After absorbing the First-Tier Alchemy Codex, Wan Long sat silently in his small hut as streams of information coursed through his mind. Pill refinement methods, ingredient classifications, flame temperatures, and the minute timing of condensation cycles—all of it integrated smoothly into his memory.
His body trembled slightly as the flood of knowledge settled. The system's transmission wasn't merely mental—it strengthened his soul as well. His mind felt sharper, more focused, his thoughts flowing with unusual clarity.
He exhaled softly, a faint smile curving his lips. "So this is what it means to be an alchemist…"
Yet, as he began simulating the refinement process in his head, that smile faded.
He realized the problem immediately—he had no fire control method.
Without flame, there was no refinement. No matter how perfect his technique or how clear his understanding, an alchemist's most basic tool was spiritual fire—something he utterly lacked.
He extended his palm, circulating his spiritual energy, trying to form a spark the way he had read in the Codex. His qi gathered, trembling, unrefined and unstable. A faint warmth rose but quickly dispersed.
It was useless. His Chaos Mortal Roots, though vast in potential, were too mixed—five elements swirling without balance. Fire essence would rise for a moment only to be drowned by the water element, smothered before it could ignite.
He sighed deeply. "Even with this much spiritual energy… I can't even light a cauldron."
Tomorrow's alchemy qualification test loomed in his mind. If he failed to produce even a wisp of alchemist fire, he would be ridiculed—or worse, investigated.
After several minutes of thought, he clenched his fists. There was no choice.
"System," he commanded, "upgrade spiritual roots."
A chime rang out.
[Upgrading Spiritual Root: Chaos Mortal Root → Chaos Low-Grade Root]
[Cost: 100,000 Recycle Points. Confirm?]
"Confirm."
The moment he spoke, his body was enveloped in light. A wave of searing energy surged through his meridians, widening and refining them as his entire spiritual network reshaped itself. His breath quickened; sweat streamed down his forehead.
When the light finally dimmed, he felt… lighter. His spiritual perception deepened, his connection to heaven and earth clearer than ever before.
[Upgrade Complete: Chaos Mortal Root → Chaos Low-Grade Root.]
He tested his qi again. This time, the elemental flows within him moved more smoothly—less conflicting, more cooperative. He guided a wisp of fire energy and was pleasantly surprised to see faint sparks flicker at his fingertips.
The heat was weak but visible. A genuine spiritual flame.
Wan Long exhaled in relief. "At least now… I can start refining, even if slowly."
He quickly opened his system panel again:
[Recycle Points Remaining: 116,000]
[Next Root Upgrade Cost: 1,000,000 RP.]
His eyes twitched slightly at the staggering jump. "A million recycle points…?"
He leaned back, staring at the flickering spark in his palm until it vanished.
The chaos roots, though powerful, truly lived up to their name. Balancing their conflicting elements was like walking a tightrope. If he couldn't stabilize the fire element better by tomorrow, it might still ruin his alchemy test.
"It's not enough," he murmured. "Even now, I can't control the fire's stability."
His gaze hardened with determination. "I'll need to ask someone. Maybe a senior alchemist knows a way...''
He exhaled slowly and began circulating his Moon Breathing Technique to calm his turbulent qi. The silvery light that rose around him soothed his body, but his mind remained alert, planning his next move.
.....
The first light of dawn crept over the sect's mountain peaks, painting the tiled roofs in shades of gold. Mist coiled gently around the courtyards as servant disciples bustled about, beginning their morning duties.
Wan Long was among them, walking quietly with a wooden bucket and cleaning cloth in hand, blending perfectly into the crowd. His heart, however, was anything but calm.
Today wasn't just another cleaning day. It was the day he would enter the Alchemy Hall—not as a mere servant, but as a future alchemist.
He adjusted his robe and walked faster, determined to finish his assigned duties before taking the qualification test later in the morning.
As he made his way along the stone path leading to the hall, he began to notice something odd. Groups of servant disciples stood whispering near the corridors, glancing at him with strange expressions—some with disbelief, and a few with thinly veiled hostility.
He frowned slightly. "Why are they looking at me like that?"
His instincts, sharpened by his recent experiences, warned him that something was off. His pace slowed as he neared the entrance of the Alchemy Hall.
