Chapter 3: Pressure at the Herb Hall

At night, the oil lamp had dwindled to a tiny, flickering bead.

Lu Fan spread two pills across the table, examining them one by one. There was a faint line on the skin of each—the mark left where the two spheres had been pressed together.

"What do you call this?"

"Double-core," the little old man yawned from the mouth of the furnace. "One set of materials, double the potency. You think you got this for free?"

Lu Fan didn't answer. He pulled out his counting rods and began arranging them on the table.

Materials for one low-grade pill: three wen for the primary herb, two for the supplements, one for charcoal. Six wen total. Double the output for two pills; market price was ten wen each, so twenty for the pair. A net profit of fourteen wen.

"How many batches a day?"

"Depends on how fast your hands are," the old man said. "One batch takes two hours. If you don't sleep all night, you can do five."

"Five batches, ten pills, seventy wen profit."

"Why are you calculating this?"

"To see if I can afford more materials." Lu Fan swept the rods away.

The old man looked at him. "You haven't factored in the furnace."

"What about the furnace?"

"It remembers tastes." The old man rapped his knuckles against the furnace wall. "Right now, you're feeding it low-grade materials, so it knows that taste. But if you ever feed it a mid-grade pill—"

"It'll want two."

"Two, then four. Four, then eight." The old man held up his fingers one by one. "Do the math on how long that'll take."

Lu Fan ran the numbers in his head. Low-grade pills were ten wen; mid-grade were fifty. By the third day, just feeding the furnace would cost two hundred wen. He only made seventy a day.

"Then I won't feed it mid-grade."

"You think you can control that?" The old man chuckled. "Keep refining, and eventually, a batch will just turn out mid-grade. Once it catches the scent, you can't hide it."

Lu Fan remained silent for a moment, then tucked the two pills into his tunic.

"Then I'll make enough capital before it catches the scent."

The next morning, Lu Fan entered the city.

The market was in the west, a single street crammed with nearly twenty apothecaries. He headed first to the largest: the Hundred Herb Hall.

A scrawny manager named Zhou sat behind the counter. His eyes were like weighing hooks, scanning Lu Fan with a sharp glance. "Selling pills?"

"Selling."

Lu Fan placed a pill on the counter. Manager Zhou picked it up, held it to the light, and then pinched a bit of the skin to taste it on the tip of his tongue.

"Uneven heat," Zhou said, setting the pill down. "One side is raw, the other is overdone. Your mind wandered during the refinement, didn't it?"

Lu Fan didn't deny it. His heat control was indeed unstable; the old man had told him his hands were clumsier with fire than they were with a counting frame.

"What's it worth?"

"Three wen."

"Market price is ten."

"Market price is market price." Zhou pushed the pill back. "This one would need to be re-refined. Three wen, and that's me taking the risk."

Lu Fan took the pill back and turned to leave.

"Hey—" Zhou stood up. "Five wen."

Lu Fan didn't look back.

As he stepped over the threshold, he slammed into a wall.

Not a wall. A man in a grey robe, a head taller than Lu Fan, with shoulders wide enough to carry two pigs. The man looked down at him and snorted.

"You've got the nerve to walk away from a pill Manager Zhou actually wanted?"

Lu Fan stepped back half a pace. He smelled medicine on the man, and the scent of spiritual energy. Qi Refinement Level Six.

Manager Zhou called out from inside, "Consultant Sun, don't scare the boy."

Consultant Sun. The resident muscle for the Hundred Herb Hall.

Lu Fan did the math: Level Six. If this guy attacked, he'd probably last half a breath.

"The pill is mine. I decide if I sell it," Lu Fan said.

Sun reached out. "Let me see it."

Lu Fan gripped the pill tight and didn't let go.

Sun's hand froze in mid-air, a muscle twitching in his cheek. He stepped forward, unleashing a wave of spiritual pressure that felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over Lu Fan's head.

Lu Fan's legs went weak.

To someone who hadn't even touched the threshold of Level One, the pressure of a Level Six was like a mountain collapsing. He grit his teeth, his vision blurring.

Then, he did something.

He pulled the pill from his tunic, tossed it into his mouth, and chewed.

Sun froze.

Lu Fan pulled out another one and chewed that, too.

As the two low-grade pills hit his stomach, a surge of heat exploded, racing wildly through his meridians. His legs stopped shaking, his vision cleared, and he actually felt a bit full.

"You—" Sun started.

Lu Fan fished out a third pill, looked him in the eye, and chewed.

The third one.

Sun's pressure was still there, but Lu Fan stood straight. A bit of pill residue leaked from the corner of his mouth; he wiped it away with his sleeve.

"Something else?"

