The next morning arrived with no calm.
The skies above the Crimson Flame Sect burned red as if warning of bloodshed yet to come. Disciples rushed between training courts, the tension in the air palpable. Word had spread like wildfire—
> A duel had been challenged.
And the challenger was not one of their own.
In the center of the main Alchemy Courtyard, a tall platform had been erected overnight. Pill cauldrons stood at opposite ends, surrounded by spirit arrays and formation lines glowing faint gold. Elders from multiple divisions took their seats in silence, forming a circle of judgment.
The crowd gathered beyond them.
All eyes were on one name: Long Feng.
And across the stage from him stood a stranger, shrouded in a dark-green robe with silver embroidery. His face was pale, almost gray, lips purple-tinged, and his breath carried a faint medicinal stench—Poison Qi.
His name was Jiang Su, and he bore the sigil of the Death Venom Sect.
---
The Challenge Delivered
It had begun with a letter. Not of ink—but of scent.
A sealed jar of poisonous fog had arrived at the Elder Hall the night before. In it, the words:
> "Your reborn alchemist stands too proudly. Let him prove himself… or let him die under his own flame."
— Jiang Su, Core Poison Disciple
When Long Feng saw it, he didn't hesitate.
> "I accept."
Now, standing face to face with Jiang Su under the rising sun, Long Feng's expression was calm—almost bored.
"You crossed half an empire to challenge me?" he asked dryly. "Should I be flattered, or insulted?"
Jiang Su smiled thinly. "Neither. I was simply curious. A 'trash' from the lower realms… reborn in flame? If you're the future of this sect, then the flame is already dying."
Mei Ling stood at the edge of the crowd, fists clenched.
She hated that smirk.
Hated how the elders looked unsure.
Hated that Long Feng stood alone, again.
But he never looked uncertain.
---
Duel Rules – Flame vs Poison
Elder Hua Tian stood between them, voice sharp.
"This is an open duel of flame mastery and alchemy. Each participant will refine a 5th-rank combat pill—judged by purity, speed, and spiritual control."
He paused, letting the silence stretch.
"However, due to the challenger's specialty, poison resistance has been added to the criteria."
Gasps rippled through the courtyard.
That meant the test would favor Jiang Su—whose very Qi was steeped in toxic fumes. Most alchemists wouldn't dare attempt such pills unless their flame was perfectly controlled.
But Long Feng simply stepped forward and bowed.
"No objections."
---
The Duel Begins
"Begin!"
The cauldrons ignited.
Jiang Su's poison Qi slithered through the air like snakes. His flame burned cold—a ghostly green—and his herbs released foul black smoke as they melted into liquid venom.
But Long Feng was still.
He didn't move at first. His eyes closed.
He let the Eternal Ember inside him pulse once—then twice—and with a breath, he summoned it to his palm.
A thin golden flame rose—clear, controlled, and steady as a heartbeat.
Even the elders leaned forward.
> "That's not ordinary Vermilion Ember," one whispered.
"No… it's evolved. That's divine-tier control."
Long Feng placed his herbs in one by one, each dissolving in perfect harmony. His flame caressed each essence, guiding it—not burning it—like a teacher shaping a disciple.
Jiang Su glanced up—and narrowed his eyes.
> He's too calm. Why?
How is his pill Qi not clashing with the air?
He increased the poison dose, trying to spike the arena's atmosphere.
But Long Feng didn't flinch.
He simply lifted one hand—and the flame split into two streams.
One refined.
The other shielded the air around his cauldron, forming a silent dome.
---
The Breaking Point
Minutes passed. Both flames roared.
Jiang Su was nearly finished, his poison pill already forming. Its aura was deadly—pulsing with venom so potent some outer disciples had already fainted.
Long Feng's cauldron, however, remained eerily quiet.
No sound.
No explosive boil.
Just soft, flickering light.
The crowd murmured, confused.
> "Is he even trying?"
"Why hasn't he condensed it yet?"
But Elder Hua Tian's eyes widened.
He saw it.
> He's using a split-refine technique. He's not just making one pill.
He's crafting an antidote at the same time.
A moment later, Long Feng lifted both hands.
Two pills hovered above his flame.
One red-gold. One icy-blue.
Jiang Su's eyes bulged.
> "He made a counteragent?!"
---
Judgment
The elders stepped forward. Each examined the pills—testing for stability, grade, and effect.
When they finished, the lead judge turned to face the crowd.
> "Jiang Su's poison pill ranks at 5.6 purity. Fast. Potent. Deadly."
"Long Feng's flame pill ranks at 6.3 purity. Balanced. Precise. And he produced a functioning poison counteragent—within the same timeframe."
The silence was thunderous.
Then the judge raised his hand.
> "Winner: Long Feng."
The crowd erupted. Inner sect disciples who once mocked him now stared in disbelief.
Jiang Su stepped back, face pale. His poison aura fluctuated with rage.
"You… you humiliated me!"
Long Feng's voice was soft. Cold.
"You came to prove I didn't belong. You failed. Go home."
---
A Quiet Moment
Later that night, back in his courtyard, Long Feng sat alone.
The flames in his hands danced softly, warm for once—not wrathful. Mei Ling walked in with a tray of food and sat beside him.
"You didn't need to make a second pill," she said.
He glanced at her. "I did."
"Why?"
He looked up at the stars.
"…Because poison always returns. I'm just preparing for the day it comes for you."
She was silent a moment, then whispered, "And who prepares for the day it comes for you?"
He didn't answer.
But she stayed.
And the flame between them quietly burned.
---