Sitting before the alchemy chamber, Qian Chen remained calm and composed. The two boy sprites, Gold and Silver, however, clutched their small hands together in sheer tension, holding the gourd and the plantain fan as they stared fixedly at the red-copper furnace before them. Dan qi swirled over the furnace, flowing out from its seven apertures and eight openings before transforming into wisps of curling mist and smoke. Gradually rising from the small building, it expanded into a sea of clouds.
After the flying sword had slain the flood dragon inside the small retreat, the dark clouds and torrential rain outside had slowly dispersed.
Cui Dan and his servant, waiting outside, suddenly saw a boundless expanse of cloud and mist rising once more from the building. Under the illumination of a single beam of sunlight piercing the sky, the vapor drifted across the great marsh, occupying the heavens with a white sea of clouds in a mere breath.
Only now did the dragons and serpents of the marsh, terrified into hiding by the slaying of the flood dragon, slip out once more. They flew up over the waters, breathing out mist and swallowing the clouds to absorb the dan qi. Variously colored serpents and dragons coiled together within the medicinal vapors.
Above the cloud sea that spanned a hundred li, several hundred dragons and serpents rose with the mist, fleetingly revealing odd claws and scales amidst the billowing vapor as their heads and tails intertwined.
Gradually, they rubbed against one another, sloughing off their old hides and shedding their mottled scales. Countless snake scales and dragon hides of diverse hues drifted down from the sky like rain.
A jianghu itinerant herb-gatherer in Jiaobu Town caught a falling dragon scale and squeezed it with his inner qi, attempting to tear it open. To his shock, the scale was so remarkably tough that it remained utterly undamaged. He came to his senses with a start, let out a sharp cry, and sprinted from the dock, launching a skiff toward the patch of lake where the scales and hides were raining down most densely.
By then, others had caught on as well. Instantly, several thousand fishermen, boatmen, and jianghu wanderers in Jiaobu Town set out onto the lake in their vessels, fiercely scrambling for the falling dragon hides and serpent scales.
Cui Dan had no time to marvel at this external alchemy phenomenon of dragons rising en masse and snakes shedding their skins above the cloud sea.
He hurriedly instructed his old servant, "Uncle Wu, fetch my command token and patrol the lake. Admonish anyone who starts a dispute over the dragon scales in my name... If anyone resorts to violence and robbery... execute them on the spot!"
Uncle Wu understood the gravity of the situation. If Jiaobu Town fell into chaos and suffered heavy casualties, a stroke of good fortune would turn into a disaster, and his young master would surely face reprimand and penalties from the imperial censors. He promptly took the order and hurried off.
Having shed their skins and purified their dragon blood, the serpents and dragons spat out dragon saliva nurtured by the spirit herbs they ordinarily consumed. Glistening dragon saliva drifted downward like fine rain, moistening countless spirit herbs below like a shower of spiritual dew.
Many precious spirit herbs rarely seen elsewhere seized this opportunity to flourish and transform their medicinal properties, while others burst into bloom, bore fruit, and scattered countless seeds.
In the days to come, the area of the great marsh blanketed by this sea of clouds was bound to yield a bountiful harvest of spirit herbs of even higher quality.
Only after this external phenomenon produced by the dan qi had settled the karmic debt Qian Chen owed to creation for gathering herbs in the marsh, as well as his karma with the serpents and dragons, did the sea of clouds slowly dissipate... Qian Chen, however, frowned slightly. Because he had not gathered heaven-and-earth primordial qi to temper the blended astral and baleful energies this time, many of the medicinal properties had failed to combine with the proper primordial qi and had turned instead into dan qi, triggering the external phenomenon.
Although this had repaid the karma, it also left the medicinal properties inside the furnace lacking. The Broad Cold Ice Soul Dan at the core of the primordial dan naturally suffered no harm, but as for the primordial qi pills forming in the qi furnace and the spirit herb pills forming in the cauldron furnace, their medicinal potency had fallen short.
With this single batch, at least forty percent would be ruined.
For a furnace of pills to yield sixty percent was already an extraordinarily high success rate!
Yet as a true transmission disciple of Taishang Dao's alchemy arts—and one with a touch of obsessive-compulsive perfectionism—Qian Chen still felt a twinge of distress. Any master alchemist possessed such perfectionist tendencies; why else would medicinal pills be crafted into flawless, perfectly rounded spheres? Without this relentless pursuit of perfection, one's achievements in alchemy would always remain limited.
Thus, sensing that forty percent of the spirit pills were on the verge of ruin due to a deficiency of primordial qi, Qian Chen felt his fingers itch.
