In the Great Wilderness, four beams of light streaked across the sky.
“Senior Brother Meng, you’re not even looking back. The trial mission from the branch is to refine a fourth-grade pill, with a grade no lower than fourth. The spiritual energy here is thin, and fourth-grade spiritual herbs are already rare, so we need to cover more ground.”
“If this continues, we won’t complete the trial mission. How will we report back!”
Senior Brother Meng was about to say something when he suddenly paused.
He hovered in midair, his gaze fixed on the northwest.
“What’s wrong?”
The young woman followed his line of sight, seeing only rolling mountains and the last dark red glow on the horizon.
There was nothing.
Senior Brother Meng didn’t speak.
He furrowed his brow, closed his eyes, and extended his spiritual sense with full force.
Moments later, he opened his eyes, his expression changed.
“The earth’s spiritual energy… is gathering toward that direction.”
The two behind him exchanged glances and simultaneously released their spiritual sense.
After a few breaths, their expressions also shifted.
Within a hundred miles, all the earth’s spiritual energy was surging toward the same spot, as if an invisible river was pouring backward through the sky.
“What kind of extraordinary phenomenon is this!”
The young woman’s voice tightened.
“A rare treasure is emerging!”
The black-robed guardian dao protector, who had been silent, suddenly spoke:
“It’s a cauldron tribulation.”
The three turned around.
“Or maybe—pill resonance.”
“Impossible,” the young man said instinctively.
“The spiritual energy in these mountains is so thin. What great master would refine pills in a place like this!”
The black-robed man didn’t reply.
He simply stared in that direction, his gaze flickering uncertainly beneath his cloak.
Senior Brother Meng was silent for a moment, then made a decision.
“Let’s go. Take a look.”
The three behind him nodded.
The four turned into beams of light and flew toward the sky, which had already begun to turn a dark purple.
They didn’t know that this trip would show them a sight that could overturn their understanding.
Inside the cave, Lai Li’nv watched the liquid in the stone cauldron shrink at a visible rate—from a full pot to the size of a fist, then to the size of a pigeon egg, and finally to a single drop.
That drop was entirely silver-white, like a solid, frozen moon.
Moon essence liquid.
It was complete.
Once he refined this drop of liquid, his cultivation would no longer be a castle in the air.
He would truly become a cultivator.
Lai Li’nv took a deep breath and swallowed the liquid.
The moment the liquid entered his throat, a cool, refreshing chill rose from his abdomen, spreading along his meridians toward his limbs and bones.
The power wasn’t violent; it was gentle and moist.
Lai Li’nv closed his eyes and guided the lunar essence toward his dantian.
The silver-white light flowed slowly through his meridians.
Wherever it passed, the meridians seemed to gain a soul, beginning to circulate on their own.
The process of creating a postcelestial spiritual root was, in essence, forcefully carving a channel within the body to connect with heaven and earth’s spiritual qi.
For an ordinary cultivator, this was nearly impossible.
A spiritual root was innate, something one was born with.
Forcing it to appear after birth was like defying fate itself.
But the power of moon essence liquid lay precisely in “transformation.”
The lunar essence absorbed by the silvermoon grass over a hundred years inherently contained the property of condensing substance from nothingness.
At this moment, that power was slowly gathering deep within his dantian, like a seed breaking through the soil and sprouting.
Lai Li’nv could feel something taking shape inside his dantian.
It was an extremely fine thread, extending from the dantian to his limbs and bones, like newly spun spider silk—one touch and it would break.
The prototype of a postcelestial spiritual root had appeared.
All that remained was to stabilize this thread completely and establish a connection with heaven and earth’s spiritual qi.
This step would take time.
Lai Li’nv sat motionless in place, his entire mind immersed in the newly formed thread within his body.
The process was slow and tedious, but he didn’t dare be distracted for a moment.
If something went wrong, this century-old silvermoon grass would be wasted.
Who knew how long it would take to encounter another spiritual herb capable of opening a postcelestial spiritual root.
Of course, his stomach was still hungry.
But compared to something as important as a spiritual root—something that would affect his entire life—going hungry for a while was nothing.
Once he finished opening the spiritual root, Ban Wan’er would probably be back.
Then, eating grilled meat and cultivating a heaven-grade technique—that kind of life, just thinking about it was wonderful.
Outside the cave, Ban Wan’er was carrying a wild boar on her shoulder and heading back.
She had seriously considered the senior’s words earlier.
The path of cultivation cultivates not only power but also the heart.
Understanding the mundane fills the gaps.
The senior had asked her to hunt without using spiritual power, surely so she could experience the difficulty of mortals and temper her dao heart.
Thinking this, Ban Wan’er quickened her pace, intending to report her cultivation insights to the senior.
Completing the simplest task with one’s own hands is itself a form of cultivation.
Having come to this realization, Ban Wan’er suddenly felt much lighter.
Then she froze.
The wild boar on her shoulder fell to the ground.
The sky above her head had gathered thick, dark clouds somewhere unknown.
The clouds had come extremely fast, rolling in from all directions and converging into a massive vortex over the valley.
Deep within the clouds, faint flashes of thunder flickered.
The muffled rumble of thunder came from the sky, shaking the ground beneath her feet.
Ban Wan’er’s pupils sharply contracted.
