One month later, the faint scent of sweet spirit grass and warm ginseng filled the alchemy room. Haotian leaned over the cauldron, watching the liquid inside thicken into a perfect, glossy gold. He stirred with a steady hand, heat control exact, his breathing perfectly matched to the rhythm of the flame.
When the batch was done, he shaped the pills with practiced ease. The size was uniform, the sheen flawless, the fragrance pure. It was his best work yet.
And yet…
Haotian sat on the low bench, rolling one of the pills between his fingers. His brows drew together. It's still just the basics…
He could feel it—the knowledge from the golden texts had reached its limit. He could make anything listed there with precision, but nothing beyond. The formulas, the techniques… they were only the first steps.
He turned to Sister Lianhua, who was arranging the finished pills into a jade box. "Sister Lianhua… is there a way to learn more? Outside of what I already know? Maybe… a book from a library?"
Lianhua blinked in surprise. The two servants beside her—an older, soft-spoken woman named Meilan, and a quiet, sharp-eyed man named Shuren—looked at each other.
Then the three of them laughed.
Haotian stared. "What's so funny?"
Meilan covered her mouth. "Of course there is, little master."
Shuren's voice was dry but amused. "There's even an Alchemy Guild in the city. A large one."
Haotian froze. "Really? A guild for alchemy?" His golden eyes went wide. "Why didn't anyone tell me that?"
Lianhua shook her head with a small smile. "Because, Haotian… you've been keeping yourself shut away in the estate. Other than the army's training grounds, you've never stepped outside. Not once."
The truth hit him like a slap. His mouth opened slightly, then closed. He looked down at the pill in his hand. I… really have turned into a shut-in.
He sighed, shoulders slumping for just a moment. "Sister Lianhua… can I go outside then? Just to look around. Maybe tour the city?"
Her smile softened. "Of course you can. It will do you good to see the world outside these walls."
Within the hour, Haotian stood at the estate gates, his robe neatly tied, hair bound back in a simple knot. Sister Lianhua walked beside him, calm and poised as always, while Meilan and Shuren followed a few paces behind.
For the first time in years, the world beyond the Zhenlong estate lay open before him.
And somewhere in that city… the Alchemy Guild awaited.
They had barely stepped beyond the estate gates when two armored figures approached, their polished breastplates catching the morning sun. Both men bowed in unison.
"Little master," the taller of the two said, "we have been assigned as your escort."
Haotian tilted his head. "Escort? For just a tour?"
Sister Lianhua smiled knowingly. "I told your father and Lady Ruolan about our trip. They were… very happy you wanted to see the city."
"Happy?" Haotian echoed.
"Yes," she replied. "They were afraid you would end up a complete shut-in if you never left the estate. So they want to make sure your first outing goes smoothly."
Behind her, Meilan and Shuren exchanged a glance.
With the guards leading, they set out for the city.
The streets were alive with the hum of daily life—vendors calling out prices for skewered meats and steaming buns, children darting between market stalls, the scent of roasting chestnuts curling through the air. Haotian's eyes were wide, his head turning in every direction. It was… overwhelming.
Which is why the moment came almost inevitably.
One second, Sister Lianhua glanced to her right to point out a tea shop. The next—
"...Where's Haotian?"
She spun around. Empty space where he had just been.
"Little master?" one of the guards called, scanning the crowd.
Meilan's expression went pale. Shuren muttered, "No… don't tell me…"
From the stories they had heard, this was exactly how it started. The "Haotian Vanishing Incidents," as the servants whispered—mysterious disappearances followed by even more mysterious reappearances, often in the most improbable places.
They searched through the milling crowd until, inevitably, Lianhua spotted a small figure standing in front of a candied fruit stall, deep in conversation with the vendor about how long it took to get the sugar coating "that shiny."
She walked over, arms crossed. "Haotian."
He turned, blinking innocently. "Sister Lianhua, did you know they spin the sugar like silk before dipping it? It's amazing—"
"Back to the group," she said firmly, taking his hand.
As they returned, Meilan leaned toward Shuren, her voice hushed. "So… is this how it begins?"
Shuren's lips pressed into a thin line. "Yes. Welcome to the hell of chasing Haotian."
