A Song For The Ages

One month had passed since Feiyin and Shen Mu became outer disciples of the Saint Alchemy Branch. In that time, the steady rhythm of cultivation and craft had rooted itself into their lives.

Feiyin's name had begun to quietly circulate.

Every morning, the warm trails of smoke that curled skyward from his refining room marked the start of his unrelenting schedule. The faint clinks of steel and the hiss of flame whispered of both discipline and obsession. He alternated between pill refinement and artifact crafting, an intricate dance of alchemical precision and smithing intuition. His pills, crafted with unwavering focus, always emerged with flawless 100% purity and quickly found buyers in the Exchange Hall. The proceeds never lingered in his pouch long, immediately reinvested into rarer herbs, tougher alloys, and supplemental resources.

When it came to weapon crafting, Feiyin approached each blade as if it were alive. His forging room was quieter, more intense, filled with the smell of heated iron and a constant background hum of low oscillations, his spiritual sense brushing the surface of every tool, every piece of metal. With the addition of his enhanced senses, Tier One metals responded more intuitively. He could subtly adjust the alloy's composition mid-process, channeling his spiritual sense to guide the forming structure and eliminate impurities in the final stages.

The heat of the forge no longer fatigued him. Rather, it awakened something primal within. Every hammerfall became a note in a silent composition. The shaping of hilts and tangs, the tempering of blades in heated oil, each step was deliberate, each adjustment born from trial, observation, and instinct. He began experimenting with curvature, density, and balance, seeking not only strength but artistry. It was a pursuit that blended logic and emotion.

Steel and fire. Herb and flame. Each day, the cycle deepened.

And with every product that left his hands, be it pill or blade, his name spread a little further.

But his efforts weren't only personal. Every night, he would sit with Shen Mu, who was still lingering at the peak of the Meridian Opening Realm. He taught him how to calm the mind and sink deeper into meditation. They spoke of the Mind's Eye, the soul, and the fusion of essence qi. To help his friend enter a deeper state, Feiyin often played the guqin softly in the evenings, letting each note ripple like a gentle breeze across the stillness of their shared chamber. His fingers danced across the strings with practiced ease, coaxing out melodies that carried the weight of unspoken thoughts and quiet resolve.

The room, dimly lit by a single lantern, seemed to breathe with the music, a sanctuary of warmth amidst the cold indifference of the sect. Each note reverberated with purpose, drawing Shen Mu deeper into meditation, soothing the restlessness that plagued his mind.

Shen Mu, despite his affinity for poison and innate pragmatism, found peace in those melodies. The sharp edge of his focus slowly softened, transforming into insight.

By the end of the second week, under a silver crescent moon, Shen Mu finally opened his Mind's Eye.

The following day, as the first rays of light colored the sky, he formed his own essence qi and opened his dantian.

Feiyin had stood beside him, calm and proud.

It was a quiet triumph, but a monumental one nonetheless. Shen Mu had joined the ranks of the true cultivators, the Qi Condensation Realm.

With their quotas already complete for the month, they turned their focus outward.

Feiyin explained his next goal. "To burn this rotten place, we first need to use it for all its worth to grow. We need people. Connections. Influence. If we build something now, it will grow with us."

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Shen Mu, as always, nodded in agreement. "That Feng Liu clearly has his own following, so to go against him, it will be easier to have our own. And you know me, I'm not much of a leader. We'll just do as usual. You lead. I'll follow."

Their first steps began simply. They noticed several apprentice alchemists around them, some skilled, others struggling. Many were bound by the pressure of monthly quotas. Reaching them meant survival. Anything beyond was a luxury most couldn't afford.

Feiyin started offering help. His enhanced spiritual sense allowed him to even more vividly perceive the emotions and worries of others, making discerning those whom he deemed worthy of trust and companionship a breeze.

It began with short conversations outside the Spilled Cauldron's eatery or shared walks to the Essence Exchange Hall. He gave small pointers: adjusting flame temperatures, mixing sequences, how to listen to the changes inside a cauldron.

Slowly, a group began to form.

They met once a week in one of the practice rooms, a casual gathering at first. People came with questions, doubts, half-formed theories. They left with insights and renewed energy.

For Feiyin, it was more than camaraderie. It was groundwork.

He was deep in the Archives, scanning a jade slip labeled Verdant Recovery Pill: Tier Two Variants, when a cautious voice approached.

"Feiyin," a voice called out, her tone measured yet exuberant.

He looked up.

The girl was sixteen, with sun-kissed skin and short brown hair that brushed her neck. Her brown eyes, though still guarded, held a flicker of warmth. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she walked closer, the three silver threads on her white robe marking her as a third-class outer disciple.

"I tried adding red dust like you suggested to the new alloy I was working on," she said, her voice laced with both excitement and hesitation. "And by adjusting the heat... it came out just like I hoped, hard without the brittleness."

Feiyin offered a calm, approving nod. "That's good to hear, Yuli."

He remembered when they first met, how she sat alone in the Archives, shoulders rigid, expression wary. She hadn't asked for help, but hadn't refused it either. A few shared thoughts on crafting temperature, a gentle suggestion here and there. Bit by bit, her defenses had softened.

Now, she stood with a little more confidence, though Feiyin could still sense the tension woven into her presence.

She set down a jade slip she had been holding and glanced at him. "You're always here. What are you reading this time?"

"Browsing some Tier Two formulas," he smiled. "Planning ahead."

Yuli raised a brow. "That fast, huh? Most of us are still wrestling with tier one."

Feiyin's voice was calm. "One step at a time."

A small silence stretched between them before she added, quieter, "Just... be careful not to push too hard. This place doesn't forgive burnout."

Feiyin raised his brows in exaggerated shock, "Are you worried about me?"

Yuli blushed as her voice got even quieter, "No."

A small chuckle escaped Feiyin mouth, "Don't worry, even if I go fast, it's at my own pace."

They stood together, the Archive's hush broken only by the occasional shuffle of footsteps or the faint hum of jade slips.

Yuli's gaze drifted to the shelves. "The group meetings help. Even if it's just to talk with other apprentices."

Feiyin nodded with a smile. "I'm glad."

She hesitated before murmuring, "See you there."

As she turned and walked away, Feiyin watched her go, sensing her lingering caution, but also, beneath it, the beginnings of trust.

Just as he'd intended.

Left alone again, Feiyin turned back to another slip in his hand. Its title glowed faintly.

Refinement of Tier Two Recovery Elixirs: Advanced Stabilization Techniques.

He traced the edge of the slip with a finger, his thoughts wandering for a moment.

Yue... Ren...

He hadn't heard from them in over a month, and the branches they had entered weren't easy ones. They were likely enduring their own trials.

But as he stood among the quiet stacks of the Archive, his lips curled into a smirk.

Knowing them, it's probably the branches that should be worried.

He returned to the slip, his eyes glowing with renewed focus.

The foundation was set.

Now, it was time to build.