At the dining table, Xiao Yan glanced sideways at Xiao Yu across from him, who was biting into his food with such force that the silver teeth occasionally made faint, crisp clicking sounds. Xiao Yan pursed his lips, recalling the unusual pleasant sensation from earlier, and unconsciously rubbed his palm with his right hand. Across from him, Xiao Yu, who had been glaring at Xiao Yan all along, now found his face flushing between pale and crimson. Xiao Yun, watching Xiao Yu with a puzzled expression, then shook her head in mild exasperation, slowly chewing and swallowing her food. Her gaze shifted past Xiao Yu to Xiao Ning, who was now beaming with joy, his mouth curved so widely that it nearly spanned half his face. With a light tap of his fingers on the table edge, Xiao Yan silently chuckled to himself, thinking: "He must have already received the foundation-essence elixir." Yet he seemed unaware that the elixir had little effect on cultivators with eight segments or above in their battle energy... Smiling to himself and shaking his head, Xiao Yan's gaze drifted listlessly around the room, observing his father and others at the table, whose faces were bright with smiles, growing increasingly puzzled: "Family gatherings weren't typically held only during special festivals, were they? What was so celebratory today? Wasn't it worth celebrating simply because they'd paid a premium to secure a foundation elixir?" Xiao Yan's thoughts were far from the mark, unaware that this very family gathering had been initiated precisely because of the casually mentioned possibility of collaboration he'd made earlier, while dressed as the enigmatic black-robed figure. By collaborating with a senior-level alchemist, the Xiao family would secure profits that would make most others envious—perhaps even enabling them to surpass the other two families. It's no surprise, then, that even their usually composed and calm father is overjoyed, while the elders are already beaming with delight, their slightly narrowed eyes clearly dazzled by the unexpected windfall. The banquet gradually wound down in a festive atmosphere. As soon as Xiao Yan saw his father wave him off, he immediately jumped from his chair, rushed out of the hall, and headed straight for his room without looking back. Shortly after Xiao Yan left, Xiao Yu gritted her teeth and hurried after him, only to find no trace of him, and in frustration, stomped her feet angrily before departing. Upon returning to her room, having learned from her own experience, Xiao Yan did not immediately request the old alchemist to begin preparing the medicine. Instead, she closed the doors and windows, then lazily rolled onto the bed and drifted off to sleep. When the night deepened and all things had fallen asleep, Xiao Yan suddenly opened his eyes, leapt nimbly off the bed, retrieved the herbs hidden in the cabinet, placed them carefully on the table, then turned back to gaze at the elderly pharmacist, who floated like a ghost at a height of one foot above the ground. He softly asked, "Master, shall we proceed now?" "You've finally learned to be more careful. The process of preparing medicine requires an extremely quiet environment; any disturbance could have serious consequences. Though I won't suffer any immediate backlash now, when you eventually master the art of medicine preparation, if you remain so careless, you'll surely lose your life sooner or later." The pharmacist approached the table, his ethereal hands gently touching the various materials, nodded slightly, and spoke with a tone that was mildly stern. Feeling a bit embarrassed, Xiao Yan nodded in understanding. Seeing Xiao Yan’s attentive and composed demeanor, the Yeold finally felt a slight relief, spreading his hands out with a calm, steady motion. A white flame gradually rose and burned steadily. His soul perception continuously regulated the flame’s temperature. Taking this moment of stillness, the Yeold glanced at Xiao Yan, who was curiously watching the flame in his palms. After a brief pause, he softly said, "A typical alchemist can usually determine the rank of their craft by the color of their flame. Most alchemists have a pale yellow flame; the higher the rank, the deeper the color and the greater the power." "Borrowing fire?" A phrase not entirely unfamiliar, yet the meaning behind it left Xiao Yan utterly puzzled—could fire used for alchemy also be borrowed? "Indeed," the Elder nodded firmly, smiling, "across this vast expanse of the world, there exist certain celestial and unusual fires. These might originate from the flame carried within the core of a fallen meteorite, or from the deep volcanic magma that has been forged and heated over countless centuries. These unique fires are slightly more powerful than flames catalyzed by Qi, and when used in the preparation of medicinal concoctions, they enhance the potency of the resulting pills. However, these celestial fires are exceptionally turbulent and fierce—rarely encountered, and even when met, they are difficult to harness and control." "Many alchemists spent their entire lives searching for rare, unique flames, yet never succeeded in obtaining them. After all, to control such flames, one must channel them into one's own body—yet every unique flame is inherently wild and destructive. Even renowned, durable materials like magi-gold drills cannot withstand the intense heat of these flames, let alone the fragile human body. Such efforts are essentially self-immolation. Therefore, only a few fortunate individuals, by sheer chance, managed to assimilate a small cluster of unique flames, nurturing them into their own internal flame sources—these individuals, without exception, are the outstanding figures in the alchemical world." "With a slight glow of pride on his face, the Elder of Medicine gestured with a fervent gaze, saying, 'In the realm of Qi cultivation, the art of alchemy has cataloged the known rare flames into a list known as the 'List of Unique Flares,' comprising twenty-three types. My own flame is the eleventh-ranked 'Bone-Spirit Cold Flame,' a rare type that can only be encountered at the most extreme cold and yin locales during the century-long transition between day and night.'" "Bone-Spirit Cold Flame?" Peering steadily at the ever-turbulent, pale, forest-like flame, Xiao Yan murmured softly.