Chapter 402: Suicidal Arrogance?

A few minutes had passed since Liam left, and Luo was starting to get anxious. His eyes kept drifting toward the spot where his grandmaster had vanished, as if staring hard enough might make him reappear faster. His fingers drummed against his thigh in an unconscious rhythm that betrayed his nervous energy.He looked at Master Han, searching for some indication that the old blacksmith shared his concern. But Master Han sat completely calm, his expression serene despite the pain that must still be radiating through his damaged hand and leg. There was no worry in his weathered face, and no doubt in his eyes.

Luo smiled wryly at the contrast between them and forced himself to take a slow breath, consciously calming his nerves. He knew Liam would return exactly as he’d said. All he needed to do was be calm and wait.

He didn’t have to wait long because Liam materialized in the exact spot he’d vacated minutes before.

Liam’s eyes immediately found Master Han. "I’ll need a few minutes to refine the pill," he said. "Is there somewhere I can work undisturbed?"

Master Han nodded slowly, his expression showing genuine curiosity now. He’d heard of alchemists, of course. Every cultivator had. But he’d never personally witnessed pill refining, and the prospect of watching—or at least knowing it was happening nearby—added a spark of interest to his otherwise calm demeanor.

"Take all the time you need, Master," Master Han said. "And yes, I believe we have a suitable space. Luo?"

The young man was already standing before Master Han finished speaking. He understood his master well enough to know what was being asked without explicit instruction. "This way, Grandmaster. I’ll show you to the storage room."

Liam nodded and followed as Luo led him deeper into the modest house. They walked down a short hallway, past Master Han’s sleeping quarters and what looked like a small study, until they reached a door at the very back.

Luo pushed it open, revealing a rectangular space roughly ten feet by twelve. The room was almost completely empty, with only a few wooden crates pushed against one wall and some old cloth coverings piled in a corner. Dust motes danced in the afternoon light that streamed through a high window, and the air carried the faint scent of old metal and leather.

"Master Han used to store raw materials here," Luo explained, gesturing around the space. "Iron ore, coal, leather for handles, that sort of thing. But he sold most of it weeks ago when..." He trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. When he needed money for medicine.

Luo cleared his throat and continued more briskly. "It’s empty now, so you can use it however you need. I know it’s not a proper alchemy room, but—"

"It’s perfect," Liam interrupted gently, offering a small smile. "I don’t need anything fancy. Just a quiet space is enough."

Relief flashed across Luo’s face. "Is there anything else you need? Water? Additional materials? I can—"

"Just take care of Master Han," Liam said. "Make sure he’s comfortable. That’s all I need from you right now."

Luo nodded, understanding the dismissal for what it was—a need for focus. "Of course, Grandmaster. But if you need anything at all, just call for me. I’ll hear you and come immediately."

"I will," Liam assured him.

Luo offered a slight bow and retreated, pulling the door closed behind him with a soft click that left Liam alone in the quiet storage room.

For a moment, Liam simply stood there, centering himself. Pill refining required absolute focus and precision. A single moment of distraction could ruin an entire batch, wasting precious materials and time. He needed to clear his mind of everything else—the rage he felt toward the assassins, the guilt over Master Han’s condition, the planning for what would come after.

All of that could wait. Right now, there was only the pill.

Liam lowered himself into a lotus position in the center of the room, his spine straightening naturally as his body settled into the familiar meditation posture. Then he reached into the Dimensional Space, retrieving the materials he’d carefully selected and prepared.

They appeared around him in an organized manner. There were herbs that glowed with faint spiritual light, beast cores, vials of essence extracted from rare creatures, and powders ground from materials that didn’t exist anywhere in Grand Xia or even in the Thousand Mist Forest.

Each ingredient represented the peak of what was available, sourced either from the secret realm or purchased from the system store without regard for cost.

Master Han deserved nothing less than perfection.

Finally, Liam withdrew the alchemy cauldron itself.

The cauldron was roughly three feet tall and two feet wide, crafted from a metal that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Its surface was covered in intricate engravings.

This was a Heaven Rank artifact, something that any alchemist in Grand Xia or any lower world would consider a priceless treasure worth killing for.

Liam had purchased it from the system store for 3,000 System Points—approximately $30 million. Compared to how much it would be sold in an auction, this was considered dirt-cheap.

