The thick, gooey mass of pink sludge bubbled in the pot before me, and I grimaced at it. It was supposed to be thin, fluid, and aromatic, swirling with lines of red and white like a peppermint candy. Instead, it looked like pink tar – and smelled like vomit. I sighed; I’d done something wrong again. Gamely, I added the single wood qi stone to the mix, and it flashed a brilliant scarlet color before hardening into a thick, neon pink paste. I tried to pull the stirring rod out of it, but the mixture held it securely in place. I had to yank to tear the thing free, and it came loose with a disgusting squelching noise.

Dif sighed as she looked down at my creation. “And once more, your spirit reaches out and contaminates the medicine,” she said tiredly. “This ooze would loosen your patient’s bowels until all the water flooded from their body. They would be fortunate to survive.” She shook her head. “Scrape it clean and start again, Xu Xing.”

I did as she said, taking the dark bronze cauldron over to the fireplace and using a brass scraper to laboriously dig out the thick contents. I couldn’t just wash the cauldron out; the remnants of my creations could get into the plants of the garden, and that would ruin them for alchemical use. Once the pot was as clean as I could get it, I flipped it upside down onto a cast iron rod that jutted up from the center of the flames. I carefully worked the bellows and forced air into the fire – as it turned out, fire qi did need air to burn, after all – and watched the heat reduce my foul creation to so much harmless ash.

I’d been at this for five days. Five solid days of cutting, mashing, grinding, mixing, and stirring, and I hadn’t gotten one creation right. Not a single one. They all came out tainted somehow, and most of them would make a person sick at the very least. Considering how easily everything else in this world had come to me, my epic failure at alchemy was a little frustrating. Not to mention, it was fairly humbling.

As Dif said, she wasn’t exactly a kind and nurturing instructor. She corrected my mistakes with her stirring rod, leaving thin welts along my qi-enhanced skin. When I ruined ingredients through haste or carelessness, she made me spend hours in the gardens replanting seeds to replace what I’d destroyed. She even forced me to sample some of my less dangerous creations, probably hoping that the experience of horrific intestinal cramps, projectile vomiting, or blinding headaches would help motivate me to do better.

So far, it hadn’t worked, and I’d spent the past two days envying Jing and Bai Ren their apparently brutal training beneath Wim’s stern gaze.

I fished the cauldron out of the fire once more and placed it to the side to cool. While it did, I gathered and started to prepare my ingredients. I fetched another wood qi stone, the source of the magical energy that I’d be infusing into the mixture. I carefully measured red lightning seeds into a bowl and ground them into a fine powder using only clockwise strokes to unlock the required matrix within them. I chopped up white fire root into a paste, shifting the knife 90 degrees every five cuts so that the energy of the seeds was held firmly in place. I crushed a thumbnail sized chunk of purple quarry crystal with a bronze mallet until it looked like fine sand. Finally, I sliced a single leaf of the silver ashen berry into fine strings, careful to cut along the grain of the coarse leaf so that it would carry the magical energy I was going to give it into every section of the mixture.

My cauldron was cool, so I picked it up and covered the bottom with a fine, even layer of crystal powder. I used my bronze stirring rod to carefully etch the representation of the meridian lines I wanted to emulate into the sandy base, then covered it with crossed threads of ashen berry leaf. I had to place the strands in a very specific pattern that mimicked the representation I’d drawn in the sand below. I carefully sprinkled the lightning powder along the pattern of the strings, keeping the width of each line of powder as even as possible. Finally, I gently smoothed the fire root paste onto the top of it all, getting the surface as even as possible before etching the pattern I’d placed on the sand into it once more, but this time moving in reverse so that it sealed the whole thing down.

Once that was done, I placed the cauldron onto a tripod that held it over a wispy, blue flame. I watched it carefully as it heated, using thick leather gloves to turn it constantly. The paste on top turned soupy and liquid, sinking down into the layers below and binding them together. Once the first red flecks of lightning seed became visible, I carefully stirred in a single vial of pure water, stirring in a specific pattern to create the red and white swirls I wanted to see. Instead, the liquid thickened quickly and turned a deep purple, bubbling and popping like boiling oatmeal. I knew that I’d failed again, and I went to add the qi stone, but Dif’s stirring rod whipped out and snapped my hand, causing me to drop it in surprise.

“If you add that stone, Xu Xing, you will unleash a cloud of gas that will likely render you unconscious for hours,” she said sternly, her eyes flashing. “Clean that out at once.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I sighed again. As I settled in by the fire once more, Dif came and squatted beside me.

“Tell me, Xu Xing, what is it we do here?” she asked quietly.

