“If she really comes from one of the great clans,” someone murmured, “and still loses—do you think the Alchemists’ Guild would dare force her into servitude for decades?”
“That depends on whether her clan’s foundation runs deeper than the Guild’s,” another replied.
“Look at the Dark Night Pavilion’s mistress—does she even know how to refine pills?” A spectator pointed at Feng Yuqin’s technique, puzzled.
“Yeah. None of us have ever seen that method before.”
Feng Yuqin had learned an alchemical method from the Ancient Age—something Xiao Jin had taught her. None of the modern beginner techniques were familiar to her; the only thing she knew was that long-lost, archaic approach. So when people compared her movements to the current standards, they saw nothing recognizable. The arts of the Ancient Age had mostly been washed away by time. Only a few old families might still retain fragments; a small country like West Song wouldn’t have introductory tomes from that era.
“Hmph. She doesn’t even seem to know the basics,” Yun Ningshuang scoffed. “I doubt she can produce anything at all.” She hadn’t formally taken a master, but she’d already begun practicing alchemy herself. After years of concentrating flame, she could form the elemental fire—her pills weren’t perfect yet, but she had studied the fundamentals.
“So the Night Pavilion’s pills aren’t made by her?” Feng Qing asked.
“If she’s opening a pavilion to sell pills, she must have refinery hands working for her. She’s just being arrogant,” Yun Ningshuang sneered. “If she’d had her pavilion’s alchemists step forward when the Grand Elder made a fuss, she’d stand a chance.”
Indeed, those watching had examined the pavilion’s wares earlier and judged them only third-tier.
“So Qin Yu’s doomed?” Feng Qing said with relish.
Summer Yujia’s lips curved in a similar way. If Feng Yuqin had been significantly older, these women might not have minded. But she was young—almost the same age as they were—and that made a difference. No one wanted to be upstaged by someone of their own generation. It was a petty, human thing: they preferred to see her fall.
“This technique is really different from what we saw before,” Old Zhao remarked to Meng Xiucheng.
“She seems steadier, though—calm, not flustered,” Meng Xiucheng replied. “Facing an alchemist of equal rank who’s decades older than her, and yet she remains composed—that kind of temperament is rare.”
Old Zhao nodded. “I like her. The rumors about her can’t all be true.”
He wasn’t a gossip, but he’d overheard plenty of ill-speaking about Feng Yuqin. He glanced toward where Feng Qing stood and caught the look of glee in her eyes. The chancellor’s household was run by Ji Lianrong, and Feng Yuqin was the legitimate wife’s daughter—those whispers probably had come from the second madam’s faction.
Prince Yun Feiyue had never seen Ancient Age alchemical methods, but as the nation’s heir he was used to reading people. He admired Feng Yuqin’s composure. If she somehow won this, he thought, it might be worth cultivating a relationship—useful allies were useful for the path to the throne.
“Master, the crown prince has his eye on you,” Xiao Ying said without speaking aloud—pet senses picked up everything in the crowd.
“And Feng Qing and the others are all hoping you lose,” Xiao Jin added.
“Xiao Jin, you should say: among the onlookers, except for Yan Xiao, Meng Xingyu and their handful, everyone else doesn’t expect the master to win,” Xiao Ying supplemented.
Feng Yuqin rolled her eyes. “You two worry too much. Your chattering won’t make me fail.”
Xiao Ying laughed. “If it were someone else, maybe. Like that Grand Elder—his spirit power is pathetic. No wonder he’s been around forever and still only a third-rank alchemist. With that kind of spirit force, don’t even talk about us whispering—if people were brawling beside you, you might still be able to refine uninterrupted.”
“You think highly of me,” Feng Yuqin said dryly.
“Your calm comes from another life,” Xiao Jin said after a moment’s thought. He understood alchemy enough to know that noise and disturbance could ruin a refinement; even normal conversation was often the limit.
Xiao Jin’s half-remark was accurate. Feng Yuqin continued working on her pill, chatting lightly with her beast companions while she concentrated. If Dongfang Zhi and the others heard that, they’d call her a monster; the crowd would call her reckless.
“You’ve been in situations like that before?” Xiao Jin asked.
“Once, in a fight with firearms,” Feng Yuqin answered. “I saved a comrade. We were ambushed—one of my subordinates took a shot and was dying. I had to fight and heal at the same time. After that, I learned that a certain kind of interference just couldn’t break my concentration. That moment pushed me to my limit.”
“You’re incredible,” Xiao Ying said admiringly.
“You’re the best,” Xiao Jin echoed.
“Look at the Night Pavilion’s master—she’s making it look so easy. Is she actually that skilled, or does she not know how to refine at all?” someone asked, watching Feng Yuqin’s casualness.
“She probably doesn’t know. She’s too young, and that movement just now was wrong.”
“If she can’t even do the basics, I don’t believe she’ll produce a pill.”
“If she fails, the Night Pavilion—which only opened a day ago—will change hands.”
“Even with Old Zhao, Lord Dongfang and the Meng family backing her, if her own skills are lacking and she loses, that’s on her.”
“Voluntarily entering a duel you can’t win—that’s just asking for trouble.”
“First in line for trouble: the Night Pavilion’s mistress.”
Nobody believed Feng Yuqin would win, but they wouldn’t leave. Watching a Grand Elder refine a pill was an educational opportunity; among the crowd were several alchemists eager to learn. They’d stay until the end.
Time slipped by.
Feng Yuqin, near the final step of her refinement, glanced at the Grand Elder. He’d only completed a third of his process. Xiao Jin’s ears twitched.
“Am I seeing things?” she asked aloud.
“You aren’t,” Xiao Jin answered. “And you can see he’s struggling. The outside noise is affecting him.”
“He’s probably not used to refining in such an environment,” Xiao Ying added. “All the chatter around him is wearing on his spirit power.”