The next day, Haotian gathered what he needed—chalk, copper rods, polished stones to mark formation nodes, and a set of rare seeds he had been saving since his earliest alchemy attempts. The small plot of earth in the rear courtyard had already been cleared, tilled by Shuren and Meilan at his request.
Under the mid-morning sun, Haotian worked.
He began by sketching the base pattern directly into the soil, a twelve-point array modeled after a simple spirit-gathering formation but modified to widen the qi flow. Instead of concentrating energy into a single point, he arranged the lines to spread it evenly across the planting bed. Copper rods marked the major nodes, while the stones—each engraved with basic runes—anchored the formation's flow.
When he stepped back, brushing the dirt from his small hands, the array glowed faintly in the sunlight, a shimmer just at the edge of sight.
Sister Lianhua, standing nearby, tilted her head. "It's active?"
Haotian nodded, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "Now we see if it works."
He planted the rare seeds one by one, spacing them according to the golden texts' cultivation guidelines. When the last seed was covered with soil, he stepped into the center of the array and pressed his palm to the ground, channeling a trickle of his own qi into the formation.
The runes lit up in sequence, a faint hum filling the air. The soil around the seeds warmed slightly, and an almost imperceptible fragrance began to rise.
Meilan's eyes widened. "The seeds… they're reacting."
Indeed, tiny shoots broke the surface within moments—something that would normally take days. The Spirit Herb Growth Formation was working.
Haotian's mind was already racing ahead.
If formations could speed growth… what else could they do for herbs? He remembered reading about elemental affinities—how each person, beast, and even some weapons were more attuned to fire, water, earth, wood, or metal qi. But herbs… herbs had affinities too.
If I can build a formation to gather ambient qi, could I alter it to match a specific element?
He imagined a fire-aspected herb garden with concentrated flame qi, producing richer phoenix pepper roots and redscale ginseng. Or a water-aspected grove for ice lotus and moon dew moss. The possibilities were endless.
He crouched by the sprouting herbs, eyes alight. "If I can tune the formation to an element, I can grow rarer, stronger herbs here… ones even the guild doesn't have in abundance."
His hands tightened into small fists. The theory wasn't just possible—it was calling to him.
Days bled together as Haotian worked.
In the mornings, he was in the rear courtyard, crouched over the glowing lines of the Spirit Herb Growth Formation, scratching new adjustments into the soil with a chalk-stained stick. His notes—smudged diagrams and strings of half-finished rune sequences—littered the workbench nearby. Every change brought him closer to his goal: an elemental-aligned herb formation. He began with fire-aspect theory, envisioning a concentrated flame qi field that would coax fire herbs into producing higher potency essences.
By midday, he moved to the alchemy room, where the air was thick with the smell of boiling herbs. The cauldron bubbled over a low flame, the mixture inside a rich golden-brown. This was his other project: a detoxifying pill for pill poison. He adjusted the brew constantly, adding rare leaves and mineral powders in precise amounts, watching for any hint of instability.
He was so deep in his work that he stopped noticing time entirely.
The tray of lunch Meilan had brought sat untouched on a side table. His hair, normally neat, now stuck out at strange angles. There were streaks of chalk dust along his jaw from leaning over formation diagrams, and soot smeared his cheeks from adjusting the forge heat under the cauldron.
It was in this state that Sister Lianhua found him.
She stepped into the room, her eyes scanning the mess—the scattered notes, the half-drunk cup of tea gone cold, the untouched food, and the boy in the middle of it all.
Her voice was sharp enough to cut through the bubbling of the cauldron. "Haotian."
He glanced up, blinking as if seeing her for the first time. "Sister Lianhua? Did you need something?"
"What I need," she said, stepping closer, "is for you to stop living like this. Look at you—your hair's a mess, you haven't eaten, and you're covered in chalk and soot. Do you want to collapse in here one day and have us find nothing but a burnt-out cauldron?"
He gave her a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just… got busy."
"You're a complete shut-in now," she scolded, folding her arms. "First you locked yourself in the estate to study alchemy. Now you've buried yourself in formations and pills so much you've forgotten what the sun looks like."
Haotian's lips pressed together. "…But I'm close to a breakthrough."
Her sigh was long and exasperated, but her hand still reached out to brush chalk from his cheek. "Breakthroughs mean nothing if you burn yourself out before you can use them."