“We’re making medicine to heal the sick and injured,” I said in a tired voice.

“And what are the steps to making a simple medicine such as this restoration pill?”

“Grind three measures of red lightning seeds into a powder…”

“No,” she cut me off with another slash of her stirring rod to my chest. I never even saw the blow, she moved so quickly, and despite my qi protections, I could feel the bruise forming where she’d struck. “Not the ingredients. What are the steps to making any simple medicine, no matter what it is?”

“Oh.” I frowned, thinking furiously. I knew I’d read that in the book she’d given me, but I couldn’t remember what it was. Fortunately, Sara’s memory was much better than mine.

“Preparation of ingredients,” I said slowly, echoing what Sara told me silently. “Each ingredient must be carefully prepared in a way that will enhance their natural qi rather than releasing it.”

“Good. Continue.”

“Care of the cauldron,” I told her. “It has to be the right temperature when you start adding ingredients, and it has to be clean and free of external qi. Preparing the correct flame; a flame that is too hot, too cool, or the wrong color will ruin your medicine.

“Next, apply the base and trace the paths within it,” I continued at Sara’s prompting. “Connect the paths with neutral qi, then add the energizing agent. Put a stabilizing layer on that to ensure the energy doesn’t escape, and seal it all with a reverse of the initial paths. Meld the layers into a whole with the flame, then add pure water to neutralize the fire qi. Finally, charge the mixture with a qi stone to reduce it to powder.”

“All of that is accurate,” she nodded. “And yet, it is wholly incomplete, for you missed the most crucial step.” She leaned toward me. “You must infuse it with your healing spirit, Xu Xing. At every step of the process, your intent to nurture and restore must infuse your movements, your tools, and your ingredients. Your spirit must feed the flame, seal the mixture, and guide the unleashed qi into its proper paths.” She shook her head. “Without that spirit, you will get…” She gestured at the goopy mixture I was adding to the fire.

I sighed again as I upended the pot in the flames and began to work the bellows again. “I was trying, Dancer-in-Flames,” I told her. “I was concentrating on the idea of healing the entire time. I didn’t let my thoughts waver from it at all.”

I winced as the rod smacked my forehead. “Your thoughts and your mind are not your spirit, Xu Xing,” she said severely. “They are but wishes and dreams.” She struck me in the stomach. “Here is where your spirit resides, and it is there that you must draw from.”

She looked at me, and her severe expression faded. “I know that you have a healing spirit, Xu Xing,” she said softly and encouragingly. “You allow Shi Lo to serve you to give her purpose, even when you have no need of such service. You rescued Bai Ren at risk to yourself, even when your mind knew that returning her to the Wheel would be the easier option. And you refused to let my daughter descend into the depths of the Earthly Fires, even though doing so might have meant your death, because you knew it would likely have meant hers. Your spirit is one of kindness and caring for others, and you must simply allow it its freedom to succeed at this task.”

I nodded, but secretly, I thought that maybe old Dif didn’t know me as well as she thought she did. None of those things were exactly altruistic, after all. Shi had proven very useful to me as a servant, helping me navigate the city and – well, other things that Dif needn’t need to hear about. Sure, I’d rescued Bai in part because it felt like the right thing to do, but she was also evidence of what the school was doing. If I hadn’t brought her along, I didn’t know if Dif and Wim would have been so willing to go along with me. And Jing – honestly, I’d been more worried about getting hurt or killed trying to keep her safe than I had about her actually dying. I didn’t think my spirit was as kind and gentle as the old woman wanted to believe.

As I fished the cauldron out once more and began collecting my ingredients, I felt a wave of frustration surge over me. “I don’t get it, Sara,” I complained silently. “I did everything exactly the way she said, didn’t I?”

“You did, John,” my AI guide responded silently.

“And I was thinking about healing the entire time.”

“You were, that’s true.”

“So, why isn’t any of this working?” I snapped silently. “You’re supposed to be my guide; so guide me!” As soon as the thought came out, I regretted it. “I’m sorry, Sara. It’s not you; I’m frustrated with myself.”

“I understand, John. I’m not upset.” She appeared before me, her face thoughtful. “You know, I think the issue is that you’re treating this like a recipe – like you’re trying to cook something.”

“Well, it is, isn’t it?”

“No, not really. This is a magical process, so it doesn’t necessarily proceed logically and reasonably.”

“What do you mean? I get that it’s magical, but isn’t it just like taking a technique and giving it solid form? Those are just channeling qi in a specific way, right?”

“Well, yes, that’s true. Have you ever seen two people use identical techniques, though? Even people with the same qi and qi ranks?”

