Page 5

The tension in the Gathering Hall thickened like morning mist over a mountain lake. What had begun as a philosophical debate was rapidly transforming into something far more dangerous. Shen Yang's expression hardened, his patience visibly wearing thin as Wudi Egun's calm responses continued to undermine his authority.

"Enough with your clever wordplay," Shen Yang snapped, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the gathered crowd. "If you truly possess the legendary Heart Alchemy technique, then prove it here and now. Show us this miraculous ability instead of hiding behind philosophical questions."

The challenge hung in the air, direct and unavoidable. The younger generation of the Li Family exchanged glances, their interest piqued by this unexpected confrontation. Even Li Meixia, who had maintained her diplomatic composure throughout the exchange, couldn't hide the flicker of curiosity in her eyes.

Wudi Egun remained silent for several heartbeats, his dark eyes studying Shen Yang with the detached interest of a scholar examining a particularly unusual specimen. His expression revealed nothing of his thoughts, yet there was something in his stillness—a coiled potential, perhaps—that drew all eyes to him despite his unremarkable appearance.

The crowd around them had grown, guests abandoning their previous conversations to witness the confrontation between the established young alchemist and the mysterious visitor. Even some of the elders had drifted closer, their expressions ranging from disapproval at the disruption to undisguised curiosity.

"Well?" Shen Yang pressed, interpreting Wudi Egun's silence as hesitation. "Have you nothing to say? Or was your claim merely empty boasting?"

Wudi Egun finally spoke, his voice measured and unhurried. "Talent is not a street performance to be displayed at the first demand of a stranger. It is an ability honed through years of hardship and dedication, not something to be casually exhibited to satisfy idle curiosity."

His words, though polite, carried an unmistakable rebuke that caused Shen Yang's face to flush with anger.

"A convenient excuse," Shen Yang retorted, his lips curling into a dismissive sneer. "Those who truly possess ability are rarely reluctant to demonstrate it. Your refusal speaks volumes."

Wudi Egun's expression remained unchanged, but something shifted in his eyes—a coldness that hadn't been there before, a sharpening of focus that was subtle yet unmistakable.

"I have no obligation to prove myself to you," he stated simply. "Unless, of course, you are prepared to make the demonstration worthwhile."

"Worthwhile?" Shen Yang echoed, his brow furrowing.

"A wager," Wudi Egun clarified, his tone suggesting he was proposing something entirely reasonable. "If you wish to test my abilities, then let us both have something at stake. Otherwise, this is merely entertainment at my expense."

The suggestion caused a ripple of excitement through the gathered crowd. Wagers were common enough among cultivators and alchemists—a traditional way to settle disputes of skill or knowledge—but they typically occurred in formal settings, not during celebratory banquets.

Li Shenyuan stepped forward, his diplomatic instincts engaging. "Perhaps this discussion could be continued at a more appropriate time and venue. Tonight is meant for celebration, not competition."

But his suggestion went unheeded as Shen Yang's pride had been pricked too deeply to allow for retreat.

"He's trying to escape," Shen Yang declared loudly, gesturing toward Wudi Egun. "Making excuses rather than facing a simple challenge. Typical of those who make grandiose claims without substance."

The younger members of the Li Family exchanged concerned glances. The confrontation was escalating beyond the bounds of polite disagreement, threatening to disrupt the entire celebration.

"Just accept the wager, Shen Yang," Li Mingze suggested, his tone light but his eyes serious. "If you're so certain of your position, surely you have nothing to fear from a formal test of skills."

"Indeed," Li Ruoxue added, her intellectual curiosity clearly overriding her concern for propriety. "A structured comparison would be far more informative than this verbal sparring."

Shen Yang looked from face to face, realizing that refusing now would make him appear cowardly. His jaw tightened as he turned back to Wudi Egun.

"Very well," he said after a moment of tense silence. "I accept the concept of a wager. What terms do you propose?"

Wudi Egun inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging a minor victory. "Since there is no true enmity between us, I will be generous in my terms."

The gathered crowd leaned forward collectively, eager to hear what stakes would be proposed. Wagers between cultivators could range from simple exchanges of spirit stones to complex commitments of service or knowledge.

"Those who lose the wager," Wudi Egun stated calmly, his voice carrying clearly through the now-silent hall, "shall cut off their right hand."