The city unfolded around them in bursts of color and sound—bright banners hanging from wooden balconies, the rhythmic clatter of wagon wheels over cobblestone, hawkers calling out for fresh steamed buns or jade trinkets. Haotian walked at the center of the group, Sister Lianhua keeping a firm hold on his hand this time.
Every few steps, he would try to slow down just enough to peer into a shop window, his gaze snagging on anything shiny or unusual.
"Haotian, stay with us," Lianhua reminded, her tone patient but edged with the firmness of someone who had done this before.
"I am staying with you," he protested, leaning just far enough to peer into a weapons shop, where a row of gleaming swords caught the light. "Just… with my eyes."
Meilan chuckled quietly. Shuren did not. His eyes stayed locked on Haotian like a hawk tracking a particularly mischievous rabbit.
Twice more on the way, Haotian somehow managed to slip a pace or two ahead without them noticing—once to watch a street performer balance porcelain bowls on his head, another time to examine a cart selling carved wooden animals. Each time, Lianhua reeled him back with a look that said do not make me chase you again.
At last, the group reached a wide avenue lined with grand buildings. In the center stood an imposing three-story hall of dark sandalwood, its carved facade adorned with the image of a phoenix cradling a cauldron in its talons. Gold-leaf characters gleamed above the entrance: PILLFLAME ALCHEMY GUILD.
Haotian stopped in his tracks, staring up at it. "It's… huge." His voice was hushed, but his eyes shone like someone seeing a palace for the first time.
The guards exchanged amused glances as Lianhua guided him forward. "This is the largest alchemy guild in the city," she said. "If you can't find knowledge here, you won't find it anywhere."
Inside, the hall smelled faintly of herbs and hot water. Alchemists in layered robes moved between long tables stacked with jars and scrolls. Apprentices carried trays of dried roots, while others carefully tended to cauldrons whose lids rattled with the pressure of brewing concoctions.
Haotian craned his neck, taking in everything at once. He didn't notice the apprentice carrying a box of medicinal roots until they nearly collided. The older boy stepped back quickly. "Watch where you—" He stopped mid-sentence, recognizing the guards and Lianhua, then gave a stiff bow.
Haotian returned it cheerfully, already stepping around to peer into another workroom.
"Stay close," Lianhua called, her voice chasing after him like a leash made of air.
Meilan sighed, watching him vanish into a side aisle. "I think," she muttered to Shuren, "this is going to be another long day."
Shuren's reply was grim. "No. This is going to be another long life."
The Pillflame Alchemy Guild's library was set at the rear of the grand hall, its entrance marked by two towering bronze doors engraved with phoenix feathers. As Haotian stepped toward it, an attendant in green robes moved to block his path.
"This area is restricted," the man said firmly. "Only full-fledged guild alchemists may enter."
"I'd like to become one," Haotian replied without hesitation.
The attendant blinked. "…You'll need to pass the examination first."
"Then let me take the test."
A pause. The man's eyes flicked over Haotian's small frame and round, youthful face. "You don't meet the minimum age requirement. Apprentices must be at least fourteen."
Haotian frowned. "What if I'm the son of the Zhenlong family?"
The attendant's expression did not change. "Even then, rules are rules."
From behind, Sister Lianhua rested a gentle hand on Haotian's shoulder, ready to steer him away. But instead, he began to ask questions.
"What's the ideal temperature to refine crimson ginseng so it doesn't lose its potency?" he asked the attendant.
The man blinked. "Ninety-two degrees, steady flame—"
"Not if the humidity is above seventy percent," Haotian interrupted. "Then you lower the flame by three degrees and extend the drying time by half an incense stick."
That drew a few glances from nearby alchemists.
"How do you blend frostroot and blueleaf without triggering an elemental clash?" Haotian asked another.
"You can't," the man scoffed.
"You can," Haotian countered, "if you steep them separately, balance the yin and yang attributes with a neutral stabilizer—spirit lotus works—and only combine them in the final quarter of the process."
By now, a small crowd had formed. The murmurs reached the ears of several elder alchemists seated in the guild's upper hall. Intrigued, they descended the steps, their robes trailing like waves.
One of them, a silver-bearded man whose presence commanded the air, asked, "Child, who taught you these methods?"
"No one," Haotian replied truthfully. "I just read."