For once, Haotian had no clever retort.
Haotian opened his mouth to argue, but Sister Lianhua was already moving.
"Up."
"What—"
"No excuses. Up." She took him firmly by the wrist and pulled him toward the door. Meilan and Shuren, both watching from the hall, stepped aside with a mix of amusement and pity in their eyes.
Within minutes, Haotian found himself in the estate's bathing chamber, steam curling up from a fresh tub of hot water. His sooty robes had been stripped away, and a fresh set of clean clothes hung neatly on a rack nearby.
"Bathe," Lianhua ordered from the doorway. "And wash your hair properly. If I find chalk in it again, I'll make you scrub the floors for a week."
Haotian sighed but obeyed. The water was warm, the steam loosening the tension in his shoulders. He sank in until only his head was above the surface, letting the heat carry away days of strain. By the time he dressed in the clean robe—a deep blue silk with silver trim—he almost felt human again.
He barely had time to adjust his sash before Lianhua reappeared, taking his hand without warning.
"Where are we going?" he asked, his voice wary.
"Out," she said simply.
And out they went, Meilan and Shuren trailing behind as the guards fell into formation. The city was alive with its usual energy—vendors calling out prices, musicians playing in the streets, the scent of grilled skewers mixing with the sweetness of candied fruit.
Haotian's steps slowed despite himself. After days locked away in the alchemy room, the sheer variety of sights and sounds felt almost overwhelming.
They stopped at a herbalist's stall so Lianhua could buy tea leaves. Haotian, idly scanning the shelves, froze when his eyes caught a display of small glass orbs—each containing a tiny sprig of herb floating in glowing liquid. A faint hum of energy surrounded them.
The shopkeeper noticed his interest. "Those are spirit-preservation capsules. They keep herbs fresh for months."
Haotian's mind clicked instantly. If I can preserve a herb's freshness in a capsule, what happens if I change the capsule's ambient qi to match the herb's element? Would it enhance potency over time?
Further down the street, they passed a paper lantern shop. Rows of lanterns swayed in the breeze, each painted with intricate patterns. Haotian's gaze lingered on one design—a spiral of overlapping circles, painted in red and gold. It reminded him of a fire-aspect formation diagram. If that shape can hold paint evenly over curved paper, maybe it can hold flame qi evenly in a formation grid…
By the time they reached the city square, Haotian was already tugging on Lianhua's sleeve.
"Sister Lianhua… I need to go back."
She gave him a sidelong look. "Already?"
"I have ideas," he said, eyes bright. "Big ones."
Her sigh was long, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "Fine. But you're eating dinner first."
By the time Lianhua decided they should stop for dinner, Haotian's mind was still whirling with the images from the city—the glowing preservation capsules, the painted spiral lanterns. The connections to his own projects were already snapping into place in his head. He would make elemental preservation capsules, fine-tuned to a herb's natural qi affinity, and combine that with an improved elemental herb formation in the courtyard. The results could change everything.
But Lianhua's rule was clear. Dinner first.
They stopped at a quiet corner restaurant, its lantern-lit interior warm and fragrant with the scent of simmering broths and roasted spices. Haotian sat down, still distracted, but then—
A distinct aroma drifted past his nose. Rich, savory, with just a hint of sweetness. His stomach gave an audible growl loud enough for the nearby table to hear.
He froze for half a second. …Was that me?
Across the table, Lianhua, Meilan, and Shuren all heard it. They exchanged subtle glances, but none of them said a word.
Haotian rubbed his stomach sheepishly. "Maybe… I'm a little hungry."
When the food arrived, the plates steamed, carrying scents so strong his mouth watered instantly. He picked up his chopsticks, took the first bite—
Heaven.
The flavor burst across his tongue, rich and warm, the perfect balance of seasoning and texture. His eyes stung unexpectedly, and tears began to form at the corners.
The others chuckled softly at his expression.
"It's just food, Haotian," Lianhua teased.
But he didn't answer. He was too busy taking another bite… and another… until he was eating with single-minded intensity.
"Slow down," Lianhua said, laughter in her voice. "The food won't go anywhere."
Haotian froze mid-bite, flushing as he realized he had been leaning over the table like a starving stray. He cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and began eating at a much more civilized pace.
When the last plate was cleared, Haotian leaned back with a small, satisfied sigh.
