Xiao Mei felt an unfamiliar, almost overwhelming surge of qi within her, her hands trembling with the sheer potency as her cultivation returned to the Nascent Soul stage. The simple, steaming bowl of herbal brew before her, which Li Xuan had so casually presented, now radiated a power that threatened to unravel her very being. Before, with her qi crippled, it had merely seemed a warm, oddly effective concoction. Now, it was a revelation of cosmic proportions. Li Xuan, of course, merely observed her trembling and wondered if the broth was perhaps too hot, or if she found the earthen bowl uncomfortable. The unassuming brown liquid, upon closer inspection through her newly restored spiritual senses, shimmered with a light akin to captured starlight and moonlight, each swirl a galaxy of untold power. Just a glance was enough to send shivers down her spine, the sheer depth of its energy unfathomable. What arcane, legendary alchemical arts had created this? What rare, perhaps mythical, ingredients lay within? Li Xuan would simply think it was a rather robust, if unappetizingly colored, brew. “Ah, your color seems to have returned,” Li Xuan observed mildly, noting the faint flush replacing the pallor on Xiao Mei’s cheeks. He felt a quiet, unassuming satisfaction. It was always pleasant when his simple advice or humble herbal preparations seemed to help someone. He often wondered why people reacted with such theatrical intensity to his rather straightforward efforts. This young lady, for instance, was staring at the bowl as if it held not a simple tonic, but a freshly unearthed demon’s heart. He’d always thought his brews, while perhaps not aesthetically inspiring, were at least palatable and reasonably effective. What could possibly warrant such a profound, almost terrified, tremor? Perhaps she was simply cold. Xiao Mei, however, found her gaze skittering away from Li Xuan, a maelstrom of thoughts churning in her mind. Her family’s most esteemed court alchemist, a master of imperial healing arts, had indeed once outlined a theoretical cure for her lingering internal affliction. The requirements, however, were laughably, cruelly impossible: a piece of Ironbark of Eternity, aged beyond a hundred thousand years; the incandescent Crimson Lava Bloom, forged in the heart of the deepest abyssal fires; a pinch of ancient Dragon’s Whisker Dust; and the touch of an Imperial Grand Sage, at least of the third heavenly tier, to refine these over forty-nine days into a single, precious drop of Celestial Dew of Serenity. Such a concoction would theoretically purge any spiritual taint. But it was mere fantasy. The Bai clan, despite their considerable wealth and influence, had only ever sourced an Ironbark of Eternity of fifty thousand years – a relic in itself. Any specimen exceeding that was spoken of in hushed, mythical tones across the Azure Empire, perhaps one existing only within the forbidden vaults of the Celestial Ascent Citadel, a realm beyond ordinary reach, said to house a specimen over a hundred and twenty thousand years old, guarded by formations that would melt an emperor’s army. To retrieve the Crimson Lava Bloom, one would need to descend into the very core of the Great Chasm of Blazing Essence, a feat reserved for cultivators of the Mahayana stage; her father, the venerable head of the Bai family, barely registered as a seventh-tier Tribulation cultivator. And Dragon’s Whisker Dust? The ancient dragons guarded their every scale, every fragment of bone, with a ferocity that defied gods and mortals alike. Even the dust from a long-dead dragon was considered anathema, bringing swift, merciless retribution. Xiao Mei had long resigned herself to her fate; these were not treasures the Bai family, nor even the Azure Emperor himself, could ever hope to obtain. Yet, the humble brew steaming before her… was it not the very Celestial Dew of Serenity, painstakingly described by the imperial alchemist? Had this unassuming scholar, in his quaint little study in this ordinary corner of Yanwu City, conjured such a miracle in the span of a single tea ceremony? Who, then, was this man? Li Xuan, meanwhile, was just wondering if she had forgotten her manners, or if the taste was truly so startlingly unfamiliar. “Are you quite well, young lady?” he inquired, a faint crease appearing between his brows, genuinely concerned she might be unwell again. Xiao Mei jolted, forcing her expression into a semblance of composure that