Inside, the vast chamber glowed with warm light from flickering lamps. Rows of alchemical cauldrons stood like silent sentinels, and the faint fragrance of herbs hung in the air.
At the center, standing with his hands behind his back, was a familiar figure—the inner sect senior who had given him the cleaning assignment yesterday.
Wan Long's heart skipped a beat. Did he find out?
His mind raced, thoughts flashing like lightning—had someone seen him using the system? Did he clean too perfectly?
He quickly bowed, voice slightly trembling. "This lowly servant greets Senior Brother."
For a tense moment, the senior disciple said nothing. Then, to Wan Long's utter confusion, a wide grin spread across the man's face.
"Hahaha! So it was you!" the senior laughed, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around Wan Long's shoulders. "No wonder the elders were praising the cleaning work so much! They said their chambers hadn't been this spotless in years!"
Wan Long froze. "Eh?"
The senior clapped his back proudly. "You did an outstanding job yesterday. The elders even asked who was responsible. I was just coming to find you—to see if you'd be willing to take over cleaning the inner chambers permanently!"
The tension in Wan Long's chest dissolved instantly, replaced by quiet relief. "I… I am honored, Senior Brother. I will do my best."
"Good! That's the spirit." The senior disciple nodded with satisfaction before walking off to deliver other instructions.
Wan Long remained standing for a moment, silently watching him leave. The faint smile tugging at his lips couldn't be hidden.
So that's why everyone was staring at me. they might have though i did something wrong , that's why they were avoiding me.
Outside, the group of gossiping servant disciples had been listening from a distance. When they heard the words "elders' praise" and "permanent cleaning duty," their expressions twisted with disbelief and envy.
"That lucky bastard…" one muttered under his breath.
"He must've bribed someone," another hissed.
"Just yesterday he was scrubbing floors, and now the elders know his name?"
Wan Long ignored them completely. He had no time for petty jealousy.
After parting ways with the senior disciple, Wan Long walked deeper into the inner section of the Alchemy Hall. His expression was calm, but inside, anticipation surged like a restless tide.
He could not—would not—leave such a treasure trove untouched.
The previous day's haul alone had been enough to transform his fate. What if today's cleaning brought even greater fortune?
Once he reached the corridor leading to the private chambers of the alchemy elders, he glanced around to ensure no one was watching. Then, with a faint smirk, he pushed open the 12th door.
The air inside was thick with the scent of herbs and faint traces of spiritual residue. Everything looked pristine, but Wan Long knew better—there was always something left behind, unseen to mortal eyes.
He raised his hand and whispered, "System—recycle."
A powerful suction force burst forth once again, sweeping through the chamber like an invisible storm. The faint hum of energy filled the room as the system greedily devoured residual herbs, failed pills, fragments of spirit stones, and trace impurities embedded deep within the wooden shelves.
He ignored the flickering holographic messages flashing before his eyes—system notifications of new rewards, Recycle Points, and spiritual energy. There would be time to check later.
Right now, efficiency was all that mattered.
Room after room, the same sequence followed: enter, activate, clean, move on.
It became a rhythmic dance—swift, seamless, precise. His body moved with practiced ease, and the suction vortex of the system left behind rooms that gleamed as though divine light had washed them.
Time flowed swiftly, and before long, the faint sunlight filtering through the windows told him it was nearing noon.
Wan Long straightened his back, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow as he surveyed the last of the twenty-four private chambers.
He frowned slightly. "Strange… This is the second day I've cleaned here, but I haven't seen even a single elder."
The thought lingered uneasily in his mind. The alchemy elders were famous for being eccentric, often locking themselves away for months while refining pills or studying formations—but for none of them to appear, even in passing, felt unusual.
And then—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps echoed from the corridor.
Wan Long's heart skipped a beat. He quickly composed himself, lowering his head and pretending to be busy polishing the tiled floor.
Moments later, two figures stepped into view.
The first was Senior Sister Murong, her azure robes fluttering lightly as she walked, her expression calm and confident. She was known throughout the outer sect for her sharp mind and fair temperament—a disciple of Elder Su, currently at the Second Level of the Spiritual Realm.
