The night wind cut cold as Lin Xiangyin streaked away from the Eternal Yin Orchid Sect, her violet aura trailing across the sky. Her heart still pounded from what she had seen — Haotian tearing open reality itself with his bare hands. The image haunted her, refusing to leave. Even Sovereigns cannot do that. What is he?
She arrived at the Zhenlong household's mountain dwelling, a place carved in frost and starlight. The air itself was heavy with ancient dragon qi.
Yuying sat beneath a pavilion of jade, her long hair flowing like silver silk, calmly pouring herself a cup of steaming tea. She looked up as Xiangyin landed, her expression soft but knowing. "You look troubled."
Xiangyin's composure finally cracked. She strode forward, her voice sharp. "Troubled? Yuying, I just watched that boy rupture the sky itself! He shattered space, froze time, and crushed reality under his strikes. Tell me the truth — who is he?"
Yangshen emerged from the shadows of the pavilion, his deep voice rumbling. "So. You've seen it too."
Meiyun set down her scroll, her calm eyes glinting faintly. "Few mortals ever glimpse the scope of his techniques."
Jinhai chuckled dryly, arms crossed. "And fewer still live long enough to speak of it."
Xiangyin turned to Yuying, her face pale. "I need answers. You entrusted my sect to him. You expect me to let him reshape everything. But I cannot follow blind. Tell me — what is Haotian?"
Yuying sipped her tea slowly, savoring it before speaking. "Haotian… is not what you think. He is not merely a disciple, nor even just a dragon-blooded child. He is the vessel of something greater. A bloodline forged through battles older than your sect, tempered by trials no Sovereign has endured."
Xiangyin's hands clenched. "He is still a boy. How can a boy wield power beyond Emperors?"
Yuying's eyes softened, but her tone remained calm. "Because he does not walk alone. The child carries within him a shadow — a soul older than mountains, fiercer than the abyss. He bears knowledge not of this age, but of countless cycles."
Yangshen stepped forward, his voice grave. "We once thought to guide him. But the truth is, he walks a path we cannot measure. We dragons do not command him. We follow."
Xiangyin's breath hitched, her composure breaking further. She lowered herself to sit across from Yuying, her voice quieter, almost pleading. "Do you understand what it looks like to me? One boy, shattering reality with his fists. If he wished it… he could unmake us."
Yuying set down her teacup, her gaze meeting Xiangyin's with calm certainty. "And yet he does not. Instead, he bleeds every night for his disciples. He breaks himself so they may rise. That is who Haotian is. Not a tyrant, not a destroyer — but a shield. The more he breaks, the more he protects."
Silence hung. Xiangyin stared into the steam of the tea Yuying poured for her, her hands trembling as she accepted the cup.
Her voice was softer, almost a whisper. "…Then I was right to trust him."
Yuying's lips curved faintly. "You were right to trust him. But remember, Xiangyin — to walk beside him is to walk beside a storm. He will shake the heavens themselves before his path ends. Be ready."
The orchids Sovereign bowed her head, the weight of truth pressing heavy in her chest. For the first time in centuries, she felt humbled — and afraid.
The sun rose over the Eternal Yin Orchid Sect, its light catching on the Frost Jade Tree's crystalline leaves. Disciples stirred across the courtyards, their laughter and voices ringing faintly in the air.
Haotian emerged from his chamber slowly, robes still faintly damp with blood. His face was pale, his movements stiff, yet his golden eyes carried the same calm steadiness as always. No one who hadn't seen the state of his bed sheets — soaked through with the aftermath of Alter's merciless training — would have guessed how close he had come to breaking the night before.
And still, he walked among them as if nothing had happened.
"Shift the herb beds closer to the east wall.""The formation lines on the southern platform need three more cycles.""Water the frost ginseng only at dawn and dusk — not at midday."
His voice carried without strain, crisp and firm, and the disciples scrambled eagerly to follow his orders. Orchid disciples stole glances at him with whispers — how does he move so casually after shattering reality itself in the sky yesterday?
By midday, Haotian had once again climbed the jade steps to the sect library. He pulled down Sovereign-level manuals, his golden pupils flickering as text bled into light and vanished into the depths of his Golden Text Library. Page after page, he absorbed cultivation paths, refining arts, and lost techniques — all to be rewritten and reshaped for his Pavilion.
But by the afternoon, his steps slowed. His hand pressed faintly against his ribs where the Celestial Vein Rupture training had left his channels screaming. The Undying Dragon Body Sutra worked tirelessly inside him, knitting the damage, but even with its twelfth-stage regeneration, the toll was far too high.
His gaze drifted across the sect, landing on a familiar building. The alchemy hall.
