The morning sun filtered through the Alchemy Pavilion's tall windows, casting everything in shades of gold and amber. Yu Jingming arrived early—not because he was nervous, but because he wanted time to observe before the demonstration began.
Master Chen had scheduled this event as a teaching opportunity. A public display where his three new disciples would showcase their practical abilities while he explained alchemical principles to the gathered nobles and officials who pretended to understand what they were watching.
Politics dressed up as education.
Yu Jingming found Feng Yue already at one of the three prepared workstations, examining the materials provided with a critical eye. She looked up when he approached, offering a slight nod of acknowledgment.
"Nervous?" she asked.
"Should I be?"
She smiled faintly. "Depends. Do you plan to show off or play it safe?"
Good question. He'd been wrestling with that exact dilemma since last night. His breakthrough to Spiritual Palace realm had drawn enough attention. Another display of unusual talent might push suspicion into dangerous territory. But performing too poorly would disappoint Master Chen and waste the opportunity this position offered.
"Safe," he lied. "You?"
"I'll do what the situation demands." Her green eyes held something calculating, something that reminded Yu Jingming of himself. "We're being evaluated constantly now. Everything we do reflects on our potential value."
Smart girl. She understood the game.
Yu Tianlong arrived moments later, flanked by two servants carrying additional materials—expensive stuff that the palace hadn't provided. Showing off his resources, establishing dominance through wealth. Typical.
"Seventh brother," Yu Tianlong greeted with false warmth. "Ready to embarrass yourself in front of the entire court?"
"I'll do my best not to," Yu Jingming replied evenly.
"Your best hasn't been particularly impressive historically."
Feng Yue cleared her throat, cutting through the tension. "Perhaps we should focus on preparation rather than pointless posturing?"
Yu Tianlong's expression soured, but he moved to his workstation without further comment. Being lectured by someone outside the royal family clearly irritated him.
The pavilion began filling with spectators. Nobles mostly, with a handful of officials and several younger cultivators who were probably hoping to pick up techniques. Master Chen entered last, his presence commanding immediate attention.
"Welcome," the old alchemist announced. "Today you'll witness practical alchemy—the transformation of raw materials into refined pills that can aid cultivation, heal injuries, or provide various other benefits." He gestured toward his three disciples. "These students will demonstrate techniques while I explain the underlying principles."
He turned to face them directly. "You'll each refine a different pill. Lady Feng Yue will create a Healing Pill, Rank 8. Prince Yu Tianlong will attempt a Strength Enhancement Pill, also Rank 8. And Prince Yu Jingming..." Master Chen's eyes glinted with something between amusement and challenge. "You'll refine a Qi Concentration Pill, Rank 7."
Wait. Rank 7?
That was significantly harder than what he'd assigned the others. A test within a test, pushing Yu Jingming to reveal his true capabilities.
Damn it.
"Master," Yu Tianlong spoke up, barely hiding his satisfaction. "Isn't that assignment rather... ambitious for someone so inexperienced?"
"Perhaps," Master Chen agreed. "But I suspect Prince Yu Jingming is more experienced than he appears. We'll see if my suspicion is correct."
Every eye in the room focused on Yu Jingming. He felt the weight of expectations, curiosity, and probably more than a little schadenfreude from people hoping to watch him fail spectacularly.
No pressure.
"I'll attempt it," he said calmly, moving to examine his materials. Spiritual herbs he recognized from a dozen previous lives, minerals whose properties he knew intimately. The Qi Concentration Pill formula was challenging but manageable—for someone with his knowledge.
The question was how much of that knowledge to display.
Master Chen began his lecture, explaining material properties and refinement basics to the audience. Yu Jingming half-listened while organizing his workspace, arranging ingredients in the order he'd need them.
Feng Yue started first, her movements practiced and efficient. She'd clearly refined Healing Pills before, knew the formula well. Her technique was solid—controlled temperature, precise timing, steady qi infusion. Within minutes, the pleasant scent of successful alchemy began filling the air around her station.
Yu Tianlong moved with less finesse but adequate skill. His resources helped—better quality materials made the process more forgiving. He was sweating though, concentration evident on his face.
Yu Jingming took a breath and began.
The first step was material preparation—cleansing each ingredient of impurities using gentle qi manipulation. Standard technique, but he added a subtle refinement most alchemists didn't know, using oscillating frequency rather than constant pressure. More effective, less material waste.
Several experienced alchemists in the audience leaned forward, noticing.
He activated the furnace, bringing it to the precise temperature needed. Not too hot—that would burn the delicate Spirit Essence. Not too cool—the materials wouldn't bond properly. The standard texts gave a range, but there was an optimal point within that range that maximized efficiency.
Yu Jingming found it instantly, muscle memory from thousands of previous refinements guiding his movements.
Into the furnace went the first ingredient—Celestial Grass, its blue-green leaves curling as heat touched them. He controlled the burning process with threads of qi, ensuring even consumption.
Master Chen's lecture paused. "Notice Prince Yu Jingming's technique. The qi control is remarkably refined for someone his age. Each thread maintains consistent pressure while—"
The old alchemist stopped mid-sentence, staring.
Yu Jingming had added the second ingredient—Moonstone Powder—using a spiraling infusion pattern that wouldn't be documented for another fifty years. He'd done it without thinking, pure instinct.
Mistake.
Too late to correct now. He continued, forcing himself to slow down, to make deliberate errors that would mask the sophistication of his earlier technique. He let the temperature fluctuate slightly, allowed minor inefficiencies in his qi distribution.