The elders exchanged glances. They began asking their own questions—more advanced, more intricate, the sort only seasoned alchemists would debate. To each, Haotian answered without pause, his explanations concise and startlingly precise.
By the time the exchange ended, the hall had fallen into a hush. The silver-bearded elder smiled faintly. "Rules exist for a reason… but so does reason itself. If knowledge is your weapon, then perhaps it should not be sheathed."
He gestured toward the bronze doors. "Let the boy in."
The attendant stepped aside. Haotian bowed politely—though inside, his heart was pounding with excitement.
The library's interior was a vast, circular chamber. Shelves rose three stories high, filled with scrolls, tomes, and jade tablets. The air was thick with the scent of dried herbs and old paper, the faint crackle of spiritual wards humming through the wood.
A mountain of knowledge stretched before him.
Haotian wasted no time. He moved from shelf to shelf, pulling books at random, flipping through pages with hungry eyes. Some he read standing, others he carried to a table and devoured slowly.
Sister Lianhua found a stack of beginner and intermediate alchemy guides, settling at a nearby desk. Meilan chose a text on medicinal herb cultivation, while Shuren selected a tome on cauldron craftsmanship.
The two guards took positions at the door, alternating shifts for breaks, their watchful eyes scanning anyone who came too close.
Haotian's world shrank to ink and parchment. The golden texts in his mind had been a treasure… but here was an ocean.
And he intended to drink every drop.
The first day in the Alchemy Guild's library set the tone. Haotian arrived with the morning light and only left when the guards insisted it was time to return before the city gates closed. He would have stayed through the night if they let him.
The second day, Sister Lianhua tried to coax him out for lunch. She found him buried behind a stack of seven books, barely glancing up. "I'll eat later," he mumbled, flipping a page without missing a beat.
By the fifth day, the guild attendants began to notice his pattern: he moved like a bee through a field, never staying too long on one flower, yet somehow extracting the essence of every book he touched. Apprentices started placing new piles of reading material on his table without even being asked, curious to see if they could find something to slow him down. Nothing did.
Humorous moments followed him like shadows. Once, Meilan found him perched on a high library ladder, one leg dangling as he read a scroll wider than his own arm span. Another time, Shuren caught him in the act of carrying an armful of heavy tomes, his small frame swaying under the weight, muttering, "Just one more… maybe two."
The elders watched with growing astonishment. Not only did he read quickly, but the way his eyes moved told them he wasn't skimming—he was absorbing.
By the end of the third week, the impossible had happened. Haotian had read every book, scroll, and tablet in the library. The attendants, apprentices, and even the guild's senior alchemists stood in disbelief when Sister Lianhua confirmed it.
The truth was even stranger: every text he read now appeared in his inner world as part of his golden texts, glowing and ready to be recalled at will. The once-limited library within his mind had become a vast vault of knowledge.
When he finally closed the last tome, he stood, stretched his arms, and said simply, "I'm going back to practice."
The alchemists, who had grown accustomed to seeing him each day, swarmed in protest.
"You can work here!""We could make you an honorary member!""The guild would benefit from your insight—"
Haotian shook his head, small but unyielding. "I came here to learn. I've learned. Now I need to do."
"But—" one elder began.
"I'll come back," he promised, though his tone suggested it was more politeness than intent. "But for now, I have to make pills. Lots of them."
And with that, he brushed past their protests, Sister Lianhua, Meilan, and Shuren falling into step behind him.
The elders exchanged glances, murmuring in tones of disbelief. None of them would forget the little boy who devoured their entire library in three weeks and walked away as if it were nothing.
Haotian sat cross-legged on the floor of his study, golden eyes fixed on the intricate formation diagram he had drawn with charcoal. Lines and nodes connected in precise symmetry, but he frowned—there were gaps in his understanding. The golden texts within his mind held only the basics, enough for minor traps or spirit-gathering arrays. He wanted more.
That afternoon, he went straight to Wuhen's study. The scent of ink and parchment filled the air as his father looked up from a pile of documents.
"Father," Haotian began, voice direct but still carrying the light pitch of a nine-year-old, "where can I get more books about formations? The city doesn't have a library for them."
Wuhen leaned back in his chair, brows knitting. "Formations? Hm… I don't know of any place in the city with advanced formation texts." His gaze shifted sideways toward Wukang, who sat nearby sipping tea.
