This Boy Is Like Me!

Song Huai flicked his finger, and the massive alchemy furnace gave a resonant hum. The surging furnace fire flared up violently, and the temperature in the entire Alchemy Room rose by several degrees instantly.

Jiang Feng walked toward the herb rack with practiced ease and began selecting ingredients, his movements nimble and composed.

Watching his actions, Song Huai nodded in satisfaction; a person with such keen observation would never suffer losses wherever they went.

Although Jiang Feng had not stepped into this Alchemy Room for a few days, he still knew exactly what needed to be done and when.

Looking at the others, however, they had been working for two days and still did not know what they were there for.

He swept a cold gaze toward the two dull-witted figures in the corner and barked sharply:

"You two idiots, what are you still standing there for?

Follow behind Jiang Feng and watch carefully how he does it. From now on, these chores will be your responsibility!"

Zhang Yong and Zhang Yang shrank their necks at the roar and hurriedly trotted behind Jiang Feng, pretending to observe.

Deep down, however, the two were unconvinced; they did not believe Jiang Feng was any better than them. If they could make mistakes, Jiang Feng surely would too.

They secretly hoped Jiang Feng would slip up so they could see how Song Huai's mouth would tear into him when that time came.

Jiang Feng did not have the habit of being a know-it-all. He paid no mind to the two behind him, efficiently gathered the herbs, and stood quietly back behind Song Huai.

A slight vibration came from the furnace. Song Huai knew the heat was just right. As he raised his hand, the required herbs were naturally passed to his side.

This long-lost sense of familiarity made Song Huai feel at ease.

Yet this time, he hesitated slightly and pulled his hand back.

Seeing this, Zhang Yong and Zhang Yang could barely hide the smiles on their faces.

Whenever they had taken the wrong herbs in the past, Song Huai had reacted with this exact expression.

In their eyes, Jiang Feng was about to receive a scathing, face-smashing lecture.

But the next moment, the smiles on their faces froze completely.

Song Huai stood up from his meditation cushion, tilted his chin toward Jiang Feng, and said in a tone that was flat yet brooked no argument:

"Jiang Feng, you will refine this batch of Blood-Qi Pill today."

Jiang Feng was stunned for a moment and looked at Song Huai in disbelief:

"I will refine it? Teacher, am I really ready?"

Although he was now a first-rank Alchemist and his proficiency with the Blood-Qi Pill had reached the minor success stage, he had never personally refined a batch from start to finish.

Facing this first furnace of pills in his life, an indescribable sense of nervousness surged from the bottom of his heart.

Song Huai waved his hand, his tone free and resolute:

"What are you afraid of? Just go ahead and refine it.

Everyone has a first time, and it doesn't matter if the furnace explodes.

If you don't cross this threshold, you will never become a true Alchemist in your lifetime."

Hearing this, Jiang Feng said no more. He nodded solemnly, walked to the furnace, and sat steadily on the meditation cushion Song Huai usually used for alchemy.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began to trace every step of the Blood-Qi Pill refinement process in his mind over and over again.

Seeing him looking as if he were facing a formidable enemy, Song Huai assumed he was just too nervous. For once, he softened his tone and comforted him gently:

"Jiang Feng, relax.

The Blood-Qi Pill uses common herbs; even if the furnace explodes, it won't cost much.

Back when I first started alchemy, I blew up three furnaces in a row and failed dozens of times before I found the knack.

Don't put too much pressure on yourself."

Zhang Yong and Zhang Yang, standing to the side, felt sour in their hearts, their frustration nearly overflowing. They were all human, so why was Song Huai so patient with Jiang Feng while only beating and scolding them?

The world was simply too unfair.

Jealousy burned them until they were unrecognizable, and they cursed inwardly, hoping Jiang Feng would blow the first batch to smithereens, preferably destroying Song Huai's most prized furnace along with it.

About three minutes later, Jiang Feng opened his eyes again. There was no longer a trace of hesitation in his gaze, replaced by a kind of calm certainty.

He reached out, took the first ingredient, and steadily dropped it into the furnace.

The furnace fire flared up, a wisp of white smoke rose curling from the gap in the lid, and a faint medicinal fragrance began to diffuse throughout the room.

Song Huai stood to the side with his hands behind his back, watching even more intently than when he refined pills himself.

He had originally only intended to let Jiang Feng experience the complete process of alchemy and then point out a few shortcomings. As for whether Jiang Feng could actually produce a pill, he hadn't even considered it.

But as Jiang Feng's technique unfolded step by step—the flowing, water-like movements, the decisive and precise timing of adding materials, and the fire control that was far too skilled for a beginner—Song Huai felt a jolt in his heart.

How could this look like someone refining pills for the first time?

This technique was clearly seasoned to the point of near-perfection.

He almost suspected that Jiang Feng already knew how to refine pills and had merely been acting in front of him.

But looking closer, he sensed something peculiar. Although Jiang Feng's process was smooth, it was interspersed with many completely useless, redundant movements.

He would form a hand seal when drawing blood-qi into the furnace fire, sniff the herbs at his nose before adding them, and close his eyes to count silently for a few breaths between stages.

To other Alchemists, these little habits would seem inexplicable, but as Song Huai watched, an indescribable sense of familiarity arose.

The way he formed the hand seals, the posture of sniffing the herbs, the habit of closing his eyes to count—these were clearly the quirks he had unconsciously developed over years of alchemy.

Song Huai narrowed his eyes, but the curve of his lips could not be suppressed no matter how hard he tried. He felt both annoyed and amused:

"This brat, he observes so carefully that he's even learned all these useless little habits of mine."

But before this thought of reproach could settle, satisfaction and gratification filled his brow, impossible to hide.

"To be able to replicate it to this extent shows how much unseen, grueling effort he has put in behind the scenes.

Indeed, I did not misjudge this boy.

He is just like I was back then—someone willing to risk his life for alchemy. This boy is like me."

Jiang Feng naturally had no way of knowing the emotions in Song Huai's heart.

At this moment, he was completely immersed in the alchemy; everything in the outside world seemed to be blocked out by the leaping furnace fire.

Although he knew every step clearly in his mind and understood what to do when, his body still felt a bit uncoordinated when he actually started.

In just a moment, a fine layer of sweat seeped onto his forehead.

He could not even perceive the passage of time; his entire focus was tethered to the leaping flames within the furnace.

Unknowingly, the entire refinement process had reached the final step—pill condensation.

Pill condensation was the most critical step in the entire process and the one with the lowest margin for error.

Even if mistakes were made in the previous steps, there was still some room for remedy, but at this stage, the slightest deviation would result in failure, the destruction of the herbs, and very likely, a more serious furnace explosion.

Song Huai, standing to the side, had his nerves stretched to the limit, his hands clenched tightly behind his back.

He stared fixedly at the furnace, his own blood-qi beginning to surge within his body, ready to intervene at any moment.