Pill Completed

Three months later, Zhou Minghu escorted a shipment of goods alongside the merchant caravan to Pingyun Market. Before he even set foot inside, he spotted Wang Dashi running over, looking as though he had been waiting for an eternity.

"Brother Minghu, what took you so long?"

After several months apart, Wang Dashi had grown even plumper. His entire body resembled a rolling ball of flesh.

"Haha, a few matters came up within the clan, so I was delayed for a few days," Zhou Minghu laughed. "You have been stationed here for quite a while. I will take over your duties this time. You can return to the clan with the caravan later and pay a visit."

The chubby young man immediately jumped up in excitement. "Wonderful!"

He pulled Zhou Minghu along as they walked inside. "Brother Minghu, let me tell you, over these past few months, I sold six hundred jin of Spirit Rice and twelve jars of Baixi Brew."

"As for talisman paper, we sold even more-six thousand sheets in total. The shop is completely out of stock. I have no idea what that Zhao clan is up to, buying so much talisman paper."

...

Zhou Minghu watched Wang Dashi chatter on, unable to stop himself from drifting into a slight daze.

He asked his own heart: Did he truly have to seek revenge? Why did he have to bear the burden of the Li clan's blood feud?

In the beginning, his heart had indeed been as cold as iron, fixated solely on vengeance. But a human heart was made of flesh. How could it withstand the slow erosion of genuine affection?

The Qian, Sun, and Wang families all shared deep, interwoven ties with the Zhou clan. The Sun family was not only Zhou Changhe's in-laws, but the majority of their men had perished because of Changxi, leaving only women, children, and the elderly to survive in the North Village. The Qian family was fractured; Qian Fangsu worked tirelessly for the Zhou clan, and his younger sister was a concubine to his eldest brother, Changhe.

The Wang family's connection to them was the closest of all. Wang Dashi guarded the clan's shop in the market, Wang Hui and Wang Feng governed the Southeast Village, and even his own eldest son, Zhou Chengyuan, carried the Wang family's blood in his veins.

Was he truly willing to shatter the clan's peace for a blood feud that had nothing to do with them? To incite hatred between uncle and nephew, and turn father against son?

These days, although he remained on the mountain, he rarely went to visit Chen Nianqiu. He was afraid of looking into those aged eyes, terrified that they would shake his resolve.

At times, absurd and horrifying thoughts even sprouted in his mind. He found himself wishing Chen Nianqiu would just pass away, so he would no longer have to endure such agonizing torment.

It was not a lack of filial piety; it was simply too painful, an unbearable suffering.

"Brother Minghu, what is wrong?" Seeing Zhou Minghu distracted and noticing the heavy bloodshot veins in his eyes, Wang Dashi asked with worry. "Was the caravan ride too bumpy? Did you not get enough rest?"

"I already had someone tidy up the room in the rear courtyard of the shop. Brother Minghu, hurry and go rest for a while."

Zhou Minghu snapped back to reality and offered a faint smile. "Do not worry, I am fine."

Let the grudges of the past fade away. Mother, your son no longer wishes to seek revenge. I hope you can understand your son, and do not blame him.

Afterward, they headed toward the Baixi Residence at the center of the market.

In just a year or two, the market had grown significantly more prosperous.

Several Rogue Cultivators with specialized skills had settled here. A few Spirit Awakening cultivators who lived near the mountains had also gathered mountain goods and spiritual herbs, setting up stalls along both sides of the street to hawk their wares.

The original shops were no longer enough to meet the demand; new pavilions were currently being erected along the outermost edge of the market.

The moment their group arrived at the entrance of the Baixi Residence, a crowd immediately swarmed them.

"Shopkeeper, do you have any Baixi Brew left?" a drunken Rogue Cultivator shouted.

The steward of the neighboring Clear Breeze Pavilion also chimed in with a grin. "Shopkeeper Wang, have the eight jars of Baixi Brew we agreed upon finally arrived?"