The words landed like a thunderbolt in the clear sky. Gasps rippled through the crowd, followed by a shocked silence so complete that the distant sounds of servants in other parts of the estate became suddenly audible.

"You cannot be serious," Li Shenyuan was the first to recover, his diplomatic mask slipping to reveal genuine alarm. "Such terms are completely disproportionate to a simple dispute of knowledge."

"Absolutely unacceptable," Li Haoran added, his scholarly demeanor giving way to outright concern. "The permanent maiming of either participant would be a tragedy, regardless of who prevails."

Even Li Meixia, who had shown nothing but confidence in her mysterious guest, appeared troubled. "Master Wudi, surely you can propose more reasonable terms. The loss of a hand would end an alchemist's career—their very livelihood."

The elders who had been observing from a distance now moved closer, their expressions grave.

"Young man," one elder with a long white beard addressed Wudi Egun directly, "such wagers are forbidden in civilized gatherings. I suggest you reconsider before you bring dishonor upon yourself and discomfort to your hosts."

Throughout this chorus of objections, Shen Yang had stood frozen, his face draining of color. The confident sneer had vanished, replaced by barely concealed fear.

 For an alchemist, hands were everything—the primary tools through which they practiced their art. The loss of a right hand would not merely hamper his abilities; it would effectively end his career before it had truly begun.

Yet as he stared into Wudi Egun's eyes, what he saw there made his blood run cold. There was no malice, no anger, not even excitement—just absolute, unwavering confidence. 

Those eyes held the certainty of someone who knew, beyond any shadow of doubt, that they would not lose.

Sweat beaded on Shen Yang's forehead as he weighed his options. To refuse now would be to admit fear and lose face before the assembled elite of Qinghe City. Yet to accept was to risk a catastrophic, life-altering injury.

Pride warred with self-preservation in his expression, visible to all who watched. His hands trembled slightly before he clenched them into fists at his sides.

"I..." he began, his voice uncharacteristically weak.

"Accept," Wudi Egun finished for him, not as a question but as a statement of fact. "Because you know that to refuse would confirm what everyone here already suspects—that your confidence exceeds your ability."

The words, delivered without heat or mockery, somehow cut deeper than any insult could have. Shen Yang's jaw clenched, his pride finally overriding his fear.

"I accept," he declared, the words seeming to surprise even himself. "But I choose the challenge."

A murmur ran through the crowd—equal parts shock at his acceptance and anticipation of what would follow.

Wudi Egun nodded once, the gesture almost imperceptible. "That is your right as the challenged party. Name your test."

"You claim to be an alchemist," Shen Yang said, his voice steadier now that he had committed himself. "Then prove it. I will name a pill for you to concoct—one that will adequately test your supposed abilities."

"Agreed," Wudi Egun replied simply. "I will concoct whatever pill you specify."

Shen Yang's confidence began to return as he considered his options. As the son of a renowned alchemist, he had access to knowledge that few others possessed. He could name a pill so rare or complex that even established masters would struggle to produce it correctly.

After a moment of careful consideration, a cold smile spread across his face. "The Nine-Revolution Heart Pill."

The name caused another ripple of reaction through the crowd. Those with knowledge of alchemy exchanged significant glances, while others looked to their more informed companions for explanation.

"A Grade 2 Alchemy Pill," Shen Yang continued, his voice gaining strength as he elaborated. "One that opens the Heart Meridians—the twelve main vessels that circulate Qi through the heart center. Upon full refinement, the pill stimulates sequential meridian expansion through nine 'Qi Revolutions,' forcibly unlocking even naturally blocked or damaged heart meridians."

He paused, clearly enjoying the impressed murmurs his knowledge elicited. "Its primary effects include clearing congenital or acquired blockages in heart meridians, strengthening emotional resilience and Qi control, and increasing synchronization between the user's intent and Qi flow. It is essential for cultivators attempting to break into higher body refinement or emotional Dao stages."

Li Haoran nodded slowly, his scholarly interest overriding his earlier concern. "A formidable choice. The Nine-Revolution Heart Pill is notoriously difficult to refine, requiring precise control throughout the nine distinct temperature cycles."

"Indeed," Shen Yang agreed, his earlier fear now completely masked by renewed confidence. "And its ingredients are equally challenging."

