A Song For The Ages

For two weeks, Feiyin dedicated himself to gathering points, taking on tasks with his group, and saving meticulously. Though they continued hunting, refining their efficiency in tracking and taking down Class-1 beasts, he also made use of Shen Mu's knowledge in herbology to collect medicinal plants during their excursions. It was a slow process, but it paid off.

By the time he had enough points, he had purchased two crucial things before even thinking of refining anything, a Herb Compendium and an Ore Compendium.

The former contained information on common medicinal plants, their properties, refining compatibility, and reactions to various catalysts. The latter detailed the fundamental properties of metals, their durability, malleability, and potential resonance when forged.

Feiyin did not believe in rushing headfirst into something he did not understand. His approach had always been the same, study first, act later.

Even so, there were limits to theory.

After two weeks of study, he finally spent his hard-earned points on two recipes.

Basic Healing Pills – a low-grade medicinal pill meant to accelerate minor wound recovery.

Basic Blade Forging – the standard method of forging a simple yet durable blade from common ores.

Each cost him 500 points, and just like that, the accumulation of his efforts disappeared in an instant. But Feiyin felt nothing but anticipation.

Now, it was time to take the next step.

The Alchemy Practice Rooms sat at the far end of the menial disciple quarters, enclosed spaces that prevented interference from others. Feiyin rented one for fifty points per hour, stepping into the dimly lit chamber with measured excitement.

Inside, a bronze pill furnace stood at the center, its engravings faintly shimmering with residual energy from past use. A stone counter lined the far wall, where disciples could prepare their ingredients. Feiyin carefully unwrapped the herbs he had bought, his fingers brushing over the dried leaves and powdered roots.

Spirit Grass. Bitterroot. Refining Salts.

Simple in name, but their interactions were delicate.

Even after spending two weeks memorizing the compendium, handling the ingredients personally felt entirely different.

The Spirit Grass was lighter than he expected, its scent faint but soothing. The Bitterroot, however, was coarse, brittle to the touch, and crumbled easily when pressed too hard.

Feiyin frowned, recalling what the compendium stated, Spirit Grass extracts essence best when slowly warmed. Bitterroot should be finely ground before mixing to avoid inconsistencies.

He reached for the mortar and pestle, beginning the careful process of breaking down the Bitterroot into an even powder. But the texture was tougher than expected, and his pressure was inconsistent. Some pieces ground too finely, while others remained in clumps.

A mistake.

He exhaled, adjusting. Slow, steady…

After several minutes, it was passable, not perfect, but enough.

Next was the Spirit Grass. He placed it into a small heated dish, watching for the golden essence to separate from the leaf fibers. However, his temperature control was off. Too high, and the essence burned away too quickly. Too low, and the extraction wouldn't be pure.

He leaned in closer, trying to adjust the flame manually. His oscillation sense helped him gauge heat when fighting, but here? This was completely different.

The moment he removed it, it was too late. The golden liquid had darkened at the edges, a sign of overextraction.

His lips pressed into a thin line.

He mixed the components anyway, shaping the thickened paste into pill form before placing them into the furnace. A faint heat surrounded the chamber as the refining process began.

Minutes passed.

Then, a soft chime.

Feiyin opened the furnace, eager to see his results.

Three pills sat inside.

One was completely scorched, its surface blackened. The second was pockmarked and uneven. The third… was barely acceptable, a dull color with a lot of impurities.

A complete failure.

For a long moment, he simply stared.

Then, he laughed.

A genuine, amused chuckle as he picked up the ruined pills, inspecting them under the dim light. For the first time in a while, he felt excitement.

The failures weren't discouraging, they were expected.

How could he have succeeded immediately? He had never touched a furnace before. Never handled medicinal ingredients with his own hands. He had studied, yes, but alchemy was not something that could be mastered in books alone.

There was something magical about listening to the ingredients, learning their reactions, watching them change and merge into something new.

Just like when he had first discovered music.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

A smile tugged at his lips as he cleaned the furnace, carefully placing the pills aside. Next time, he would do better.

Forging rooms were much like alchemy rooms, but reinforced to withstand extreme heat.

The moment Feiyin entered, he felt a wave of heat wash over him.

A stone forge sat in the center, embers already glowing faintly. A cooling basin stood nearby, filled with water. Against the wall, a set of hammers and chisels waited for use.

He removed his purchased Black-Iron ingot and stared at it.

Forging was nothing like pill alchemy.

Refining pills relied on delicate precision. Forging required directed strength and control.

He placed the ingot into the forge, watching as it slowly softened under the intense heat. When the edges glowed faintly, he retrieved it with tongs and set it onto the anvil.

Strike. Shape. Cool. Repeat.

That was the basic process.

Feiyin gripped the hammer and brought it down, too lightly. The impact was weak, barely molding the metal.

He adjusted. Struck again. This time too hard.

The metal flattened unevenly, the sides warping.

Another mistake.

He huffed in frustration, repositioning his grip. Again and again, he struck the metal, slowly shaping it into a crude form of a blade.

