The next morning, mist hung heavy over the Azure Flame Sect. The sect was small—barely a hundred disciples, most wearing patched gray robes, their furnaces old and cracked. To outsiders, they were barely a footnote in the alchemical world.
To Lin Jinhai, it was a cage.
He woke in his hut, body sore, stomach gnawing with hunger. Yet his eyes shone with a fire unseen in the body's previous owner.
That strange voice, those lines etched in his mind…
[Ding! Furnace System initialized.]
[First Task: Refine a Grade-1 Healing Pill.]
It wasn't a hallucination. He could feel it—an unseen furnace inside him, pulsing with heat, waiting to be fed.
---
On the sect's training grounds, disciples gathered around cracked cauldrons, refining simple pills under the watch of a few elders. Smoke curled, herbs sizzled, failures hissed. It was routine, yet to Jinhai, it was a new battlefield.
He approached the supply table. The attendant snorted when he saw him.
"Back again, trash? Don't think Elder Han's patience is infinite. Herbs aren't free."
"I'll return them as a pill," Jinhai said evenly. His voice was calm, but his gaze burned with a quiet defiance.
The attendant scoffed but shoved a pouch into his hand. "One last chance. Fail again, and you'll pay with your expulsion."
Whispers rippled through the nearby disciples.
"Is he serious? He's failed a hundred times."
"Maybe this time he'll blow up the whole courtyard."
"Hahaha! Shen Rong will love this."
Jinhai ignored them. He carried the pouch to a lonely corner, set the herbs down, and touched the cauldron assigned to him. The bronze was cracked, uneven, barely capable of holding heat.
So this is my battlefield… fine.
---
He closed his eyes.
Instantly, the Furnace System stirred.
A new screen appeared in his mind, glowing faintly:
[Furnace Simulation Module Activated]
[Ingredients detected: Spirit Grass (low quality), Bitterroot, Mistleaf]
[Recommended Formula: Grade-1 Healing Pill]
[Estimated Success Rate: 12%]
"Twelve percent…" Jinhai muttered under his breath. "Pathetic. But better than the zero these idiots expect."
He focused, adjusting the imaginary sliders in the simulation. He recalled every reaction curve, every catalytic process he had once taught his students. In the system's space, he tested a dozen variations, each attempt burning away instantly without cost.
On the thirteenth simulation, the herbs stabilized. The mixture glowed faintly green. Success.
[Simulation Complete. Success Rate Increased: 42%]
A smirk tugged at his lips. "Better."
---
He opened his eyes and lit the cauldron's fire. The flames sputtered weakly at first, but his hand gestures steadied it. He added the herbs one by one, exactly as rehearsed in the simulation.
The air filled with acrid smoke. The cauldron hissed, wobbled. Nearby disciples sneered, whispering bets on how long before the explosion.
Shen Rong arrived mid-process, arms crossed, a mocking smile spread across his face.
"Well, well… the furnace idiot at it again. Careful, Lin, you might burn your hut down this time. Oh wait—you don't even deserve a hut."
Snickers followed him.
Jinhai didn't look up. His eyes were fixed on the cauldron, adjusting the flame, adding a pinch of crushed Bitterroot at the exact second. His hands were steady, almost surgical.
The cauldron rattled… then stilled.
Smoke cleared. A faint, glowing fragrance drifted out.
Gasps rippled through the disciples.
On the bottom of the cauldron lay three small, round pills—green, smooth, glowing faintly with vitality.
Healing Pills.
---
For a heartbeat, silence reigned.
Then chaos erupted.
"He… he actually did it?!"
"Impossible! That trash?!"
"It must be luck—"
Shen Rong's face twisted. His smirk vanished. "Show me those pills."
He strode forward, snatched one from Jinhai's tray, and examined it. His jaw tightened—the pill was perfect, purer than his own refinements.
Shen Rong crushed it in his fist.
"Luck. Nothing more. Even trash can stumble on success once."
Jinhai finally looked up. His gaze was cold, sharp, the gaze of a man who had already died once.
"Funny. For someone so confident, your hands are shaking."
Gasps echoed around them. No one had ever heard Lin Jinhai talk back, let alone humiliate Shen Rong.
Shen Rong's face flushed red. "You—! Don't get cocky, furnace idiot. Next time, I'll show everyone what true refinement looks like."
He stormed off, leaving the pill powder crumbling in his palm.
---
The disciples dispersed with whispers.
Only one remained: a young girl crouched near the herb baskets, her robe patched more than cloth, her eyes bright with cautious curiosity.
Mei Yulan.
Memories told Jinhai she was another poor disciple, often overlooked, but she had a quiet diligence others mocked.
She looked at him now, eyes wide.
"You… you really made a pill."
Jinhai wiped sweat from his brow, exhaling slowly. "Of course. Isn't that what disciples are supposed to do?"
Her lips trembled, then curved into a small, earnest smile. "I knew you weren't trash."
Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it struck Jinhai harder than any insult. For the first time in two lifetimes, someone believed in him without mocking laughter behind their words.
He met her gaze, and for a brief moment, the bitterness in his chest eased.
---
Later, alone in his hut, the system chimed again.
[Ding! Refinement Successful!]
[+50 Furnace Points]
[New Formula Unlocked: Cooling Balm (Grade-1)]
The text burned in his mind, sharp and undeniable.
Lin Jinhai leaned back, a slow smile spreading across his face.
So it wasn't a dream. This was real.
The world called him trash. Heaven itself might call him a heretic.
But now… he had a furnace no one could extinguish.
And he would use it to burn the heavens.