Chapter Fifty-Three: The Fiery Elixir of Immortality

“Excuse me! Please wait a moment!”
Barely two minutes after they had stepped out of the shop, mother and son were called back by a voice from behind.
The mother turned around to find a young barista in a brown apron.
“Sorry for the inconvenience, but the cup you just bought has a flaw. Let me replace it with a new one,” said the barista, holding a brand-new thermal mug identical to theirs.
When Flower Sheng saw the barista, the heavy stone in his heart finally settled. On the barista’s left ear hung a silver sword-shaped earring.
“But I checked it very carefully!” protested the boy, hugging the coffee mug as if unwilling to let go.
The young barista crouched down, took the mug from the boy, turned it in his hands, and pointed out a spot gently, “See? This is a display sample. Many people have handled it, and someone even dropped it; look, there’s a dent here.”
The boy peered closely and, indeed, spotted a small dent along the rim.
The barista smiled, handed the boy a pristine new mug, and ruffled his hair. “This one is entirely new. Make sure to check carefully next time you buy something!”
The boy nodded, “Thank you, big brother!”
As mother and son walked away, their conversation drifted back.
“The coffee thermal mug feels lighter now,” the boy commented.
His mother replied, “Didn’t the young man tell you the previous cup was just a sample? Maybe it was stuffed full of price tags like a jar.”
The young barista took the exchanged cup and walked into a quiet alley nearby. He set the mug on the ground and said, “Alright, change back!”
A puff of blue smoke rose from the thermal mug, and Flower Sheng emerged from it, vigorously rubbing his backside. “Your little lie came with real pain—calling it a dent, you pinched me right on the butt! Now I can’t even sit; I’ll have to sleep on my stomach.”
“Have you learned your lesson?” The Supreme Young Lord remarked. “What’s wrong with turning into a coffee bean? You just had to become a coffee mug—so ostentatious, and a limited edition, no less.”
When they returned to Starbucks, the shop was already dark, the lights extinguished. The staff had locked up and left through the back door.
Flower Sheng pressed his palms to the glass to block the glare from the streetlights and peered inside, “Everyone’s gone; there’s nobody left.”
The Supreme Young Lord cracked his knuckles and snapped his fingers.
“Let’s get to work!”
He stepped through the glass, with Flower Sheng following closely. As they passed through, their attire transformed back into the robes of the Daoist Arts Academy.
These robes, hand-stitched by the Celestial Maiden of the Nine Heavens, amplified their magical powers and greatly improved their chances of success in alchemy.
Flower Sheng circled the café once more, confirming no one was present. With a wave of his hand, he cast an illusion spell of high grade; every window and camera lens turned an almost opaque deep black. Then, with a series of clicks, every door lock in the shop sealed from the inside.
A cascade of coffee beans poured onto the floor. The two emptied the enormous roasting drum spanning both stories of the café. Then, through the pipes, Flower Sheng emptied all his alchemical ingredients from his satchel into the copper cauldron. The Supreme Young Lord took out the Jade of Heavenly Palace, gazed at it one last time with reluctance, then placed it in his palm and gently crushed it.

A pale green glow flashed between his fingers; the jade dissolved into fine powder, flowing like sand into the copper cauldron.
Watching the powder, the Supreme Young Lord murmured, “A single cauldron may conceal dragons and tigers, for the universe dwells within.”
He turned to Flower Sheng, “Are you now fully adept at fire control?”
From his tone, it was clear the Supreme Young Lord still doubted Flower Sheng’s command of magical arts.
“Master Yu Ran gave me special guidance on fire control, and Yu Yu is an expert as well; both tutored me. I think I’m ready.”
“Alchemy is no trivial matter. Are you sure you won’t blow this building sky-high?”
“The chances are slim...”
Humans, when repeatedly questioned, grow less and less confident in what they once believed certain.
The Supreme Young Lord drew a feather fan from behind. “Here’s the plan: you fan the flames, and I’ll ignite the fire. You assist; I control the heat.”
Flower Sheng nodded.
They separated, sat cross-legged on the floor. The Supreme Young Lord chanted, raising his right index and middle fingers to trace a talisman in the air, then pointed to the cauldron.
“Hasten as decreed! Six Divine Fires, arise!”
No sooner had he spoken than he levitated cross-legged into the air. The copper cauldron at the center of the shop flared with golden light; the inscriptions on its surface shone like lantern patterns, casting intricate shadows on the walls. The carved characters began to rotate, and inside, the crackling of fire and ingredients bursting under heat echoed. A wave of heat radiated from the cauldron, its surface glowing deep red from the intense temperature.
The Supreme Young Lord pointed steadily at the cauldron with his right hand, while his left produced several talismans from his robe. The talismans flew out, circling the cauldron, their characters glowing bright red, blending with the yellow talismans to form red and yellow streaks of light that spun tightly around the cauldron.
“Guardian boy! Fan!” he called to Flower Sheng.
“The guardian is here!” Flower Sheng raised the fan and began fanning rapidly at the Supreme Young Lord.
“Don’t fan at me, fan at the alchemy furnace!” the Supreme Young Lord scolded, half amused.
“Oh! I saw you sweating so much, I thought you wanted to cool down.”
“You’re the guardian; your job is to keep the furnace’s flames even, not to play the electric fan.”
Flower Sheng quickly sat cross-legged and levitated, fanning the glowing alchemy furnace.
The Supreme Young Lord said, “No need to fan so fast; keep it steady. Only when the Six Divine Fires evenly fill every corner of the furnace will the ingredients not burn. If the air is unstable and the flames fluctuate, you’ll end up with a heap of charcoal. Our materials are limited; we must succeed in one attempt.”
“Understood. Is this right? How long must I stay like this?”
“Not long. About three or four hours.”
“Three or four hours? That’s six to eight hours! My god. Is there no break at all?” Flower Sheng wished he’d gone to the restroom beforehand.

