An Alchemist's Path to Eternity

The small SiHeYuan courtyard, usually quiet and forgotten in the winding alleys of the city’s northern district, was alive with laughter and light by mid-afternoon.

People came and went, carrying baskets, dishes, and decorations. Cultivators in plain robes darted about, stringing up lanterns and helping arrange tables and benches. From time to time, curious residents popped their heads out to ask what was going on.

”A birthday party,” the guests would reply.

”Whose?” they’d ask.

But the junior members of the Poshan Gang all gave the same answer—tight-lipped grins and vague shrugs. No names. No details. Just popcorn.

Each helper left with a large bamboo tube of fresh popcorn—golden, sweet, and crackling with faint spirit energy. Normally, these are sold for one spirit stone apiece at Whitestone Plaza. But tonight, they were handed out freely.

”Only our Hall Leader would be this generous. Everyone who came to help got a tub!” someone muttered.

By the time Zeng Wen, accompanied by his nephew Tang Quan, found their way through twists and turns to the courtyard’s entrance, it was almost dusk. The faint sound of laughter spilled from within, blending with the soft pop-pop-pop of beans in a covered pan.

Tang Quan looked around, clearly puzzled.

”Hall Leader Luo must be earning a lot of spirit stones,” he muttered, ”so why’s he living all the way out here?”

Tang Quan curiously examined the surroundings, thinking that anyone unfamiliar with the area would surely lose their way.

Zeng Wen smacked him on the head. ”You brat, you don’t know how lucky you are. Fellow Daoist Luo used to be a rogue cultivator. Having this small piece of land to call home is already a blessing.”

After speaking, he stared at Tang Quan. ”Did you bring the gift I told you to?”

Tang Quan replied with grievance, ”I did. That incense burner is in good condition. But didn’t the Hall Leader say we didn’t need to bring gifts?”

”Hey, you really don’t understand anything!” Zeng Wen scolded him, exasperated.

”No one asked you to bring anything expensive. Just a small gesture to show your sincerity and build rapport. You’re still working under him. Who knows, he might even guide you in alchemy in the future.”

While the two were talking, a young girl holding a large wine gourd curiously observed them from the side.

Zeng Wen’s eyes lit up. What a charming little beauty!

Unexpectedly, the young girl softly bowed to him and said, ”Are you Uncle Zeng Wen? My father often mentioned you before his passing.”

Your father? Before his passing?

Looking at the familiar oval face of the girl, Zeng Wen couldn’t help but ask, ”Who was your father?”

”My father was Yuan Wuxiang. He used to be a member of the Poshan Gang and was known as the Leaping Tiger.”

Zeng Wen immediately withdrew his previously lecherous gaze, coughed, and assumed a dignified and serious demeanor.

”Ah, it’s Xiaoyue! Your father and I did have a decent relationship. But if he mentioned me often, it was probably to curse me behind my back!”

Yuan Xiaoyue let out a soft laugh, her amusement unhidden as she cradled the large gourd.

The large gourd was eye-catching, and Zeng Wen curiously asked, ”What’s that?”

”My grandfather asked me to bring this as a birthday gift for Big Brother Luo Chen. It’s fifty-year-old pineapple wine. My father loved this particular vintage, saying that during that snowy year, the pineapples were especially juicy, and the wine brewed was more mellow than in other years.”

That brat Luo Chen is lucky to enjoy this.

Zeng Wen looked enviously at the large gourd and then turned around to smack Tang Quan on the head. ”See? Even a young girl knows to bring a gift. Do I really have to teach you?”

Tang Quan pouted in grievance. Well, others had their grandfathers to guide them!

Of course, Uncle Zeng Wen had no fatherly demeanor but carried the full authority of a grandfather.

The three chatted and laughed as they stepped into the courtyard.

As soon as they entered, a warm and lively atmosphere greeted them.

In the courtyard, a large table was set, laden with an abundance of delicious food. Three copper pots were placed in the front, middle, and back positions of the table.

Under the small copper pots, charcoal stoves were burning, providing most of the warmth in the courtyard.

Zeng Wen hadn’t even started looking for familiar faces when Tang Quan dashed off.

”Old Qu, what are you doing here? Is this your grandson?”

Qu Hancheng chuckled and said, ”The Hall Leader heard that I had recovered from my injuries, so he invited me over for a simple meal.”

With that, he brought out the half-grown boy hiding behind him. ”Lingjun, greet your Uncle Tang Quan.”

