Sweat poured from Cha Ming’s body as he maintained his exerted state. He threw a large bone into the cauldron and used the intense heat to sear it and break apart what didn’t belong. Gray runic characters popped out from the bone; these were relics, a mutation that appeared on the bones of powerful demons. They were infused with Grandmist Essence, a necessary component for the Nirvana Pill.
He fed the characters into the blob of grayish liquid, and as he did, it began to glow bright red. Then, when the glow reached its peak, he summoned a small golden flask from the Clear Sky World. These were the Waters of Life he’d obtained from the Sea God Emperor.
Three jin of water flew out from the flask and jumped into the cauldron. The Sea God Emperor’s eyes grew wide when he realized that this young man hadn’t wanted the Waters of Life for the usual purpose of healing injuries. Rather, he was using them as the basis for a more potent medicine. He’d never heard of such an extravagant use.
Cha Ming wrestled with the golden water and red blob for several hours, but five hours into the process, he stopped. He sighed, and the product inside the cauldron dispersed as the gray flame consumed it.
This time, a few days passed as he pondered the several mistakes he’d made.
The demon-bone relic is too strong, Sun Wukong said. It’s too difficult to control.
We’ll need to add the remaining Waters of Life, Cha Ming said in agreement. It’s the only way to control it. That means this is our last chance. We can’t fail.
We won’t, Sun Wukong said. I never make the same mistake twice, and neither do you. We’re in perfect sync out there. Just make sure you control those wonderful flames of yours, and everything will be all right.
Cha Ming opened his eyes, and the next few moments were a blur. He saw torrents of ingredients merging together with gray flames. Hours passed by in a flash as he repeated his actions from before. This time, he threw in one demon bone. Then, four jin of Waters of Life followed. He weighed their potential with the demon-bone relic and discovered that four weren’t enough, so he added another. Then, sighing, he added the remainder. He and Sun Wukong did their utmost to concentrate on keeping the clashing ingredients together. They fought with their very souls on the line.
One hour, two hours. Three hours passed. At the three-hour mark, the liquid began to harden and form a lustrous sheen. The pressure intensified, and so did the temperature. Four hours, five hours, then six. The surface melted again, forming a malleable outer shell on which to inscribe the seal.
The next three hours were pure agony. Both Sun Wukong and Cha Ming mobilized everything they had as they carved a seal into the nascent pill with their soul, one strike at a time. Their souls pushed so close together that not only did Cha Ming have a crown and tail, but his teeth grew sharp, and his eyes grew red. His personality began to warp, but he didn’t care. One stroke. Just one more stroke.
This continued 10,800 times. Then, on the last stroke, their surroundings pulsed. Cha Ming summoned his trump card, a small mountain of glittering scales. The audience gasped as the scales evaporated. The transcendent qi within them flooded into the pill, causing the lightning clouds that had begun to form above them to retreat slightly.
Most of Cha Ming’s stock of scales evaporated, leaving only a small pile from the original mountain. This was the last step, so no reserves were needed. A single gray pill with five colored marks slowly floated out from within the cauldron.
“We did it,” Cha Ming said with tears in his eyes. “We made it. It’s real. It can be done.”
Sun Wukong’s soul drifted out from him. He appeared a little faint from all the exertion but nothing more.
“Yes, son, we did it,” Sun Wukong said, patting his back as they watched the pill descend. He gazed at the skies warily. The tribulation he’d been expecting hadn’t come.
“I’ll go grab it,” Cha Ming said, pushing himself up. His legs were wobbly but gaining strength with every step. If not for his marrow-refining cultivation, he wouldn’t have been able to move.
He took a few steps toward the pill, and his eyes narrowed as he approached. A feeling unlike any other filled Cha Ming. His very soul warned him to stop. He’d done something wrong. Created something wrong. That thing should be destroyed, and it would happen regardless of what he did.
Cha Ming shook that feeling away and glared at the heavens. “I refuse,” he said, and the moment he said these words, the skies broke out in a symphony of clouds and lightning. “Huxian, I need to borrow Lei Jiang.”
The small purple mouse appeared beside him and zipped up into the clouds. They howled in anger and attacked the mouse. The mouse laughed; he’d fed on such clouds before. The indignant heavens sent strike after strike downward, but every time, the mouse devoured the lightning before it could land and sent it into the runic circle that connected him with Huxian and his friends.
The four demon beasts—Mr. Mountain was excluded for some reason—increased their cultivation through their bond as they pillaged the heavenly energies. The frightening efficiency with which they were doing so left both the Emperor and the elders aghast.
Seeing that the lightning wasn’t accomplishing anything, the skies finally dimmed. A piercing wind howled toward the pill instead. The whirling blades of death came down to destroy both Cha Ming and the pill. Cha Ming moved to activate the formation, but before he could, Huxian barked in warning.
Silverwing appeared at that moment. The massive falcon screeched, and the winds, which had been gunning
