As far as I could tell, the flaws that had appeared in my four-patterned pill were the result of a fundamental incompatibility between the three base herbs and the two new herbs that I was using to give the pill its additional structure.

During the reshaping and transformation processes, I was able to smooth out the disparate energies and bring them together into a united whole, but this created subtle flaws in the pill’s structure. To push my pills to the fifth pattern and beyond, I would either need to minimize these flaws or, ideally, eliminate them completely.

When I talked to Chan about this, he was only able to offer me two solutions: buy better herbs or brute force it.

With high affinities and a powerful soul, taking hold of the rebellious medicinal energies and forcibly reshaping them to draw out a fifth pattern wouldn’t be too difficult. However, after this advancement, condensing the energy into a stable pill would be more challenging, and transforming it to create a sixth pattern would be impossible.

In contrast, not only would starting with better herbs make it easier for me to create the fifth pattern in the first place, but it would also lay a foundation for creating the sixth and seventh patterns. The only problem with this approach was the cost.

On the Central Continent, the basic three herbs needed for Qi Gathering Pills would normally cost between 4 to 5 gold. Adding in the two additional herbs that were needed for a four-patterned pill raised this cost to roughly 30 gold, but this still was nothing when compared to the value of the pill.

Using ‘better herbs’ changed this calculus, however, since ‘better’ meant herbs grown in sympathy with each other.

Growing the three basic herbs together was simple, but growing them alongside these two new herbs—and creating a sympathetic bond that linked all five—was something that only an extremely talented alchemist was capable of. Essentially, attempting to grow these five herbs in sympathy was just shifting the burden from the alchemist to the herbalist, and any herbalist talented enough to achieve this would expect proper compensation for their efforts.

Instead of a mere 30 gold, a set of five high-quality herbs was worth 3 spirit stones. With five-patterned pills being worth roughly 5 spirit stones and six-patterned pills being worth 40, there was still a profit to be made, but only if the alchemist didn’t make any mistakes.

To get a feel for how five- and six-patterned pills were supposed to work, I purchased several sets of these herbs and transformed them into pills. But, after I created my first six-patterned pill, Chan told me to start over with the standard, cheaper herbs. As he explained:

“At Rank 1, high-quality herbs with sympathetic bonds are widely available, but things become much more complicated at higher levels. The nine-patterned versions of Rank 4 pills all require at least 20 different herbs. Growing so many herbs in sympathy is something that only the most talented herbalists on the continent are capable of, and such people never sell herbs on the open market. So, you can use these herbs to learn how to concoct highly-patterned pills, but do not become dependent on them.”

Accepting this advice, I focused less on concocting six-patterned pills and more on how these pills I made with high-quality herbs differed from those I had made with standard herbs. First, I made basic pills with both types of herbs. Then, I added patterns one step at a time, making dozens of pills at each level, and allowing most of the energy in the pills to fade so that I could see the pills’ structures in greater detail.

This slow, careful process caused me to burn through spirit stones at an outrageous rate, but after a full year of study, I was able to concoct a High-Quality Six-Pattern Qi Gathering Pill using nothing but the most basic of herbs.

I did this not by following one of Emperor Chan’s two options but by creating one of my own. Instead of using herbs that were carefully grown by herbalists to have the highest sympathetic bond possible, I focused on selecting and matching the medicinal energies of normal herbs. This was more time-consuming, but once I knew what to look for, it wasn’t actually that bad.

Once this goal was achieved, I didn’t immediately rush to concoct a seven-patterned pill. First, because that would have required a full set of nine herbs, and purchasing a high-quality set of these herbs would, theoretically, cost 1,500 spirit stones. Second, because even though I was willing to spend that much, no one was willing to sell them to me.

So, instead, following my mentor’s advice and worked to concoct six-patterned versions of the other Rank 1 pills that Chan had given me recipes for.

Each new pill brought new challenges, but with each pill I mastered, the next came easier.

If the medicinal energy in each herb was like a page of text that was written in an unknown language, then the basic form of each pill was like a terse essay telling the world what the pill should do. By pulling in structures from additional herbs, I was adding paragraphs to this essay, and by reshaping these structures, I was editing these paragraphs to ensure that the complete essay still made sense.

Even after studying dozens of different pills, I was no closer to understanding the language that these pills were written in, but I was beginning to get a sense of what an ‘essay’ was supposed to look like.

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Using this sense as my guide, after mastering all of the six-pattern recipes in Chan’s book, I tried developing new recipes of my own. However, even though I was only working with Rank 1 herbs, and even though I had a general sense of what to look for, I still had to test hundreds of doomed combinations before finding one with even a hope of success.

Because of this, after only a few months of experimentation, I was only able to come up with two potential new recipes. While neither of these recipes were optimal, they still helped expand my understanding of medicinal energy, laying a foundation that I could build upon in the future.

Two and a half years after I had first entered the Palace, I broke through to Peak Master, and Emperor Chan called me to his workshop for a discussion. The hierarchy between the two of us had become somewhat ambiguous by this point, but I still regarded Chan as my mentor, so after we sat down, I poured him a cup of tea before taking one for myself.