Sun looked at him like he was a lunatic. Pills were for cultivation—you dissolved them slowly to guide the qi into the meridians. Who the hell just chews them? Chewing three low-grade pills at once could cause the medicinal properties to clash; at best, it would damage the meridians, at worst—

But aside from a slight flush in his cheeks, the kid was fine.

"What the hell are you eating?"

"Candy," Lu Fan said.

Manager Zhou leaned halfway out from behind the counter, his eyes darting between Lu Fan and Sun.

Lu Fan emptied his tunic, spreading four pills in his palm. "Hundred Herb Hall doesn't want them; I'll find someone who does. You planning to stop me, Consultant Sun?"

Sun didn't move. He stared at the pills—the potency was slightly off. He had refined pills himself and knew low-grade ones shouldn't have that kind of weight.

"Get lost," Sun said.

Lu Fan pocketed the pills and left.

Across the street was the Jiren Hall. The storefront was half the size, and the manager was a round-faced old man named Liu.

Manager Liu's inspection method was far more thorough than Zhou's. He sliced the pill open with a small knife, studied it for a long time, and then looked up. "You refined this yourself?"

"I did."

"Heat is poor, but the potency is high." Liu placed half a pill on the scale. "Eight wen each."

"Ten."

"Nine. I'll take as many as you have."

"Ten, and I'll give you everything I've got."

Manager Liu laughed. "You're just a kid. How many could you possibly have?"

Lu Fan held up three fingers. "Ten a day."

The smile froze on Liu's face.

"Wait here." He turned and went into the back room, returning a moment later with a list. "This is materials for fifty low-grade pills. Trade me; one pill for five sets of materials."

Lu Fan calculated rapidly: five sets made one batch, which doubled into ten pills. To get fifty sets, he'd give ten pills and get back... a hundred.

"Deal."

"I want them tomorrow."

"You'll have them tomorrow."

Liu stared at him. "What's the collateral?"

Lu Fan placed the four pills from his tunic on the counter. "These."

By evening, Lu Fan was heading back with fifty sets of materials.

The materials weren't heavy, but he walked slowly. He stuck to the crowded areas, but as he reached the mouth of an alley, Consultant Sun was waiting.

Sun wasn't alone. Two lackeys in short tunics stood behind him, each holding an iron ruler.

"Little brother," Sun said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Those pills. Where did they come from?"

"I refined them."

"You aren't even Level One. How could you refine anything?"

Lu Fan said nothing.

Sun took a step forward. "Manager Zhou sent me to ask. If you hand over the formula, the Hundred Herb Hall will give you a consultant position. Thirty mid-grade pills a month."

"Thirty mid-grade pills?" Lu Fan tilted his head. "How many does Consultant Sun get a month?"

Sun's expression darkened.

"Five," Lu Fan said. "My guess. Your spiritual energy is thin; five a month probably isn't even enough to keep you full."

Sun's pupils contracted. It was exactly five.

"You're asking for death."

He raised his hand, and a wave of spiritual energy crashed down. This wasn't a scare tactic; he was attacking. Lu Fan felt as if a millstone had been pressed into his chest, and he began to fall backward.

He reached into his tunic and grabbed a handful of pills.

He hadn't refined the materials Liu gave him yet, but he still had the leftovers from the morning plus a batch he'd done on the way—twelve pills in total.

He grabbed six and stuffed them into his mouth.

As Sun's energy pressed down, Lu Fan chewed.

Second handful. Another six.

Twelve low-grade pills dissolving at once caused the medicinal power to collide violently in his meridians. Lu Fan's whole body turned scorching hot, as if fire were running beneath his skin. He didn't know how to guide the qi or return it to the meridians; he just tanked it.

And he held.

Sun's energy pressed against him like it was pressing against a piece of red-hot iron. The iron didn't break; it just burned.

"You're insane!" Sun stepped back half a pace. "Twelve pills! You're going to blow your meridians—"

"I did the math," Lu Fan said. His voice was raspy and blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were bright. "Low-grade pills have thin potency. One won't dissolve, ten won't dissolve. But twelve at once? That equals one mid-grade."

"You still need a cultivation technique to guide it—"

"I don't have a technique." Lu Fan took a step forward. "I just tank it. If I can hold it, I make money. If I can't, I die. My life is worthless, but is yours worth twelve low-grade pills, Consultant Sun?"

Sun was speechless.

Lu Fan pulled out another handful of pills, but this time he didn't eat them. He threw them onto the ground.

"Free pills!"

There were a few rogue cultivators squatting at the alley entrance waiting for work. The moment they heard "pills," their eyes turned green. Seven or eight people lunged forward, scrambling on the ground to collect them. Sun's two lackeys were knocked off balance by the surge. Sun reached for Lu Fan, but Lu Fan shrank back and dove into the crowd.

