Chapter Thirty-Two: Madness

Madness

The term "alchemy" is simple and understated, offering little to distinguish its deeper extensions. Yet some alchemists, or cultivators who also practice the art, devote their entire lives to the act of "refining" within that word, paying a tremendous price—time. This method is not born of foolishness, but of obsession, a fixation that is wondrous in its intricacy. Beyond the discipline of constant practice, one must thoroughly study the age, properties, environment, and medicinal qualities of every herb. These are merely the singular aspects of the ingredients; when combined with others, the complexity multiplies. Thus, countless alchemists over the ages have tested their concoctions upon themselves, fused their bodies with medicine, and ultimately pursued the path of merging medicine with the Dao, their legacy stretching into eternity.

But how many truly grasp the meaning of the word "elixir"? This "elixir" can also signify the dantian, the center, or the supreme path—effortless and without limitation.

If one enters through such a threshold, perhaps one regards the medicine as oneself, as if exchanging perspectives, blending together so thoroughly that each contains the other. Bai Qi pondered this as he held the herbs in his hands, remaining motionless for a long time, like a monk in deep meditation.

At this moment, Su Wen grew impatient and spoke with displeasure, "You’re so slow—are you alchemizing or napping? It’s been ages and not a hint of progress." Seeing Bai Qi glance at her with a somewhat hesitant look, she continued, "I’ve seen some remarkable alchemists before, their techniques so refined and delicate that their understanding of the way of alchemy is simply unbelievable. High-grade elixirs, so alluring that I couldn’t help but admire them. Their methods are effortless, needing no external tools—not cauldrons, nor divine flames from outside—just their own bodies refining the elixir and merging it with the breath of Heaven. Such medicine could be called ‘Heavenly Elixir.’ But unless one possesses immense strength themselves, under the harsh thunder tribulation, one’s body and Dao might be utterly destroyed."

"To not rely on external tools—this requires not only a profound insight into alchemy, but also an unassailable cultivation," Bai Qi’s eyes flashed with a unique realization, as if discovering a shortcut among countless medicines, embarking upon another path of the elixir Dao.

He recalled that when he was with Grandfather Kun, the method of merging herbs was unconventional—crude, perhaps, but thanks to years of practiced technique and familiarity with the fusion of medicinal properties, he could ultimately blend the ingredients, forming a smooth, rounded elixir.

With these thoughts, Bai Qi felt a newfound clarity. His hands began to move slowly, gathering his unique white-attribute spiritual power, enveloping the main ingredient—the Ghostly Flower. His spiritual power, gentle and warm like a pair of soft hands, caressed the herb from root to petal, stripping away the stray fibers like unraveling silk. The excess branches on the stem were sliced away by a “gentle blade.” When he reached the flower’s neck, his delicate touch felt as if he were stroking its throat. Bai Qi carefully controlled his spiritual power, slowly separating the blossom from the neck, both hands cradling the two parts.

He then suspended the flower bud in his palm with spiritual energy, while the stem, infused with power, was placed temporarily on the table.

Su Wen’s eyes brightened at Bai Qi’s meticulous technique, sensing something extraordinary. She said nothing more, simply watching him quietly to see what would unfold.