Fire Pattern

That night, the small mountain on the west side of the Luo Shen Residence stayed awake until dawn.

The pill room's bronze doors were tightly shut. From time to time, a dark blue light shone through the crack between them, and the occasional muffled explosion rang out. After each blast, the Luo God Clan disciples keeping watch outside exchanged knowing looks.

"Another explosion."

"How many times has that been? Five? Six?"

"I think he won't be satisfied until he blows the pill room to pieces."

At first, quite a few people had gathered outside to watch, but as the explosions rang out again and again in the second half of the night, they gradually lost interest and drifted away in twos and threes. In the end, only two people remained outside the pill room. One was Luo Lan, sitting on the steps with his knees hugged to his chest. His eyelids kept drooping with sleep, but he refused to leave. The other was Luo Qing.

The Luo God Clan's chief pill master stood at the entrance with his hands behind his back, silently gazing inside through the light shining from the crack in the doors. The indifference and disregard he had shown during the day were gone from his face, replaced by a deepening gravity. For he had noticed that each explosion was quieter than the last, the firelight shining through the crack grew steadier each time, and the medicinal fragrance wafting out grew purer with every attempt.

During the day, at Xiao Yan's request, he had explained the secrets of the seventeenth form of the "Thirty-Six Forms of Pill Pattern," the "Yin-Separating Mark." It was a method of using Spirit Marks to create barriers inside a Pill Cauldron, refining medicinal liquids with conflicting properties separately before combining them into one. It was among the most basic techniques of the pill dao, but also exceptionally difficult to master. Most young pill masters in the clan had to practice for a year or two before they could use it proficiently.

Yet that young man had listened just once before shutting the doors and starting to try, batch after batch.

The first batch exploded. The second batch exploded. The third explosion was a little quieter. The fourth batch...

Luo Qing stood outside, listening to the changes in the explosions. The expression on his usually stern face gradually shifted, and the shock in his heart grew with each blast. He could hear that after every explosion, the young man made changes-to the heat, the order of the ingredients, and the Spirit Marks-and every change was made at the most critical point. This was no blind groping; he was clearly working things out, like someone who had long stood at the pinnacle of the pill dao and was merely growing familiar with a set of unfamiliar tools at astonishing speed.

"This man..." Luo Qing murmured to himself. "Did he really come from a Lower Plane?"

Inside the pill room, Xiao Yan sat cross-legged before the Pill Cauldron, covered from head to toe in black soot. His robes had been burned full of holes, and his already somewhat haggard face was so blackened that its original color could no longer be seen. Yet his eyes were frighteningly bright.

Six batches. He had blown up six batches, but none of those explosions had been in vain.

From the first batch, he learned that medicinal ingredients in the Great Thousand World were more than ten times as potent as those on the Dou Qi Continent. Combining them according to his past experience was bound to end badly. From the second, he learned that a single Yin-Separating Mark was not enough; at least three were needed between the Scarlet Yang Vine and the Ice Heart Grass. From the third, he learned that although the Luo River Spirit Flame was gentle, under the guidance of Spirit Marks, each of its tongues of flame could be precisely directed to every corner of the cauldron. It was far more precise than refining pills with Heavenly Flames as he had done before, but also far more troublesome.

The fourth, fifth, and sixth batches... One batch at a time, he kneaded the pill dao of this world together with the decades of medicine-refining techniques he had learned on the Dou Qi Continent.

Locking medicine with Spirit Marks was this world's path. Locking medicine with fire was his path. So why couldn't he walk both at once?

Xiao Yan drew a deep breath, raised his hands, and pressed them against the Pill Cauldron, now blackened with soot. The seventh batch began. The rootlets of a Scarlet Yang Vine, the ninth leaf of a Nine-Leaf Ice Heart Grass, Blood Ganoderma, Black Tortoise Shell, Purple Flame Fruit... One medicinal ingredient after another flew into the cauldron, slowly melting beneath the Luo River Spirit Flame.

This time, Xiao Yan did not rush to combine them. His Soul Power became countless needles as fine as gossamer, swiftly inscribing one Yin-Separating Mark after another inside the Pill Cauldron. Three, five, seven... The Spirit Marks crisscrossed within the cauldron, separating the medicinal liquids with their differing properties into tiny compartments, where each was refined without interfering with the others.

Then, a wisp of pale golden Spiritual Energy slowly emerged from his palm. It was his own fire, the fire of the Flame Mantra. At a thought, the pale golden flame became an exceedingly fine thread of fire. It passed through the layers of Yin-Separating Marks and skimmed across the surface of the medicinal liquid in each compartment, tempering each liquid until it grew ever more concentrated and pure. The Luo River Spirit Flame was outside, refining the medicine; the Flame Mantra's fire was inside, locking in its properties. Spirit Marks were the bones, and fire was the blood.