"Catch him—" Sun yelled.

But nobody listened. There were pills on the ground; who cared about a mortal?

Lu Fan ran through two streets and ducked into a dead-end alley, leaning against the wall to gasp for air.

He spat out a mouthful of blood and wiped it with his sleeve.

"Twelve pills..." he cursed. "Next time, I'll eat fewer."

"Fewer?" the old man's voice came muffled from his tunic. "You nearly exploded tonight."

"I didn't."

"Your meridians are cracked in three places."

"I can fix them."

"With what?"

Lu Fan stopped talking.

The old man sighed. "You threw those pills away. By tomorrow, the whole city will know there's a mortal who eats pills like snacks."

"Let them know."

"Knowing means dying."

Lu Fan crouched down, clutching the bag of materials tight to his chest.

"I did the math," he said. "Twelve low-grade pills equal one mid-grade. If I eat twelve every day, in three days my meridians can handle fifteen. In five days—"

"In five days you'll be dead."

"In five days I'll be able to refine mid-grade pills," Lu Fan said. "The furnace remembers tastes, right? If I feed it one mid-grade, it wants two. I'll give it two. Two become four, four become eight. Consultant Sun gets five a month; in five days, I'll have eight a day."

The old man went silent.

After a long while, the red light on the furnace flickered.

"Aren't you afraid it'll go out and find food on its own?"

"That's why I have to be faster than it." Lu Fan stood up. "Before it starves me to death, I'll feed it until it's full."

Footsteps echoed from the alley entrance.

Lu Fan pressed himself against the wall. It was Consultant Sun, alone. He was holding a pill—one from the handful Lu Fan had scattered.

Sun stood at the entrance, holding the pill up to the twilight.

"Double-core..." he whispered, then suddenly snapped his head up, looking into the alley.

The alley was empty.

Lu Fan had already scaled the wall.

He sat perched on the wall, looking down at Sun. Sun saw him.

"Who is backing you?" Sun asked. "Anyone who can refine double-core pills is at least a Foundation Establishment alchemist. You're a mortal; where did you get these?"

Lu Fan smiled.

"Guess."

He flipped off the wall and bolted.

Sun stood there, gripping the pill tight. He looked back toward the Hundred Herb Hall, then at the pill in his hand, and suddenly told his lackeys, "Go. Find out where this kid lives."

"What do we do when we find him?"

Sun tucked the pill into his tunic, his lip twitching.

"Don't touch him yet," he said. "Whoever is backing him... we can't afford to offend them."

—But there was no one backing Lu Fan.

He only had a furnace and a grumpy old man hiding inside it.

The next morning, Lu Fan started the furnace.

He planned to finish the fifty sets of materials in two days. But the moment he tossed in the first set, the furnace made a sound—not a swallow, but a burp.

"It's stuffed," the old man said.

"Stuffed?"

"It smelled those pills you threw away last night. The scent of twelve low-grade pills is enough to keep it satisfied for three days." The old man poked his head out, looking grim. "After three days, if you can't feed it a mid-grade—"

"What happens if I can't?"

The old man didn't answer.

The red light in the furnace's fine lines was twice as bright as it had been last night.

"It's awake," the old man said. "You'd better not let anyone see the pills you refine today."

Lu Fan shoved the materials into the furnace and watched the fire rise.

Outside, there was a knock at the door. Soft, three times.

"Lu Fan?" it was a girl's voice. "My father sent me to collect the pills."

Manager Liu's daughter.

Lu Fan looked at the furnace, then at the door.

The voice came again. "Are you home? I can smell the pills."

Lu Fan looked down. The furnace made another sound—this time, a swallow.

"Lu Fan?"

Lu Fan pushed the materials further into the furnace and got up to open the door.

A girl of fifteen or sixteen stood there, holding an empty basket, her nose twitching slightly.

"What pills?" she asked. "They smell amazing."

Lu Fan blocked the doorway. "Not finished yet."

"Then I'll wait." She set the basket on the threshold and sat down. "My dad said if you don't deliver the pills today, he's pledging me to you as payment."

Lu Fan froze. "He actually said that?"

"He did." The girl looked up at him. "So you'd better hurry up."

She paused, then added, "Also, Consultant Sun from the Hundred Herb Hall just visited my house."

Lu Fan's hand stopped on the doorframe. "What for?"

"To ask my dad if you have a Foundation Establishment alchemist backing you."

"What did your dad say?"

The girl held up three fingers, mimicking her father. "My dad said—'Can't afford to offend them.'"

Inside, the red light on the furnace suddenly jumped.

Lu Fan looked back.

The furnace sat quietly in the corner, but the light in those fine lines was glowing like an open eye.