“Su Fang, I appreciate that you’ve been following my advice. I hope that you are as pleased with your results as I am.”

I nodded in acknowledgement. “Yes. While I hadn’t planned to spend this much time on Rank 1 pills, I do feel that I have made solid progress.”

“Good. Now. The next phase of your training will depend on what you’re hoping to accomplish.” Chan paused to gather his thoughts. “In two years, the Palace will hold an internal competition for everyone who’s hoping to join the Temple. Contestants will be split into three groups: pure alchemists, pure herbalists, and mixed. Additionally, there will be a martial arts tournament where all interested competitors will be able to display their skill at arms. The top five finishers from each division will be given significant advantages in the coming years.”

“I see, and what advantages might these be?”

“For herbalists, it's mainly access to higher-quality fields. For alchemists, it’s access to better herbs.” Chan gave me a small grin. “You wanted access to high-quality herbs for nine-patterned pills, right? Well, this is how you get it.”

This made me perk up. Herbs that were designed to make nine-patterned pills were rather rare, and unless I was willing to take up herbalism and grow them myself, this was likely the only chance I would have to gain access to them–until I got to the Temple, of course.

“Those who do well in the martial arts competition will be given the chance to spend time in one of the domain's two-star sects, where they’ll be given training from the sect’s instructors and have the same access to resources as any of the sect’s inner disciples.” Chan’s smile turned playful as he turned this statement into a lesson. “Why would sects, who are usually quite secretive, be so willing to share their knowledge with our members so openly?”

I smiled politely in return. “Because this is a way to recruit the Palace’s best warriors out from under it. Even if these warriors chose not to join a sect immediately, they may choose to do so after failing to enter the Temple. And, if they do enter the Temple, the sect will have gained a valuable ally at almost no cost.”

Chan nodded once, acknowledging this answer. “And why would the Palace allow this?”

“Because these warriors are the Palace’s guards. If another faction can suborn their loyalty so easily, then they should be dismissed. Handing them over to a sect like this removes a hidden danger while also earning the favor of a powerful faction.”

“Good. Now, what is your choice? Which path do you wish to pursue? The alchemy and herbalism competitions are not separated by Rank, so you will be up against every eligible contestant in the Palace. As a member of the youngest cohort, this puts you at a significant disadvantage, but with your current skills, you shouldn’t have any trouble entering the top five of the alchemy competition. Even if you don’t progress any further over the next two years, the only real threats are a couple of the Martial Lords who have strong blessings.”

“Is there any difference in the rewards given to the first and fifth place finishers?”

Chan shook his head. “Nothing meaningful. First place will be moved to a more luxurious workshop suite that is capable of improving one’s wood affinity to low four-star, but that’s all.”

So, if Chan was right, further improvements to my alchemy skills were unnecessary. But did I want to spend my time on herbalism?

I did want to improve my herbalism skills and master what this continent had to offer, but did I have enough time? I had spent centuries with Bao and SuYin, mastering Nine Rivers herbalism. But if the added complexity of herbalism on this continent was anywhere even close to what I had experienced with alchemy, I would need to dedicate a significant amount of energy to learning a host of new skills. Wouldn’t it be better to wait until I had mastered alchemy first?

I wasn’t interested in gaining access to the Palace’s herb fields, but there was something I needed to clarify. “Are there any special rewards for doing well in the ‘mixed’ competition?”

Chan hesitated, and a faint grimace crossed his face. “Not for this competition. However, those who join the Temple as both alchemists and herbalists… It won’t help you become one of the elders. A pure alchemist is just as likely to rise to Martial Ancestor as anyone else. But…”

I understood what he didn’t want to say. “The Saint.”

Chan nodded. “Being both a skilled alchemist and a skilled herbalist is generally considered a requirement for being chosen as the next Saint of Myriad Herb, and anyone who enters this division is declaring their intention to vie for that position.”

“So…” I thought about what that giant flower had said back in the elders’ audience hall. “If I compete as a pure alchemist, people are less likely to want me dead, since I won’t be seen as trying to steal anyone’s birthright, right?”

“More or less. The urgamal still won’t be thrilled about you joining the Temple, but I doubt the Willow Saint would be willing to waste his agents on you.”

That… pretty much settled that. Pursuing herbalism was high-risk, low-reward. Better to do it in a future iteration.

“What about pursuing martial arts? Any additional dangers that I should know about?”

Chan shook his head. “No. It might make you a slightly bigger target for the demon beasts, but they’ll want to kill you no matter what you do.”

I spent another few minutes thinking through everything, but eventually, I nodded. “Alright. Then, my primary objective will be pure alchemy. I don’t want anything to get in the way of that. Even if all I need to do is enter the top five, I still want to aim for first place in case something goes wrong. I don’t need to spend all my time on this, however, so I might as well take this opportunity to improve my combat skills.”

Chan grinned at me. “Excellent, I was hoping you would say that.”

Reaching into a storage bag, my mentor pulled out a jade pill bottle and a simple-looking crescent moon spade. The wooden staff of the spade was a rich ebony, and the metal on either end glowed with the silvery light of the moon.

“How would you like to spend some time in the City of Selfless Courage?”