Sitting cross-legged on his futon, Wang Hao first calmed his mind and gathered his Qi. Then he formed a hand seal and ignited the spirit coal. The crimson flame sprang to life, about the thickness of a finger—clearly too small for alchemy.
He added five more pieces of spirit coal, until six red flames merged beneath his alchemy furnace.
As mentioned before, alchemy isn't complicated in theory, but few ever refine a pill successfully. It demands mastery of multiple skills: ingredient preparation, precise temperature control, and properly timed extraction.
Of all these factors, temperature control weeds out most cultivators—unless they possess a fire-attribute spiritual root.
Moreover, learning alchemy is costly. The spirit-stone investment is so high that only resourceful cultivators can pursue it.
In the entire Wang family—owners of one-fifth of Qingniu's income—there are only four alchemists!
Pushing aside stray thoughts, Wang Hao pressed on.
His first step was simple: wash the spirit rice and husk each grain.
Next, he placed the processed rice into the furnace and gently extracted its essence with a mild flame. This stage was smooth—until the furnace contents began to burn.
"First attempt, still getting the feel for it… it's normal," Wang Hao murmured, trying to comfort himself.
He removed one chunk of coal, lowered the flame, and tried again.
It burned again.
"Hmmm… this is harder than it looks!"
He reduced the fire further and repeated the process. Finally, he detected no scorched smell.
With a hopeful expression, he formed another seal: the furnace lid flew up and snapped shut on its own.
Even with the lid on, a cultivator's divine sense can peer inside. Wang Hao watched as the rice slowly melted under the heat, turning into a viscous white liquid.
Over time, the water evaporated, leaving only the pure essence. A gentle fragrance began to drift from the furnace.
"Stage one complete! Now, as Old Wang wrote, we crank up the heat and condense the essence into pills!"
He formed a new seal and the flames roared twice as high, engulfing the furnace.
The scent intensified. Wang Hao sensed victory was near—until the furnace trembled, a muffled pop echoed, and yellow smoke billowed out.
"Exploded?" Wang Hao stared, speechless.
He approached, opened the furnace, and found a sticky, dark-brown mess caked everywhere, reeking of char.
He sighed.
"Is it really this difficult…?"
He closed his eyes and replayed each step. He had followed Old Wang's instructions, but they were too vague—"the flame must be fierce," "wait for the right moment"…
"If only they'd given technical details—exact temperatures, precise timings—I could make a pill in minutes!"
But cultivators don't think like scientists. Past experience is reference only—success depends on personal insight.
Wang Hao didn't consider himself a genius—so he practiced.
He washed the rice again, adjusted the fire, and tried the extraction once more.
This time it didn't explode, but… the flame was still too strong. When he opened the furnace, he found a useless dark block.
On his fifth attempt the flame was too weak; no pills formed—only three yellowish, paste-like clumps.
On the sixth try, pills finally appeared—but burned and foul-smelling, unfit for consumption.
Wang Hao wiped sweat from his brow and sighed:
"That's enough for today. I haven't succeeded, but… I'm close!"
His mana was drained, and he couldn't continue.
Still, he gained much that afternoon:
He was nearly an expert at the first extraction stage.
Since the Bigu Pill required only one ingredient, he could skip the essence-fusion stage.
After four failed pill-formation attempts, he had a solid sense of the ideal temperature.
With three or four more tries, success felt certain.
Wang Hao was not discouraged.
"Failed? At least we've got data!" he joked, as if running a starship simulation.
He dragged his exhausted body, ate something simple, and fell into a deep sleep.
Since arriving in this world, he'd slept at most three hours a day. This time, he slept through the night.
In his dream, he founded his alchemical base and rose to fame, with cultivators queuing outside his door for pills…
The next day, Wang Hao didn't rush back to the furnace. There were three reasons:
He needed to fully process and note his learnings.
Continued cultivation remained his top priority.
He'd consumed too much spirit rice—he had to save some for actual refinement. The next harvest would arrive in ten days.
Thus, his cultivation life continued, monotonous but steady.
Ten days later, Wang Hao completed his meditation and checked the farm.
The Golden Silk Spirit Damask Tree seedlings had all sprouted—three in total—and the spirit rice was ripe.
He harvested everything and prepared for his second official alchemy attempt.
During those ten days, Wang Hao had replayed his failures, rewatched the videos stored in his mental computer, and re-studied Old Wang's notes. He had learned a great deal.
This time, he was confident he could refine the Bigu Pill.
Calmly, he sat before the furnace, formed the activation seal, ignited the spirit coal, and began the process anew.
He washed and husked the spirit rice, removed impurities, and started the refinement.
Throughout, he adjusted the flame's intensity with precise mana control. Soon, the aroma of rice filled the air.
That extraction stage was already under control; the real test would be condensing the essence into pills!
With a determined look, he raised the flame and began stirring the medicinal liquid in the furnace to form tiny spheres. This stirring was critical—without it, the liquid would become medicinal sludge: useful, but hard to store.
Half an hour later, the furnace trembled and a burnt smell wafted out.
"Failed again?"
But Wang Hao merely smiled and began again.
Two hours and four wasted batches later, he was on his fifth attempt.
His face was pale—mana usage was intense—but his eyes shone with resolve.
"If even Old Demon Han could do it one day, why can't I?"
After half an hour, Wang Hao dispelled the seal and the flames died out.
With a gesture, the furnace lid flew off and landed gently nearby.
He rose and hurried to the furnace.
Inside lay two small yellow pills, each the size of a peach pit.
Bigu Pills—successfully refined!