The half-grown boy looked at Tang Quan with his wide eyes and softly said, ”Hello, Uncle Tang Quan!”

Tang Quan grinned mischievously. ”A kid this shy? That’s no good. Come on, Uncle will take you for some fun!”

Before anyone could stop him, he scooped up the wide-eyed child and soared into the air, laughing as he flew low and fast around the courtyard.

The little boy burst into terrified wails, clutching at Tang Quan’s robes as if his life depended on it.

Down below, Qu Hancheng simply smiled.

His son, his only remaining legacy, had been born without spirit roots. A cultivator’s world was harsh; those without roots were often doomed to a life of mediocrity. But by the will of the heavens, his third grandchild, Qu Lingjun, had inherited four-spirit roots.

Although it was the four-spirit roots that major sects dismissed, it was still a foundation for cultivation.

Speaking of which, he owed it all to Hall Leader Luo Chen for providing this opportunity.

Without his support, Qu Hancheng wouldn’t even have had the face or the opportunity to bring his grandson here. Now, the boy could mingle with true Qi-Refining cultivators, and walk among those who walked the path.

His gaze drifted slowly across the courtyard.

Murong Qinglian, elegant as ever, was chatting with a group of female cultivators. Nearby, Zeng Wen was puffing himself up, clearly trying to impress—only to get lightly smacked on the back of the head by Qin Liangchen, who was laughing heartily.

And there, by the doorstep, sat a young man in a snow-white robe, his face aloof, gaze cold—Duan Feng, the silent sword cultivator whose name had already crept into the top fifteen of the Elite Prodigy Board.

Every one of them... was a grand cultivator in the late stage of Qi-Refining.

Somehow, without fanfare or pretense, Hall Leader Luo had drawn these people into his orbit.

Not with wealth. Not with power. But with sincerity, skill, and something rarer—trust.

Qu Hancheng exhaled quietly.

He couldn’t afford to sit idle. He needed to help out more today—he wasn’t just here for a free meal!

***

Inside the house, the warm aroma of simmering spices filled the air as Luo Chen focused intently on preparing the hotpot base. Between adjusting the fire and taste-testing the broth, he glanced up—just in time to see someone else stepping through the door with a gift in hand.

He sighed, exasperated yet amused.

”I told you all—no gifts. Today’s just a meal. We’re here to eat, not exchange formalities.”

Zeng Wen, rubbing a fresh lump on his head courtesy of Qin Liangchen’s earlier smack, shoved a worn-looking book into Luo Chen’s hands.

”Take it or leave it. I only brought it because I didn’t want Tang Quan to get corrupted by this thing. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have bothered giving it to you.”

Luo Chen blinked and looked down at the book. The title printed on the corner made his mouth twitch.

”What kind of person do you think I am? I’m not—”

”Yeah, yeah, you’re not that kind of person,” Zeng Wen interrupted with a wave of his hand as he turned to leave. ”And I’m not giving you anything next time.”

In his eyes, Fellow Daoist Luo was absolutely one of his own!

Silently, Luo Chen slipped the book into his storage pouch. This kind of material required a proper read in the dead of night!

Despite his clear instructions, nearly everyone had brought something. They weren’t particularly expensive, but each carried a sincere sentiment.

Xiaoyue gifted a fifty-year-aged pineapple wine, Tang Quan brought an incense burner, Bai Meiling presented a pot of exotic flowers, Feng Xia gave a handful of rare seeds, and Duan Feng shared a small tip for maintaining enchanted artifacts.

Big Brother Wang Yuan had also stopped by earlier, bringing Luo Chen a bottle of specialty pills from Taishan Market—Golden Jade Liquid. It was said that regular application was excellent for physical refinement.

Big Brother Qin and his wife gifted him a folding fan. Although it was only a low-grade enchanted artifact, its craftsmanship was exceptional! Luo Chen had teased about receiving a fan as winter approached, but upon learning from his sister-in-law that Big Brother Qin chose the gift himself, he let it slide.

During their days of sparring at the Trial Hall, he had casually mentioned something about the cultivation aesthetic of flying swords, white robes, and folding fans. Little did he expect Big Brother Qin to remember those words.

Only Gu Caiyi had refrained from bringing a gift, respecting Luo Chen’s earlier request. They were close—too close for such formalities to matter.

He made a note of each gift, and the vigor in his soup preparation increased.

This was the first birthday he had officially hosted since transmigrating—proof that he had finally settled in this strange new world.