He placed the cauldron carefully on the floor in front of him and began arranging the ingredients in the order he would need them. Speed would be essential during the actual refining process. Having everything organized and within easy reach would allow him to maintain focus without fumbling.

Once everything was positioned to his satisfaction, Liam paused. The ingredients were ready. The cauldron was ready. But there was one more crucial element missing.

Fire.

Traditional alchemists would use their own spiritual energy to create flames, or they would rely on special flames acquired through various special means. But the quality of the flame directly impacted the efficacy of the final pill. A common fire might produce a functional pill. A spiritual flame would create something better. And a truly exceptional flame could elevate a pill to miraculous potency.

Liam had no intention of settling for "functional."

He opened the system store and navigated to the alchemy flames section. Dozens of options appeared. Liam scrolled past them all, his eyes seeking the absolute peak of what was available.

At the very top of the list sat a flame designated as "Essence Refining Flame." The description was brief but promising: A mythic-grade alchemy fire capable of refining even Immortal Rank pills. Burns at temperatures that transcend mortal limitation. Requires absolute control to prevent consumption of user.

The price was 700 System Points, which was roughly $7 million.

Liam didn’t hesitate and he made the purchase.

The moment the transaction completed, something changed in the air around him. A white flame materialized above his open palm, no larger than a candle’s flicker, yet the power radiating from it made the temperature in the room spike immediately. The flame was white—not the pale white of normal fire, but a brilliant, almost blinding white that seemed to contain all colors simultaneously.

Liam felt the flame’s nature as it hovered above his hand. This was the the essence of change and refinement concentrated into something small enough to touch. A Body Integration Realm expert would be consumed trying to control this flame. It would burn through their spiritual defenses like paper and reduce them to ash before they could scream.

But Liam felt only comfortable warmth.

His Primordial Forge Authority and Primordial Alchemy Sovereign talents granted him absolute immunity to all flames and complete control over any fire used in forging or alchemy. This mythic flame, despite its terrifying power, responded to his will as naturally as his own limbs.

The white flame drifted from his palm as he willed it, flowing through the air like liquid light. It circled the cauldron, then spread itself evenly around the base and sides. The engravings on the cauldron’s surface began to glow in response.

Within seconds, the cauldron reached optimal temperature. Liam could feel that this is the perfect balance where materials would break down completely without burning, where essences would merge without conflict, where transformation could occur at the deepest level.

It was time to begin.

The pill Liam intended to create was ambitious beyond reason for someone attempting their first refinement. It wasn’t a simple healing pill or a minor cultivation aid. This was a Transcendent Recovery Pill—a rank 4 pill capable of healing any mortal injury regardless of severity. As long as the patient still drew breath, the pill would bring them back from the very edge of death.

And that wasn’t all. The pill would also completely restore the patient’s spiritual energy, refilling depleted reserves to maximum capacity. There was even a chance—small but real—that the influx of purified energy would trigger a breakthrough, pushing someone to the next cultivation level.

For an alchemist attempting their first pill, choosing such a complex and difficult recipe would be considered suicidal arrogance. The failure rate for experienced alchemists was already high. For a complete novice, failure was all but guaranteed.

But Liam wasn’t a normal novice.

The Primordial Alchemy Sovereign talent didn’t just grant him control over flames and understanding of ingredients. It gave him instinctive mastery. He could feel the correct process like muscle memory he’d never formed, could sense when proportions were right with a certainty that transcended mere knowledge.

Still, there were no guarantees. This would be a test of whether his talent lived up to its grandiose name.

Liam had more than enough materials for multiple attempts if necessary. And if things became too difficult, he could always retreat to one of the alchemy rooms in the Heavenly Scriptures Pagoda, where formations would assist the process and ancient techniques could be consulted. He could even purchase detailed alchemy manuals from the system store if he needed reference materials.

But something told him to do it here. Not in the Pagoda’s perfect environment, not with assistance from formations or guides. Here, in this dusty storage room in Master Han’s modest house, using only his own skill and instinct.

He couldn’t explain why it felt right. Perhaps it was about proving something to himself. Perhaps his subconscious simply recognized that this was the path that would yield the best result.

Whatever the reason, Liam committed to it. If it proved too difficult, he would adjust. But he would start here first.

Without further hesitation, Liam reached for the first ingredient—a Five Thousand-Year Spirit Ginseng that glowed with concentrated vitality. He held it above the cauldron, feeling the flame’s heat, then he dropped it in and began.