(Cultivation levels-; Body Tempering → Qi Refinement → Spiritual Realm → Core Foundation → Golden Core → Nascent Soul → Void realm → Dao Manifestation → Saint Realm → Immortal Ascension.)
Beside her walked a tall, broad-shouldered man in silver-trimmed robes. His presence seemed to command the very air around him, his steps measured and powerful. His features were refined, yet his eyes carried a faint, unshakable arrogance.
Jiang Feng.
One of the sect's most brilliant geniuses.
Rumor said he possessed a Heavenly Spirit Root, a once-in-a-millennium talent that allowed him to cultivate ten times faster than ordinary disciples. At just forty-two years old, he had already reached the Seventh Level of Core Foundation. Within a decade, he was expected to break into the Golden Core Realm, solidifying his position as one of the candidate for the sect's next Holy Son.
Compared to the other contenders—some already Golden Core, one rumored to be at the Nascent Soul Realm with a rare constitution—he was the weakest of them. But even the weakest among the strongest was still a dragon compared to mortals.
Wan Long kept his head bowed, not daring to meet their eyes.
Jiang Feng's gaze swept the chamber briefly before landing on him. For a fleeting second, their eyes met—and Wan Long felt a pressure descend upon him like a mountain pressing against his chest.
That single look carried overwhelming spiritual might.
He quickly lowered his head further. As expected… a true genius is terrifying even without trying.
Senior Sister Murong smiled politely and turned toward Jiang Feng. "This is one of the servant disciples assigned to the inner chambers. Elder Su mentioned yesterday that the rooms were unusually clean. It seems this one is rather diligent."
Jiang Feng nodded faintly, his tone calm yet distant. "Diligence is good. The sect needs people who know their place and do their work well."
Though his words were plain, the superiority in his voice was unmistakable.
Wan Long said nothing, simply bowing low in response. He couldn't afford to draw attention—, not with a powerhouse like Jiang Feng standing a few steps away.
Senior Murong nodded approvingly.
As they turned to leave, Wan Long subtly exhaled, tension melting from his shoulders.
....
He had completed cleaning all twenty-four elder chambers, every last one purified by the invisible power of the system. The amount of discarded treasures in these rooms was unimaginable, and if the rewards from the first half were any indication…
Then this time—
He sat down cross-legged in the final chamber, where the faint scent of herbs and spirit incense still lingered in the air. Taking a deep breath, he whispered, "System—display rewards."
The familiar cold light of the system interface appeared before him. Lines of text rapidly scrolled across his vision as his heart pounded.
[Recycling complete.]
[Obtained: 35,000 Days of Spiritual Energy.]
[Obtained: 15 Perfect-Grade Tier 3 Core Foundation Pills.]
[Obtained: 5 Perfect-Grade Tier 3 Realm Breaking Pills.]
[Obtained: 100 High-Grade Tier 3 Spirit Nourishing Pills.]
[Obtained: 20 High-Grade Tier 4 Longevity Pills.]
[Obtained: 3 Tier 4 Herbs – Azure Spirit Lotus, Void Vine, and Crimson Vein Root.]
[Obtained: Tier 2 Codex of Alchemy (Tier 2 Alchemist Skill book).]
[Obtained: Azure Flame Control Manual (Mid Earth-Tier).]
[Recycle Points + 325,000.]
Wan Long's breath caught in his throat.
This haul… was utterly insane.
Tier 4 pills were beyond what even most core disciples could touch — and he now had them sitting in his inventory. The Longevity Pills alone could extend life essence by a hundreds of years; one was enough to drive elders into conflict. And the Perfect-Grade Core Foundation Pills… those could ensure a flawless breakthrough to the next realm, something that even a Sect Elder would treasure.
His gaze drifted to the Azure Flame Control Manual, and his fingers twitched in anticipation. The very thing he had been lacking — a true fire control method — had finally appeared. With this, his alchemy would no longer be crippled by weak elemental control.
And the Tier 2 Codex of Alchemy — it didn't just make him a Tier 2 alchemist; it elevated his soul sense, strengthened his spiritual perception, and refined his control over fire, herbs, and cauldrons.
Wan Long leaned back against the cabinet, staring blankly at the air as the enormity of it all sank in.
"These private rooms… they're more than treasure vaults," he muttered under his breath. "They're heaven's gift."
His lips curled into a slow grin.