Chapter 17: The Pill God's Kitchen
Hunger is a powerful motivator. For normal people, it drives them to work, to hunt, to farm. For Anya, the reincarnated Primordial Phoenix, hunger was a geological event.
It was noon on the second day of the Academy. We were walking through the bustling market district of the Student Sector.
"Big Brother," Anya tugged on my hand, her voice weak and trembling. "I see a light. Is that Grandma? She's calling me."
"That's the sun, Anya," I said, checking my spatial ring. "And Grandma is definitely not calling you. Stop being dramatic."
"My stomach is eating itself," she moaned, leaning against my leg. "The cafeteria food... it turned to ash before it hit my tummy. It wasn't dense enough."
I sighed. This was the problem with SSS-Rank physiques. Anya's Nine-Yang Fire Body had fully awakened after the history class incident. Her metabolism was now running on nuclear fusion. Normal rice and meat were useless; they burned up instantly upon contact with her stomach acid. She needed high-density energy.
She needed Spirit Pills.
"Fine," I said. "We're going to the School Store."
We walked into the massive "Pavilion of Treasures." It was crowded with students buying weapons, talismans, and resources.
I walked up to the pill counter. A bored senior student was manning it.
"I need Fire Attribute cultivation pills," I said. "High density."
The student pointed to a glass case. "Standard Flame Spirit Pills. 50 Spirit Stones each. Or, if you have money to burn, the Crimson Lotus Pill. 500 Spirit Stones."
I looked at the pills.
My Divine Blacksmith eyes (which also understood the structure of matter) analyzed them instantly.
'Flame Spirit Pill: 35% Purity. 65% Impurity (Ash Toxins).'
'Crimson Lotus Pill: 48% Purity. 52% Impurity.'
I frowned. "These are garbage. If I feed these to my sister, she'll spend a week coughing up black smoke. Do you have anything... edible?"
The student scowled. "Excuse me? The Crimson Lotus Pill is made by Elder Cinder, a Rank-4 Alchemist! It's the best in the Academy! If you can't afford it, just say so, Rank 999."
He recognized me. Of course he did. My face was on the "Most Wanted" list of every faction leader in the school.
"500 stones for 48% purity," I muttered. "That's robbery."
I looked at Anya. She was eyeing a display case of fire crystals, looking ready to smash the glass and eat the rocks.
"Ria," I said.
"Master?" Ria stepped out of the crowd.
"How much money do we have left from Prince Valerian's donation?"
"After purchasing the furniture, the enchantments for the villa, and the rare wines you insisted were 'essential supplies'... we have 3,200 Spirit Stones remaining."
"Enough for six pills," I calculated. "That will last her maybe two days. Unsustainable."
I turned away from the counter. "Come on. We're going to the Alchemy Pavilion."
"You're going to buy pills there?" Anya asked hopefully.
"No," I cracked my knuckles. "I'm going to cook."
The Alchemy Pavilion.
The Alchemy Pavilion was a massive, dome-shaped building that smelled of sulfur, burnt herbs, and failed dreams. Smoke billowed from several chimneys. This was where the Alchemist Department students trained.
It was also where students could rent private refining rooms.
I walked up to the reception desk.
"Rental," I said.
The receptionist, a girl with soot on her nose, looked up. "Student ID?"
I handed over my token. Rudra Ye. Rank 999.
She raised an eyebrow. "The stairs-destroyer wants to refine pills? Please tell me you aren't going to blow up the furnace. We just fixed the west wing."
"I need a room," I ignored her sarcasm. "And I need access to the 'Discarded Materials' warehouse."
"The Scrap Room?" She blinked. "Why? That's just stems, roots, and withered leaves. It's trash waiting to be incinerated."
"I'm on a budget," I lied smoothly. "One hour in a Low-Grade Fire Room. And a basket of Fire Root scraps."
"Suit yourself," she shrugged. "Room 104. Basement level. The scraps are free, but the room is 50 stones an hour. Don't blame me if the furnace is unstable; nobody uses the basement anymore."