But the damage was done. Master Chen was watching him like a hawk now, analyzing every movement.
Feng Yue finished first, producing a Healing Pill with impressive purity—probably eighty percent. The audience applauded politely. She bowed, looking quietly satisfied.
Yu Tianlong finished moments later, his pill slightly less pure but still respectable. More applause, though Yu Jingming noticed his half-brother's expression was tight with frustration. He'd wanted to outshine Feng Yue and hadn't managed it.
Yu Jingming was still working, and the room's attention shifted fully to him. The Qi Concentration Pill was forming in his furnace, energy swirling in patterns visible even to non-cultivators. The air itself seemed to thicken with spiritual pressure.
He reached the crucial stage—fusion, where all components had to merge simultaneously while maintaining their individual properties. Screw this up and the pill would either fail completely or produce something useless.
His hands moved in complex gestures, qi threads weaving through the furnace like invisible needles, binding materials at the molecular level while his consciousness directed the process with precision that shouldn't be possible for someone at Spiritual Palace realm.
The pill formed. Perfect sphere, deep purple color, surface smooth as polished jade.
Too perfect.
He'd done it again—let his real skill show through when he should've held back.
Master Chen approached slowly, picking up the completed pill with hands that trembled slightly. He examined it in silence while the entire room held its breath.
"Ninety-two percent purity," Master Chen finally announced, voice barely above a whisper. "For a Rank 7 pill. From someone who claims to have started serious alchemy study less than two months ago."
The room erupted in whispers.
"Impossible."
"Must be a mistake."
"How could the waste prince—"
"This," Master Chen interrupted, raising his voice, "is what true talent looks like. Not competence. Not adequate skill. This is genius-level ability combined with knowledge that shouldn't be accessible to someone his age." He turned to Yu Jingming directly. "Where did you learn that spiraling infusion technique?"
Everyone stared. Waiting.
Yu Jingming's mind raced. The truth was impossible—I learned it in my previous life as one of the world's greatest alchemists. He needed a lie, and fast.
"I... I'm not sure what you mean, Master. I just did what felt natural."
"Natural." Master Chen's tone suggested he didn't believe that for a second. "That technique is documented in exactly three texts, all of them restricted to Rank 3 alchemists and above. You expect me to believe you invented it independently?"
Actually, yes. Because that's exactly what Ye Fan had done, centuries ago. But Yu Jingming couldn't say that.
"I found some old journals in my mother's belongings," he said, falling back on his earlier lie. "The Flowing Cloud Sect. Some of the techniques described in there were... unusual. I've been experimenting."
"Experimenting." Master Chen set the pill down carefully, as if it might explode. "This isn't experimentation. This is mastery."
Yu Tianlong stepped forward, face flushed with anger. "This is fraud. He must have stolen the pill, substituted it for his own attempt. There's no other explanation."
"I watched him refine it," Master Chen said flatly. "As did everyone else here. There was no substitution."
"Then he cheated somehow! Used forbidden techniques or—"
"Enough." The king's voice cut through the argument.
Yu Jingming hadn't noticed his father enter, but there he was, standing at the pavilion's entrance with several guards and advisors. How long had he been watching?
King Yu Zhen approached the workstation, examined the pill, then looked at Yu Jingming with an expression that was impossible to read.
"You continue to surprise me, seventh son."
"I'm just trying to be useful, Your Majesty."
"Useful." The king smiled without warmth. "Yes, I imagine you could be very useful indeed, with skills like these." He turned to Master Chen. "Continue his training. I want to know the full extent of his abilities."
"Of course, Your Majesty."
The king departed, and the demonstration effectively ended. Nobles filed out, whispering excitedly about the waste prince's impossible talent. Yu Tianlong stormed off without a word, fury radiating from every step.
Feng Yue lingered, studying Yu Jingming with open curiosity. "You really shouldn't show off that much," she said quietly. "People like us... we need to be careful about standing out too far."
"People like us?"
"Anomalies. Contradictions." She smiled sadly. "I know what it's like, being better than you should be. Drawing attention you don't want. Trust me—it gets complicated fast."
She left before he could respond.
Master Chen remained, still staring at the perfect pill sitting on the workstation.
"I don't know your secret," the old alchemist finally said. "But you have one. Something happened to transform you from worthless to exceptional seemingly overnight." He looked up, meeting Yu Jingming's eyes. "I won't pry. Everyone deserves their mysteries. But I will push you to reach your full potential, whatever that might be."
"Thank you, Master."
"Don't thank me yet. If you're truly as talented as today suggested, your life just became significantly more dangerous." Master Chen picked up the pill again, holding it up to the light. "Excellence makes enemies. Remember that."
He walked away, leaving Yu Jingming alone in the pavilion with his perfect pill and his mounting problems.
The demonstration had been a disaster. Not because he'd failed—because he'd succeeded too well. Again.
How was he supposed to fly under the radar when his instincts kept betraying him, revealing skills he shouldn't possess?
Yu Jingming left the pavilion and headed back to his quarters, ignoring the stares and whispers that followed him through the palace corridors. His mind churned with calculations and contingencies.
He needed a new strategy. The careful approach wasn't working anymore. Maybe Feng Yue was right—maybe people like them couldn't stay hidden.
Maybe it was time to stop trying.
His hand drifted to where he kept the silver dagger from the assassins, hidden in his robes. Enemies were circling, drawn by the scent of his unusual rise.
Let them come.
He was tired of pretending to be weak.