After talking with Su Bai for the greater part of the night, Song Yi had eventually retreated back to his own cabin for the night. In the end, they had come up with a plan to deal with Su Bai’s senior, but it would be a few days before they could put it in action. In the meantime, it was back to the usual: Training.

After passing through the Gate of Man, Song Yi noticed a slow but sure quantitative increase in his Vital Qi. According to the monarch, passing this minor gate signified an increase in about ten years of one’s lifespan.

The next challenge he would have to face was the Earthly Gate. This would be the first major gate, and also the main demarcating line between one being an outer sect disciple or novitiate.

Of course, reaching the Earthly Gate was still far away for Song Yi. According to what he’d heard, a “respectable speed” was around five years. Some tried to rush it and failed, resulting in their deaths. Others were too scared to ever try, and lived out their lives only having passed the Gate of Man.

But Song Yi had the monarch, who assured him that, with effort, he would be able to reach the Earthly Gate in far less time. As such, it was back to the usual training.

Song Yi stood in one spot, repeatedly kicking a tree with his bare feet.

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

The repetitive smacking sounds filled the forest, causing small animals to shy away.

After a solid hour of these kicks, he was drenched with sweat. Both his legs were on fire, despite the fact that he was using Qi to strengthen the muscles.

“Why haven’t I seen other disciples doing this kind of training?” he asked the monarch.

“Because they’re naive. They believe that by strengthening their arts and spending their time collecting more Qi, they can become stronger.”

“Is that not true?”

“Well, of course they do get stronger. But Qi is a limited resource. Once you expend it, all you have left is your Vital Qi. Once that’s expended…”

“You die.”

“Precisely.”

“So by using this Qi to strengthen my body instead, I’ll have more stamina.”

Song Yi, feeling motivated, kicked the tree even harder. There was already a groove in the wood where he’d been kicking, but this time he struck so hard it made his foot bleed. At the same time, the tree began to crack.

“Drop into a horse stance and switch to punches,” the monarch instructed.

Song Yi did as told, giving it his full effort.

Aside from bullying Luo Ai with his Twilight Shroud Minor Art, he hadn’t truly fought since joining the Blue Moon Sect. By now, he was itching to test out his power properly.

Unfortunately, though, at the moment there was something else he had to attend to.

His punching came to a stop.

“It’s time,” he said.

The monarch sighed.

Song Yi travelled to Changshu City. Per his agreement with Feng Yan, the woman who’d been in charge of the earlier lecture, he would come once a week to tutor her for the alchemist division’s entrance exam. This would be the first session.

Even though Changshu City was the second smallest city on the Ninth Land Mass, it still took Song Yi a long time to walk into the heart of it. He found the building they’d decided to meet at and climbed the stairs to the second floor. When he got to the top, he saw a small room with an assortment of alchemic stations and instruments. In the center stood Feng Yan, wearing her usual outer sect disciple robe. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail, but some strands were loose, framing her face.

She bowed when she saw him.

“Good afternoon, Master. I arrived an hour early and have already prepared my herbs and tools. I look forward to your guidance.”

Song Yi coughed in surprise. The ingratiating form of address made him uncomfortable.

“I’ve told you before, just call me Song Yi.”

Feng Yan wore a pained expression on her face. “Right then. Song Yi, where should we start?”

Starting at this point, Song Yi began parroting the words of Wang Anzhou.

“I’m new to the sect, so I’m unfamiliar with the alchemy division’s examination. What will you be expected to do?”

“The test is three parts. First, we’re expected to be able to identify and differentiate between various medicinal ingredients.”

Song Yi nodded. Even he himself, knowing nothing of alchemy, expected this much.

“Second, we’re expected to concoct a medicinal pill on the spot of at least the first tier.” Her face became downcast. “I’ve only passed this section once, but I’ve taken the examination three times.”

“And the third?”

“They show us a pill and allow some time to examine it. If we’re able to identify the reagents with at least 90% accuracy, we can be said to have passed.”

She forced a smile, pushing her hair behind her ear.

“My hope is that, with your guidance, I’ll be able to pass the test in five years.”

In Song Yi’s head, the monarch snorted. “Five years? There’s no way I’m going to be stuck here that long. What are you gonna do about that, kid?”

Song Yi panicked, once more speaking for himself.

“The next examination is in five years?”

“No,” she replied, causing Song Yi to let out a big sigh of relief. “The closest one is three months from now.”

He felt like sucking that sigh of relief back in.

“You were the one who wanted to tutor her,” the monarch jeered. Song Yi really wished he could punch him.

“Can you do it?”

“That depends on her.”

Speaking the monarch’s words once more, Song Yi began to instruct her.

“First, show me your concoction technique.”

Feng Yan walked over to the cauldron and began to heat it up using a fire-essence Qi circle inscribed below.

The speed with which her hands moved as she inserted herbs and stirred them in the cauldron was astonishing. Song Yi could barely make out the finer movements. Still, under the monarch’s guidance he adjusted her technique slightly.

“At this temperature, the frigid snow fruit will burn too fast. Lower it.”

“You’re standing too far from the cauldron still. Your control is poor.”

“Raise your right arm higher. If your elbow slacks, your wrist will bend. Without a rigid wrist, your Thousand Digit Technique will be sloppy!”

“Spiral Digit Technique?” she asked, frowning.

The monarch stayed silent for a moment, worrying Song Yi.

“What’s going on?” he asked internally.

“It’s been thousands of years... I didn’t realize this sect had dropped the old standard technique names. And it seems that’s not the only thing that’s dropped...”

Song Yi pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Clearing his throat, he began to parrot once more.

“Yes. The book I learned from probably uses different names for techniques than are used here.”

“Really?” an excited gleam could be seen in Feng Yan’s eyes, which were still focused wholly on the cauldron.

After a few minutes, the pill was finished. With excitement, she finished the coating and handed it to him.

“Please appraise this.”

Song Yi looked at it for a moment, attempting to see anything for himself. Before he could, however, the monarch already had him continue.

“This Frigid Meridian Pill is at around 60% effectiveness,” he said. Feng Yan’s eyes widened in delight and shock, but the monarch wasn’t done. “That’s a shame. Well, perhaps it would be worth feeding to a pet.”