The walk back to the estate was quiet, the city's night air cool and carrying the distant hum of lantern festivals. But beneath that calm, Haotian's thoughts were racing again. The designs for his preservation capsules and new formation were already taking shape, and once they returned…
The real work would begin.
By the time they reached the estate gates, night had settled fully over the city, the moonlight casting silver across the tiled roofs. Most of the household was preparing for rest, but Haotian's mind was far from sleep.
He went straight to his worktable, lighting the oil lamp with a practiced flick of the tinder stick. The warm glow spilled over sheets of parchment as he began sketching—thin, precise lines tracing the shape of a preservation capsule, its core ringed with miniature formation runes to adjust and fix the qi inside to a specific element. Beside it, he drew the framework for an upgraded herb cultivation array, one that could be tuned to an element through its node configuration.
The theory was sound, the designs promising—but then, as he worked, a stray thought caught on something he couldn't quite grasp.
It was… familiar.
He frowned, setting the brush down and closing his eyes. I've seen this before… somewhere in the golden texts.
The answer struck like a spark.
Without a word, he shot to his feet, chair scraping across the floor, and bolted down the silent corridor toward the estate's main library. The great double doors creaked open, the scent of old paper and cedarwood washing over him. He went straight to the cultivation section, his small hands scanning the spines until he found it—"The Basics of Qi Cultivation".
Dropping to the floor, he flipped rapidly through the yellowed pages until his eyes caught the passage he remembered.
There are those in this world whose cultivation bears no clear alignment to fire, water, earth, wood, or metal. In the common view, they are said to have no elemental affinity.
He read further.
Yet some masters have argued: perhaps it is not the absence of affinity, but the presence of all—unrefined, unshaped. Such ones may be able to align to any element, given proper conditioning.
Haotian's eyes narrowed, the words sinking deep. If that's true… then what if they're not locked to one element at all? What if they're like a blank scroll—ready to be written on?
His fingers tightened on the page. He himself had no confirmed affinity. But that didn't mean he was truly without one.
He read on, his excitement building. A single, half-faded paragraph near the bottom caught his breath.
Ancient records speak of the possibility to change one's affinity entirely, shaped by the qi of their environment. Over years—or with certain rare methods—it may be possible to reforge a cultivator's alignment.
The idea bloomed instantly in his mind. If affinities can be reshaped, what if I could cultivate inside a formation chamber filled with the ambient qi of specific herbs? Would their elemental nature affect my own cultivation?
He set the book aside and seized fresh parchment. Brush strokes swept in fast, deliberate arcs as he designed a Formation Cultivation Chamber—a sealed circular room lined with qi-guiding inscriptions, shelves for elemental herbs, and a flow system to keep the qi circulating evenly. The cultivator inside would be bathed in the ambient qi released by the living plants, breathing it, absorbing it into their meridians.
If his theory was correct, it might be possible to influence or even alter elemental affinity.
His golden eyes gleamed in the lamplight. "If I can do this… I could change everything."
The following morning, Haotian was already in motion before the sun had cleared the eastern ridge. He darted between the estate's storerooms and workyards, gathering armfuls of supplies—smooth wooden planks for the chamber's inner walls, sacks of powdered jade for the formation inlays, copper wiring for qi conduction, and rows of clay planters for the elemental herbs he intended to grow inside.
Shuren, tasked with carrying the heavier loads, grunted as he followed behind. "Little master, are you building a fortress or a greenhouse?"
"A cultivation chamber," Haotian replied without looking up, scribbling adjustments to his blueprints on a scrap of parchment. "One that might be able to change a person's elemental affinity."
That was the moment Sister Lianhua stepped into the courtyard, the morning light catching in her hair. "Change someone's affinity?"
Haotian looked up, his eyes shining. "Yes. I'll use herbs to release elemental qi into a sealed chamber, and then cultivate inside. If my theory is right, I could align myself to any element I choose!"
Lianhua froze in place, her usual composed expression slipping into outright shock. "Haotian… do you have any idea what you're talking about? And more importantly—" her voice sharpened—"did you get permission from the Patriarch for this?"
Haotian's brush halted mid-stroke. For the briefest moment, he stood there in complete silence, the weight of the question sinking in.
Then—
"I'll be right back!"
He shoved the parchment into his sleeve, spun on his heel, and bolted across the courtyard at full speed.
