Fire, fire, fire...
An ancient voice echoed from the end of the river of time, spanning tens of thousands of years, reverberating in his ears.
Feng Lin witnessed an unbelievable scene, as if he were immersed in a sea of flames, with fire blazing all around him.
Yet he felt no heat, indicating this was merely an illusory vision.
Feng Lin’s perspective seemed fixed, unable to move, but the scene before him was like a 3D image, shifting as his gaze moved.
He felt as though he was inside a mass of flames, surrounded by walls of bronze and iron, forming a spherical shape.
This seemed like...
A furnace?!
Feng Lin’s heart stirred. Were these the memories of those crystalline lifeforms?
Strangely, the furnace had eight circular openings, where large palm-leaf fans constantly flapped, stirring up howling winds that surged into the furnace. Wind and fire combined, and the flames roared fiercely.
Feng Lin felt his vision rise and fall, as if his body were bobbing in the flames, but this was a memory illusion, not reality. He felt no heat at all, so it wasn’t uncomfortable.
“Heaven and earth as a furnace, all things as copper and mercury!”
A refined voice came through.
Feng Lin followed the sound and, through the furnace’s air holes, saw the scene outside.
White clouds drifted, and immortal mist shrouded the area.
On a white jade platform, an old man with a long beard, dressed in an ancient Chinese robe, sat cross-legged on a purple cushion. He had an immortal air, exuding a ethereal aura. His seated form seemed close yet distant, clear yet hazy, making it impossible to grasp his origin, as if he were unattached and unfindable.
Beneath him sat rows of men in high-bunned robes, their expressions solemn and focused, listening respectfully.
“All things in heaven and earth enter my furnace. Alchemy is the art of refining heaven and earth into medicine. Yet it is still not a truly superior method. Above alchemy lies pill refinement, which can seize the wonders of creation, turning decay into magic...”
The immortal old man’s voice was clear and elegant, like a gentle breeze sweeping down from the mountains, expounding on supreme techniques that carried the essence of the Dao.
Feng Lin’s face grew serious, and he pricked up his ears, listening intently.
“Alchemy is merely a mortal art; pill refinement is the true miraculous art of creation. What is a pill? What is medicine? A pill is medicine with life; medicine is a pill without life. Each pill is a brand-new life, possessing its own wisdom. Only then, when a pill enters the mouth, can it spontaneously adjust its own fate to harmonize with yours, releasing vast medicinal power without overwhelming the body’s limits, instantly producing a transformative effect...”
The old man spoke slowly, revealing profound truths, and the listeners were completely absorbed.
But Feng Lin’s mind churned with countless waves. Pill refinement!
He came from the 21st century, an era where myths had not been lost, so he had naturally heard of this term.
Though countless novelists had imagined it in infinite detail, everyone knew that pill refinement was merely a myth, nonexistent in the real world.
But who would have thought it was all true?
He was actually witnessing the secrets of pill refinement from these crystalline lifeforms.
This paste-like substance was not some ancient divine medicine but pills. After tens of thousands of years, they had gradually lost their original form, becoming this state.
Most of the medicinal power had been lost, but even this remnant effect could transform one’s body, elevating them to an interstellar cultivator.
Feng Lin was utterly convinced of this.
After all, Chinese mythology was full of stories of immortals taking elixirs to achieve eternal life and ascend to heaven in broad daylight.
Only this legendary art of pill refinement could grant such a transformative effect.
Feng Lin’s heart raced. If he could learn pill refinement and obtain this ancient mythical inheritance, combining it with interstellar gene potions, he might forge a path never before taken, with limitless potential and a bright future.
He continued to watch these memories intently.
As the immortal old man said, pill refinement was the miraculous art of creation. Each pill refined was a life, possessing the characteristics of life.
And every life, upon first being born, had an indelible impression of what it first saw.
When the pill was first refined and gained life, its instinct recorded these memories.
This was Feng Lin’s good fortune, allowing him to learn this masterful art of pill refinement.
Feng Lin watched with extreme seriousness, even more so than those disciples.
After all, those ancients had many opportunities to learn, while Feng Lin, a later comer, had only this one chance.
Spiritual genes enhanced human mental strength, granting extraordinary memory and the ability to never forget what was seen.
Feng Lin gradually understood the origins of this pill refinement art.