I paid the stones. "Ria, guard the door. Anya, come with me. It's lunch time."
We descended into the basement. The air here was hot and dry. Room 104 was a small, cramped stone chamber with a bronze furnace in the center that looked like it had survived a war. It was dented, covered in soot, and leaked heat.
"It's ugly," Anya critiqued, poking the furnace.
"It's vintage," I corrected.
I opened the basket of "scraps" I had collected from the warehouse.
To a normal alchemist, this was trash. Withered Fire Grass stems, dried-out Salamander Eyes, and the hard, woody roots of the Phoenix Tail Flower.
Normal alchemy requires the leaves and the blood. The roots and stems are too hard to refine; they contain too much "Wood Qi" impurities that clash with the fire, causing explosions.
But I wasn't a normal alchemist.
"Seal 2: Eye of Truth," I whispered.
I looked at the gnarly, dried-up root in my hand.
'Structure analyzed. The exterior is 90% wood impurity. But the core... ah, the core is crystallized fire essence. It's actually more potent than the flower, but nobody knows how to extract it without triggering the wood.'
"Anya," I said. "Sit there. Don't touch anything."
"I'm hungry," she whined.
"Five minutes," I promised.
I didn't light the fire under the furnace. The earth fire in this room was dirty and unstable. I didn't need it.
I threw the entire basket of trash—roots, stems, dried eyes—into the furnace.
Then, I placed my hands on the cold bronze metal.
'Technique: Heaven-Devouring Sutra.'
'Mode: Selective Extraction.'
In my previous life as the Divine Blacksmith (who was also a Pill God, because why not?), I realized that alchemy was just cooking. And bad cooking comes from bad ingredients.
Instead of burning the herbs to release the medicine, I used my Void Qi to eat the parts I didn't want.
Inside the furnace, invisible tendrils of Void energy swarmed the herbs.
They latched onto the "Wood Impurities."
Slurp.
The woody exteriors vanished, consumed by my Qi.
They latched onto the "Earth Toxins" in the roots.
Slurp.
What remained inside the furnace were hovering droplets of pure, glowing red liquid. The absolute essence of the Fire element.
"Now, the binding agent," I muttered.
I bit my thumb. A single drop of my blood—Dragon Sovereign Blood—fell into the furnace.
Dragon blood is the ultimate stabilizer. It dominates all other energies.
HISS.
The red droplets saw the Dragon blood and rushed toward it like subjects bowing to a king. They merged, swirled, and solidified.
The furnace began to shake. Not because it was unstable, but because the energy inside was too dense for the cheap bronze to handle.
"Condense," I commanded, slapping the side of the furnace.
DING.
A clear, bell-like sound rang out from the furnace.
At the same time, a smell wafted out.
It wasn't the smell of burnt herbs. It smelled like roasting meat, blooming flowers, and summer rain all at once. It was a scent that made every cell in your body scream "I WANT THAT."
Anya's eyes snapped open. She drooled. "Big Brother... is it done?"
I opened the furnace lid.
Floating inside were ten pills.
They weren't red. They were translucent, like rubies, with a tiny golden dragon coiling inside each one.
[Item: Dragon-Phoenix Essence Pill]
[Grade: Perfect (100% Purity)]
[Effect: Massively boosts Fire Attribute cultivation. No side effects.]
"Bon appétit," I said, tossing one to Anya.
She caught it in mid-air and popped it into her mouth.
Her eyes widened. Her face flushed red.
Burp.
A tiny puff of white smoke came out of her mouth.
"It tastes like... spicy candy," she whispered, looking at her hands. Her skin was glowing. "And I'm... I'm full! One pill made me full!"
"Of course," I smirked. "That one pill has more energy than a hundred Crimson Lotus Pills. Now, eat two more to stabilize your foundation, and put the rest in your pocket."
Suddenly, there was a banging on the door.
"Open up! What is that smell?"
"Room 104! Did you burn a Spirit Beast in there?"