He stood at the entrance, silent for a moment as the faint scent of herbs and cauldrons washed over him. Inside, Orchid alchemists bustled, crushing roots and simmering elixirs, their hands quick and skilled. He remembered the pills he had relied on for months now: triple recovery pills. They kept him alive, yes — but they were no longer enough.
His golden eyes narrowed.
Should I create some pills?
He stepped inside, his robes brushing softly across the threshold. The Undying Dragon Body Sutra alone is not enough anymore. Even with triple recovery pills, the damage from Alter's training is outpacing my healing. If I want to reach the Eighteenth Strike alive… His hand clenched. …I need something higher grade.
The bubbling of cauldrons greeted him as disciples turned, bowing low. "Senior Brother!"
Haotian's eyes scanned the shelves of herbs, weighing each root, each blossom in silence. Slowly, a faint smile touched his lips.
"…Yes. It's time I refined something new."
The alchemy hall was a cavern of jade counters and bronze cauldrons, its air heavy with the scents of herbs, fire, and spirit steam. Orchid alchemists moved like dancers, each tending their own cauldron with delicate gestures, fanning flames and whispering incantations.
The doors creaked, and silence fell.
Haotian entered, his robes faintly stained with the night's blood, his golden eyes calm. "Bring me the following herbs."
He listed them one by one: frost marrow root, lightning orchid petals, fire marrow grass, yin lotus seeds, dragonbone powder — rare ingredients normally never blended together. The hall master hesitated, bowing quickly before rushing to gather them.
Haotian didn't walk to the cauldrons. Instead, he chose a plain workbench at the center of the hall, rolling up his sleeves. He laid the herbs out in precise order, fingers brushing across them with deliberate calm.
Whispers stirred.
"Why isn't he going to a cauldron?""Is he just… staring at the ingredients?""Even a Saint-tier alchemist needs fire to refine pills…"
Haotian ignored them. His eyes flickered with golden light as glyphs streamed invisibly into his vision — pages of Sovereign-tier alchemy manuals, copied into his Golden Text Library. He sifted through dozens of recipes in an instant, then merged them, rewriting the flaws with his own notes.
Triple Recovery Pills are crude. They restore surface vitality, but not meridians. What I need is restoration of channels, marrow, and core circulation simultaneously. Only then will my body survive Alter's training.
He inhaled slowly. His hands pressed together, and the air around him shifted.
A hum filled the hall — deep, resonant, like the vibration of heaven and earth colliding. The herbs on the workbench quivered, their essences bleeding out of their forms, rising as streams of colored light.
The Orchid alchemists froze, eyes wide.
"The… the herbs are refining themselves!?""That's impossible—there's no cauldron, no fire—!"
Haotian's voice cut through their disbelief, calm and resonant.
"Primordial Harmony Refinement Technique."
At his command, the herbs' scattered lights circled one another, merging into harmony. Fire essence twined with frost, lightning crackled through yin lotus flow, dragonbone dust melted into marrow fluid. Each contradictory energy that should have repelled instead fused seamlessly, balanced by his will.
The hall quaked. Flames flickered, cauldrons rattled, but Haotian never moved from the workbench. His hands wove invisible seals, the air heavy with ancient power.
At last, the streams of light condensed. Slowly, deliberately, a single pill formed in his palm — gleaming gold, runes swirling across its surface like living script. Its fragrance swept through the hall, clearing minds, calming souls.
The Orchid alchemists staggered back, clutching their robes.
"T-That's… that's not alchemy… that's… creation.""No one refines pills without fire—no one!""What kind of technique is this…!?"
Haotian studied the pill, his lips curving faintly.
"A Sovereign-grade restoration pill. It will recover flesh, meridians, and marrow simultaneously. One of these will do more than a hundred triple recovery pills."
He closed his hand, the pill vanishing into his sleeve. His golden gaze swept across the hall. "Prepare the rest of the ingredients. I will need many."
The alchemists fell silent, their hearts pounding.
And in that moment, they realized what it meant to have the Moon Lotus Pavilion's Senior Brother walk into their hall: he was not bound by their rules, their traditions, or even their logic. He was rewriting them.
The alchemy hall buzzed with activity, flames roaring beneath bronze cauldrons, steam rising in fragrant clouds of herbs and spirit liquid. Orchid alchemists worked with practiced precision, each tending their concoctions.
Then Haotian stepped inside.
Blood still lingered faintly on his cuffs, but his expression was calm, golden eyes steady. He gave no greeting, only a list of names.
"Frost marrow root. Lightning orchid petals. Fire marrow grass. Yin lotus seeds. Dragonbone powder. Bring them to me."