The older man cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at Haotian. "Well… uh…"
"Grandfather Wukang?" Haotian tilted his head expectantly.
Wukang coughed again, clearly uncomfortable. "That's… complicated."
Before either man could say more, the door slid open and Meiyun stepped inside, her expression as calm as her steps were graceful. "You're looking for formation knowledge, little one?"
Haotian nodded quickly. "Yes."
"Sects have them," she said simply.
Haotian's eyes widened. "Really? Sects?" He turned to Wuhen, the pleading in his gaze almost physical.
Wuhen coughed into his sleeve and avoided meeting his son's eyes entirely. "Mm."
Meiyun laughed softly, reading the air. "But you're far too young to join a sect. You must be at least fourteen."
Haotian's shoulders drooped, his head hanging. "Fourteen…"
"And," she continued, "you must also reach a higher cultivation realm before they even consider you."
That struck harder. His voice came out quiet. "…Higher cultivation too?"
"Yes," she said gently. "Sects value both skill and strength."
When Haotian left the study, his steps were slow. Later, in the courtyard, he explained the whole thing to Sister Lianhua. She listened, and when he finished, she burst into laughter—not mocking, but warm and amused.
"Haotian," she said, resting a hand on his head, "you are still young. You have five years before you can even think about joining a sect. That's five years to grow stronger, learn more, and prepare."
He looked up at her, curiosity replacing his earlier gloom. "Five years…"
"Mm," she nodded. "And when that time comes, maybe I'll even accompany you."
His eyes lit up instantly. "Really?"
"Really," she smiled.
From that moment, Haotian's focus sharpened. He doubled down on his professions and training, but most of all, on his cultivation. Alchemy, after all, held one of the keys: cultivation pills. They could speed his progress, but the golden texts warned of their dangers—over-reliance would lead to pill poison, a creeping affliction that could cripple his future growth.
If he was to use them, he would also have to find a way to purge the poison from his body.
And that became his next goal.
The next morning, Haotian was already in the alchemy room before Sister Lianhua arrived. The cauldron sat cold, untouched. Instead, he was at the long worktable, three books open before him—two from the Alchemy Guild's library and one from his golden texts—flipping between pages with an intensity that made his small frame seem older than his years.
He was studying pill poison removal methods. The golden texts explained the theory: pill poison was the buildup of residual impurities in the body after prolonged consumption of alchemical products. The higher the dosage, the faster it accumulated, eventually blocking meridians and damaging the foundation. The known solutions were few—detoxifying elixirs, purging formations, or rare cleansing herbs.
But when he examined the formulas for detox pills, one problem stood out: the herbs. Every ingredient he'd need had to be purchased from the market, and they were expensive.
Haotian leaned back in his chair, frowning. "If I keep buying herbs like this, I'll empty the estate's vaults just to make medicine for myself…"
His mind wandered. If the herbs were the problem… why not grow them here?
He thought of the formation basics he had studied—the way spirit-gathering arrays could concentrate ambient qi into a single area. If he adjusted the flow nodes, perhaps he could enhance the growth of plants instead of focusing on cultivation speed alone.
The idea took root instantly.
By afternoon, Haotian had cleared a section of the rear courtyard near the alchemy room. He spent hours with chalk and bamboo stakes, marking out a formation circle. The design was crude by high standards, but the golden texts had given him enough understanding to align the nodes with the natural qi flow of the estate.
Sister Lianhua arrived to find him kneeling in the dirt, hands smudged, drawing lines in careful arcs. "Haotian… what are you doing?"
He looked up, excitement bright in his golden eyes. "Sister Lianhua, if I can make a formation that gathers qi for plants, I can grow the herbs myself. Then I can make more pills, including detox ones, without spending so much."
Behind her, Meilan and Shuren peered over her shoulder.
"You're going to farm your own herbs?" Shuren asked, disbelief in his tone.
"Not just farm," Haotian corrected, returning to his lines. "Cultivate them—with formation power."
The theory was beginning to take shape in his mind, each line he drew making the image clearer. If it worked, not only would he have a self-sustaining herb garden, but it could become a resource for the estate as well.
And, perhaps, the foundation for something much bigger.