Under the pale morning sun, the Grand Alchemy Plaza of Pill-Cauldron Mountain resembled a colossal amphitheater carved from volcanic stone.
Surrounding the five-acre paved plaza, over five thousand loose cultivators, traveling medicine merchants, and sect emissaries packed the stone terraces.
In the center of the arena, two distinct alchemical camps faced each other across a fifty-yard neutral zone.
On the eastern side stood Grandmaster Dan Chen, surrounded by thirty elite inner disciples dressed in crimson robes.
Before them rose the sect’s legendary nine-foot-tall bronze cauldron, the Nine-Hell Blood Furnace, its base connected directly to a subterranean magma vent that hissed with red-hot volcanic gas.
Senior Brother Lu stood beside the furnace, proudly waving an ancient leather-bound scroll of secret recipes.
“Look at those Taichu beggars!” Lu sneered, loud enough for the front rows to hear. “They do not even possess an official recipe scroll! Master Yao has been eating sulfur for two weeks; his mind has gone soft! They will produce nothing but charred ash!”
Master Yao stood calm and dignified on the western platform, his eyes resting peacefully on his three hundred apprentices.