felt utterly fragile. “Young… young master,” she began, her voice catching, “no, I meant, Esteemed Elder. Would it be… terribly rude of me to ask to observe the components of this… this remedy?” Her heart hammered. The man before her, cloaked in such a convincing veneer of ordinariness, now radiated an aura of terrifying, unfathomable power, utterly invisible to any but a spirit-sense attuned by such a potent tonic. He was no mere mortal; he was a Hidden Grandmaster, a Celestial Physician of legendary renown! To ask such a thing was surely an impertinence bordering on sacrilege, and the words had barely left her lips before a wave of profound regret washed over her. “Oh, certainly,” Li Xuan replied, mildly perplexed by the shift in address. He was hardly an “Esteemed Elder.” Perhaps she was simply being polite. He assumed she merely wished to understand the common ingredients, perhaps to brew a similar, if less potent, remedy for herself in the future. “There are only three components, quite straightforward, really,” he added, rising from his stool. He ambled over to a simple, unassuming shelf where he kept various dried herbs for teas and occasional remedies, plucking three items at random. He placed them gently on the worn wooden table, oblivious to the seismic shift they were about to cause in Xiao Mei’s perception of reality. Xiao Mei’s breath caught in her throat. She approached the table, her gaze fixed on the humble display, and her eyes widened, trembling uncontrollably. The gnarled piece of wood Li Xuan had so casually placed there pulsed with an ethereal silver light, the raw power of time and growth almost overflowing. It was, without a shadow of a doubt, Ironbark of Eternity, and its radiant vitality spoke of an age far, far beyond a hundred thousand years. Next to it lay a bundle of what appeared, to the untrained eye, to be common dried grass, its color a dull, reddish-gold. But Xiao Mei had pored over ancient texts, her family’s extensive collection of forbidden lore, and recognized it instantly: Crimson Lava Bloom. A herb so volatile, so intensely potent, that even a Mahayana cultivator would risk grievous burns by merely touching it without profound cultivation or protection. And then there was the dust, a fine, shimmering powder. As her gaze fell upon it, she didn’t just see; she *felt* it. A faint, almost imperceptible whisper echoed in her mind, a primordial resonance of ancient power, the very breath of a long-sleeping dragon. Dragon’s Whisker Dust. Unmistakable. Oh, heavens above! These were not merely rare herbs; these were *mythical components*, the very stuff of legend, dreamt of by the most powerful sects and imperial houses across the entirety of the Azure Empire! And this man, this utterly unassuming scholar, had simply… *produced* them, as one might offer a guest a cup of common tea. If word of these treasures within his humble dwelling ever reached the outside world, it would ignite a conflagration, a bloody, empire-spanning conflict of unimaginable scale. Yet, he brewed them into the Celestial Dew of Serenity for a complete stranger, then went about his day in this quiet corner of the city. There could be no other explanation: Li Xuan was a truly peerless recluse, a master whose power transcended the mortal realm, choosing a life of serene detachment. “That’s all, really,” Li Xuan remarked with a gentle wave of his hand, as if dismissing something trivial. “My humble abode holds nothing remarkable to warrant such… attention.” These specific items, Li Xuan mused, weren’t things he’d consciously gathered. They simply *appeared* whenever he found himself in need, as if his quiet little supply cabinet, which he called his ‘Pantry of Practicalities,’ simply manifested the precise components for whatever simple task lay before him. This pantry, in his estimation, was rather like a modestly stocked village general store, containing an assortment of dried herbs for mundane ailments, a few dusty scrolls on basic etiquette and calligraphy, perhaps a rudimentary guide to planting gourds, and even some rather dry treatises on philosophical musings – nothing, in his humble opinion, remotely connected to the grand, fantastical world of qi cultivation or legendary arts. He simply found that whatever he needed for a simple remedy or household repair, it was there for the taking, as if some cosmic accountant kept his mundane inventory perfectly replenished based on his quiet, unacknowledged