It turned out that in ancient times, there were many schools of pill refinement. This group all came from the same sect, the Furnace Immortal Sect. The core mantra of the sect’s techniques was only four lines.
Heaven and earth as the furnace, creation as the work. Yin and yang as the charcoal, all things as the copper!
Don’t underestimate these seemingly simple four lines; they contained supreme and profound mysteries, with the boldness to encompass all things in heaven and earth.
From the artistic conception of these lines alone, one could see.
Heaven and earth as the furnace, the universe’s creation as the work of refining, yin and yang as the charcoal fire, all things as the copper and mercury raw materials.
What immense momentum!
At that time, the Furnace Sect was the most renowned immortal sect for pill refinement, famous in the cultivation world for establishing its headquarters on the planet Yinghuo.
Feng Lin’s heart skipped a beat. Wasn’t Yinghuo the ancient Chinese name for Mars?
Mars, anciently called Yinghuo. Because Mars was the most striking fire-red star in the ancient sky, its brightness fluctuating, flickering like fire, and its position constantly changing, elusive and confusing, hence the name “Yinghuo.”
In ancient Chinese astrology, the appearance of Yinghuo signified great chaos in the world, earning it the nickname of an ominous star.
Feng Lin hadn’t expected that in that ancient era, a sect could be stationed on Mars.
Didn’t this mean that in the ancient cultivation world, humans had already broken free from Earth’s constraints and roamed the stars?
Feng Lin felt he had glimpsed an ancient truth, but it was still shrouded in layers of mist, unclear and unfathomable.
Were the myths of ancient gods flying to the heavens actually about traveling the universe?
Had humanity once developed a different cultivation civilization? Had they left the galaxy?
Why had it declined?
...
Feng Lin let his thoughts roam, imagining that mysterious ancient mythical era, no longer confined to rigid impressions, feeling that anything was possible.
But for now, overthinking was useless. He set aside his confusion and continued to memorize this pill refinement inheritance.
At that moment, the immortal old man in the scene continued his lecture, “Our Furnace Immortal Sect has a total of 483 pill refinement techniques, including 365 lower-grade methods, corresponding to the 365 degrees of the celestial cycle; 72 middle-grade methods, matching the number of earthly demons; and 36 upper-grade methods, corresponding to the celestial stars. Above the upper grade are nine saint-grade pill refinement techniques, corresponding to the nine palaces. And above the saint grade is our sect’s sole immortal-grade technique, the foundation of our sect, named... the Furnace Pill Refinement Art! It can use heaven and earth as a furnace, refining all things in the universe, leaving nothing unrefined, extracting the essence of all things to create immortal pills that allow one to ascend to heaven and become an immortal on the spot!...”
The old man spoke in great detail, analyzing the origins and principles of the Furnace Pill Refinement Sect from deep to shallow, and Feng Lin listened with rapt attention.
But the disciples beneath the old man grew puzzled, murmuring among themselves.
“How strange! Why is the master explaining our sect’s basics so thoroughly today? We knew these before we even joined!”
“Yes! The master’s cultivation is profound; he couldn’t have forgotten this.”
“Rehashing old topics—this shouldn’t be happening!”
...
Seeing the immortal old man go on and on without stopping, someone finally couldn’t hold back.
A handsome man stepped forward, looking confused, and asked respectfully, “Master, these sect basics and pill refinement methods have already been taught. Why are you teaching them again today?”
The immortal old man smiled faintly, his expression inscrutable, “Today is different from other days. Today’s listeners total eighty-one, the number of the nine nines returning to one. Though you have heard it, there is always that ‘one’ who hasn’t! So I teach it again.”
At these words, the disciples began to discuss, scanning the surroundings with doubt and unease.
The handsome man’s confusion didn’t fade but deepened, and he asked again, “Master, there are only eighty people here. Where does this extra ‘one’ come from?”
He emphasized the word “one.”
The immortal old man formed a hand seal, smiled slightly, as if he had seen through everything, “That ‘one’ is not among you, but in an indescribable place, of unknown origin, and unknown destination!”
The disciples speculated endlessly, unsure of the master’s meaning.
Only the handsome man’s confusion eased slightly, as if he had some understanding.
But Feng Lin’s mind felt like thunder had struck, his thoughts blank.
The old man smiled without speaking, his eyes seeming to cross the long river of time, gazing at him leisurely.