The hall master hesitated only a breath before bowing and rushing to gather the rare herbs. One by one, they were laid upon the central workbench.
But Haotian did not move to a cauldron. He did not summon flame. He merely stood before the spread of herbs, rolling up his sleeves, his hands resting lightly against the table's edge.
The alchemists exchanged whispers.
"…He's not preparing fire qi?""Is he… just going to stare at them?""Even a Sovereign can't refine without a cauldron—"
The murmurs cut off when Haotian suddenly raised his hand.
SHHHHHH!
His fingers curled like claws, and he slashed through the air. The world itself seemed to ripple. Threads of light ripped free from the herbs — crimson from fire marrow, silver-blue from frost root, gold crackling from lightning orchid, violet from yin lotus, pale white from dragonbone dust.
Gasps filled the hall.
"He's pulling the essence straight out of the herbs—without fire!?""That's impossible—!"
Haotian's gaze sharpened. His other hand rose, fingers splayed, then he clenched into a claw and dragged downward. More essence spilled into the air, streaming into a whirling orbit around him. The fragrance grew sharper, heavier, intoxicating.
And then, in a voice that echoed like scripture:
"Primordial Harmony Refinement Technique."
The essence strands buckled, crackling as they resisted one another — frost freezing, fire blazing, lightning lashing, yin smothering, marrow pressing heavy. It should have shattered apart, should have burned itself out.
But Haotian's claws flexed, pulling the streams into balance, forcing them into orbit. With each motion, contradictions smoothed into unity, yin and yang twined, frost tempered fire, lightning split and fused with marrow dust.
The alchemy hall shook. Cauldrons rattled against their pedestals, flames guttered and flared. The alchemists stumbled back, clutching their sleeves as their own qi was overwhelmed by the resonance.
"What… what is he doing…?""He's refining with his bare hands!""No… he's refining with the world itself."
The swirling light condensed, compressing tighter and tighter under his will. Sweat beaded on his brow, golden light flickering across his skin, but his claws never wavered.
Finally, with a sharp snap of his wrist, the essences collapsed inward, fusing into a single radiant sphere. Slowly, it cooled, solidifying into a pill glowing gold, its surface etched with flowing runes that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Its fragrance spread instantly, clearing minds, sharpening qi flow, making even breathing easier.
Haotian caught it in his palm, studying it calmly.
"A Sovereign-grade recovery pill," he said simply. "This will restore flesh, meridians, and marrow simultaneously. One is worth a hundred triple recovery pills."
He closed his hand, slipping the pill into his sleeve. Then his gaze swept across the stunned alchemists.
"Prepare more ingredients. Many more. This is only the beginning."
The hall fell into stunned silence, their hearts pounding in terror and awe.
The alchemy hall burned with the glow of dozens of cauldrons, steam rising thick with the fragrance of spirit herbs. Orchid alchemists labored at their stations — until the air stilled.
Haotian stood at the center workbench, rare herbs laid out before him: frost marrow root, lightning orchid petals, fire marrow grass, yin lotus seeds, dragonbone powder. His golden pupils flickered with light as he raised his right hand, palm up, fingers curled like a claw.
The air trembled.
SHHHH!
Essence tore free of the herbs, streaming upward in glowing trails — crimson fire, silver frost, golden lightning, violet yin, and pale bone-white. Instead of clashing, the essences swirled together seamlessly, as if drawn into perfect harmony by the unseen gravity of his claw.
The alchemists gasped.
"He's not even using a cauldron…""The essences aren't resisting at all… they're merging on their own—!"
Above his palm, the glowing strands fused into a single giant sphere, humming with primordial resonance.
Haotian's left hand rose. His fingers blurred, weaving a storm of hand seals. Each seal struck the hovering sphere like a chisel shaping jade. With every strike, the great orb quivered, then divided — splitting into dozens of smaller, round spheres of pure medicinal essence.
The hall shook with the power building in the air, yet Haotian's face remained calm, his movements precise.
Then his hands shifted again, pressing runes directly into the surface of each glowing sphere. Symbols of restoration and vitality burned across them, sinking deep into their cores. His voice carried, steady, commanding:
"Eighty percent healing efficiency. Engrave."
BOOM. The runes flared, locking into place.
The spheres condensed further, hardening into golden pills that floated gently in the air, each one etched with flowing script like rivers of light. Their fragrance washed over the hall, clearing minds, calming spirits, even mending minor fatigue from those who breathed it in.
The Orchid alchemists fell silent, their jaws slack.
"…No cauldron… no flame…""He refined them in the air… with a claw and hand seals…""Runes on pills… who even does that—!?"