I frowned. I hadn’t. Granted, I hadn’t seen a lot of techniques, period, but I’d never actually observed two people use a carbon copy of a technique.

“Exactly. That’s because magic isn’t just about performing the spell – or technique, in this world – correctly. It manifests differently in everyone because everyone’s a little bit different. Two practitioners might use the same qi and meridians to perform a technique and produce two entirely unique effects.”

I paused in grinding my lightning seeds as her words sank into me. Every person was different, and that meant that not only was every technique different, everyone’s expression of qi was different. Everyone took qi in, but how they put it back out was unique to them. After all, I’d gotten my own techniques because Sara copied the meridian patterns she’d seen Wim and Jing use for theirs, and mine were nothing like the ones they were based on. Sara mirrored Jing’s kicking technique, and it turned into Lightness of Being for me. Wim’s distant strike was the model for my Sun’s Scorching Ray, and Jing’s dodge technique turned into Moonlight on the Water.

My techniques, by and large, were combat focused. They were designed to protect me or to inflict damage on someone else. I didn’t have a healing ability that would affect anyone other than me. I didn’t have a technique to shield others from harm or empower them. My techniques made me stronger, pure and simple.

I knew why that was. I didn’t like it, but I understood it. I was selfish. There was really no other way to put it. I always looked out for myself first, never anyone else. That was why I’d turned my back on my family, why I had no real friends, why I had no girlfriend or wife. That would have required me to put someone else’s needs ahead of mine – and I couldn’t do that, not unless it benefitted me in some way. Shit, I’d taken this damn job in the hopes of clearing some of the red ink off my soul’s ledger. I might still end up in Hell, but maybe I’d be in one of the nicer parts.

The other truth was – I loved violence. I craved it. I thrilled in combat, and I’d never felt more alive than when I was stalking my marks. Even in this world, I took the path of violence every chance I got, and when I fought, I fought brutally. I fought to win, to kill, not for anything like honor or glory. I’d always considered those to be stupid concepts, things that people clung to when they had the luxury to ignore the harsh realities of life.

That was my self, my spirit, and it had manifested in my qi and my techniques. Dif said that to successfully create a medicine, I had to fill it with my spirit. No wonder my healing attempts were failing. My spirit wasn’t one of restoration; my soul was darker and more brutal. Maybe my creations needed to be, as well.

I finished mashing the fire roots into a paste and sprinkled the crystal sand into the bottom of the cauldron, then paused, holding the stirring rod in my hand. This was where I’d gone wrong, before. I’d drawn a meridian map that was designed to heal someone else, but that wasn’t my nature. My technique only healed me. I called up my image of my Flesh of the Stars technique and studied it, comparing it to the map Dif had taught me to draw. As I examined it, something seemed to click in my mind. I could see how that map would translate into a technique, how I could channel my qi into another person. My technique probably wouldn’t be kind and beneficial, though.

Kindness just wasn’t me. I was working on it, but just then, it wasn’t in my nature.

“Here, try this,” Sara said silently in my mind, showing me a new design. “That’s an extrapolation of your Flesh of the Stars technique based on what you just worked out. Good job, by the way.”

“Thanks.” I painstakingly etched the new technique into the sandy base, then layered the strings of ashen berry leaf and lines of lightning seed powder along the new lines. I spread the fire root paste over the top and carefully carved my new design in reverse, then carried it all over to the blue fire. Before I placed the cauldron on the tripod, though, Sara stopped me.

“I think you might need to adjust the flame a bit,” she advised me. “Make it look like this color.” A deeper shade of blue flashed in my mind, and I twisted the base of the flame, changing the color through green and orange back to blue, tweaking it until I had exactly the shade Sara indicated.

I placed the cauldron on the fire, turning it slower than I had before at Sara’s direction. Instead of melting, the paste that covered everything shimmered into a thin liquid that looked like milk. Dots of red and purple rose to the surface almost instantly, speckling the creamy white liquid like some sort of candy. I added the water slowly, stirring in a new pattern, one that Sara said mimicked my technique. The concoction shimmered into a thin, fragrant liquid that swirled with red and dark purple bands. I picked up the qi stone and glanced at Dif. She said nothing, but after a moment, she nodded at me, and I added the stone.

Instantly, the stone vanished, turning into qi that blazed through my creation. The fire and water qi neutralized one another as the energy raced through it, leaving behind a cool, dry powder. Dif walked over and examined it, her eyes hooded.

