Lin Feng spent the rest of the night in meditative consolidation, anchoring the new flow of Scrap Qi. He didn't sleep; his mutated Spirit Root was too busy filtering and directing the potent energy. By dawn, he was stable, his focus clear, his goal fixed: Scrap Alchemy.
His workstation was the large, flat slab of discarded, impure black marble.
He opened the heavy, tattered sack of withered herbs that Lin Wei, his cousin, had delivered. Lin Wei was the smug, sarcastic aristocratic rival, focused entirely on external status and showing off his fake genius. The herbs were unusable by conventional alchemists.
Lin Feng meticulously selected nine pieces of the most withered Moonpetal, Iron-Bone, and Cloud-Vein. He was after their residual essence, not their structural integrity.
He needed heat. He used his iron grabber to retrieve a large, cracked clay crucible fragment from the superheated slag pile.
He initiated the Dao of Transmuting Refuse on the fragment, but instead of drawing the energy into his core, he used his mental focus to stabilize and redirect the thermal and Fire Essence directly into the marble slab. This was the key: his Scrap Qi acted as a precise conduit, bypassing the need for meridian-based control.
The marble glowed with a low, even warmth. Stable, Lin Feng thought. But not easy.
He crushed the dry herbs, which instantly formed a messy, gummy residue—dark green and tinged with grey from decay.
This is the true test, he realized, feeling a knot of nervous anticipation in his gut. This required not just absorption, but the precise separation of spiritual components.
He focused intently, letting the System guide the Scrap Qi.
[Target: Impure Medicinal Paste (Purity: 42%). Initiating Scrap Alchemy Refinement...]
The process was difficult. His mental energy strained as the Scrap Qi isolated the rot and contamination. He was attempting to absorb the poison out of the medicine. The heat wavered once, and a large portion of the paste instantly degraded to worthless ash. Lin Feng grimaced, acknowledging the failure.
Failure accepted. Adjusting input.
He pushed harder, and the remaining essence began to glow with a clean hue.
[Refinement Incomplete. Impurity Filter: 88%. Medicinal Essence Loss: 55%.]
He had lost more than half the material, but the remaining liquid was a viable jade-green. He repeated the challenging process twice more. On the second attempt, the crucible fragment cracked further under the sustained pressure, forcing Lin Feng to frantically divert power and nearly causing the batch to burn.
It's not flawless, he admitted internally. This is high-risk transmutation.
After nearly two hours, he had three liquids. He mixed them and began the final, delicate compression phase. He used a steady thread of his 2nd Stage Scrap Qi, guided by the System, to form the pills.
The first two pills formed perfectly, deep green and stable. The third pill resisted, cracking under the compression. Lin Feng instantly absorbed the fracturing essence before it could disperse, leaving the third pill slightly misshapen and lower in density.
[Scrap Alchemy Successful! Pills Created: 3 (2 High-Quality, 1 Lower-Quality). Estimated Purity: 88%.]
He cleaned his station, transferred the three pills into a small, salvaged wooden box, and headed toward Lin Wei's courtyard.
Lin Wei's residence was a scene of smug casualness. He was leaning back in his chair, sharing tea with his lackeys and the female disciple, Qingyao.
"It's a shame about Lin Feng," Lin Wei commented, sipping elegantly. "He's pathetic, really. Too stupid to know when he's being set up. He's probably still searching that heap of dried weeds, trying to meet my impossible request. It's the waste spirit's destiny to fail." Lin Wei's style was deliberately cruel and sarcastically sympathetic.
"Senior Cousin Lin Wei," Lin Feng stated calmly, walking into the courtyard. "The materials you requested."
Lin Wei looked up, his expression hardening as he registered Lin Feng's presence. "You actually came back, Cousin? Did you find a single herb? Don't insult my intelligence with dregs."
"I did not find the herbs suitable for submission," Lin Feng replied, placing the box on the table. "They were unsuitable. I took the liberty of refining the usable essence into the three low-grade Qi Replenishment Pills required for the competition."
Lin Wei's face flushed with immediate, searing anger. "Refined them? You, the crippled laborer, refined pills? That's not just pathetic; it's an insult to the Alchemy Hall! You stole them!" He snatched the box and threw the lid open.
The three pills—two perfect, one slightly denser—rested inside.
Qingyao, the female disciple, leaned in, her eyes widening. "Senior Brother, they look... authentic. The density is very high for a low-grade pill."
Lin Wei was shaking. He pulled out his Pill Testing Compass—a privately acquired, expensive precision tool indicating his wealthy family background—and slapped one of the perfect pills onto the surface.
The needle immediately spiked high. The readout showed: "Qi Replenishment Pill (Low Grade), Purity: 88%."
Lin Wei stared at the number, his rage now twisting into sheer, incoherent disbelief. An 88% purity pill, created from unusable trash, was a phenomenal achievement for anyone without a dedicated furnace.
"This is impossible!" Lin Wei finally screamed, slamming his fist on the table. "You have no furnace! No earthfire! No meridians! You had to steal them! You are a common thief!"
Lin Feng met his furious gaze, his own eyes cool and clear. "Cousin Wei, I was given unusable materials and completed the required product. I spend my days sorting the failures of alchemists. Perhaps I learned more about the purity of essence than you learned from your comfortable lectures." He let the statement hang, a calm, cutting piece of logic.
"If you believe I stole them," Lin Feng concluded, turning to leave, "report me to the Disciplinary Elder. But know that your three pills will be confiscated as evidence, and you will forfeit the competition. I fulfilled your request. I trust my rations will be delivered tonight."
He did not wait for the inevitable, angry outburst, walking away with a smooth, unhurried stride.
He had won the round. He knew Lin Wei was too jealous and too focused on the competition to forfeit the pills, meaning Lin Feng had secured his resources and established the groundwork for his reputation as an 'oddly lucky' figure.
As he walked toward his dusty sanctuary, he felt the familiar rush of the pure Scrap Qi. He was no longer just enduring. He was building. His climb from the scrap heap had begun.