"Achieving a dan inherently carries a hint of defying heaven's will. Throughout the ages, pill tribulations have always been brought on by alchemists striving for absolute perfection... Back when Ge Hong refined the elixir of immortality, had he not wished to grant mortals without cultivation the power to live forever, why would he have suffered heaven's wrath and a pill tribulation that overturned his cauldron and sent the pills scattering? At a time like this, to achieve a perfect dan, I can only ask the organization for assistance!"
With a wave of his sleeve, Qian Chen used cinnabar to draw a talisman in front of the alchemy furnace petitioning the Nine Luminaries Star Lords... It was a secret talisman of Louguan Dao, symbolizing his status as an orthodox Daoist true transmission disciple.
In the Dao of talismans, the glyph was the spirit of heaven and earth, while the register was the seal of ghosts and gods.
This meant that the talisman script consisted of true writings formed by the Great Dao of heaven and earth—manifestations of the Dao that naturally carried spiritual resonance. The register, on the other hand, was the official signature seal of ghosts and gods, acting much like an electronic mail to them, conveying a petition directly to the celestial deities and terrestrial spirits.
Therefore, an orthodox talisman required a header—
The header established one's lineage and origins. At the top of the talisman, Qian Chen inscribed the secret seal of Taishang Dao, signifying his foundational status. Once sent forth, its priority and level of response would be elevated by several grades. After all, when inscribing a divine register, how could a Daoist true transmission disciple with connections and standing in the celestial realm ever be treated the same as an unaffiliated rogue cultivator merely petitioning the gods for aid?
The header Qian Chen drew was the supreme "Imperial Edict" of the Daoist orthodoxy, a secret transmission typically imparted only by the three Daoist ancestral lineages to their most exceptional disciples.
Even in a sect like Zhengyi Dao, anyone outside the direct Zhang family line could forget about employing high-authority secret talismans such as the "Imperial Edict"...
When dealing with deities like the Six Ding and Six Jia, who were historically part of the Daoist fold, doors would be flung wide open, leaving outside rogue cultivators thoroughly left in the cold.
Next came the presiding deities, which served as the address of the ghosts and gods. Just like an email address, it dictated to whom the divine register would be delivered. After a moment's thought, Qian Chen inscribed the palace names of the Heavenly Market Enclosure, alongside the corresponding celestial officials, merit officers, and the rosters of immortals across the ten directions.
There was a trick here: when petitioning deities for assistance, praying to the primary god was often ineffective. Primary gods governed the Great Dao of heaven and earth and were immensely busy; why would they bother with a minor cultivator? Unless it concerned official affairs of heaven and earth, a Daoist seeking a backdoor favor was far better off offering benefits to the primary god's subordinate clerks and officers.
Then came the "talisman belly," which contained the petitioner's request—the exact service requested of the deities. Whether summoning spirits, commanding ghosts, quelling demons, exorcising evils, curing illness, dispelling disaster, or securing a residence, protecting a furnace, warding off misfortune, and prolonging life, it was generally tailored to the great vows of the relevant deities. For instance, inviting the True Martial Great Emperor of Demon Subjugation to conquer demons was exceptionally fitting.
Inviting that venerable elder to heal illnesses and dispel disasters was not impossible, but it was petitioning the wrong deity. One would need a sect with prestige as immense as Taishang Dao just for the Great Emperor to give them some face and make a symbolic gesture.
Finally came the talisman aperture, also called the talisman core—the heart and soul of a divine register.
When someone like Qian Chen drew a talisman, he had to infuse his magical power into this core, embedding his wisdom gained from comprehending the Great Dao, or virtues such as righteousness, courage, perseverance, and benevolence into the center of the register.
Humans were the soul of all living things, so the finest and most precious human emotions were themselves a form of spiritual qi between heaven and earth, known as spiritual sentiment. To ghosts and gods, this was the most prized spiritual qi of all.
Qian Chen's magical power naturally contained his comprehension of the Great Dao, which offered great benefits to spirits and deities. Yet even someone without profound cultivation or magical power could employ the talisman core to summon divine assistance.
A righteous individual could petition Holy Emperor Guan with his own sense of loyalty and honor; a scholar rich in literary talent could petition Emperor Wenchang with his intellect and cultural essence; and an upright person burning with hatred for evil could move the True Martial Great Emperor. Even without virtues like integrity, courage, wisdom, benevolence, or perseverance, one could still use the seven emotions and six desires, or even vile deeds, to sway fiends from the Nine Netherworlds or outer realms!