“Bring it to the pill press,” she instructed. I took the cauldron over to a large, cast-iron device that looked like a massive coffee press and poured the powder into a funnel at the top. When the cauldron lay empty, I took the long handle and pushed it down, squeezing it as hard as I could for a full minute. When I released the handle, three purple and red pills spilled out of a spout on the end, landing in a cup attached to the spout. I picked one up and analyzed it.

Minor Restorative Pill (Altered)

Type: Alchemy

Usage: Minorly accelerates natural healing. Only fully effective when taken by its creator, this pill operates at half efficacy for all others.

Dif took the pill from my hand and examined it with a sigh. “Very well,” she said after a few moments. “I understand, Xu Xing. You help others, but you help yourself first.” She glanced at me. “With such a spirit, you will never be a great physician. However, you can aid yourself significantly, and those around you to a lesser extent. That – that will have to be sufficient.”

I supposed I should have been ashamed or upset. I knew that the old woman was a bit disappointed. The thing was, it was really her own fault. She assumed things about me that simply weren’t true, and she was upset that my reality didn’t match up to her fantasy. Maybe one day, I would be the heroic guy she imagined, but it wasn’t going to be that day. It might not be any day, in fact.

I cleaned out my cauldron and tried again, repeating the same steps and again creating three minor restorative pills. The third time, instead of basing the pattern on my Flesh of the Stars technique, I had Sara map out Lightness of Being. That didn’t work out quite as well; I had a feeling I might have needed slightly different ingredients. Still, the two resulting pills weren’t totally useless.

Flawed Accelerant Pill (Altered)

Type: Alchemy

Usage: Minorly boosts movement speed for a short time. Only fully effective when taken by its creator, this pill operates at half efficacy for all others.

Side Effect: Causes weakness for a short time after effects wear off.

As I stared at the pill, I realized that I’d been wrong the whole time about qi, cultivating, and techniques. I hadn’t really understood how any of it worked. I’d thought that cultivating was like photosynthesis, taking in energy and converting it into a usable form, while techniques were like activating an electrical circuit. I simply supplied power, and bam, the circuit did what it was supposed to, the same way, every time.

That wasn’t it at all, though. Qi wasn’t energy; at least, it wasn’t just energy. Somehow, when I drew that power in, it mingled with the very core of me, of who and what I was. When I channeled it back out, it wasn’t raw power being unleashed. It was energy mingled with intent; what I wanted the power to do was as important as the specific meridians I used. That was what Dif was saying earlier. When she crafted alchemy, she poured her intent to heal and mend into her work not through her will but through her qi. That energy intensified what she was doing, made it stronger. As I watched her now, I could feel the intent emanating from her.

“That’s what Jing means when she says she can feel my spirit, isn’t it?” I asked Sara.

“I think so, yes, John. She can sense the unique combination of intentions and desires that’s you.”

I shook my head. Understanding had come late, but that was better than never. If I wanted my techniques to be powerful, I had to do more than just execute them perfectly. I had to throw myself into them, make each movement a true expression of myself. The more my qi’s actions reflected me, the more powerful they’d be.

Sadly, it occurred to me that my realization might not be that great for the world around me. I wasn’t exactly the nicest guy, after all.

I pushed the thoughts away and pulled up the blinking notifications waiting for me.

You Have Gained a New Skill!

Skill: Alchemy

Rank: Neophyte 3

Create alchemical compounds of various types.

New Alchemy Recipes Unlocked!

Minor Restorative Pill (Altered), Flawed Accelerant Pill (Altered)

New Profession Available: Alchemist

Unusual

A person who works with alchemical compounds

Do you wish to adopt this profession?

Adaptation Completed!

You have fully adapted to the Doorworld of Kuan Yang!

Adaptation Level: 100%

Bonus: +1 to Mental Stats, 25% bonus to all cultivation on this world.

“Sara, any downsides to adopting this profession?”

“Not really, John. It’s useful in most moderate to high magic rating worlds, and the things you’ll do to gain XP in it wouldn’t give you XP in your other professions.”

“What do you mean? It’s not just killing things to use as ingredients?”

“Well, that might help, but mostly, it’s creating alchemical compounds. There’s a lot of lost qi when you make one, and I can absorb that excess and put it toward leveling up.”

I quickly adopted the profession and took a look at it in more detail.

Profession Chosen: Alchemist

Level: 1

Benefits: Alchemy skills improve 50% faster, all alchemical creations are improved by 1% per level, resource requirements for alchemy reduced by 1% per level.

Stat Bonuses: Reason, Perception, Skill +1 per level

It wasn’t the best profession I had, but if it carried into other worlds, it would certainly be one of the most useful ones. I turned back to the table before me with a grin. Suddenly, practicing medicine didn’t seem like such a chore anymore.