Chapter 380: Refining the Cure

Chapter 380: Chapter 380: Refining the Cure

Chapter 380: Refining the Cure

For the next three days, Anya had to endure an unimaginable pain.

Without the protection of the Spring of Life, the corrupted energy lurking within her meridians awakened completely.

It writhed like thousands of venomous insects, gnawing at her flesh from the inside out.

"Ugh..."

Anya sat cross-legged in the inner chamber, her delicate frame trembling violently.

The pain was excruciating enough to drive a grown warrior to madness, yet Anya fiercely bit her lip, refusing to scream or ask Rhain to stop.

Beads of cold sweat poured down her pale face, soaking the front of her white dress.

Rhain sat across from her, his palms pressed firmly against hers.

’The corruption spreads along the essence circulation routes... it devours vitality first, then attacks the organs... when the host’s essence weakens, it accelerates...’

Rhain meticulously recorded every single movement of the corrupted energy.

Finally, after three grueling days of relentless torment, when the corrosive energy was at its peak, Rhain slowly opened his eyes.

"That is enough," Rhain spoke softly, he had a rare compassionate look as he looked at the trembling young girl.

Even he had to admire her sheer willpower to endure such pain, yet refusing to back down.

"Your bravery has helped to save countless lives," Rhain praised softly.

With a swift motion, he unsealed a prepared vial containing an elixir formed using the Spring of Life.

Anya eagerly swallowed the pill. She then managed a weak, exhausted smile. "Did you... did you find it, benefactor?"

"Yes," Rhain replied, "Rest now. I will handle the rest."

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The next morning, under Fridleif’s personal decree, every single alchemist of the Crystalveil Tribe was summoned to the central gathering square.

A dozen cauldrons of varying qualities were arranged in perfect rows across the stone plaza. Standing behind them were the tribe’s most revered elders—four Master-rank alchemists and eight Expert-rank alchemists.

The youngest was a middle aged man in his forties. The oldest was well over seventy to eighty years old.

To the side, Karsten and his mercenaries had just returned from the outer canyons, dumping massive sacks filled with seemingly mundane herbs, toxic weeds, and coarse roots onto the ground.

Rhain walked into the square, his hands clasped casually behind his back.

But as his dark grey eyes swept over the assembled alchemists, he was deeply astonished.

Standing in the second row, dressed in a neat alchemist’s robe and standing before a bronze cauldron, was Anya.

"You are an alchemist?" Rhain asked, genuinely surprised.

Fridleif, standing nearby, puffed his broad chest with immense pride.

"Benefactor," Fridleif explained, "Anya is the greatest alchemy prodigy our Crystalveil Tribe has seen in centuries. Despite her young age, she is already an Expert-rank alchemist! She sits right alongside our most senior elders."

Rhain looked at the young girl. Her face was still slightly pale from the ordeal of the past three days, but her eyes were bright and determined.

"Impressive," Rhain nodded approvingly.

He then walked to the very center of the square, his gaze turning strictly professional as he addressed the gathered crowd.

"Listen closely," Rhain’s voice echoed across the plaza, commanding absolute silence. "Today, we are going to refine an Epic-Grade elixir. It is a formula I have personally deduced. If refined correctly, it will perfectly suppress the Marrow-Rot Plague, and it does not require a single drop of the Spring of Life."

The words dropped like a thunderclap.

The tribal alchemists stared at Rhain in sheer disbelief.

"A cure without the Spring of Life?!" an elderly Master-rank alchemist gasped, his eyes wide. "We have tried for five hundred years! How can these ordinary canyon weeds..."

"Furthermore," another Expert-rank alchemist interrupted nervously, "Benefactor, with all due respect, an Epic-Grade pill can only be refined by a Master-rank alchemist! Half of us here are only at the Expert-rank! We simply do not have the comprehension or the essence control to refine an Epic-Grade formula!"

The alchemists nodded in frantic agreement. It was an ironclad law of alchemy. Attempting to refine a pill above one’s rank was a guaranteed recipe for a cauldron explosion.

"That is exactly why I am here," Rhain replied calmly.

He could not use his own essence to refine the pills, but his Soul Power and his unparalleled alchemical knowledge were not restricted.

"Do exactly as I command." Rhain declared, his tone leaving no room for argument, "And you all will be able to refine the pills without any failure."

The alchemists swallowed hard, intimidated by the confidence radiating from the dark-robed youth.

"Ignite your flames!" Rhain ordered.

Fwoosh! Fwoosh! Fwoosh!

