Fire up the furnace!

“There are minor, moderate, and major forms of wickedness in people,” he muttered.
“And pills too come in Yin, Yang, and Yin-Yang varieties.”
“The Heaven Poison Pill is divided into the Heaven Pill and the Poison Pill. The Heaven Pill is of pure and upright nature, hence it belongs to the Yang. Therefore, it must be refined at high noon, and the pill will be completed within a day.”
Within the pill chamber, Chen Huangpi held the Seventy-Two Mysteries of Pill Refining in his hands, pacing around the massive Nine Dragons Heaven Refining Cauldron.
As he walked, he recited the method of pill refinement.
“The Hundred-Deaths-No-Life creature is of yin nature. When the Heaven Pill is formed, it is transferred directly to the raging fire in the furnace, thus the Poison Pill is also completed. Once the cauldron is opened, the extreme yin gives birth to yang, and the extreme yang to yin—the union produces the Heaven Poison Pill!”
“I already know how to refine this pill!”
Chen Huangpi’s eyes shone as he looked toward the brass oil lamp nearby.
The lamp was currently pinning down a black, fleshy ball—the very Hundred-Deaths-No-Life creature.
The creature thrashed about, shrieking incessantly.
“Have mercy, good sir! Spare my life! I have an eight-hundred-year-old mother above and a thirteen-year-old concubine below—let me go and I will surely repay you generously…”
Before he could finish speaking, Chen Huangpi stepped forward and landed a heavy punch, knocking him out.
He then remarked, “The pill manual says these creatures are slippery-tongued. Seeing is believing.”
“Indeed! Even I don’t have a thirteen-year-old concubine—how could he?”
The brass oil lamp, sitting atop the barely-breathing Hundred-Deaths-No-Life creature, landed another punch on its head in indignation.
Only then did it feel appeased and said to Chen Huangpi, “Master, you’ve never refined pills before. There’s only this one Hundred-Deaths-No-Life creature. If you fail, there won’t be another chance!”
“Rest assured. My master knows pill refinement!”
“True, the abbot does. But he never taught you, did he?”
Chen Huangpi declared proudly, “Though my master never taught me, that doesn’t mean I never learned.”
Even if he’d never refined pills himself,
whenever Chen Huangpi became the subject of his master’s experiments, he’d secretly memorize every step and technique.
He remembered once,
his master asked why he did so.
Chen Huangpi sneered three times and replied with a single sentence: “I am not yet strong, but once I am, everything will change.”
Those seven words earned him many secrets of alchemy in a single day.
Thus, he was confident he could refine the Heaven Poison Pill!
“Huang Er, watch closely!”
Chen Huangpi confidently formed a seal with his hands, gathering his essence at his fingertips, and struck the Nine Dragons Heaven Refining Cauldron.
In the next instant,
nine dragon roars resounded.
The nine golden dragons coiled around the cauldron’s surface opened their eyes and began to turn slowly.
The brass oil lamp’s eyes widened. “You really know how to do this, Chen Huangpi?”
“Less talking! Fire!”
At Chen Huangpi’s command, the cauldron’s lid rose into the air on its own.
The brass oil lamp, seeing this, didn’t hesitate—a jet of true fire shot from its mouth.
This had been arranged in advance,
for Chen Huangpi’s cultivation was different from the ancient and modern schools:
he didn’t possess the true fire of a golden core cultivator.
“Herbs!”
Chen Huangpi called again.
The brass oil lamp scrambled to toss in the prepared herbs.
The flames within the cauldron surged violently.
Yet the herbs didn’t burn to ash;
instead, they were purified and melted into drops of liquid.
The nine dragon heads opened their jaws.
The medicinal liquid gathered in their mouths, forming orbs.
Chen Huangpi, satisfied, said, “The only truly unique material for the Heaven Poison Pill is the Hundred-Deaths-No-Life creature. The rest of the herbs I’ve collected over the years while patrolling the mountains. We’ll refine these first, then add the remaining ingredients.”
“A bit of mercury.”
“More.”
“How is there so little lead left?”
He slapped his forehead, suddenly recalling, “Ah, I used too much last time making medicine for my master. No matter, I’ll fetch more.”

Except for the step involving the Hundred-Deaths-No-Life creature,
the previous procedures merely required following the correct sequence; timing needn’t be so exact.