This is… a lightning tribulation!
She had read about it in the sect’s ancient texts: when a high-grade pill is produced, its medicinal power rushes to the heavens, drawing a response from heaven and earth and bringing down a cauldron tribulation.
The higher the pill’s grade, the stronger the tribulation.
A pill that could draw a cauldron tribulation was at least seventh-grade!
The originally ordinary silver-white lightning gradually took on a strange dark purple tint.
The vortex of clouds covered the entire mountain peak, and its edges were still expanding outward.
The lightning snakes writhing within the clouds grew denser and denser, making Ban Wan’er’s heart pound.
She actually didn’t dare go inside.
If she disturbed the senior’s critical moment of pill refining, it would only cause trouble.
She turned, her hand resting on her sword hilt, instinctively wanting to rush toward the direction where someone might be approaching.
But just as she took a step, she forced herself to stop.
Since the senior was refining pills, he must have already prepared.
But what kind of pill was the senior refining, to actually summon a tribulation of this scale!
Ban Wan’er pressed her lips together, stood still, and stared fixedly at the thunderclouds.
Just then, several auras rapidly approached from afar.
She spun around.
Four people emerged from the forest.
The leader was a young man in his early twenties, wearing a cyan brocade robe embroidered with a small alchemy furnace pattern on the chest.
Behind him followed two similarly dressed young people, a man and a woman, also in their twenties.
But Ban Wan’er’s gaze immediately fell on the last of the four.
A figure covered entirely in a black cloak, face hidden, silently standing behind the other three like a shadow.
When Ban Wan’er’s spiritual sense swept over that person, she only sensed a bottomless darkness.
Her fingers turned cold.
That black-clad person was at least at the golden core stage.
“Who are you all?”
Ban Wan’er’s voice was cool, and her long sword had already been drawn two inches.
The leading cyan-robed man quickly waved his hand, a gentle smile on his face.
“Fellow daoist, don’t be alarmed. We mean no harm.”
He clasped his hands in greeting, his tone polite.
“I am Meng Qiuran, a disciple of the Dan Sect Branch. These two are my sect mates: Junior Brother Li He and Junior Sister Ye Shuang.”
The young man named Li He nodded at Ban Wan’er, while Ye Shuang curiously examined the wild boar beside her, then glanced at the terrifying thunderclouds in the distance—a hint of confusion in her eyes.
Meng Qiuran stepped half a step aside and bowed slightly toward the black-clad man.
“This is our guardian dao protector. The senior is solitary by nature and not fond of speaking. Please forgive him, fellow daoist.”
The black-clad man gave no reaction, like a dead piece of wood.
Dan Sect Branch!
These four words startled Ban Wan’er.
The Dan Sect—the holy land for all alchemists in the world.
Although these people were only branch disciples, just wearing the name “Dan Sect” already indicated their extraordinary origins.
“What brings you here, sirs?”
Ban Wan’er asked.
Meng Qiuran’s gaze crossed over her to the mountain peak shrouded in thunderclouds, his eyes full of awe.
“Fellow daoist, why pretend not to know? Such an extraordinary phenomenon can be seen for a hundred miles. We naturally followed the thunderclouds.”
He took a deep breath, his tone turning serious.
“May I ask, fellow daoist, what kind of senior is the one refining pills in that cave? And what grade of pill is being refined? Could it be… a legendary eighth-grade pill?”
Ban Wan’er was silent for a moment.
She had no idea what pill the senior was refining.
She hadn’t even noticed when the senior started.
The stone cauldron in the cave, the mortal fire—she had watched with her own eyes as the senior used these most ordinary things to boil down a drop of silver-white liquid, and then she knew nothing more.
But of course, she couldn’t say that.
That would be underestimating the senior.
Ban Wan’er’s gaze turned to the thunderclouds, her tone calm.
“The senior’s methods are not something you lot can rashly speculate about. All I know is that a single pill the senior casually refined already draws such a cauldron tribulation.”
“Eighth-grade!”
Ye Shuang exclaimed in shock.
Li He’s expression also changed.
He instinctively glanced back at the black-clad man, only to find that the silent guardian dao protector had slightly raised his head beneath the cloak.
“Is what you say true, fellow daoist?”
Meng Qiuran’s voice grew tense.
Ban Wan’er didn’t answer.
She just smiled faintly.
There was three parts detachment and seven parts “figure it out yourself” in that smile.
She had learned this expression management from the senior over these past few days, and she already had some skill.
Meng Qiuran felt a chill run down his spine from her smile.
An eighth-grade pill, casually refined.
What realm was the person in that cave?
Ye Shuang couldn’t help but mutter under her breath, “Eighth-grade… even the branch master can’t refine eighth-grade…”
Li He elbowed her to shut up.
Meng Qiuran took a deep breath, about to ask something more, when his expression suddenly turned pale.
In the sky, the color of the thunderclouds changed.
The originally dark purple lightning snakes began to take on a deep black hue.
At the center of the vortex, a bolt of lightning slowly condensed, circling and building up within the clouds.
With each rotation, it grew thicker and darker.
A suffocating pressure filled the air.
Meng Qiuran’s face was completely ashen.
“No…”
His voice trembled.
“This… is a cauldron tribulation!”