A dozen spiritual flames erupted beneath the cauldrons.

"Drop the Black-Thorn Root and the Red Pith Leaves together. Now!"

The alchemists hastily threw the herbs into their cauldrons.

But the moment the two distinct herbs began to melt, the older alchemists turned ghastly white.

"Benefactor! These two herbs violently clash!" the senior Master-rank alchemist shrieked, watching the liquid essence bubble furiously in his cauldron. "The earthen residue from the root is rejecting the fire essence of the leaves! It is going to explode!"

"Silence!" Rhain’s voice cut through the panic like a blade. "Lower the temperature by exactly four degrees! Compress your flame to the center of the cauldron and let the residual heat melt the edges!"

Trembling, the alchemists followed his bizarre instruction.

The moment they dropped the temperature and shifted their flames, the violent bubbling miraculously ceased.

The conflicting elements perfectly neutralized each other, merging into a smooth emerald-green liquid.

The alchemists were all stupified.

It went against every traditional text they had ever studied!

But Rhain did not give them a single second to marvel. Standing in the center of the square, he orchestrated the refinement like a god.

"Add the Crimson Dust Petals! Seal the vents!"

"You in the third row, your flame is too hot! Dim it by ten percent or you will scorch the core!"

His vast Soul Power enveloped the entire square, monitoring the microscopic changes inside all twelve cauldrons simultaneously.

One by one, errors that the alchemists themselves hadn’t even noticed were ruthlessly pointed out and corrected before they could ruin a single batch.

As the refinement reached its most critical stage, the heavy pressure of the Epic-Grade formula began to bear down on the Expert-rank alchemists.

Anya’s forehead was drenched in sweat as she struggled to forcefully fuse the wildly turbulent medicinal essences.

Her Expert-rank foundation was simply too shallow to control the overbearing energy of an Epic-Grade pill.

"Anya!" Rhain’s voice snapped.

Anya flinched, her small hands trembling as she tried to control the raging energies within her bronze cauldron.

"Do not try to force the essence with brute strength," Rhain instructed, "Let the cooling properties of the White-Leaf merge naturally in the next three seconds."

Anya bit her lip, her hands moving with supernatural speed as she perfectly executed Rhain’s instructions.

Instantly, the violent resistance within her bronze cauldron vanished. The liquid essence folded perfectly upon itself.

"Condense!" Rhain commanded.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

One after another, the heavy lids of the cauldrons were blown into the air.

A profoundly rich, pure medicinal fragrance instantly flooded the entire gathering square.

The alchemists peered into their cauldrons.

"This... this is an Epic-Grade Pill!"

"No scorching... no failure..." another elder wept in disbelief.

Every single cauldron had succeeded.

A one hundred percent success rate!

For an entire group of alchemists to perfectly refine an unfamiliar Epic-Grade pill on their first attempt without a single failure—it was a phenomenon that thoroughly shattered their entire understanding of the alchemical path.

But the greatest shock belonged to Anya.

With trembling fingers, she reached into her bronze cauldron and pulled out a round Epic-Grade elixir.

She stared at the glowing pill in her palm with unblinking eyes.

She had refined an Epic-Grade pill. She had officially crossed the insurmountable threshold.

"Master-rank..." Anya murmured, tears of joy spilling over her eyelashes.

"ANYA!"

Fridleif rushed forward, his massive frame shaking with overwhelming emotion as he pulled his daughter into a hug. "You did it! My daughter is a Master-rank alchemist!"

The surrounding alchemists erupted into deafening cheers.

"Praise the ancestors!"

"Young mistress Anya is a genius!"

"The benefactor is a living god!"

To produce a Master-rank alchemist at such a young age guaranteed the prosperity of their tribe for centuries to come!

"It is all thanks to the benefactor!" Anya cried happily, looking toward Rhain with eyes full of boundless reverence and profound gratitude.

The tribal alchemists quickly followed suit, bowing so deeply their foreheads nearly touched the stone plaza, worshipping the dark-robed youth as if he were the god descended into the mortal realm.

Rhain was unmoved by the dramatic displays of emotion.

He raised his hand, instantly quelling the cheering crowd.

"Save your celebrations," Rhain stated pragmatically, bringing the focus brutally back to reality.

His eyes swept over the glowing elixirs held by the stunned alchemists.

"The refinement was a success. But theoretical perfection means nothing without practical application."

Rhain turned to Fridleif.

"Bring forward an infected patient. It is time to test the cure."