Lai Li’an’s footsteps halted. Shao Jiao had not left after all. He thought for a moment and then walked unhurriedly toward that corner.
After approaching, he did not open his mouth to question whether the successive furnace explosions had anything to do with Shao Jiao. Lai Li’an bent slightly, his gaze falling on that rust-mottled copper furnace, as if attracted by something.
“The patterns on this furnace…”
Lai Li’an said slowly.
“They’re from an ancient copper furnace, handcrafted, aren’t they?”
Shao Jiao’s shoulder moved. He looked up at him, a hint of surprise in his eyes.
Lai Li’an did not look at him. He just crouched down and pointed at the copper furnace.
“I can see a bit of True Fire Sect’s legacy. These patterns are not ordinary fire patterns; they are the array imprint of ‘Fire Heart Connection.’ With copper as the medium and fire as the heart, it allows alchemists with a Fire Spirit Root to sink their mind and spirit directly into the furnace fire, perceiving all changes inside. Unfortunately, it’s heavily worn; I’m afraid it’s no longer usable.”
These words were not made up on the spot. The Eternal Alchemy Divine Scripture contains a special account of the origins and ultimate techniques of ancient alchemy sects; this was the record of the True Fire Sect.
The True Fire Sect had perished three thousand years ago, and their method of forging copper furnaces had been lost with them. Now, in the entire Cangwu Realm, the number of people who know the name “Fire Heart Connection” could probably be counted on one hand.
During the day on the steps, he had witnessed Shao Jiao stand up for a rogue cultivator he didn’t know, publicly exposing a fraudster’s fake elixir pill recipe. That kind of thing could not be faked.
A person who can speak out for a stranger is definitely not an irredeemable villain; their love for the Alchemy Path must be genuine.
Sure enough, Shao Jiao was silent for a moment, then revealed a self-deprecating smile.
“Senior has good eyes.”
He reached out and touched the rim of the copper furnace.
“This is indeed a relic of the True Fire Sect, the only thing my master left me. Before he passed away, he said that the ‘Fire Heart Connection’ on this furnace is the best fire control method in the world. Unfortunately…”
He paused, his voice lowering.
“The True Fire Sect’s inheritance has been broken for three thousand years. The mental method of Fire Heart Connection was lost long ago. This furnace is now just an old item. Other than being more fire-resistant than other furnaces, it’s useless.”
Lai Li’an smiled faintly. He did not continue this topic. Instead, he lifted his robe and sat down directly on the ground next to Shao Jiao.
This action stunned Shao Jiao. The person before him was someone from the Judges’ Seat, a Dao Alchemy Grandmaster, and yet at this moment, he was casually sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, an unknown rogue cultivator.
Lai Li’an did not explain. He just reached out and lightly tapped the furnace wall.
“Since you say this furnace is useless, then this Venerable Self will chat with you about something else. The founder of the True Fire Sect was called Huo Yuanzi. Do you know what he was best at back then?”
“Fire Quenching Art.”
Shao Jiao blurted out. After saying it, he himself was stunned, not expecting to answer so naturally.
Lai Li’an nodded.
“Huo Yuanzi used fire to refine herbs, claiming ‘everything through fire leaves no dregs.’ But his Fire Quenching Art actually had a flaw. Do you know it?”
Shao Jiao didn’t speak, but his body unconsciously leaned forward a bit.
“He loved fire too much.”
Lai Li’an spoke slowly.
“When Huo Yuanzi was young, he was refining a seventh-grade elixir pill. The furnace fire went out of control and burned for six full hours. Others advised him to extinguish the fire and start over, but he refused. He stubbornly snatched that pill back from the raging flames. Later, that pill entered an auction. Some said its fire qi was too strong, its medicinal properties too harsh and lacking gentleness, not considered a top grade. But Huo Yuanzi himself said that the pill’s quality might not be good, but it was his proudest work, because it was the pill he himself wanted.”
He turned his head to look at Shao Jiao.
“When you were refining elixir pills during the day, the fire control was very steady, but there was something on your mind.”
Shao Jiao felt as if he had been lightly pricked by something. His fingers unconsciously tightened on the furnace rim.
Lai Li’an did not press him about what was on his mind. He just shifted his gaze away from Shao Jiao’s face.
“This Venerable Self has seen many alchemists. Many have steady hands, but those with both steady hands and steady hearts are rare. Your hands are steady, but your heart is not in the furnace.”
Shao Jiao lowered his head and was silent for a long time. Lai Li’an did not urge him, just sat quietly beside him, like a truly patient senior.
After a long while, Shao Jiao finally spoke.
“Senior… I don’t know.”
He lifted his head and looked at Lai Li’an.
Lai Li’an stood up and reached out to gently pat Shao Jiao’s shoulder twice.
“What alchemists fear most is not the furnace exploding, but not knowing why they practice alchemy.”
“When you helped that rogue cultivator expose the fraudster during the day, you were more of an alchemist than you are now.”
Having said that, he turned and walked out of the plaza, his pace neither fast nor slow, his robes gently fluttering in the wind.
Shao Jiao sat alone on the ground, watching that figure grow distant. The embers in the furnace flashed again and again, casting flickering light and shadow on his face.
His lips moved, and he said something, but his voice was too soft, scattered by the breeze.
But if someone else had been present, they could probably read the meaning of those words from the bitter curve of his lips.
I’m sorry.
***
After leaving Shao Jiao, Lai Li’an paced outside the plaza for a while.
He tucked his hands into his sleeves and looked at the long, winding staircase.
‘Why did the convention have to be held so high? He was a Golden Core True Person, yet he had to walk down the mountain on foot. No one would believe it if he told them.’
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a familiar figure walking down from the direction of the Judges’ Seat.
A moon-white brocade robe with blue trim, light steps, humming an unknown tune—who else could it be but Meng Qiuran?
Lai Li’an’s eyes lit up. His lodging had arrived.
He straightened his collar, put on an indifferent expression, and walked toward Meng Qiuran.
His pace was neither fast nor slow, just enough for an “accidental encounter” on the path where the other had to descend.
“Senior Lai!”
Meng Qiuran spotted him first, his eyes brightening as he quickly approached.
“You haven’t left yet? I didn’t see you earlier, junior thought you had already returned to your lodging.”
Lai Li’an gave a slight nod.
“This Venerable Self was just taking a casual walk outside the venue, getting some fresh air.”
Meng Qiuran nodded and was about to say something when he suddenly realized Lai Li’an was standing there with no intention of leaving. His mind worked quickly, and then he seemed to remember something.
He suddenly clapped his hands, and respectfully made a gesture of invitation.
“Senior, if you don’t mind, junior will arrange lodging for you. Elder Pei has a private residence in the market district, right on the mountainside, not far from the venue. These days he’s been busy at the Judges’ Seat, so the house is empty anyway. Junior will just inform Elder Pei.”
Lai Li’an glanced at him and gave a slight nod.
“Very well.”
Meng Qiuran immediately led the way, and as he walked, he took out a Message Talisman from his sleeve. He whispered a few words, and the talisman transformed into a streak of light and flew away.