He began to list them with the precision of one who had studied the formula extensively: "Crimson Spirit Lotus, found only in lakes nourished by Fire Qi. Heartsoul Ginseng, at least ten thousand years old, with its distinctive blood-red veins. Moonshadow Vine, specifically three sections. Two Nine-Spiked Flame Fruits, a handful of Silent Wind Grass, three drops of Liquefied Golden Sand Essence, and half a spoon of Powdered Black-Root Orchid."

The comprehensive list impressed even those with limited alchemical knowledge. Each ingredient mentioned was rare, some nearly impossible to obtain outside of established alchemical institutions.

"The refining process is equally complex," Shen Yang continued, warming to his subject. "Beginning with purification under a Starlight Dew Formation, followed by precise flame control through nine specific temperature cycles. The fusion stage requires introducing ingredients in an exact sequence while maintaining specific spiritual rotations."

He described the intricate process in detail—the counterclockwise swirling for seven breaths followed by clockwise rotation for two, the careful timing of each revolution, the critical addition of Powdered Black-Root Orchid at precisely the seventh revolution, and the introduction of Heartsoul Ginseng only during the ninth revolution to prevent premature burnout.

"The final pill should emerge smooth and ruby-red with golden threads spiraling around its surface, giving off a faint heartbeat-like vibration," he concluded. "Even for a Pill Refiner with proper equipment, the success rate is typically between sixty-five and seventy-two percent. Without specialized equipment or formal training, the rate drops to around twenty-one percent."

His explanation complete, Shen Yang crossed his arms, a smug smile playing at his lips. He had chosen well—a pill complex enough to challenge established masters, requiring ingredients so rare that most alchemists would be forced to admit defeat before even beginning.

Yet Wudi Egun's expression remained unchanged throughout the detailed explanation. If anything, he appeared slightly bored, as if listening to a child recite a basic lesson.

"Is that your final choice?" he asked when Shen Yang had finished.

"It is," Shen Yang confirmed, his confidence now fully restored. "Unless, of course, you wish to concede now and spare yourself the humiliation of failure."

Instead of responding directly, Wudi Egun turned to Li Meixia. "Young Lady Li, would it be possible to procure the necessary ingredients? I believe your family's resources are sufficient for this task."

The request was delivered with such casual confidence that it momentarily stunned the gathering. He spoke as if asking for a cup of tea rather than a collection of rare and precious materials worth a small fortune.

Li Meixia hesitated, her gaze moving from Wudi Egun to Shen Yang and back again. Unlike the others, she had witnessed something in her mysterious guest during their journey together—a certainty in his bearing that went beyond mere confidence. It was the absolute assurance of one who knew their own capabilities to the fullest extent.

"Are you certain you wish to proceed with this?" she asked quietly.

Wudi Egun inclined his head slightly. "Completely certain."

Something in his tone must have convinced her, for she turned and gestured to a nearby servant. "Bring the ingredients Master Wudi requires. Consult with the family alchemist if necessary."

The servant bowed deeply and hurried away, leaving the hall in a state of tense anticipation. The celebration had come to a complete halt, all attention focused on the drama unfolding in their midst.

Patriarch Li Zhengdao made his way through the crowd, his expression grave. "This has gone far enough. I cannot allow such a dangerous wager to proceed under my roof."

"With respect, Patriarch Li," Wudi Egun replied, his tone deferential yet firm, "the wager has been accepted by both parties. To intervene now would be to deny Young Master Shen the opportunity to defend his position."

The patriarch frowned, clearly displeased but aware of the social complexities at play. To force an end to the wager would embarrass Shen Yang and, by extension, his father—a valuable business partner. Yet to allow it to continue risked a potentially disastrous outcome.

Before he could respond, Shen Haoran himself stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Let it proceed, old friend. My son has made his choice, and he must now see it through."

Though his words were steady, the tension in his jaw betrayed his concern. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder—a gesture of support that also served as a warning not to escalate the situation further.

As servants began returning with the requested materials, the atmosphere in the Gathering Hall grew heavy with anticipation. What had begun as a celebration had transformed into something far more consequential—a test of skill that would end with either a miracle or a tragedy.

And through it all, Wudi Egun remained calm, his eyes revealing nothing of his thoughts as he prepared to either validate his extraordinary claims or face the severe consequences of failure.