"What?!" Chen Jin's voice echoed through the chamber, his fury palpable. His grip on the jade wine cup tightened before he hurled it against the floor, shattering it into pieces. Crimson liquid splattered across the wooden panels like blood from an open wound. His chest rose and fell erratically as his hands clenched into trembling fists
"Chen Ying isn't dead?! He actually survived?!" His breath hitched as disbelief morphed into rage. His dark eyes flickered with malice, the veins on his temple bulging. "That poison should have killed him! And now he can cultivate?! How?! How is this possible?!" His teeth ground together, a snarl escaping his lips.
The bodyguards standing before him lowered their heads, unwilling to meet his stormy gaze. One of them, a man clad in black armor, stepped forward cautiously. "Young Master... that was what happened," he confirmed, his tone hesitant, wary of provoking his master's wrath further.
Chen Jin's fingers dug into his palm, nails nearly breaking skin. "Damn it... That old bastard lied to me!" His mind reeled as realization dawned—someone had deceived him. Someone had ensured that Chen Ying lived.
His fury surged anew as he abruptly turned on his heel, his long robes swaying with the motion. "I'll go to that Pavilion again and find him myself," he spat. "You! Keep an eye on Chen Ying. I want every move he makes reported to me—everything."
The bodyguards bowed their heads in unison before swiftly exiting the chamber, disappearing into the darkness like phantoms.
Left alone, Chen Jin breathed heavily, his fingers twitching as his fury threatened to consume him whole. His gaze darted around the lavish chamber—ornate vases, wooden shelves, a table set with delicate porcelain. All of it... meaningless.
"Why does he have everything...?! WHY?!"
With a sudden roar, he lashed out, sweeping the porcelain teapot off the table. It shattered violently against the wall. His foot struck a nearby chair, sending it crashing onto the ground. He overturned the table, knocking over plates and scrolls, his rampage relentless.
Breath ragged, he finally stopped, his chest rising and falling like a beast barely restrained. His reflection in a bronze mirror caught his eye—disheveled, eyes burning with hatred. Chen Ying, that loathsome name, echoed in his head.
"Enjoy your victory while you can..." he whispered darkly, his fingers trailing along the shattered porcelain pieces. "Because next time... I'll make sure you won't escape."
Chen Ying walked steadily through the dimly lit corridor leading to the alchemy room, his long robes swaying gently with each step. The flickering lanterns cast elongated shadows on the walls, adding an air of mystery to his silhouette. Servants he passed bowed respectfully, murmuring greetings, but he paid them little mind. His focus was elsewhere—on the intricate web of plans forming in his mind.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted Chen Xin standing silently in the shadows, arms crossed over his chest. His sharp gaze lingered on Chen Ying, unreadable.
Chen Xin's fingers tapped lightly against the hilt of his sword as he watched his younger brother pass. "Chen Ying must be going to retrieve ingredients for the house alchemist… I should inform Big Brother about this." With that thought, he turned on his heel and disappeared down the hallway, the soft clinking of his sword the only sound marking his departure.
A strong herbal scent filled the air as Huo Ye, the family's senior alchemist, sat behind a grand wooden desk covered with medicinal scrolls and rare herbs. His long white beard swayed slightly as he studied the parchment in his hand, his thick brows furrowing deeper with every word.
"What?!... Nine Revolution Purification Pill?!" His voice boomed in astonishment, the flames of the alchemy furnace flickering in response. He placed the parchment down, stroking his beard as he stared at Chen Ying with a mix of disbelief and curiosity.
"This pill is extremely difficult to refine! Even master alchemists at the Alchemy Hall struggle with it. Not to mention, some of the materials—Star Frost Grass and Blood Lotus Pollen—are exceedingly rare! The Sun Fire Ginseng is more accessible, but even that is no easy feat to obtain," he muttered, shaking his head.
Huo Ye scrutinized Chen Ying, his sharp gaze filled with questions. "How does this child, who was sick all his life, suddenly understand the complexities of alchemy?"
Chen Ying, however, remained composed, his expression calm as still water. Inside, his thoughts raced.
"The Alchemy Hall practices my teachings from my past life as a Saint. If I visit them myself, I may be able to acquire the pill… but that depends on whether there's an auction soon."
Taking a step forward, he bowed slightly. "Thank you, Master Huo. I might visit the Alchemy Hall tomorrow to seek out this pill myself."
Huo Ye waved a hand dismissively. "No problem, Young Master. But you must understand, even if you go yourself, acquiring such rare materials will not be easy."
Chen Ying lifted his hand to his chin, deep in thought. "The Chen Family is wealthy, yet even they have difficulty procuring the Star Frost Grass and Blood Lotus Pollen… It seems I will need to rely on alternative methods."
He exhaled slowly before calling out, "Master Huo, I need a favor."
Huo Ye raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh? And what might that be?"
Chen Ying extended the parchment, his sleeve sliding elegantly down his arm as he handed it over. "Seek the Patriarch's permission to obtain these materials from external sources. I will need them for my cultivation, as well as for refining Meridian Forging Pills."
The old alchemist's brows knitted together in thought. He had already heard whispers about the Young Master's miraculous recovery and newfound ability to cultivate. But to request such rare materials so decisively… was this truly the same Chen Ying who once lay bedridden, unable to cultivate?
After a moment of silence, Huo Ye nodded. "Alright. I will inform the Patriarch and see if the Alchemy Hall can assist."
As he prepared to leave, his gaze fell upon Chen Ying, whose posture wavered slightly. Then—a sudden cough.
A dark stain of blood painted the palm of Chen Ying's hand.
Huo Ye's eyes narrowed. "Young Master, what's wrong?" he asked, concern lacing his tone.
Chen Ying remained unfazed, quickly pulling a white silk handkerchief from his Hanfu and wiping the blood away with practiced ease. He straightened his posture, his expression unreadable. "It's nothing," he replied coolly, tucking the bloodied handkerchief away.
"I'll be waiting for news from the Alchemy Hall." Without another word, he turned on his heel, his flowing robes trailing behind him as he exited the room.
Huo Ye watched him leave, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Something is wrong with his body… but he refuses to acknowledge it. Just what kind of power is he hiding?"
With a sigh, the old alchemist grabbed his cane and made his way toward the Patriarch's hall, knowing that the events to come would shake the very foundations of the Chen Household.