contributions to the harmony of daily life. He considered it a minor, if persistent, eccentricity of his otherwise unremarkable existence. He often found the items quite… pedestrian. This ‘Ironbark,’ this ‘Fire Grass,’ and what he considered ‘Beast Tooth Powder’ – they struck him as rather common, even slightly absurd, ingredients. Who would ever use wood, grass, or mere animal teeth for anything truly significant? Yet, his simple preparations, using these very items, always seemed to elicit surprisingly effective results, despite his mild skepticism regarding their inherent quality. “These are truly nothing special, young lady,” Li Xuan reiterated, a gentle smile playing on his lips, “I only hope my simple broth was not too… rustic for your palate.” As he spoke, he idly picked up the piece of Ironbark of Eternity, a gnarled, dense piece of wood that felt pleasantly firm in his hand. Without conscious thought, he gave it a soft, absent-minded squeeze, and with a soft *snap*, the ancient wood cleaved cleanly in two. Xiao Mei’s breath hitched, her eyes widening in stark terror. Her eyelids twitched violently, almost painfully. Ironbark of Eternity, even a mere thirty-thousand-year-old specimen, possessed a density that rivaled tempered steel, requiring a cultivator in the Tribulation stage to exert their full force to merely scratch it. Within the Azure Empire, a seventy-thousand-year-old piece was kept in the Imperial Archives, used by Mahayana cultivators to test the absolute limits of their Taoist might, for it was considered utterly unbreakable. Yet, this unassuming scholar, with a gentle, casual flick of his fingers, had effortlessly shattered a piece of Ironbark that was clearly centuries of millennia old. A cold sweat, not of illness but of profound, existential dread, began to prickle her skin. She had been so consumed by her arrogance, her former station, her despair. What if she had displayed even a hint of disdain? This man, this Hidden Grandmaster, could extinguish her very existence with less effort than one might swat a bothersome fly. Indeed, it would be far, far easier. Xiao Mei stared at her outstretched palms, her own skin feeling strangely alien, vibrant with a renewed vitality. A surge of exhilarating, almost intoxicating joy coursed through her, causing her entire being to tremble with unrestrained excitement. The pure, unadulterated sensation of power, reborn and surging through her veins… not just mere cultivation, but the tangible promise of status, influence, a destiny reclaimed, a life once lost. It was all back. All of it. A faint dizziness still clung to her, the realization that she, Xiao Mei, had consumed a concoction brewed by a being of such terrifying, yet understated, might. And she, in her ignorance, had dismissed it as a mere peasant’s brew, almost deeming it worthless refuse! The Celestial Dew of Serenity, a marvel requiring an Imperial Grand Sage and the most profound alchemical mastery to create, was rumored to be achievable by only a handful of mythical figures in the entire world. These were not mere cultivators; they were living legends, each possessing networks of influence that could unravel empires with a single, whispered command, erasing even the mighty Azure Empire from the maps in a mere day. Compared to such an individual, what was she? A minor genius from a family of fleeting importance. A shiver of profound shame, coupled with awe, ran through her as she recalled her former arrogance, her despair-induced insolence. She had stood at the precipice of absolute ruin, every hope shattered, only to be granted a miraculous second chance, a life utterly restored. And it was all thanks to the humble, unassuming master before her. Tears welled in her violet eyes, shimmering like captured moonlight. Slowly, reverently, Xiao Mei raised her head, her gaze fixed on Li Xuan, a maelstrom of boundless admiration and profound gratitude swirling within their depths. “Esteemed Elder,” she managed, her voice thick with emotion, “I am indebted beyond measure for this… this divine remedy. I have nothing worthy of repayment, save my eternal fealty. Please, accept my deepest reverence!” And with that, she began to sink into a full, ceremonial kowtow, a gesture of absolute submission and gratitude. Li Xuan, ever observant of human discomfort, even when presented in such an extravagant fashion, quickly reached out to stop her.

Chapter 2: The Efficacy of a Simple Brew