"I''ll ept his challenge," the old merchant dered, gesturing toward me. "One hour to refine a Breakthrough Pill."


    "A Breakthrough Pill?" Jasper scoffed, his voice echoing across the market. "Not just a Fasting Pill now? You''re setting yourself up for humiliation."


    I smiled calmly. If this guild pharmacist wanted to witness true alchemy, I''d give him a demonstration he''d never forget. The Breakthrough Pill was far moreplex than a Fasting Pill, requiring precise control and pure spiritual energy.


    "Two Breakthrough Pills against your one Recovery Pill," I stated firmly. "Judge the results however you wish."


    The crowd''s murmurs intensified. Someone whispered, "Isn''t that the man who challenged Master Adrian Whitlock?"


    "Yes, and he defied the entire ckthorne Family too," another voice added.


    "I heard he''s Miss Ashworth''s husband."


    Jasper''s confident smirk faltered slightly. "Miss Ashworth? The Isabelle Ashworth?"


    I didn''t bother responding to the gossip. Instead, I began clearing a small space on the ground, preparing for the refinement process. Eamon stood protectively nearby, keeping the growing crowd at a respectful distance.


    "You''ll need proper equipment," Jasper said mockingly. "A refined spiritual furnace, jade tools, purified water from mountain springs—none of which you have."


    I pulled out a small pot from my travel bag. "This will do."


    The crowd erupted inughter. The pot was ordinary—something you''d cook soup in, not refine pills.


    Jasper''sugh was the loudest. "You intend to make a Breakthrough Pill in a cooking pot? This gets more absurd by the minute."


    I ignored him, focusing on my preparations. I arranged the herbs I''d need—Blood Ginseng, White Lotus Seed, Tiger Bone Powder, and several others I''d acquired at the convention. Each ingredient had its purpose, and thebination would create a pill that could help a cultivator break through a bottleneck in their training.


    "One hour starts now," I announced, looking directly at the merchant.


    The old man nodded solemnly and produced a small hourss. "Begin."


    I closed my eyes briefly, centering myself. The crowd''s noise faded as I focused inward, drawing on my cultivation base. When I opened my eyes again, I extended my hand over the pot and summoned my Spiritual Fire.


    Blue mes appeared above my palm.


    The crowd gasped. Jasper''s smug expression vanished.


    "Blue Spiritual Fire," someone whispered in awe. "Only master alchemists can produce that color."


    Jasper''s face paled. "Impossible. You must be using some trick."


    The blue mes danced above my palm, casting an ethereal light across the marketce. I directed the fire into the pot, where it engulfed the herbs. The first step was to break down the raw materials and extract their essence.


    "The temperature must be precise," I exined, partly for the crowd''s benefit but mostly to irritate Jasper. "Too hot, and the spiritual essence evaporates. Too cool, and the elements won''t properlybine."


    I manipted the mes with careful gestures, adjusting their intensity as I worked. The herbs began to dissolve, releasing colorful vapors that spiraled upward.


    Thirty minutes passed this way, with me guiding the refinement process while the crowd watched in fascination. Jasper had fallen silent, his earlier mockery reced by intense scrutiny.


    Then disaster struck.


    A loud crack split the air as my pot fractured under the intense heat of the Spiritual Fire. The liquid contents began seeping through the cracks.


    "Ha!" Jasper eximed triumphantly. "As I said—proper equipment is essential. Yourmon cookware can''t withstand real alchemical processes."


    I remained calm despite the setback. The pot was indeed failing, but I wasn''t finished.


    "You''re right about one thing," I conceded. "Proper equipment matters."


    Without hesitation, I cupped my hands beneath the cracking pot, catching the escaping liquid. Then I set the ruined pot aside and held the partially refined mixture in my bare palms.


    "What are you doing?" Eamon hissed in rm.


    I didn''t answer him. Instead, I intensified the Spiritual Fire directly in my hands, continuing the refinement process.


    The pain was immediate and excruciating. Even for someone with my cultivation level, directing Spiritual Fire onto bare skin was agonizing. My hands felt like they were being seared to the bone, but I maintained my concentration, refusing to show any sign of difort.


    "He''s using his own hands as a crucible," an elderly voice exined from somewhere in the crowd. "I''ve only read about this technique in ancient texts."


    Jasper was speechless now, his earlier confidencepletely evaporated.


