A Blind Swordsman's Sword Coffin

The crowd gasped sharply at Cao Yan’s display.

“Who is that man?! With such terrifying skill, it’s impossible he isn’t famous!”

“Could he be the top disciple of the Heavenly Pill Sect? Or perhaps one of their elders?”

The elderly alchemist who had spoken earlier widened his eyes, still staring at Cao Yan. Even Wang Heyang was shaken by what he saw.

The flames in his palms flickered as his control wavered, nearly destroying the ingredients in his cauldron.

Cold sweat beaded on Wang Heyang’s forehead as he screamed inwardly. Impossible! How can he control so many flames at once?! Even the elders of my sect wouldn’t dare attempt that! He’s faking it! Yes, he has to be!

Clinging to that thought, Wang Heyang slowly forced himself to calm down. For all his arrogance, he did have talent, and his mental fortitude outclassed many people.

Beneath Cao Yan’s cloak, however, a mocking smirk appeared, his confidence steadily rising.

Within half an hour, he had entered a flow state, mind fully immersed in the refinement. The voices of the spectators faded from his ears. He sped up.

He tossed in herb after herb, all refined at once.

Six... seven... ten!

The alchemists in the audience could hardly believe it. Compared to Wang Heyang, he was simply on another level.

Li Guanqi and Ye Feng were stunned too. Ye Feng pouted and muttered, “Tsk, I didn’t think Big Head was this good at pill refining.”

Li Guanqi’s eyes lit with joy and pride. At this rate, he really would get the Longevity Grass.

He turned slightly, glancing toward the second floor. A curvy woman stood there, and their eyes met.

Her fox-like eyes glittered. She no longer needed to watch; the outcome was already decided.

As Cao Yan’s pace quickened, his movements grew ever smoother. Every action flowed with natural grace and no wasteful movements. Of course, Wang Heyang saw it too.

At first, he could still soothe himself with lies. But now, panic was beginning to set in.

Sweat streamed down from his forehead to the tip of his nose. His eyes betrayed his fear of failure. Though he hated to admit it, his opponent’s skill far surpassed his own.

They weren’t even on the same level. He had never seen such mastery—not even among the Cloud Pill Sect’s elders.

In less than an hour, Cao Yan had refined all of his herbs. Next came the condensation of the pill.

Wang Heyang, meanwhile, had only refined a third. The moment he remembered that failure meant losing the Longevity Grass, his panic deepened.

Images of Sixth Elder Lu Yu, his lifespan nearly spent, flashed before him. His chest tightened, and his focus slipped.

That instant of distraction was fatal. His divine consciousness faltered, the flames in his cauldron surged out of control, and a burst of fire flared.

Drenched in cold sweat, he desperately tried to recover, but some of the spirit liquid was already ruined.

His frown deepened. Even if he produced pills, they would retain at best seventy percent of their medicinal potency. Forced into a corner, he chose to drag things out.

But he could not stall forever. Once the spirit liquid had formed under heat, it needed replenishment. If he delayed too long, it would burn to ash, preventing the pill from condensing.

All he could do was pray that Sixth Elder Lu Yu arrived soon, and perhaps put a stop to the contest with his sect’s name.

Cao Yan was not going to let him stall, though. He moved faster, and the flames in the cauldron brightened and dimmed in shorter intervals.

An hour later, his divine consciousness surged through his body, and the fire roared.

The crowd grew tense. They knew this was the decisive moment, when success or failure would be revealed. Every gaze fixed on Cao Yan, breath held tight.

On the second floor, Qian Qiusui spoke into the seemingly empty air. “Activate the third transporter array. Prepare to send them out. We’ll escort them a hundred li.”

A voice came from a shadow in the corner of the room. “Yes, Ma’am.”

The corners of her lips turned up into a small smile as she murmured, “A good trade.”

Boom!

Fire erupted from Cao Yan’s cauldron. He shot to his feet and shouted, “Condense!”

Clang clang clang clang!

The cauldron trembled, metallic chimes ringing from within.

A rich fragrance burst forth, sweeping across the hall.

Cao Yan slapped the cauldron, and the lid opened. Nine shiny, spherical pills, each the size of a fingernail, appeared in front of the crowd.

They were pure milky white, radiating waves of heat.

The old man closest to the stage could see them clearly. When he counted them, he exclaimed, “Nine pills! Judging by the aroma, they’ve preserved at least ninety percent of their potency, and perhaps it’s even perfect retention! And look, there are faint patterns on the pills! That means flawless refinement! Who the hell is this man?!”

Cao Yan glanced at Wang Heyang and snickered. “You’ve lost.”

Wang Heyang had only just begun melting his ingredients and hadn’t even started to condense the pills. The discerning spectators could already tell much of his spirit liquid was damaged.

Even if he managed to form pills, preserving seventy percent would be the best he could hope for, and there was no chance of matching Cao Yan’s quantity.

Hearing the comments around him, Wang Heyang snapped coldly, “Hmph! What’s the rush? Time isn’t up yet!”

But inside, his heart raced. He knew if he delayed further, his batch would be ruined. Yet submitting them now meant admitting defeat.

He was terrified that Sixth Elder Lu Yu would skin him alive.

Wang Heyang gulped. Forcing bravado, he barked, “The outcome will only be decided once the pills are complete!”