…

Elsewhere,
in the guest room,
Song Qiuyue and the other cultivators had gathered.
One stood by the door, peering outside for any unusual signs.
“Miss, it seems that old Daoist really has disappeared.”
Since Chen Huangpi had brought them to the guest quarters, Song Qiuyue and her group hadn’t dared step out—not even separately.
Even the propriety of men and women was set aside for now.
Song Qiuyue had more pressing concerns.
The incense energy of their gods was mysteriously dwindling.
At best, only half of what once flourished remained.
For some, not even a tenth was left.
“That old priestess is approaching with the remnant folk. They’re all muddy and each is carrying a green onion.”
At these words,
Song Qiuyue’s face brightened. She quickly had the cultivator step aside and flung the door open.
“Granny, please wait!”
She called out to Old Lady Tang from behind the door.
The old woman replied, “What business has the esteemed one?”
Song Qiuyue said, “This morning, Granny spoke in my favor. I’m deeply grateful and wish to repay you.”
Her words sounded sincere,
but what Song Qiuyue actually thought was that this blind old woman, a remnant of the Ten Thousand Mountains, seemed simple and honest. She had even spoken for her earlier. Perhaps, with a little coaxing, Song Qiuyue could extract some useful information.
But Old Lady Tang was no fool.
Though her cultivation was only at the golden core level, she’d ventured beyond the Ten Thousand Mountains in her youth
and was shrewd of mind.
At a glance, she saw through Song Qiuyue’s intentions.
The old woman replied coolly, “You jest, honored one. I am already half in the grave—how could I bear your gratitude?”
“I am of the Song family of Qinghe!”
Song Qiuyue insisted, “Granny, now that we’re all trapped in this temple, we should unite and help one another.”
“And how, pray tell, should we help each other?”
Old Lady Tang’s curiosity was piqued.
Song Qiuyue weighed her words and said, “Chen Huangpi is pure of heart, but the old Daoist is extremely sinister. He seems able to absorb the incense power of the gods. Yet the mountain god you worship grows ever stronger. Why is this?”
The two groups were quartered side by side.
Song Qiuyue had noticed the difference in the mountain god’s incense next door.
Though not as abundant as the gods she brought,
it was steadily increasing.
Perhaps there were too few remnant folk, so the incense always hit a limit.
Hearing this, Old Lady Tang couldn’t help but laugh.
“You are a Nascent Soul True Lord, yet you question a blind old crone of golden core rank—are you not making things difficult for me?”
With that, she turned to leave.
They had signed an agreement with Chen Huangpi; though they could not repay the debt for now,
they would work to pay it off—better to do something than nothing.
She had no intention of wasting words with Song Qiuyue and her group.
Song Qiuyue called after her anxiously, “Granny, Granny!”
In the next instant,
the green onion men carried by the remnant folk all began to shout.
“Wretch! I’m about to die and haven’t uttered a word, but you’re the first to scream—and so shrilly! I wish I could tear your mouth apart!”
“Heh, let me tell you something—someone just died in your guest room a few days ago.”
“Scared yet? Hahaha!”
The green onion men burst into raucous laughter.
Song Qiuyue’s face turned ashen, murderous intent boiling within her!

But the green onion men, far from cowed, only grew more insolent.
“This wretch does have some looks. When Chen Huangpi boils us together with her, at least we’ll have a taste of meat in death!”
With a bang,
Song Qiuyue slammed the door shut.
With a wave of her hand, she sealed the room from outside noise.
Yet even so,
she could well imagine the green onion men outside laughing maliciously.
“Damn it!”
“They all deserve to die!”
Hatred gleamed in Song Qiuyue’s eyes. That Old Lady Tang certainly knew something, but would not reveal it.
She had placed herself on the path to death.
As for those green onion men—they deserved death even more!
To have humiliated her so!

…

The Ten Thousand Mountains—a place teeming with abominations,
so many that none could say how numerous.
The mountains were truly vast—so vast that the combined area of the neighboring countries could not match them.
Some claimed the number of monsters inside might rival the population of a nation.
Perhaps an exaggeration,
but none dared verify it.
All knew, though, that the remnant folk within the mountains were certainly fewer than in any city.
Perhaps only tens of thousands.
Large as that sounded,
spread across such a range, one might walk hundreds of miles without seeing a soul.
But today was different.
For the first time, many people had come to the mountains.
A procession of thousands stretched in great lines.
All were levitating above the ground,
borne aloft by the power of forty gods.
They had set out the previous day.
To be precise, as soon as Song Qiuyue reached the Pure Immortal Temple, intending to use it as a bridgehead for migration, they had departed.
A lazy cultivator remarked, “Everyone says these mountains are terrifying, but we haven’t seen a single monster. It’s disappointing.”
“Silence!”
An elder cultivator snapped, “It’s only because it’s daytime that we can flaunt ourselves. At night, you wouldn’t even know how you died.”
The younger cultivator sobered instantly. “I know it’s daytime—that’s why I complain. At night, I’d sew my lips shut.”
“As well you should!”
The elder frowned. “If we keep to schedule, we’ll reach the temple by tomorrow morning. Still, I can’t shake a sense of foreboding.”
“Any reason for it?”
“None.”
He shook his head, helpless. “Perhaps Lady Qiuyue’s urgency has made me anxious.”
Every quarter of an hour,
they received a message urging them on from Song Qiuyue.
In daylight, sending messages through the mountains was not difficult.
Even the steward of Xu Prefecture had been notified—fifty more gods were following behind.
Those fifty did not need to escort migrants, so they would not lag far behind.
The elder was puzzled. Even to protect migrants, a hundred gods should be more than enough—fifty would suffice.
A total of one hundred fifty gods.
How terrifying must the Ten Thousand Mountains be at night, to warrant such an array?
Just then,
the elder saw white mist rising all around and frowned. “Fog at this hour—how troublesome.”
He turned to one of his companions. “You, go disperse the mist.”