The instant the medicinal liquid in the last compartment had been tempered to its utmost, Xiao Yan brought his hands sharply together. All seven Yin-Separating Marks silently vanished at once.

The moment the barriers disappeared, the medicinal liquids in their separate compartments surged together. The supremely yang Scarlet Yang Vine and the supremely yin Ice Heart Grass still instinctively sought to clash upon contact. But this time, their medicinal properties had long since been tempered by the pale golden thread of fire into a docile, concentrated state. The clash had barely begun when the thread of fire pressed it down with just the right amount of force.

Yin and yang complemented each other. The medicinal liquid slowly spun and condensed within the cauldron, shrinking from the size of a fist to that of an egg, then to that of a longan...

Hum.

The Pill Cauldron trembled gently, and a faint pill fragrance slowly drifted from its opening. The scent was not strong, but clear and lingering. A single whiff refreshed the mind, as though even the blood within one's body had grown a little clearer in its presence.

Outside the pill room, Luo Qing's body jolted. On the steps, Luo Lan, who had already begun to doze, was also jolted awake by the scent. He rubbed his eyes and looked around blankly.

At that moment, the bronze doors slowly opened. Xiao Yan stood inside, covered in black soot and looking as bedraggled as a beggar who had just crawled out of a fire. Yet in his palm lay a pill streaked throughout with red and blue.

An extremely faint Pill Pattern circled its surface. Luo Qing had never seen its like: it was neither one of the forms in the "Thirty-Six Forms of Pill Pattern" nor any other Pill Pattern he knew. It looked more like a wisp of solidified flame slowly flowing over the pill's surface.

Luo Qing stared at the pill, standing there in a daze for a long while. His lips moved, but in the end, he managed only one sentence. "This Pill Pattern... is fire?"

Xiao Yan looked at him and bared a row of white teeth against his soot-blackened face, grinning. "It's fire, and it's a pattern."

Luo Qing was momentarily taken aback. He was about to ask another question when Xiao Yan swayed, leaned directly against the doorframe, and gave a long yawn.

At daybreak, the red-and-blue pill was brought to Elder Luo Yan's bedside. The room was packed with people: several elders of the Luo God Clan, the clan's pill masters, and disciples who had hurried over after hearing the news. All of them craned their necks and held their breath as they watched the bed. Even Luo Tianshen stood in the corner with his hands behind his back, his expression calm and betraying neither pleasure nor displeasure.

Xiao Yan had not washed his face or changed his clothes. He had not even taken a sip of water. With his face still covered in black soot, he fed the pill to Luo Yan. It melted as soon as it entered his mouth, but at first, nothing happened. Doubt gradually appeared on the faces of those in the room, and some whispered among themselves.

Just then, the dark red lines covering Luo Yan's arms, writhing like living things, suddenly stiffened. A red-and-blue light slowly glowed from his chest, then spread swiftly along his meridians toward his limbs and throughout his body. Wherever it passed, the dark red lines began to fade and melt away inch by inch, like ice and snow beneath the scorching sun.

Hiss, hiss...

Wisps of dark red blood Qi were forced from Luo Yan's pores, twisting and struggling in the air. Then the red-and-blue light enveloped them, and they turned into a puff of greenish smoke that dispersed without a trace.

The room fell silent. Everyone stared wide-eyed at the old man on the bed, watching his bluish-black complexion gradually regain its color and his faint breathing grow steady and strong. No one knew how much time passed before Luo Yan's eyes, shut for three months, slowly opened.

He gazed blankly at the ceiling and blinked. "I... what...?" he asked hoarsely.

"Elder Yan is awake!"

"He's awake! He's really awake!" The room erupted. Luo Qing stood beside the bed and reached out to check Luo Yan's pulse. His fingers were actually trembling a little. After a long while, he withdrew his hand and turned to look at the soot-covered young man. He was silent for a moment, then cupped his hands and bowed deeply to him. Everyone in the room saw that bow. The Luo God Clan's chief pill master had paid his respects to a young man from a Lower Plane.

Xiao Yan hurriedly stepped aside rather than accept the bow. He smiled and said, "Hehe, master, you taught that Yin-Separating Mark well."

In the corner, Luo Tianshen watched the scene. At last, a trace of a faint smile appeared on his face, which had remained as undisturbed as an ancient well. He said nothing more, merely nodding slightly before turning and walking out of the room.