The words hung in the air, cold and absolute. "...Some of them, you will not have."
The hope that had just surged through the room evaporated like morning mist. The lead Yan Clan guard, Captain Gao, looked as if he'd been struck. "What do you mean, you won't have them?" he demanded, his voice thick with a new layer of dread. "This is the best apothecary in the region!"
Li Xuan ignored the guard's panic. He turned his blurry gaze towards the workshop, where a collection of writing materials sat on a desk. "Brush. Ink. Paper," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Young Master Lu, who had been staring at Li Xuan with wide-eyed reverence, immediately scrambled to bring the items, laying them out on the main counter with the care of a servant.
A strange silence fell over the room. They watched as the small, seven-year-old beggar boy, who still had streaks of grime on his face, picked up the calligraphy brush. His grip was steady, his posture perfect. He moved with a grace and confidence that was utterly at odds with his appearance.
'Writing this in their clumsy, mortal script is like trying to explain the cosmos with children's building blocks,' he thought with a flicker of internal annoyance. 'But it will have to do.'
The brush danced across the paper, leaving a trail of elegant, precise characters. He wrote without hesitation, the entire formula flowing from his mind as if he were merely copying it from a book only he could see.
When he was done, he set the brush down and pushed the paper towards Master Feng.
The old alchemist, Lu, and Captain Gao huddled over the counter, their heads close together as they read the list.
The first few ingredients were rare but understandable.
"Spirit-Cleansing Dew…" Master Feng murmured, nodding. "We have this. Very expensive, but we have it."
"Ground Sunstone Powder…" Lu read, his brow furrowed. "A potent Yang herb. A strange choice for a Yin poison, but… alright."
But as they read further down the list, their expressions began to change. The ingredients became progressively more bizarre, a chaotic mix of opposing energies that defied all known alchemical principles.
"Three drops of Ghost Centipede venom… mixed with a pinch of crushed Diamond-Scale fishbone?" Lu whispered in disbelief. "Master, this is madness! This formula would explode! It breaks every rule of elemental balance!"
Master Feng's face was pale, his hands trembling slightly as he held the paper. He wasn't seeing madness. He was seeing a level of alchemical theory so far beyond his own that he could barely comprehend it.
Then, they reached the last line on the list.
"One fresh, living, Hundred-Year Sun-Kissed Fern."
The life drained from Master Feng's face. The paper slipped from his fingers and fluttered onto the floor.
"A… a living hundred-year-old fern?" he stammered, his voice a dry croak. "It's impossible."
Captain Gao looked at him, his last shred of hope crumbling. "What do you mean, impossible?"
"A spiritual herb of that age is a priceless treasure!" Master Feng explained, his voice trembling with despair. "Even if one existed in Yan Town, it couldn't be moved without killing it! We need its living essence! My last dried one was sold yesterday! To find another… it would take weeks, months! We don't have that kind of time!"
The room fell into a crushing, hopeless silence. They had the formula from a miracle boy, but the cure itself was impossible to create. The children were doomed.
Li Xuan, who had been watching this predictable display of mortal despair with cold patience, finally spoke again. His voice was calm, cutting through the grief like a sharp blade.
He looked directly at Master Feng.
"You don't have a hundred-year-old one."
He paused, letting the finality of that statement sink in, before continuing.
"But do you have a one-year-old?"