As the temperature inside the Starfall Mystic Gold Cauldron climbed, the artifact began to respond.

On its surface, the intricate engravings of the Twenty-Eight Mansions stirred to life. The Tail Fire Tiger, the Room Fire Pig, the Beak Fire Monkey, and the Wing Fire Snake illuminated one by one, their runes echoing each other from four cardinal points on the golden vessel.

Each time a “Fire” constellation lit up, it signaled that the internal heat had ascended another tier.

When all four blazed with light, it meant the crucible was ready.

Jiang Chen seized the moment. He grabbed the high-quality Iron Sand he had purchased and cast it into the belly of the cauldron.

Hiss!

A sharp sizzling sound erupted instantly. The iron sand skipped and danced across the scorching metal floor, skittering frantically like insects trapped on a hot skillet.

Under the relentless assault of high-temperature calcination, the metal’s structure began to break down. It decomposed layer by layer; the pure essence remained, while the impurities oxidized and crumbled away.

Rapidly, the grains transformed from a dull, metallic silver-gray into a rich, vibrant reddish-brown.

In the language of alchemy, this step was known as “Subduing the Fire.”

It was a technique specifically designed to temper metals, strip away impurities, and neutralize toxicity.

A short while later, Jiang Chen judged the process complete. Wielding a wooden ladle as long as his arm, he reached in and scooped out the reddish-brown sand. It had shrunk to half its original volume. He deposited it into a prepared mortar nearby.

Before the cauldron’s temperature could dip, he tossed in several stalks of Crimson Flame Grass.

Sizzle. Pop.

The moisture in the herbs vaporized instantly, and wisps of crimson fire flared up from the leaves.

Jiang Chen watched the flames with a calm, detached gaze. His heartrate didn’t spike; his hands didn’t tremble.

Every change occurring within the vessel was within expected parameters. There were no surprises.

He watched the Crimson Flame Grass burn down to fine ash. Then, he picked up the Green Wood Vine—already washed, peeled, and prepped. He snapped the vine into segments by hand and dropped them in, one after another.

By now, the residual heat from the Iron Sand and the combustion of the Crimson Flame Grass had pushed the cauldron’s temperature to a critical high.

The moment the Green Wood Vine touched the bottom, its surface charred and crisped. The intense heat forcibly sweated out the plant’s essence—a scant amount of precious sap.

Drop by drop, the quantity accumulated.

Once the vines had completely reduced into a bubbling green slurry, Jiang Chen immediately poured in the Cold Pool Water.

Zzzzzzt!

The reaction was violent. A plume of white steam exploded upward as the thermal shock hit.

The ash of the Crimson Flame Grass and the sap of the Green Wood Vine fused instantly with the Cold Pool Water.

The mixture turned turbid and muddy, emitting a pungent, fishy stench that would make a lesser man gag.

Jiang Chen didn’t even wrinkle his nose. Expressionless, he grabbed a handful of his own Top-quality Spirit Rice—a generous amount—and threw it into the roiling mess.

Then, he began to stir.

Clockwise.

One rotation. Two rotations. He maintained a steady, hypnotic rhythm until he hit exactly forty-nine circles. Then, he stopped.

Under the influence of the precise stirring, the liquid smoothed out. It lost its chaotic turbidity, and the foul fishy odor vanished completely, replaced by a neutral scent.

Jiang Chen stepped back to the mortar. The Iron Sand he had removed earlier had cooled. He took up the pestle and began to pound, the rhythmic thud-thud-thud filling the room until the sand was reduced to a fine powder.

He swept the powder into the golden cauldron.

Gurgle…

The reaction was intense. Thick bubbles rose to the surface and burst.

Jiang Chen picked up the wooden ladle again. This time, he stirred counter-clockwise.

He counted silently. A full eighty-one circles.

The liquid inside shifted constantly, oscillating between clear and cloudy, rising and falling in a peculiar, living rhythm.

As the final rotation completed, the light display on the cauldron shifted.

The Tail Fire Tiger, Room Fire Pig, and Beak Fire Monkey dimmed. Only the Wing Fire Snake remained bright. Simultaneously, the Horn Wood Dragon, Stomach Metal Dog, and Three Stars Water Ape flared to life.

The runes told the story: the internal temperature had hit a specific threshold and stabilized.

Jiang Chen exhaled a long breath. “My first time truly refining a pill… I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little tight in the chest. Fortunately, my skill level is already at ‘Miraculous Hands’. The muscle memory won’t allow me to fail.”

