His breathing steadied. Fireflies drifted, their wings humming faintly, while crickets sang in the grass. A cool night breeze carried the scent of char and coal into his nostrils. Shi Yang's eyelids twitched, and he slowly opened his eyes to the hollow trunk of a collapsed tree—its body blackened, split open where lightning had once struck.
I'm back here, he thought, gaze settling on the stump. His arm lifted almost on instinct, pointing toward the charred trunk. Behind him, the koi manifested, circling as a faint flame flickered to life from the stump's dying embers.
"It seems I returned just in time," he murmured.
From the moment he had stepped into this caveman-like world, he had felt his connection waning, thinning thread by thread. But now, as his resonance met the thunder-struck stump, the bond snapped taut again—his flame rekindling its embers.
"So this is my task here," he whispered. "To keep your fire alive."
He shifted, groaning faintly at the stiffness in his body. "But won't it be boring, sitting here doing nothing? Isn't that too much of a waste?" His eyes wandered the primitive landscape. This really is the stone age, isn't it?
What could he possibly do in such a place? It was nothing like the cultivation world, with its endless dangers and treasures. Nor did it carry the intrigue of his modern inner worlds—or the crimson expanse of that blood river in his spirit sea.
I should return there someday, he thought, scratching his chin. That place had structure, order, sects. If I raided them and stole their techniques—whether they were real or not—it'd still be worth the effort.
His gaze drifted back to the fire, waiting for something, anything.
Then—
Swiss~
A leaf tumbled on the breeze, landing in the hollow trunk. The fire caught it instantly, and as it burned, a faint wooden wisp rose into the air. Shi Yang narrowed his eyes.
The wisp curled and swirled with a delicate trace of qi. When he shifted the flame's temperature, it stabilized for a breath… before dissolving into ash.
He frowned, then turned his attention back to the stump. His fire crackled within it—and there, deep in the hollow, something glimmered.
He stepped closer. Resting in the ash was a dark pellet, no larger than a strawberry seed. He picked it up, rolling it between his fingers, and realization struck.
"…A failed pill?"
His gaze swept outward, taking in the trees, the grass, the tangled roots pushing through soil. Each faintly pulsed with Dao resonance. When his eyes returned to the stump, it no longer appeared as a burnt hollow—in his mind, it had become a cauldron.
"So this world… it's meant to test my pill refinement."
His lips curved into a crooked smile. Without hesitation, he plucked a few blades of grass, tossed them into the fire, and watched carefully as the flames embraced them.
Shi Yang crouched before the stump, watching the flames lick across the handful of grass he'd thrown in. The fire shifted hue, turning from amber to faint green before dying back into orange. He frowned, tilting his head as the koi swam lazy circles above him, their scales reflecting the firelight like drops of molten gold.
"So… it reacts," he muttered. "But the essence isn't stable. Grass alone burns too fast—its qi escapes before it can be condensed."
He rubbed his thumb against his fingers, feeling the faint trace of spiritual warmth left behind by the failed burn. "Hmm. It has some life qi, at least. But it disperses like mist. If I could anchor it…"
He glanced around, spotting a patch of moss clinging to the fallen trunk. Scooping it up, he squeezed the moisture between his fingers. "Water essence. If I mix this with the grass…"
He tossed the damp moss into the fire. The flames hissed, shrinking for a heartbeat before blooming again, this time steadier. The air filled with a faint herbal scent—cool and soothing. The koi swirled, their glow deepening.
Shi Yang's eyes gleamed. "Balance of elements. So that's how this place works…"
He plucked a small twig from the ground, snapping it in half and letting both pieces fall into the hollow. The fire accepted them hungrily. One burned bright and fast, the other smoldered, black smoke curling upward. A faint image flickered in the smoke—a ghostly outline of a seed, pulsing faintly before fading.
His pulse quickened. "It's reacting to intent."
He reached out, spreading his fingers above the flame. "Then let's try again."
This time, he focused. Fire, grass, moss, twig. Four ingredients, representing four natures—life, water, wood, and flame. He fed them in slowly, adjusting the heat, guiding the color of the fire through his will. It shifted from orange to gold, then deepened into a soft azure.
The stump groaned faintly, and a low hum spread through the clearing. Threads of energy rose like mist, swirling together above the hollow. The koi gave a low trill, their forms flickering brighter as if lending him strength.
Within the fire, something began to coalesce—a bead, half-formed, trembling at the edge of dissolution. Shi Yang grinned, sweat beading across his brow.
"Condense," he whispered.
The flame roared, then abruptly steadied, shrinking into a focused core. The bead within glowed faintly green, solidifying, until at last the light faded. Shi Yang exhaled, reaching into the ash and drawing out a smooth, marble-sized pellet.
It pulsed once in his palm—alive.
He held it up to the moonlight, examining the faint lines that traced its surface. "Crude, unstable… but it worked."
A laugh escaped him—quiet, but edged with satisfaction. "So that's what this trial is. Every world I enter tests a different craft of cultivation. Combat, alchemy, perhaps even forging next…"
He tossed the pill into the air, catching it with a flourish before pocketing it. Then he stood, glancing toward the shadowed trees.
"If the stump's my cauldron," he murmured, "then the forest must be my field of ingredients."
His eyes glinted. "Let's see what else this world can teach me."
He stepped into the dark, the fire behind him crackling in quiet applause as the koi followed—threads of golden light weaving through the night.