“Nonsense! Unqualified guardian!” The Supreme Young Lord glared at him. “Don’t use vulgar words to taint my alchemy array. Alchemy requires focus and concentration. If the alchemist keeps coming and going like at a shopping mall, the energy within the array will scatter and all our work will be wasted!”
Flower Sheng fell silent, calming his mind, slowly waving the Eight Trigrams feather fan up and down.
Time ticked steadily by. Though the café had two spacious floors, able to hold hundreds of people, the overheated cauldron and sealed doors soon made the air stifling and oppressive.
After an indeterminate interval, despite wearing feather-light, breathable Daoist robes, Flower Sheng was drenched in sweat. He glanced at the Supreme Young Lord, whose face was glistening with beads of sweat, drops sliding down his cheeks and pooling on the floor, soaking a wide patch.
The Supreme Young Lord seemed unfazed, eyes tightly closed, brows furrowed, hands ceaselessly forming seals, and his chanting drifted between audible and inaudible. Sometimes Flower Sheng could catch the words, sometimes only the Supreme Young Lord himself could hear them. Flower Sheng realized this was the “Three Incantations In Parallel” technique discussed in class.
The so-called Three Incantations In Parallel involves simultaneously performing three categories of Daoist incantations: mind incantation, subtle incantation, and manifest incantation.
Mind incantation refers to silently focusing the mind, uttering no sound—sometimes just a phrase like “hasten as decreed” suffices for magic.
Subtle incantation means chanting softly, audible only to the caster.
Manifest incantation is spoken aloud, so those nearby can hear; thus it’s also called voice incantation.
Usually, only one type can be performed at a time. Beginners like Flower Sheng mostly need to recite incantations aloud to ensure accuracy. To perform three incantations together requires using the mind in three ways at once—a feat only true masters can manage.
Although Flower Sheng was unsure how the Nine-Turn Elixir was made in Shengpingning, as a prescription used across the vast Immortal Realm, it surely required more than one or two immortals to craft, perhaps even a large magical device as guardian.
Now, relying only on the two of them in a coffee shop, with improvised equipment, to make celestial pills—it was almost beyond reckoning, or rather, asking too much even of immortals.
Boundless blessings of the Celestial Lord! Let’s hope this isn’t all for nothing, Flower Sheng silently prayed.
He checked the clock in the shop; before he knew it, it was three in the morning. Alchemy consumes immense energy. If Flower Sheng, an outsider, disturbed the Supreme Young Lord now, it might ruin this crucial task. He dared not act rashly.
Sitting here fanning, it seemed he wasn’t much help.
Perhaps he could wipe away the sweat?
With this thought, Flower Sheng felt he had a good idea. He gently dropped to the floor, took a stack of napkins from the condiment counter, and tiptoed over to the Supreme Young Lord, who was drenched in sweat. Picking up a napkin, he hesitated—wouldn’t it seem suspicious for a grown man to wipe another’s sweat?
It would be awkward to cause unnecessary misunderstanding.
But seeing the Supreme Young Lord wholly absorbed, hands forming seals, clearly giving his all, Flower Sheng felt it reasonable to help, like a surgical assistant wiping the surgeon’s brow. If he wiped firmly enough, surely no one would misconstrue it.
With this, Flower Sheng felt reassured. He pressed a napkin to the Supreme Young Lord’s forehead, and it was instantly soaked. As he wiped, his hand slipped, and a napkin clung to the Supreme Young Lord’s face.