Chapter 50: Substituting at the Last Moment

Time seemed to stand still, and the once-noisy training ground fell into utter silence. Would Yang Jian accept Ge'ermu's wager? All eyes turned to Yang Jian.

Yang Jian's face grew unsightly. Ge'ermu was famed far and wide; if he dared to make such a bold declaration, he must be absolutely confident. Otherwise, why would he risk severing his own arm for nothing? Yang Jian’s fists clenched tightly, then slowly relaxed, only to clench again… He knew full well that the other party had dug a deep pit, waiting for him to leap in, yet could he refuse? Refusal would not only bring disgrace upon his entire sect, but he himself would forever be the laughingstock of the alchemy world in Jizhou, living on as a mere shell of a man. Besides, a true man stands tall, defeat is defeat, victory is victory; since fate had brought this challenge, evasion was not in his nature.

With this clarity, Yang Jian suddenly raised his head, fixing Ge'ermu with a proud gaze. “I, Yang Jian, am a man of honor. How could I fear the likes of you? If you win this trial and the championship falls to your Apothecary Pavilion, I will sever my right arm and kneel to you in apology.”

Yang Jian’s voice rang out, firm and unyielding, instantly earning a wave of cheers. He had proven himself a true man—facing the illustrious Ge'ermu, he showed no weakness, which was beyond everyone’s expectations. Yet, though his courage was admirable, none truly believed he would prevail. The process no longer mattered; the outcome seemed inevitable. Over these years, Ge'ermu had made a formidable name for himself in Jizhou. Without genuine skill, how could he have become the Apothecary Pavilion’s star disciple?

Liu Lanzhi, Lu Haitang, and the others had never imagined Yang Jian possessed such integrity. In their place, they would have chosen likewise; as disciples of Miao Manor, they could not let their master suffer humiliation over a single arm. But when Yang Jian truly made his decision, it struck them deeply—making such a choice was agonizing and difficult, especially since Yang Jian had always seemed arrogant and overbearing, one who achieved nothing.

One by one, Liu Lanzhi, Lu Haitang, and the others gathered around, looking at Yang Jian with rare sincerity. In this moment, Yang Jian earned their respect and their recognition; all schemes and rivalries faded away, replaced by mutual concern and unity in the face of adversity.

When the sect was insulted, its disciples naturally stood forth; only thus could they be called true men. Lu Haitang gazed at Yang Jian, recalling the early days when, as new disciples, they learned and helped each other with joy. Her voice quivered slightly as she said, “Sixth Senior Brother, the Eldest Brother and the others are gone. You are now our leader. Since you are willing to stake everything in this wager, how could your little sister stand aside—count me in as well.” Her tone was gentle as ever but, for once, it carried a rare note of valor.

“And count me in as well!” Liu Lanzhi’s eyes were slightly red. With the sect in peril, she could not shirk her duty.

“And… and me!” Han Feng looked at Liu Lanzhi, hesitating, but finally spoke up.

“Though I’m not eligible to compete, let me join too—as my way of doing my part for the sect.” Che Wuyou, his eyes red, seemed swept up in the emotion of the moment; after a long pause, he added awkwardly, rubbing his head, perhaps feeling it improper to join in the wager without being a competitor.

Yang Jian looked at these earnest faces, his heart surging like a stormy sea. He had always treated his junior brothers and sisters roughly, but in this critical moment, it was these very same people who stood by his side. Remembering how, for the sake of the heir’s position, he had endlessly targeted Liu Lanzhi and bullied Che Wuyou, he suddenly felt a tinge of regret. As their senior, why couldn’t he be more tolerant and kind to them…?

Yang Jian slowly walked over to them, gazing at Che Wuyou’s pale, wounded face. He patted Che Wuyou’s shoulder with some force, his voice tinged with emotion. “Good, good—you’ve done well!”

He turned, his gaze sweeping over Liu Lanzhi and the others, and after a long moment, he said, “You are the hope of Miao Manor, its finest disciples. How could you risk everything alongside me? I appreciate your loyalty, but as long as you remain, there is still hope. If we fail this time, we can always fight another day. But if we all fall here, who will avenge us?”

Seeing that they wished to protest, Yang Jian waved his hand decisively. “The eldest brothers are gone. If you still acknowledge me as your senior, then I decide here. All of you, stand down—no more discussion.” His final words were cold and resolute; his decision was made.

