"An alchemist?"
Xiao Yan started, then his brows knitted hard. "On the Dou Qi continent, just about anyone alive would wish to be an alchemist. But an alchemist—is that something just anyone can become? Those conditions are so stern…" His words trailed off, then his head snapped up, his mouth falling open. "Wait—do I actually meet them?"
The old man savored the boy's expression, so full of awe mingled with longing and dizzying joy. He stroked his beard, thinking for a moment, then looked him up and down once more, and at last sighed, as if with some difficulty: "Well, it's only just barely enough, but who's to say I don't owe you a favor after all? Ahh, never mind—let this be payment of that debt I owe you."
Xiao Yan threw a sidelong glance at the old man, whose face wore a show of reluctance. In his heart, he suspected the "barely enough" business was something of a sham. But for now he gave up probing deeper, and amid his delight there remained a thread of doubt. "Even if I do meet the conditions, alchemists are traditionally taught hand by hand by their masters. Are you, then, an alchemist as well?"
Seeing the doubt written all over the boy's face, the old man chuckled, puffing out his chest a little, a note of pride creeping into his voice. "Quite right—I am an alchemist!"
Xiao Yan blinked, and the light in the eyes he turned on the old man grew bright. An alchemist—now that was a rare creature indeed.
"Elder, may I ask—what rank of alchemist were you before?" Xiao Yan licked his lips, a note of newfound respect creeping into his youthful voice.
On the Dou Qi continent, alchemists were rare, yet because of their noble standing they commanded a strict hierarchy, graded from the first all the way up to the ninth rank. The master of the Ju Qi San held in Nalan Yanran's hand earlier in the hall, the famed Alchemy King Gu He, had been a sixth-rank alchemist—reckoned the foremost figure in the alchemical arts of the entire Jia Ma Empire.
"Rank? Heh, I've quite forgotten, to tell the truth… Ahh, boy, are you going to learn or aren't you?" The old man gave his head a shake, and a trace of impatience crept into his voice.
"I'll learn, I'll learn!"
Xiao Yan no longer hesitated, nodding his head with haste. An alchemist—even a power as vast as the Yun Lan Sect would have to treat one as an honored guest.
"Heh, willing to, are you? Then ready yourself for a master-disciple ceremony." The old man settled cross-legged upon a stretch of blue stone, a crafty grin curling about his mouth.
"A ceremony?"
"What do you take me for? Dream on if you think I'd hand over all I know to someone who won't even bow to me as his master." The old man rolled his eyes. Clearly, this fussy old fellow set great store by the bond between master and disciple.
Xiao Yan pouted helplessly. Still, for the sake of becoming a noble alchemist, he had no choice but to kneel properly and perform the rites of apprenticeship before the old man.
It was only once he had observed that Xiao Yan had fulfilled every last formality to the letter that the old man nodded with satisfaction, and a note of warmth crept into his voice. "I am called Yao Lao. As for where I come from, I'll say nothing of it now, lest it distract you. All you need know is that fellows who fancy themselves the likes of an 'Alchemy King' are, in the end… just so much wind."
The corner of Xiao Yan's mouth twitched. He looked at the old man's casual air, and swallowed the words that had been about to spring from his lips. *Who in the world is this old man? The Alchemy King Gu He, famed across the whole Jia Ma Empire, is "just so much wind"? If word of that ever got out, the entire Jia Ma Empire would laugh itself silly at the madman who said it.*
He drew a quiet breath to steady his shaken heart, then rolled his eyes this way and that, a wheedling smile creeping onto his face. "Master, might I ask how you plan to help me reach the seventh stage of Dou Qi within a year?"
"These past three years, your Dou Qi has been sliding steadily backward—and yet it is precisely for that reason that your foundations have become far sturdier than most. In cultivating Dou Qi, the foundation is everything! In time you will come to see what a mighty blessing those three years of decline have been to you." The old man's smile slowly faded, turning grave.
