Alchemist In A Cultivation Realm

Chapter 9: A fine assistant

Anyways, Qi reinforcement was useful, as it allowed him to study how things behaved when infused with his Qi.

He lifted the spirit herb in his hand and examined the small plant. Aside from the Qi within it, there was nothing special about it. It was just a simple leaf. But then came the strange part. When a pulse of Qi flowed through the plant, its leaves began to shimmer. A very thin coating formed over the surface, giving it that shine. When he added more Qi, the glow grew brighter until it reached a saturation point. Pushing beyond that caused the plant to shrivel and die, as if its life had been drained away.

It made little sense to him. The shimmer could have been caused by Qi agitating the plant into releasing some glowing chemical. Or it could have been a layer of Qi itself. But why did too much Qi kill it? Did Qi burn the plant from the inside?

Normal plants behaved very differently. They barely reacted unless excessive Qi was forced into them. In that case, they often burst apart as if swollen from within. He had found that careful Qi use could make plants grow faster, but he lacked the control to produce clear results. At least for now.

He wished he had a microscope to study all of this. Maybe he could build a simple one with time. Just another item added to his growing list of future projects.

He had also begun testing whether feeding a plant Qi every day could turn it into a spirit herb. Even if it worked, it would waste a massive amount of Qi. Unless it resulted in an entirely new kind of herb never seen before.

He also wondered how cross pollination or grafting would work with these plants. If spirit herbs existed, then spirit bushes, berries, and trees likely did as well. They probably formed an ecosystem with a hidden layer that depended on Qi. That layer might be the key—pun fully intended—to understanding how Qi interacted with living beings.

One thing was certain. Qi was not a fundamental force like those in his original world. It did not rely on particles, materials, or strict laws. It relied on people. He could move it with thought alone. Maybe there was some organ in the brain that allowed this, but he doubted it. What he was facing seemed to be a true supernatural force layered over normal physics, able to interact without breaking reality.

Magic.

He scribbled notes, writing down theories and possibilities while thinking about other experiments he wanted to try.

He returned to his notes on Qi refining and reviewed the factors he had listed. Temperature. Herb properties. Time spent in the cauldron. The mixing itself was simple, closer to cooking than chemistry. Toss in herbs, blend them, and finish.

The real challenge was identifying what made the pill work. First was the essence of the herbs, meaning the Qi within them. That Qi gave the pill its effect. Refining time focused on drawing out and merging that Qi. The merging process was where failures often occurred. A small mistake could cause the Qi to erupt outward violently.

The interaction between herb Qi and physical matter depended on how he guided his Qi, how he controlled the flame, and how well he maintained Qi-pressure.

Qi-pressure was the term he gave to surrounding the cauldron with Qi and pressing inward evenly from all sides. It resembled gas pressure in theory, though he doubted Qi followed ideal gas laws. Still, increased pressure raising the boiling point appeared to hold true. Within a narrow pressure range, the Qi blended smoothly into a single uniform solution that formed a pill.

Yet he still could not recreate his one successful attempt.

“Maybe I need a reactive Qi reagent,” he muttered. “Treat Qi like chemistry. Each herb’s Qi as a separate reactant. I could feed some Qi to the rat and see how my Qi interacts with a spirit animal.”

A chitter broke his thoughts. He looked down to see the rat climbing his leg, sniffing at his pouch.

“Bad rat. Stay,” he said aloud. To his surprise, it stopped and climbed back down. It might have been smarter than he thought.

He considered what to do with the rat. Maybe he could train it to come for food. He hummed in thought when the creature used the most dangerous weapon known to all living things.

The cuteness attack.

Its pink nose twitched as it let out a pitiful squeak. His resolve began to crack. He forced a stern look, locking eyes with the rat’s black beady gaze. It lifted one paw and rubbed it against his leg.

His heart melted instantly. His cuteness tolerance shattered. He resisted, but it was hopeless against those eyes, whose charm surpassed all under heaven.

He pulled out a bit of pill residue and handed it over. The rat eagerly devoured it.

“You evil little genius,” he said aloud. “You’d make a fine assistant. And I think I have a name for you.”

“Lab Rat. Labby for short,” he said, gently petting its head. Labby squeaked, perhaps in joy from the petting or the pill.

“My first cultivation pet. Time to catch them all?” he muttered, snorting at his own weak joke.

Ideas flooded his mind. The chance to experiment with a spirit animal thrilled him. He would never harm Labby. He was too precious, and naming something made it impossible to kill. Labby would be his assistant while he unraveled the mysteries of magic.

He looked at Labby, who froze under his gaze. A grin spread across his face, one that even he knew looked sinister.

“We’re going to have fun together, my new friend.”

The rat squeaked softly as he laughed, sounding like a mad scientist at the peak of inspiration. He would uncover every secret this world hid from him.

Beware, secrets of magic. He was coming.