Inside the cauldron, the slurry of Iron Sand, Cold Pool Water, Green Wood Vine, and Crimson Flame Grass was undergoing a metamorphosis. As time passed, it oxidized, evaporated, and reduced.

This was inevitable.

It represented the purging of the final layers of impurity.

What remained would be the essence of the essence.

At the Pill Appreciation Gathering, Jiang Chen had watched Fang Xiaozhi refine a top-quality Foundation Spirit Pill with his own eyes. The techniques, the timing, the rhythm—he had memorized it all.

Now, the only thing left to do was wait.

He needed the liquid to reduce until only a single bowl remained.

Time ticked by. Seconds turned into minutes.

Suddenly, the lights shifted again. The Horn Wood Dragon, Stomach Metal Dog, Three Stars Water Ape, and Wing Fire Snake dimmed in rapid succession.

Then, a new constellation lit up. It was one of the Seven Mansions of the White Tiger of the West: the Net Moon Crow, representing the Moon.

This was the signal. If all four “Moon” mansions lit up, it meant the cauldron was cooling too rapidly and needed fuel.

Jiang Chen leaned over and peered inside. The liquid had reduced perfectly—just enough to fill a bowl.

“Now.”

He immediately activated the [Nine Flames Mystic Art], dragging the Fire Spiritual Power from his dantian.

His palms turned a translucent, molten crimson. He slammed them against the side of the golden cauldron.

Boom!

A wave of intense, controlled heat blasted into the vessel.

The force of his Qi turned the ordinary wood fire beneath the cauldron red, consuming the fuel in seconds until only ash remained. The wood fire died, extinguished.

From this point on, the only thing sustaining the reaction was Jiang Chen’s own cultivation base.

He had known this step was coming. He remained unhurried, his movements graceful and efficient.

As the Fire Qi drained from his dantian, the liquid inside the cauldron began to congeal. The turbidity vanished, replaced by a thick, viscous consistency.

Moments later, the constellation directly opposite the Net Moon Crow—the Room Sun Rabbit—lit up.

Sun and Moon hung in the sky together. Yin and Yang were in balance.

A tendril of medicinal fragrance, distinct and herbal, wafted from the vessel.

Seeing this, Jiang Chen did not rush to extract the pill fluid. Instead, he grabbed the heavy lid and slammed it down, sealing the golden cauldron tight.

He didn’t stop channeling his energy. He continued to pour Fire Qi into the sealed vessel.

He held the seal until the Heart Moon Fox, Emptiness Sun Rat, Hairy Head Sun Chicken, Star Sun Horse, Extended Net Deer, and Rooftop Moon Swallow all illuminated simultaneously.

Only then did he stop.

He retreated several steps, counting the seconds in his mind.

“Stewing.”

It was a technique often ignored by impatient alchemists. Many thought the moment the fragrance appeared, the pill was done. They would open the lid immediately.

But they were wrong.

The “Stewing” step utilized pressure and lingering heat to compress the medicinal liquid further, forcing out the deepest, most stubborn impurities that lay hidden in the chemical structure.

It sacrificed quantity. The yield would be lower.

But the quality? It would be incomparable.

If Jiang Chen only cared about numbers, he could have opened it earlier. But this was his first Foundation Spirit Pill. He refused to accept mediocrity. He wanted a perfect start.

He didn’t care if he only got one pill, as long as it was flawless.

Hummmmm.

A low vibration began to emanate from the golden cauldron.

The Qi pressure inside had reached its limit. The heavy lid began to rattle and dance, clattering against the rim as if it were about to be blown off by an explosion.

“Open!”

Jiang Chen waved his hand. Using his telekinesis, he lifted the lid.

Whoosh!

A column of superheated steam erupted from the cauldron, carrying a wave of pressure that spiked the room temperature by several degrees.

Jiang Chen, possessing a Fire Spirit Root, barely felt the heat. He stepped through the steam and looked down into the cauldron.

The liquid had transformed. The muddy colors were gone, replaced by a translucent, glowing greenish-yellow hue.

It had reduced significantly. Where there had been a bowl’s worth of liquid, now only half remained.

Jiang Chen activated the [Nine Flames Mystic Art] one last time, carefully siphoning the excess Fire Qi out of the cauldron to cool it down. Then, he prepared to divide the precious fluid.