Miao Shilin, seeing his disciples united at last, found his eyes growing moist. He looked at each of them in turn, filled with emotion. When his gaze rested on Che Wuyou, it grew especially complex—for now was the least appropriate time for him to step forward, yet he was the only one without the right to compete who did so.

“Listen to your Senior Brother Yang Jian, all of you—step back,” Miao Shilin said quietly. In truth, he did not have much hope for Yang Jian. Apothecary Pavilion was clearly prepared; there was no way the championship would fall to Miao Manor. Why let these disciples sacrifice themselves in vain?

Lu Haitang and the others, seeing both their master and senior brother so insistent, could only comply. But they could not simply watch Yang Jian walk to his doom, so their eyes turned to Haiyuan. No matter what, they had to win—even if there was only the slimmest chance, they had to give their all.

“Haiyuan, step down. Let Senior Brother Duan Xiaoyuan take your place,” Lu Haitang said, her usual gentleness replaced by determination. After all, Duan Xiaoyuan’s alchemy skills were among the best; with him, there was at least a little more hope, slim as it was.

Miao Shilin saw the disciples trying to change competitors on the spot and shook his head. Even if Duan Xiaoyuan competed, the result would not change. Han Feng’s alchemy alone was enough to suppress Duan Xiaoyuan, so sending him forth would make no difference to their chances for the championship.

If only Miao Manor had a few more talents like Liu Lanzhi, perhaps something unexpected could happen; her talent was exceptional and she might surprise everyone during the contest. Thinking of Liu Lanzhi, Miao Shilin glanced at Che Wuyou, who was close to her.

He’d heard Che Wuyou’s alchemy had improved greatly, and many disciples now asked him to refine pills for them. For someone so young to have made such rapid progress in just a few years was extraordinary; by rights, his talent shouldn’t be this remarkable. Could he be the unpredictable factor? With this thought, Miao Shilin’s eyes lit up. If sending Duan Xiaoyuan meant a foregone conclusion, why not let Che Wuyou take a gamble with fate?

“Let Che Wuyou compete,” Miao Shilin announced, looking at his disciples. They were all stunned, but he offered no more explanation. “Haiyuan, step down.”

“Letting this boy compete? You might as well send Cai Hu instead,” Han Feng protested. What right did Che Wuyou have to compete? The master was overestimating him! Cai Hu’s alchemy might be weaker, but he had great talent; perhaps he could surprise them on the spot.

Yang Jian, hearing Miao Shilin’s words, looked deeply at Che Wuyou, then said, “Let Junior Brother Wuyou compete. I believe in him, and in Master.”

And so, the contest began. All competitors took their places at their assigned alchemy furnaces. Che Wuyou stood beside Haiyuan’s furnace, since he was a last-minute substitute and had to compete under Haiyuan’s name.

All eyes now focused on the disciples from Apothecary Pavilion and Miao Manor. When the crowd noticed that Miao Manor’s team included two children, they sighed in pity—Miao Manor had clearly given up. Apothecary Pavilion also had a child among its ranks, but with ten competitors, adding a child made no difference to their chances. Miao Manor, however, had only five, two of whom were children. The crowd couldn’t help but feel sorry for Yang Jian—he’d sacrificed so much for his master, only to become a pawn for Miao Manor.

The first round of elimination required competitors to refine an Enhancement Pill, a low-grade yellow pill. The match was timed by a single stick of incense. Anyone who succeeded in refining the pill within that time advanced; those who failed or produced a defective pill were eliminated.

The Enhancement Pill was highly beneficial to those at the Purple Mansion stage—after taking it, their vital energy would increase, and with luck, they might even break through a minor realm. Though the pill’s benefits were obvious, its drawbacks were as well: the first dose was most effective, but subsequent uses diminished in effect, eventually becoming useless. Even so, the pill was extremely valuable, and for this round of the contest, Xuanqing Sect had spared no expense.

Che Wuyou stood by his furnace, carefully adjusting the flame’s temperature with the control knob, turning it slowly and sensing the heat at each setting…

While some had already begun refining, Che Wuyou was still gauging the temperature. He knew he only had one chance, so he had to be meticulous. There was no room for error; every step had to be perfect.

He understood that in alchemy, a mistake at any stage could be fatal to the result. Temperature, above all, was critical—even the slightest deviation could drastically affect the outcome of the pill.