"My pills! My pills failed because I smelled that aroma and lost focus!"
I cursed.
"The Pill Fragrance leaked out," I realized. "I forgot the isolation array."
In the alchemy world, creating a "Perfect Pill" generates a phenomenon. The smell alone can drive cultivators crazy. If they found out a freshman made these using trash roots, I'd never have a moment of peace.
"Ria!" I shouted.
The door opened. Ria stepped in, looking unbothered by the mob outside.
"Master, there is a gathering of approximately forty angry alchemists outside. And one Elder who looks like he is hyperventilating."
"Clean the furnace," I commanded. "Remove all traces of the Void Qi. Leave some burnt ash to make it look like a failure."
Ria moved instantly. She swept the inside of the furnace, erasing the evidence.
"Anya, hood up," I pulled her hood over her red hair. "We leave now. We walk fast. We look disappointed."
We stepped out of Room 104.
The hallway was packed. Students in alchemy robes were sniffing the air like bloodhounds.
"It came from here! Room 104!"
"That smell... it was a Heaven-Grade aroma! Who was renting this room?"
They saw us come out.
Me, looking dejected, holding a bag of "burnt ash."
Anya, hiding her face.
Ria, looking cold as always.
"You!" A senior student grabbed my shoulder. "Did you smell that? Who was refining in there?"
I looked at him with dead eyes.
"I was trying to roast a sweet potato," I lied, holding up the bag of ash. "I burned it. My sister is crying. Leave me alone."
The student blinked. "A sweet potato? You rented a furnace... to roast a potato?"
"I was hungry," I shrugged, pushing past him. "Move. I need to go buy lunch since this failed."
The crowd parted, confused.
"A potato? Can a burnt potato smell like a Divine Pill?"
"Maybe it was a Spirit Potato?"
As we reached the stairs, an old man in red robes rushed down. This was Elder Cinder, the Head of the Alchemy Department. His nose was twitching.
"Stop!" Cinder shouted, looking at the open door of Room 104. "The aroma! It was here! Who refined the Perfect Pill?"
He rushed into the room. He sniffed the furnace. He licked the rim of the bronze lid.
"Residual energy... Fire Essence so pure it burns the tongue... Dragon Aura?"
He looked around wildly. "Where is the Grandmaster? Who was in this room?"
The receptionist, who had followed him down, checked her ledger with trembling hands.
"Elder... it was... it was that freshman. Rudra Ye. The one who rented it for one hour."
"Rudra Ye?" Elder Cinder's eyes widened. "The C-Rank trash? Impossible. Unless..."
He looked at the "ash" on the floor (which Ria had planted).
"He wasn't refining," Cinder whispered, a look of realization dawning on his face. "He was restoring an ancient recipe. And he succeeded. He masked it as a potato... Genius! A humble genius!"
By the time Elder Cinder ran back to the stairs to find me, we were long gone.
Back at Villa No. 1.
Anya was bouncing off the walls. Literally. She had eaten three pills and was currently running on the ceiling using Qi adhesion.
"I have energy! So much energy!" she cheered.
I sat on the couch, looking at the seven remaining pills in the bottle.
"Seven pills left," I mused. "That solves the food problem for this week. But we need more money. I can't keep raiding the scrap room; they'll get suspicious."
I looked at the bottle.
Perfect Grade pills were priceless. But if I sold them, I'd attract too much attention.
However...
If I made High Grade pills (80% purity)—which are still better than the trash in the store—I could sell them on the black market.
"Ria," I called out.
"Master?"
"Find out who runs the student black market," I said, tossing the bottle in my hand. "We're going into business."
Ria's eyes flashed with data.
"The student market is controlled by the Golden Lion Faction. Prince Valerian's cousin, Tyrion, is the enforcer. They charge a 50% protection tax on all unauthorized sales."
I smiled. A cold, predatory smile.
"50% tax? I think they have it backward."
I stood up.
"They're going to pay me a tax for the privilege of breathing my air."