"Haotian!" Lianhua called after him.
Her voice echoed off the estate walls as the boy's small figure disappeared around the corner, the faint sound of his hurried footsteps fading into the distance.
Haotian tore through the estate corridors, his clean robe flapping like a banner behind him. Servants carrying laundry baskets stepped aside quickly as he darted past.
"Slow down, little master!" one called after him.
"No time!" Haotian shouted back without breaking stride.
Halfway to the main hall, he nearly collided with Meilan, who was balancing a tray of tea. She spun aside with surprising grace, the cups clinking but miraculously not spilling.
"Where's the fire?" she asked, eyebrows raised.
"In my brain! Need permission!" he yelled over his shoulder as he bolted away.
Moments later, he reached the carved double doors of the council chamber. Two guards moved to block him, one holding up a hand. "The Patriarch is in the middle of an important meeting—"
Haotian ducked between them before they could finish, sliding across the polished floor.
Inside, Wuhen sat at the head of a low table, flanked by several stern-faced officials dressed in the dark robes of the Zhenlong administration. Scrolls lay open between them, and the air was heavy with formal discussion.
"…and regarding the tax levy on—" one official began, only to be interrupted by the sound of rapid footsteps.
"Father!" Haotian blurted, skidding to a stop right beside the table.
The room froze. All eyes turned toward the boy, small and slightly out of breath, golden eyes bright with urgency.
Wuhen set his brush down slowly, his expression unreadable. "Haotian." His voice was calm, but there was an edge beneath it. "We are in the middle of a meeting."
One official cleared his throat. "Patriarch, perhaps—"
"It's important!" Haotian insisted, stepping right up to his father's side. "I need permission to build a cultivation chamber! A big one! With formations! And elemental herbs! And—and—"
He leaned in, lowering his voice just enough to be heard over the table. "It might be able to change someone's elemental affinity."
That earned more than one raised eyebrow from the officials.
Wuhen's gaze lingered on him for a long, silent moment. "You burst into the council to ask for this?"
"Yes," Haotian said without hesitation.
The Patriarch closed his eyes briefly, as if weighing patience against the sheer inevitability of his son's behavior. When he opened them again, his tone was resigned. "Wait outside until I finish here."
Haotian opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. "Okay. But don't forget, I'm right outside." He backed toward the door, bowing once—quickly—and slipping out.
Behind the closed doors, the murmurs of the officials resumed, though more than one now carried a tone of curiosity.
The meeting dragged on longer than Haotian expected. He sat cross-legged outside the council chamber, tapping his fingers against his knee, his mind already racing ahead to design improvements for the cultivation chamber.
Finally, the doors slid open. Wuhen stepped out, his expression neutral. "Come in, Haotian."
Haotian scrambled to his feet and hurried inside, stopping just short of his father's desk.
"Explain," Wuhen said simply.
Haotian launched into it—how his research on pill poison led him to herb formations, how herbs had elemental affinities, how he believed that ambient qi from specific herbs could influence or even change a cultivator's elemental alignment over time. He paced as he spoke, hands moving animatedly, describing the sealed chamber design, the formation network, and the potential applications.
When he finished, he looked up, waiting.
Wuhen regarded him in silence for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. "You may proceed. But—keep this within the estate walls, and under supervision."
Haotian's face lit up. "Yes, Father! Thank you!" He bowed deeply, then spun on his heel and dashed out of the chamber like a shot.
Wuhen watched him go, the boy's energy leaving a faint echo in the quiet room. Then the weight of Haotian's words returned to him.
If someone's affinity could be changed… could it be possible to change an entire army's?
The thought sent a slow chill down his spine. The military implications were staggering—whole divisions tuned to a single element, or to counter an enemy's alignment.
He rose from his seat and left the hall, heading toward the ancestral wing. The air there was cooler, stiller, carrying the scent of incense. Before the great carved doors, he bowed once and entered.
Inside, the four Ancestors were gathered in quiet discussion. Their gazes turned to him as he stepped forward.
"I bring news," Wuhen said. "The boy has conceived of a method to alter elemental affinity."
The Ancestors exchanged glances. One arched a brow. "We have not monitored him closely since his awakening," the eldest murmured.
"Then perhaps," another said with a faint smile, "it is time we see what the child has been up to."
They rose in unison, their presence filling the chamber with a quiet, ancient power.