Chapter Eight: Essential Techniques for Cultivation

Ying Chen finally understood why Elder Gu no longer charged tuition for his lectures. The methods he taught for refining elixirs and ingesting medicines were indeed essential arts for cultivation, and certainly not empty nonsense—yet, whenever he touched upon a crucial point, he could not avoid referring to “The Essence of Materia Medica.”

Different prescriptions and recipes required various specifications for the age and properties of the medicinal herbs; it was not simply a matter of seeking older or more potent ingredients to produce superior pills. But then, how to discern the properties of each medicine? For example, one could refer to the method in the second section of “The Essence of Materia Medica”...

To prepare this particular medicinal powder, one had to first process the herbs and then grind them into powder. And how should one process them? By applying the water and fire method found in the fourth section of “The Essence of Materia Medica”...

After sitting through the entire lesson, one might feel they had finally grasped some understanding of the arts of pill refining and medicinal ingestion, but upon closer thought, the details remained as elusive as ever.

Ying Chen could only smile wryly and listen attentively. There was an unspoken rule in the lecture hall: once an elder began teaching, no one was to leave without permission, for leaving midway would be showing disrespect. According to the principles of the Primal Dao, such rigid customs should not exist, but in truth, disciples feared offending the elders—if they were marked out and treated with bias, the average disciple would find it hard to endure. Over time, this custom became an accepted rule.

Since leaving was not an option, one might as well listen carefully; perhaps the day would come when these teachings would prove useful. That was Ying Chen’s thought, though others clearly did not share his resolve. Even before half the lecture was over, some had already closed their eyes to rest.

Elder Gu paid them no mind and finished his lecture as he intended. At the end, he said, “Today’s lesson ends here. If any disciple is interested in the arts of elixir refinement, you should study the formulas discussed today with devotion. If you achieve results, you may come to my pill chamber and try out as an apprentice.”

At these words, the listeners erupted in commotion! The person next to Ying Chen repeatedly smacked his own forehead, his face awash with regret, apparently cursing himself for not paying attention.

Ying Chen’s eyes, however, lit up with excitement.

Elder Gu’s words rang true: pill refining was indeed a vital art for any cultivator. Whether one aspired to the path of the immortals or walked the demonic way, possessing skill in alchemy not only brought great wealth but also immeasurable benefits to one’s own cultivation.

Yet to learn pill refining was no simple matter. Why had so many ignored Elder Gu’s teachings? Because to master alchemy through self-study was a fantasy; what good were his words alone? One could go to the library, find “The Essence of Materia Medica,” compare it formula by formula, read it thoroughly, then spend endless effort experimenting with the prescriptions, still unsure if any progress would be made...

But if one could become an apprentice in Elder Gu’s pill chamber, everything would be different.

Ying Chen quickly reviewed Elder Gu’s lecture in his mind, ensuring he had missed nothing, and fell into deep thought: “The Essence of Materia Medica...” How many contribution points would be needed to read that volume? Studying the formulas would also require money.

He had already spent nearly all his savings on refining the Sacred Essence, leaving a deficit to fill. Ying Chen recalled the small black arrow still in his storage pouch.

Cultivators spoke of magic tools, but even the most basic required the power of a Foundation Establishment cultivator to forge; few at the Qi Refining stage could afford them. Among Qi Refining cultivators, the most common tools were “talismanic implements.”

Ordinary talismanic implements, like Ying Chen’s talisman sword, bore only a few engraved runic patterns—sharp enough to cut iron as mud, but nothing extraordinary. Superior talismanic implements required many inscriptions, even full talismans. The material had to be exceptional, and the engraving of runes and talismans was a skilled craft, demanding precision and durability to withstand spiritual power...

The effort to make a fine talismanic implement was little less than forging an actual magic tool—hence their rarity.

The small black arrow was just such an implement, borrowed specifically for the hunt of the fox demon. The lender had warned: with each use, a spirit stone must be paid as interest, since the runes and talismans were worn down each time, though the wear was minor and dozens or even hundreds of uses would not damage it. But once borrowed, the rules were strict.

Ying Chen considered: the implement had to be returned, the spirit stones replaced, and some talisman money given as a favor. His purse was now nearly empty, and he could not neglect his cultivation. If he wished to study the formulas, he would have to wait until after the minor examination to earn more money...

The more he thought, the more his head ached, and in the end, he could only take things one step at a time. Rising, he found Elder Gu had already vanished, and most of the audience had long since dispersed.

Yet Zhuo Qing was still there, as if waiting to greet him. When she saw him rise, she said, “Senior brother, I’ll be going on ahead.”

Ying Chen was about to nod when Zhuo Qing suddenly turned back, her voice light as a feather: “Oh, by the way—my quarters are on the west side of the Ink Bamboo Grounds. If you have time, do come visit.”

He suspected her “visit” involved reclining on the couch and had no intention of going, though outwardly he nodded graciously. “Of course.”

Zhuo Qing shot him a flirtatious glance, then drifted away with elegant poise.

Ying Chen did not look after her, thinking to himself, “I’ve been caught up in cultivation matters, but now that I have a moment, I should return the talismanic implement... If I delay any longer, it’ll be awkward.”

Decision made, he did not linger. Leaving the lecture hall atop the cliff, he headed east along the mountain path.

Soon he saw a smooth cliff face with two or three dozen cave dwellings built into it, each with its own platform and pavilion, far grander than his own courtyard.

But Ying Chen knew these were just ordinary lodgings, no different from those at the Ink Bamboo Grounds.

He tapped his toes lightly, vaulting across the cliff, and landed on one of the platforms, where he knocked on the tightly closed stone door.

Before long, he heard a grinding sound as the stone door opened, and a short Daoist priest stepped out.

Ying Chen made a salute and was about to speak, when the priest’s eyes lit up at the sight of him.

“Junior Brother Ying, you’ve come!”

This Daoist, named Chen Chang, was short but had regular features and an easy smile. He beamed, “Perfect timing! I was just heading to a ritual gathering—why don’t you join me?”

Ying Chen was taken aback. Whether in his “memories” or from personal experience, Chen Chang had never behaved this way.

He suspected Chen Chang had designs of his own, so his expression cooled as he replied, “Senior Brother Chen, I came to return the talismanic implement.”