Haotian extended his clawed hand. The golden pills floated down and landed neatly in his palm, gleaming with divine light. He studied them briefly, then tucked them into his sleeve.
"A Sovereign-grade recovery pill," he said simply. "Each will restore flesh, meridians, and marrow with eighty percent efficiency. More than enough for what comes next."
He lowered his gaze to the stunned alchemists. "Prepare the ingredients. I'll need many more."
The hall buzzed with disbelief, but none dared speak against him. In that moment, they knew they had just witnessed alchemy elevated beyond sect traditions — something closer to creation itself.
The alchemy hall's fires dimmed as Haotian stood at the center workbench. Rare herbs lay in neat rows: frost marrow root, lightning orchid petals, fire marrow grass, yin lotus seeds, dragonbone powder.
He raised his right hand, palm up, fingers clawed.
HUMMM—
The herbs shook, then burst into light. Streams of crimson flame, silver frost, golden lightning, violet yin, and pale bone essence ripped upward into the air, swirling like rivers meeting at a single sea. Instead of clashing, they flowed together, merging seamlessly into one massive sphere of glowing essence suspended above his claw.
Gasps rippled through the Orchid alchemists.
"…The essences aren't resisting.""They're… obeying him."
Haotian's left hand lifted. His fingers danced, weaving intricate hand seals faster than the eye could follow. Each seal struck the glowing orb, splitting its harmony without breaking it.
CRACK—CRACK—CRACK—
The giant sphere fractured, not chaotically, but with deliberate precision — like crystal cut by an invisible master. One sphere became two, then four, then eight. The process repeated again and again until sixty-eight perfect spheres floated in the air, orbiting around him in flawless symmetry.
The hall quivered as if bowing to their presence.
Haotian's golden eyes narrowed. His left hand sealed again, and glowing runes spilled from his fingertips, carving themselves into the surface of each sphere. The symbols blazed, etching deep into their cores.
"Eighty percent healing efficiency. Flesh, meridians, marrow. Seal."
The runes sank in. The spheres pulsed, then compressed.
BOOOOM.
Sixty-eight golden pills solidified in the air, each radiating an aura of perfection. Their surfaces gleamed flawless, etched with living script that shimmered faintly, each identical in weight, size, and balance — not a single flaw among them. The fragrance that spilled forth swept across the hall like a tide, instantly clearing minds and even restoring minor wounds of those nearby.
The Orchid alchemists staggered back, their eyes wide, their breath trembling.
"…Sixty-eight… sovereign-tier pills… all at perfection…""No… no one can refine more than a handful at once…""This isn't alchemy. This is—creation."
Haotian lowered his claw. The pills descended in perfect formation, landing gently in his waiting hand like golden pearls. He studied them briefly, then slipped them into his sleeve with calm finality.
"These will suffice."
His golden gaze swept across the hall. "Prepare the herbs again. Tonight I will need more."
Silence reigned, broken only by the pounding hearts of the alchemists. In that moment, they understood that they hadn't just witnessed a refinement — they had witnessed a rewriting of alchemy itself.
The air was thick with golden light, the fragrance of medicine overwhelming. Sixty-eight flawless pills hovered above Haotian's clawed hand, gleaming with perfection. Their runes pulsed in harmony, each pill radiating the aura of a Sovereign-tier treasure.
The Orchid alchemists trembled where they stood.
"…Sixty-eight in one refinement…""No… no batch should yield more than two Sovereign-tier pills, even for a master alchemist…""He's defied the laws of pill-making itself…"
Haotian did not pause.
Through the night, he repeated the process again and again. His claw drew essence, his seals split spheres, his runes carved perfection. Pill after pill descended into his hand — not one flawed, not one wasted.
When dawn touched the horizon, the number was beyond comprehension.
Two million Sovereign-tier pills. All perfect grade.
The alchemy hall itself seemed to tremble under the weight of so much medicinal power, the air vibrating with the hum of countless perfected runes.
The alchemists could only stare, their minds breaking under the truth. One batch yields two. He yielded millions. In a single night.
Haotian gathered them into rings, the light of the pills flickering faintly within. He handed one over to the stunned hall master.
"One million for the alchemy hall," he said calmly. "Distribute them as needed."
He tucked the other into his sleeve, his gaze firm. "The other million will remain with the Moon Lotus Pavilion."
The silence was suffocating. Dozens of alchemists stared at him as though he were not human, their lips parted, their breath caught in their throats.
Then, without further word, Haotian turned and left the hall.
The doors closed behind him.
And the Orchid alchemists stood frozen, too stunned even to whisper.