would continue to concentrate its essence. Eventually, it would become a Hundred-Year Origin Nourishing Fruit. Such treasures were exceptionally rare, typically the exclusive reserve of the great clans and sects.

The fruits in the Black Earth might only have a dozen years of potency now, but given the time dilation of this space, reaching the hundred-year mark wouldn’t take long.

Chen Ping’s heart hammered against his ribs.

He extended a finger, using the utmost delicacy to pluck a fruit. It felt cool and solid to the touch, the skin bursting with abundant spiritual liquid.

Suppressing the thrill, he moved to inspect the other nine trees.

Seven of them bore two mature fruits each. The remaining two were a bit more meager, carrying only one apiece.

Including the three from the first tree, his total harvest came to nineteen Origin Nourishing Fruits.

Nineteen portions.

That meant nineteen opportunities to fire up the furnace.

With nineteen chances to fail, succeeding in refining a single batch of Origin Nourishing Pills should be within his grasp.

Chen Ping shifted his gaze.

Growing nearby were the other two indispensable main ingredients for the pill. Nourished by the Black Earth and the Spirit Spring water within the Jade Pendant, their vitality was aggressive and robust.

He efficiently harvested nineteen portions of these spiritual herbs as well.

Everything was ready.

Chen Ping took a deep breath, forcibly crushing the surging excitement in his chest until his mind was a frozen lake.

He exited the space and walked to the center of his room. There stood a bluish-black Alchemy Furnace, half the height of a man.

This newly purchased furnace was a Tier 1 Mid-Grade Dharma Artifact. It had cost him two hundred Spirit Stones, bought from a mysterious veiled woman.

The furnace body was thick and heavy, octagonal in shape, and covered in dense cloud patterns. It looked ancient and imposing.

Chen Ping sat cross-legged before it. He closed his eyes, regulated his breathing, and brought his Qi to its absolute peak.

“Open.”

Flames rose beneath the furnace. Constrained by the Fire Control array, a steady bluish-white fire licked the bottom of the metal.

Chen Ping’s movements were mechanical and precise. He placed the prepared spiritual herbs into the furnace in strict sequence. His Divine Sense dove inside, monitoring the state of the herbs with microscopic attention.

Melting. Purification.

These steps were second nature to him. As before, he deliberately slowed the pace, extending the purification time to ensure perfection. Threads of his Qi seeped into the medicinal liquid, combing through it to remove even the most minute impurities.

Under the high heat, the liquid churned, gradually transforming into a jade-green mass that emitted a rich aura of vegetation essence.

Next came Spirit Infusion.

Chen Ping formed rapid Hand Seals. The small air vents on the furnace lid hissed open. Guided by his Divine Sense, he drew in the sparse Heaven and Earth Qi from the room, compressed it, and carefully infused it into the churning liquid below.

As the pure Qi merged, the liquid shifted from deep jade-green to a warm milky white. It swelled slightly in volume.

After the time it took to drink half a cup of tea, the liquid became viscous and elastic, resembling high-quality agar.

Now came the critical threshold—Technique Deployment.

Chen Ping’s expression hardened.

He split off a strand of resilient Divine Sense and swiftly sketched above the viscous liquid inside the furnace.

A brush formed of condensed Qi appeared in his mind. One mysterious green line after another manifested out of thin air, rapidly intertwining and solidifying.

Finally, they formed a complex, three-dimensional green runic array, roughly the size of a palm.

The moment the array took shape, it emitted a powerful suction. It descended slowly, wrapping around the churning milky-white liquid like a cage.

The core function of the Technique Deployment Restriction was simple: use massive spiritual pressure to forcibly compress the infused Qi, locking it inside the liquid while squeezing the mass into a solid pill.

As the green runic array clamped down, the liquid in the furnace stalled. Then, it began to churn and swell violently, fighting the pressure.

Chen Ping felt his Divine Sense slam down as if crushed by a falling boulder.

He had to exert every ounce of mental will to maintain the stability of the restriction. He had no bandwidth left. Not a shred of Divine Sense could be spared to monitor the external temperature of the furnace fire.

For an alchemist, this was a fatal vulnerability.

Time ticked by.

Inside the furnace, the liquid suppressed by the green restriction raged and clashed. Each impact sent a tremor through Chen Ping’s mind.

Meanwhile, without active guidance, the furnace fire inevitably fluctuated.

It was a tiny flicker at the edge of the flame—a negligible rise in temperature.

Pfft!

A dull, soft sound echoed from within the metal. It sounded almost mocking.

Under the dual stress of the violent liquid and the momentary temperature imbalance, the equilibrium shattered. The medicinal liquid bulged like a punctured bubble.

Instantly, it lost all cohesion.

The precious liquid transformed into a stream of charred black smoke that hissed out from the gaps in the furnace lid, filling the room with the pungent odor of burnt dirt and ash.

Technique Deployment failed.

The fire died. Chen Ping’s face was pale, a fine layer of sweat coating his forehead.

He stared at the small puddle of sticky, charred residue at the bottom of the furnace. Silently, he scraped it clean.

He felt no frustration. He only analyzed.

He adjusted his state and began again.

Three days passed.

Chen Ping fired the furnace nine times.

He failed nine times.

Every failure occurred at the exact same step: Technique Deployment.

The problem was clinically obvious. The restriction required 100% of his focus to maintain the crushing pressure. He physically could not split his focus to stabilize the fire or monitor the subtle changes in the liquid.

Alchemy was a delicate art; the slightest disturbance caused the fragile balance to collapse.

Chen Ping stared into the empty, cold furnace, his brow furrowed.

His inability to split his Divine Sense was a hard limit. He could not bypass it with skill alone.

What should I do?

He stared at the pile of charred dregs, his mind racing.

Suddenly, an insight struck him.

If I cannot increase my focus… can I change the technique?

What if the restriction itself could be made more “efficient”?

How to save effort?

If one restriction requires all my concentration to hold the pressure… what if I used two?

It was a contradictory, paradoxical thought.

An extremely bold, even unorthodox idea flashed through his mind like a bolt of lightning splitting the dark.