And if one possessed neither righteous sentiments nor the shamelessness to perform demonic acts, one could imitate Daoist Zhen—casting a wide net, offering honeyed praise, and presenting one's own mottled magical power in hopes that some responsive deity might accept.
If all else failed, one could make vows and pledges... Through the method of fulfilling vows, one could write in the footer following the talisman core a promise to accumulate a certain amount of hidden merit and external deeds for the deity, or chant their divine name a certain number of times, thereby borrowing their power. One could even turn from gods to ghosts, sacrificing a bit of yang qi and essence-blood, or offering blood sacrifices and hidden merit to compel hordes of ghosts into service.
Last time, Qian Chen had made the City God dispatch vicious ghosts without asking for the ghosts' consent. That fell under colluding with local deities, something possible only because he possessed immense standing; yet even then, he had provided broken pills and jade dust to secure their compliance.
Finally, the talisman foot concluded the core with a postscript. It was generally used when the petitioner lacked sufficient spiritual sentiment or magical power, stating the compensatory conditions—namely, how much external work, hidden merit, or preaching of the divine name the petitioner would perform, or how many prayers they would offer. Qian Chen's magical power was more than sufficient, yet when writing the postscript of the divine register, a streak of mischief struck him, and he penned: "Attached: 500 Merit!"
Having dispatched the Nine Luminaries Star Lords' divine register into the celestial realm, Qian Chen waited quietly. With the standing of Taishang Dao, such a minor matter was well within reach.
Outside, Cui Dan assumed the external phenomenon of the pill refinement had concluded and was preparing to welcome Qian Chen out of seclusion. At that moment, the sky suddenly brightened. In broad daylight above Jiaobu Town, myriad stars unexpectedly revealed themselves, showering down the essence of the sun and moon. Threads and strands of stellar essence sank straight into the small building, plunging into the alchemy furnace before a dumbfounded Qian Chen.
In an instant, the missing primordial qi within the pills was fully replenished. Not only that, there was an abundance to spare, forcibly elevating the furnace from ten-tenths completion to twelve-tenths.
Qian Chen's back stiffened involuntarily!
This bit of primordial qi was a trivial matter, not even a drop in the ocean compared to the daily essence of the sun and moon shed upon the earth, but this level of face was simply too exorbitant! The Star Lords had given him far too much respect; Qian Chen felt a little apprehensive...
"Could this be... has my identity been exposed?"
Within the Heavenly Market Enclosure of the Astral Celestial Realm, an attendant boy was merrily counting merit when another attendant beside him said worriedly, "Zongren... isn't this making a bit too much of a display? Even though this Daoist disciple offered generous benefits, if the Great Emperor places blame..."
"What is there to fear? This is a true transmission disciple of Louguan Dao. With the face of Venerable Wenshi, even if the Great Emperor finds out, he won't say a thing. Didn't we merely release a sliver of stellar essence? That stuff gathers into seas and winds into the Heavenly River in our Astral Heaven... what does a little bit amount to? Five hundred merit might be chump change, but small sums add up. We must encourage mortal cultivators to contribute more! What a sensible, delightful fellow—the private gift he offered truly hit the mark..."
The attendant beside him said enviously, "Saving like this for tens of thousands of years, you'll finally be able to exchange for that spirit treasure you've been longing for, won't you? What a pity my turn didn't come this time..." With that, he casually received a divine register, glanced at the offering and request written upon it, and curled his lip. "Magical power again. Why can't they learn some sense? And he still expects Emperor Flowing Syrup. Why doesn't he just go dream?"
With a flick of his hand, he casually tossed a wisp of moonlight down to the mortal realm.
Above the Azure Sky Sea, a side-door Yuanshen True Person gazed longingly at the sky, pondering, "Having offered so much magical power, and with tonight being a full moon, the heavens ought to bestow a streak of Emperor Flowing Syrup!" He glanced at his kin and juniors gathered around him—half-human, half-carp creatures whose transformations were exceedingly crude—and snapped in annoyance, "If even half of you were diligent enough to amount to anything, I wouldn't have to throw away my pride like this!"
Just then, a thick strand of moonlight cascaded down from the Lunar Star. The surrounding carp sprites cheered in unison, channeling their demonic qi to swallow and breathe the moonlight.
Yet the Yuanshen True Person could only sigh. "Alas! It's not Emperor Flowing Syrup after all... It seems I can only wait two sexagenary cycles until the Lunar Star is directly aligned on the night of Gengshen!"
Chapter 77