Chapter 269: Beginner in Alchemy

The room was silent.

Kyrian sat cross-legged in front of the dark metal cauldron. His eyes, now completely transformed, shone with a gray light and two pupils in the shape of dancing flames.

At that moment, he was only an apprentice alchemist before his first real challenge.

Kyrian closed his eyes for a brief instant. In his mind, the information from the books he had devoured the previous night flowed like a rushing river.

Control of the flame. Patience. Understanding of each herb.

These were the three pillars that every manual repeated tirelessly.

He opened his eyes again. The gray flame in his pupils seemed to dance with greater intensity.

Kyrian extended his right hand. From inside the spatial bag that the servant had brought, five basic herbs floated out and hovered gently in the air before him.

Thorn Herb. Sweet Root. Blue Flower. Dew Leaf. Soft Bark.

Five ingredients. All rank 1. All extremely common.

The Reinforcement Pill recipe was considered the simplest among the simple. Every apprentice alchemist began with it.

Kyrian observed each herb for a long moment. His special eyes did not merely see the external appearance. They saw the essence.

He could see the flow of Qi within each plant. The impurities. The useful parts. The spiritual density.

It was as if the books he had read became reality before his eyes.

“The Thorn Herb concentrates its power at the tip of the thorns. The Sweet Root stores energy in the outer bark. The Blue Flower has its medicinal core in the inner petals…”

Kyrian murmured the information as he observed. Then, he raised a finger.

A small gray flame appeared at the tip of his index finger. It was small. Controlled. Almost delicate.

Kyrian sent the flame into the cauldron.

The fire spread along the bottom of the container, heating the metal gradually. Kyrian controlled the temperature with precise precision, adjusting the intensity as needed.

When the cauldron reached the ideal point, he acted. The Thorn Herb was the first. Kyrian tossed it into the cauldron and immediately wrapped the plant with a thin layer of gray flame. The heat began to act.

He observed attentively, his eyes recording every minimal change in the structure of the herb. The impurities began to burn. The useless part turned into ash and was separated.

But then… A sound almost imperceptible.

The entire Thorn Herb disintegrated into black ash before Kyrian could react.

He frowned slightly. Too hot.

His flame was not a common fire. The gray flame was too powerful for such fragile ingredients. Even with his refined control, the innate intensity of the flame had been too much for the small herb.

Kyrian was not shaken. He cleaned the cauldron with a gesture and picked up another five identical herbs.

This time, he reduced the flame even further. Almost to the point of going out. The Thorn Herb entered again.

This time, the burning was slow. Almost delicate. Kyrian could see the impurities being burned little by little, the useful part remaining intact.

But when he tried to repeat the process with the second herb… Everything burned instantly.

Kyrian sighed lightly. The interval had been too long. The temperature of the cauldron changed.

He cleaned it again and began once more.

…

Hours passed.

The light outside began to appear, but Kyrian did not notice. His entire world was that cauldron and those herbs.

Attempt after attempt. Failure after failure.

Sometimes the herb burned completely. Other times the useful part was damaged by excessive heat. In some attempts, he managed to purify two or three herbs but lost control afterward.

Kyrian did not feel frustration. He simply observed. Learned. Adjusted.

His special eyes recorded every error with absolute precision. In his mind, a detailed map was forming. The ideal temperature for each herb. The exact time of exposure to fire. The correct sequence of addition.

And then, after dozens of attempts… He succeeded.

The five herbs were purified. Small spheres of essence floated inside the cauldron, each shining with a soft light.

Kyrian did not celebrate. He simply continued. The next step was to fuse the essences.

He increased the flame slightly. The five spheres began to rotate slowly inside the cauldron, attracted to each other.

Kyrian controlled every movement with his will, using the Qi of the gray flame as a bridge between the ingredients.

The spheres touched. They resisted for a moment, as if they did not want to fuse. Kyrian increased the flame further, forcing the union.

Then… The five essences became one. A shapeless and hot mass floated in the center of the cauldron.

Kyrian immediately reduced the fire and began to shape it.

With smooth circular movements, he used his Qi to rotate the mass. It began to compress. To round. To lose its imperfections.

Finally, after long minutes…

A small pill fell to the bottom of the cauldron with a soft metallic clink.

Kyrian cut the flame. He extended his hand, and the pill floated to his palm.

It was small. The size of a pea. Light brown in color, with a few dark spots on the surface. Far from perfect.

Kyrian looked at the pill and analyzed it. Purity of approximately twenty-three percent.

He frowned slightly.

Twenty-three percent. Technically, it was a pill. But a pill with such low purity had minimal effects. A cultivator would need several of them to obtain the same result as a decent pill.

Kyrian placed the pill aside. Without wasting time, he took another five herbs and began again.

…

The sun set above the heavy clouds. The night arrived and advanced.

Kyrian continued sitting in the same position before the cauldron. His face was calm, but his gray eyes shone with increasing intensity.

More pills accumulated beside him.

Twenty-three percent purity. Twenty-seven percent purity. Thirty-one percent purity. Thirty-five percent purity.

Each attempt was a lesson. Each failure, a teaching.

Kyrian perceived patterns that no book could teach. The way the Thorn Herb reacted to heat depended on the humidity of the air. The Sweet Root needed a different treatment if it was added before or after the Blue Flower.

He was building something that no manual could provide. Experience.

When dawn finally arrived, Kyrian finished another attempt. He raised his hand, and the newly formed pill fell into his palm.

His eyes analyzed it.

The surface was smooth. Almost perfect. The color was uniform. The dark spots had completely disappeared.

Its purity was fifty-two percent.

Kyrian observed the pill for a long moment. Fifty-two percent.

It was a usable pill. Nothing exceptional for experienced alchemists, but for a beginner on his first day of practice… it was a result that few achieved.

Kyrian stored the pill in a small bottle.

He looked to the side. More than forty pills were scattered across the floor, all of inferior purity. Some are so bad that they could barely be called pills.

But that did not matter. What mattered was that he had learned.

Kyrian stood up slowly, feeling his joints crack after hours unmoving. He stretched his arms and looked through the window.

The sky was beginning to brighten. A new morning was arriving. He looked at the cauldron and then at the books stacked in the corner.

Now… he needed more. More knowledge. More ingredients. More practice.

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