But when he finally cooled it in the basin and retrieved it,

The blade was uneven. The edges were rough. The metal had been overheated in some areas, making the structure brittle.

He had failed again.

But once more, he smiled.

Even as his hands ached from the repeated strikes, even as the blade he held was barely usable, the process had been… fascinating.

Forging wasn't just about hitting metal. It was about understanding its composition, sensing how the structure changed with heat, feeling the way each strike resonated through the ore.

And that felt familiar.

Oscillations…

Could artifact alchemy also be refined through resonance?

A spark ignited in his mind.

That would be for later. For now, he had made his first attempt.

And he couldn't wait to try again.

As Feiyin stepped out of the practice hall, the cool evening air brushing against his face, he made his way back toward the menial disciple quarters, his mind still buzzing with thoughts of his failures and the excitement they brought. But he wasn't the only one pushing forward.

His group had also been training relentlessly, carving their own paths in their respective fields.

The training grounds behind their cabins were usually quiet in the evening, but tonight, a rhythmic sound echoed through the clearing, the sharp swipes of Yue's claws slicing through the air.

Feiyin found her near the edge of the field, moving through a fierce set of attacks, her silver tail flicking with each precise motion. Her body was low, knees bent, arms spread wide. She was practicing a new technique from the Saint Body Branch.

A single leap, then a blur of silver and steel.

Her claws tore through the wooden training post, leaving deep grooves across the surface. But it wasn't just raw power.

There was control.

She landed lightly, eyes narrowed, her muscles coiling and uncoiling like a predator ready to pounce again.

Feiyin stepped closer. "You're improving."

Yue turned, breathing lightly, her golden eyes glinting. "It's different than what I learned back home."

She flexed her fingers, her claws retracting slightly. "Back in my clan, we fought more instinctively, fast, overwhelming strikes. But this…" She glanced at the torn wooden post. "This style focuses on continuity. Every strike must be followed by another, every motion must flow into the next."

She raised her hand, adjusting her posture. "It's harder than I thought."

Feiyin studied her movements. Yue had always been quick, explosive. But this technique required more than speed, it demanded fluidity, precision.

He nodded. "You'll get it."

She smirked. "Of course I will!"

While Yue honed her body, Ren sat cross-legged in their cabin, staring at a wooden plank in front of him, a small carving knife in his hand.

Feiyin watched from the doorway, noting how Ren's brows furrowed, his usual sharp expression softened in deep concentration.

The plank bore crude, jagged etchings, an attempt at a basic formation script.

Ren didn't even glance up as Feiyin entered. "It looks like shit, doesn't it?"

Feiyin knelt beside him, hiding a smile as he inspected the markings. "It's a start."

Ren exhaled, resting his arm over his knee. "These formation patterns aren't like drawing random symbols. Every cut, every angle, it has to flow. But the moment I carve too deep or too shallow, the entire thing loses its effect."

He tossed the carving knife onto the floor, scowling. "And I can't even tell if it's working yet."

Feiyin studied the wooden plank, running his fingers along the etched lines. It wasn't just about the carvings themselves, it was about the energy flow through them.

Ren had always relied on his instincts in combat, reacting to danger before it even came. But formations were structured, methodical.

"This is different from what you're used to," Feiyin said.

Ren clicked his tongue. "You think?"

Feiyin grinned. "You'll get it. Trust your instincts, but refine them. The same way you read an opponent's movements, read the formation's flow."

Ren narrowed his eyes, rolling the thought in his mind. Then, with a deep breath, he picked up the knife again and began carving anew, slower this time, more precise.

A battle fought with mind rather than fists, but Ren would master it all the same.

At the far end of the cabin, a faint, bitter scent lingered in the air.

Feiyin turned to find Shen Mu hunched over a small mortar and pestle, grinding dried leaves into a fine powder.

A single oil lamp flickered beside him, casting long shadows against the wall.

Shen Mu didn't even glance up. "If you breathe too deep, you might pass out."

Feiyin raised an eyebrow. "Encouraging."

Shen Mu smiled but kept working, his hands precise as he measured out portions of powdered herbs. "I found a batch of Nightshade Vine while we were gathering earlier. It's mildly toxic, but when mixed properly, it enhances medicinal properties."

He tapped the side of a small dish, where three different powders rested, one green, one dark brown, and one almost black.

"Alone, they do little. But together…" He reached for a flask of water, slowly mixing the components in careful proportions. "They create a fast-acting antidote for low-grade poisons."

Feiyin leaned in slightly, watching the mixture take on a faint blue hue. It was similar to what he had been studying, understanding how different ingredients merged together to create something new.

"You're already trying antidotes?" Feiyin asked.

Shen Mu smirked. "Poisons are unpredictable. It's best to learn both sides."

Feiyin watched as Shen Mu carefully poured the liquid into a small glass vial, with small sediments forming at the bottom. It wasn't perfect. The solution had slight impurities. But it was progress.

"Good work," Feiyin said simply.

Shen Mu paused, then gave a small nod before returning to his work.

Everyone had their path.

There was still much to do, much to refine.

But they were moving forward.