As the Zhou clan's spiritual plants multiplied, they had adapted a mortal brewing method to create a new wine recipe. The liquor fermented inside the gourds using this recipe possessed an exceptionally rich and mellow flavor, leaving a lingering aftertaste.

While it did not require as much time as fermenting White Marrow Grass, each batch still took half a month of effort. Since the capacity of the gourds was limited, they diluted the yield with Earth Yin Cold Water at a five-to-one ratio. This mixture became the Zhou clan's signature specialty: Baixi Brew.

Its flavor was deep and intense, carrying a soothing, icy chill. Being a spiritual wine, it was naturally highly sought after by all factions.

However, the annual production of Baixi Brew was only thirty-six jars. Even priced at one Spirit Stone per jar, the supply fell completely short of the demand.

"It is here, it is here." Wang Dashi's eyes narrowed into joyful slits as he directed the servants to unload the cargo.

"Fellow Daoist, has the talisman paper arrived?" a Zhao clan cultivator stepped forward to ask.

Possessing a talisman inheritance, the Zhao clan had been aggressively purchasing talisman paper ever since the market was established, aiming to nurture a few more talisman masters.

They were one of the immortal clans that had reaped tremendous benefits from the market's founding.

Sweating profusely from the sheer busyness, Wang Dashi led the Zhao clan cultivator inside. "It is right this way. Please, Fellow Daoist, follow me."

The entirety of the Baixi Residence bustled with activity. The lively atmosphere scattered much of Zhou Minghu's heavy melancholy, and he soon joined in the labor.

During this time, Huang Zhenghua also made an appearance, collecting several dozen stalks of White Marrow Grass.

Meanwhile, on the top floor of the Clear Breeze Pavilion, Huang Zhengming sat cross-legged. Before him rested a three-legged alchemy furnace, surrounded by a mess of charred, blackened dregs.

Though it was noisy and chaotic outside, the interior of the room was dead silent, clearly isolated by a spiritual formation.

Since the Huang clan had built the market, it naturally required someone to stand guard. As the greatest advocate for the market's creation, it was only right and proper for Huang Zhengming to hold this position.

"Brother Zhengming, this batch of White Marrow Grass has been delivered," Huang Zhenghua said as he walked in.

"Leave it there."

Huang Zhengming's voice was hoarse, grating like a whetstone on iron. He looked utterly haggard; his eyes bulged, webbing with ferocious, bloodshot veins.

"Brother Zhengming, you..." Staring at his gaunt appearance, Huang Zhenghua wanted to urge him to rest. But before the words could leave his mouth, Huang Zhengming channeled a technique, forcefully sweeping him out of the room.

Huang Zhengming stared at the fresh batch of White Marrow Grass. He drew out a block of chilling ice to forcefully clear his mind. Only when his spirit and energy had recovered slightly did he rise to fetch various raw materials from the nearby cabinet.

Finally, he sat back down before the alchemy furnace, muttering to himself. "Control the flames for exactly three quarters of an hour, not a fraction more. Gentle fire for three parts, fierce fire for seven. Once the White Marrow Grass is refined into liquid, I will add the Azure Lotus..."

With one hand, he slowly fed the numerous ingredients into the furnace. With the other, he channeled his Spiritual Qi. A burst of searing, orange-red flame ignited the willow wood.

The firelight cast its glow across the room, pulling Huang Zhengming's shadow longer and longer, twisting it along with the dancing flames. He sat like a withered old monk, his eyes like stagnant pools of dead water, silently observing the changes within the furnace.

After an unknown amount of time, a rich medicinal fragrance wafted from the furnace, and an azure light surfaced above the lid.

Huang Zhengming's gaze suddenly sharpened. His hands flew in a blur, forming the pill-condensing seals, causing a heavy rumbling to echo from within the bronze vessel.

When the flames finally burned out, he lifted the furnace lid with trembling excitement. Resting quietly at the bottom were four vividly bright, emerald-green pills. Overcome with tears of joy, he shrieked with manic delight.

"It is done! I have refined them!"

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