Xiao Yan was a little taken aback. He truly could not see what blessing a decline in strength might have bestowed upon him.
"So when will you teach me the art of refining pills?" Xiao Yan's eyes rolled as his thoughts turned to the most important thing of all.
"If you wish to become an alchemist, you require the support of flame Dou Qi. So before you can even begin to learn pill refinement, you must at least first become a Dou Warrior and cultivate a fire-attributed Dou Qi technique!"
"A fire-attributed technique? Heh heh, Master, since I'm your disciple now, why not hand me a Heaven-rank fire technique to cultivate?" Xiao Yan held out his hand, grinning, and asked as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Nonsense! Do you take Heaven-rank techniques for wild sweet potatoes growing by the roadside? The cheek of you, to even ask!" At that, the old man's face gave a twitch, and he cursed back both puzzled and amused. "Boy, once you've entered my tutelage, you can't expect me to leave you to fish for techniques among your own clan, now can you? And it so happens that with you, matters are different. The foundations within you were already solid and sure three years ago, and these past years your resolve has been firm—you've never missed a day of cultivation. So your foundations, I can say without a shred of modesty, are excellent!"
"You're not thinking of boosting my strength with an outside force? By feeding me pills, say?" Xiao Yan's eyes turned, calculating.
"Something like that. But your meridians, as hardy as they are now, cannot bear the shock of just any pill's energy—not even the lowest-grade Ju Qi San." The old man smiled faintly.
"The lowest-grade Ju Qi San…" Xiao Yan's fingers gave a shudder, and he very nearly rolled his eyes. The miraculous medicine they hawked at a sky-high price across the entire Jia Ma Empire had, in the mouth of his mysterious teacher, become the lowest-grade thing there was. The gulf between the two was more than a little disorienting.
"So what is your way, then?" Xiao Yan drew a deep breath to regain his composure, then asked in a low, frowning voice.
"Heh, pills hit with too much force for your meridians to bear, so we must take a gentler course." The old man smiled warmly. "Tomorrow, prepare three whole Purple Leaf Orchids for me—the older the better—along with two Bone-Washing Flowers; the age of those hardly matters. Oh, and one wood-attribution, first-class magic core. These are all low-grade materials, so I trust you can lay your hands on them. Someone is coming up the path—I'll return to the ring for now. And mind you, don't let anyone learn of my existence, not even those closest to you." With that, heedless of Xiao Yan, whose mouth kept growing wider, the old man plunged straight into the black ring. The ring quivered, then slipped neatly back onto Xiao Yan's finger.
"Three whole Purple Leaf Orchids? Two Bone-Washing Flowers? A wood-attribution, first-class magic core? Old man, have you taken leave of your senses? Do you take me for some royal prince? Whatever small change you've named adds up to at least a thousand gold coins! I've scrimped and saved for years, and the sum of my savings is four hundred gold coins—just barely enough to buy a single first-class magic core!" Cradling the ring in his palm, Xiao Yan glared at it and roared.
"That's your concern, heh. The nourishing spirit lotion I've brewed—others may offer their money and still not buy it. You're only asked to chip in for some materials, and already your heart aches so." The old man's mocking laughter rang inside Xiao Yan's head.
"Damn it all—anything an alchemist brews is truly only for the rich." Xiao Yan gave a bitter laugh of helpless resignation. His monthly allowance from the Xiao Clan had never been meager, a full twenty gold coins—enough, out in the wider world, to keep a poor family fed comfortably for a whole year. Yet even all of that could not amount to more than a drop in the bucket against the price of the materials the old man had listed. Such was the gap.
"Ahh, someone will have to lend me the money, I suppose." With a dejected sigh, Xiao Yan slowly gathered his composure, his young face settling back into its usual calm. He turned his head to the mountain path, where a graceful purple silhouette, light as an elfin spirit, came leaping toward him.