    I focused on the mixture in my hands, using the pain as an anchor for my concentration. The herbs continued breaking down, their essencebining in precise proportions. The blue mes danced between my fingers, changing color subtly as different elements activated.


    Minutes stretched on, feeling like hours. Sweat beaded on my forehead, not just from concentration but from the immense effort of enduring the pain without flinching. The crowd had fallenpletely silent, watching the unprecedented disy.


    Forty-five minutes in, I began the final phase. The essence had been extracted andbined—now it needed to be crystallized into pill form. This was the most delicate part of the process, requiring absolute precision.


    I focused my energy more intensely,pressing the liquid into a tight spiral between my palms. The mes grew brighter, and I could feel my skin blistering beneath their heat.


    "He won''t seed," Jasper finally found his voice again, though itcked conviction. "The final crystallization requires stable conditions. His hands are shaking from pain."


    He wasn''t wrong. My hands were trembling slightly, the pain bing nearly unbearable. But I refused to fail. Not here, not with so many eyes watching, not with my reputation at stake.


    I took a deep breath and pushed more of my spiritual energy into the process, stabilizing the tremors through sheer force of will. The mixture began to solidify, condensing into a small, glowing sphere.


    As the hourss emptied its final grains of sand, a brilliant sh of golden light erupted from between my palms.


    "Time!" the old merchant called.


    I slowly opened my hands. There, resting on my reddened, blistered palm, sat two perfectly formed pills. They were golden in color with streaks of blue running through them, and they emitted a faint light of their own.


    "Breakthrough Pills," I announced quietly. "As promised."


    The crowd erupted in apuse and exmations of amazement. The old merchant stepped forward, carefully taking one of the pills for examination. He held it up to the light, scrutinized its texture, and even smelled it.


    "Perfect formation," he dered in awe. "I haven''t seen craftsmanship like this in decades."


    Jasper stood frozen, his face a mask of disbelief. "Let me see that," he demanded, snatching the pill from the merchant''s hand. <samp ss="in-imprint-b">Visit My Virtual Library Empire (*) for more.</samp>


    He examined it thoroughly, searching for any w he could use to discredit me. Finding none, he finally returned it to the merchant with trembling hands.


    "This is... eptable quality," he admitted reluctantly. "But using your bare hands was recklessly dangerous. No responsible alchemist would take such risks."


    I looked directly at him. "Sometimes the conventional path isn''t avable to those of us who weren''t born into privilege. We find our own ways."


    The old merchant stepped between us, sensing the tension. "The challenge has been met. Master Knight has sessfully refined two Breakthrough Pills within the hour, using methods I''ve only heard of in legends." He turned to me with newfound respect. "The Best Thin Armor is yours, as agreed."


    I nodded gratefully. "Thank you."


    As the merchant began gathering the strips of armor, Jasper leaned closer to me, his voice low enough that only I could hear.


    "You may have won today, but the Celestial Apothecary Guild doesn''t take kindly to outsiders unting unorthodox methods. Consider yourself marked."


    I met his gaze steadily. "I''ve been marked by more dangerous enemies than your guild. Add yourselves to the list if you wish."


    His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more before turning and pushing his way through the dispersing crowd.


    Eamon approached me, concern evident in his expression. "Your hands..."


    I looked down at my palms. They were an angry red, with blisters already forming. The pain, now that I allowed myself to feel it fully, was intense.


    "Worth it," I told him quietly, epting the package of Best Thin Armor from the merchant. "This will keep us alive in the battles toe."


    The old man bowed deeply to me. "This humble one is honored to witness true alchemy today. Your name will be spoken in these markets for years toe."


    I returned his bow as best I could with my injured hands. "I''m d we could do business."


    As we walked away, the whispers followed us. Word would spread quickly about what had happened here today. Some would call it impressive, others reckless. But no one would question my abilities again.


    "Was it necessary to reveal yourself so publicly?" Eamon asked quietly.


    I flexed my painful hands carefully. "Sometimes you need to show your strength to avoid having to use itter."


    With the Best Thin Armor secured, we continued through the market. I had made a powerful impression—and likely a powerful enemy in the Celestial Apothecary Guild. But I had also gained something more valuable than mere armor or recognition.


    I had proved, to myself as much as to others, that I could ovee any obstacle ced in my path—even if it meant holding fire in my bare hands.