He was determined to ensure everyone ate and drank to their heart’s content!

***

A soft silver glow bathed the courtyard as several moonstones were set around the perimeter, their ethereal light blending seamlessly with the full moon above. The entire space shimmered with a gentle luminance, as if the night itself had been brushed with starlight.

Steam curled up from bubbling hotpots placed around the table, joined by colorful stir-fried dishes and crisp cold appetizers. Scattered along the corners of the courtyard were bowls of fried celestial beans and popcorn, their sweet-savory aroma drifting through the air.

Twelve guests filled the table, occupying every seat. Laughter and conversation stirred the stillness of the night.

Wine was poured, and with Luo Chen and Zeng Wen taking the lead, the first toast was downed in one hearty gulp.

The atmosphere grew cheerful in an instant.

Everyone shared stories about the strange happenings around Dahe Market. Even the usually stoic Wang Yuan shared a dry-humored tale from Taishan Market, recounting the fate of a young cultivator from a local family who, by pure misfortune, stumbled into the forbidden grounds of a Golden Core sect and accidentally witnessed the sect leader’s daughter bathing.

Instead of a light punishment or arranged marriage, the girl—in a scandalous twist—had the family wiped out entirely. The mix of scandal, absurdity, and Wang Yuan’s deadpan tone had everyone laughing, even as they winced at the grim punchline.

What could have been a tragic tale of ruin was oddly amusing due to its risque elements and Wang Yuan’s dry delivery.

Midway through the drinks, Zeng Wen felt the gathering wasn’t lively enough and started a drinking game.

No one shied away, and even the usually reserved Duan Feng displayed an impressive talent. When it was Luo Chen’s turn, he froze awkwardly.

”I... I don’t know how to play this one!” he admitted.

Inwardly, he groaned. Wasn’t transmigration supposed to be about profound cultivation and heavenly tribulations? Why am I stuck plagiarizing drinking poetry and playing games?

Left with no choice, he took a large gulp of his drink.

Seeing his embarrassment, Gu Caiyi took over and suggested performing a dance for everyone.

The crowd cheered enthusiastically!

Gu Caiyi didn’t hesitate. She winked at Luo Chen before gracefully soaring into the air, her sleeves fluttering. Her performance was none other than the Graceful Crane Dance, the same mesmerizing display that had once brought the Debate Platform to a standstill.

Luo Chen watched and was completely captivated. He understood the meaning behind that glance—this dance was her birthday gift to him.

When he had first moved into the courtyard, he had mentioned wanting to see her dance in private, but the opportunity had never arisen. Now, his wish was granted, even if others were there to witness it.

Beside him, Zeng Wen lamented loudly, saying, ”There are no such graceful dances left in Tianxiang Tower!”

”After being in the gang for so long, my dancing has become a bit rusty,” Gu Caiyi said with a reserved smile upon landing.

The applause, however, clearly disagreed with her modesty.

Zeng Wen tried to start another round of the drinking game, but everyone had grown tired of it and suggested a new activity. This was no problem for the ever-resourceful Zeng Wen, who quickly pulled out a small jar and a set of arrows.

”Let’s play Tou Hu! [1]”

”This little game? It’s hardly a challenge for cultivators like us.”

”No, no, you’re underestimating Tou Hu,” Zeng Wen explained confidently. ”Foundation Establishment cultivators can’t use spirit consciousness, and Qi-Refining cultivators can’t use spirit power.

Also, this little jar is actually a mid-grade defensive artifact with an internal array. If your aim isn’t good enough or your throw lacks power, it won’t go in!”

With this explanation, everyone became interested. They eagerly picked up the arrows and began tossing them into the jar.

Losers had to drink.

Of course, after Wang Yuan casually demonstrated his skill, he was banned from participating.

A physical cultivator playing Tou Hu? That was blatant cheating!

Amid the cheerful atmosphere, someone suddenly said: ”It’s snowing!”

Everyone paused the game, fell silent, and looked up at the sky.

Under the night sky, delicate six-sided snowflakes drifted gently down.

”I wonder how many rogue cultivators will perish in Dahe Market this year.”

”Ah, may everyone accept their fate!”

1. 投壶 (tou hu) is an ancient Chinese game that was popular during the Zhou Dynasty and later periods. It involved throwing arrows or sticks into a pot from a distance, combining entertainment with elements of etiquette, skill, and competition. The game was often played at banquets or gatherings and symbolized a cultured pastime for the aristocracy ☜