Sword Sect Little Demon Child, Three and a Half Years Old and Extremely Fierce

Today, it wasn't Little Flame Hound tending the fire in the alchemy room, but Yan Chuan.

He sat in front of the alchemy furnace, controlling the heat.

Flames surged from the array at the bottom of the furnace, licking the furnace wall, their color changing rhythmically from red to orange to blue.

His hand rested on the fire control plate, unhurried and deliberate, as if he were cooking a long dish that required patience.

Elder Jingyuan rubbed his hands together, his eyes gleaming, and muttered incantations:

"Back when I tricked you into coming here from the Food God Sect, I told you: coming to the Heavenly Sword Sect to refine pills is far more advanced than refining cooking. I wasn't lying, was I?"

Yan Chuan nodded, but his hand did not tremble.

Elder Jingyuan continued, "This batch of mid-grade Rejuvenation Pills is worth several hundred high-grade spirit stones! Doesn't that feel very rewarding?"

Yan Chuan nodded again, his expression seemingly calm, but I noticed that the corner of his mouth curved slightly.

Jing Yuan continued muttering, "Those people from the Food God Sect, all they know is eating! What a waste!"

"You can control the fire, master the heat, and judge the temperature—aren't you a born alchemist?"

"Cooking and alchemy are essentially the same thing! They are both arts of fire! They are both philosophies of controlling the heat!"

Suddenly~~

The alchemy furnace emitted a low hum.

Jing Yuan's eyes lit up: "It's done!"

He opened the alchemy furnace, and a rich aroma of medicine wafted out.

At the bottom of the furnace lay a dozen or so round pills, pure white with a faint luster, like a dozen peeled eggs.

Elder Jingyuan carefully took one out and put it in my mouth.

The Rejuvenating Pill melts instantly upon entering the mouth, like a candy ball melting on the tip of the tongue.

A warm current spread from my throat to my limbs and bones, and I felt full of energy.

It's like having just drunk three large bowls of nourishing soup and then having two big steamed buns.

"Delicious!" I said.

Jingyuan glared at me: "This isn't for you to eat! It's for you to test drugs! Eating and testing are not the same!"

"It's delicious," I said again.

Jing Yuan opened his mouth, then sighed, "...Never mind, as long as it tastes good."

I turned and ran.

It wasn't exactly running; to be precise, it was being launched.

Suddenly, I felt a surge of power throughout my body. With a push of my feet, I shot off like an arrow.

It was so fast I couldn't control it.

Elder Wangji followed behind me, sweeping away the dust.

I ran, and he followed.

I stop, he sweeps.

I sped up, he sped up.

I turned, he turned.

Like my shadow, but more responsible than a shadow. A shadow is only responsible for darkness, but he is also responsible for sweeping.

"Third Elder, please don't follow me," I said.

"Slow down," he said without looking up, "don't kick up any dust."

I:"……"

He added, "Only when everything is clean can you feel at ease. Only when you feel at ease can you recite scriptures. Only when you recite scriptures well can you ascend to heaven."

I paused for a moment.

"Elder, this is what the mortal realm calls obsessive-compulsive disorder."

Elder Wangji shook his head: "Amitabha. This is cultivation."

I shut up.

The word "cultivation" is the omnipotent reason in the world of immortal cultivation.

Why do we practice horse stance every day? For spiritual practice.

Why eat steamed buns with pickled vegetables? It's a form of spiritual practice.

Why live in a cave? For spiritual practice.

Why did Elder Wangji sweep the floor for decades? Because of his cultivation.

Anything that seems unreasonable becomes reasonable once the word "spiritual practice" is added to it.

I can only try to run as slowly as possible.

Control your speed, control your pace, control the airflow beneath your feet.

There's much less dust now.

Elder Wangji swept the area behind him with great satisfaction.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

I ran lap after lap, I don't remember how many laps.

Anyway, I ran from morning until evening.

They ran from dusk until dark.

Finally, I ran to the cafeteria, feeling that the medicine had finally worn off.

It's not that it's all used up, it's just that it's settled.

Those warm currents did not disappear, but rather seeped into the muscles, bones, and meridians.

My body is a little stronger than before.

I've gained a little more strength.

The speed has also increased slightly.

The intermediate-grade Spirit Restoration Pill is indeed very effective!

During the meal, I ate ten steamed buns.

Then she looked up and blinked at Yan Chuan.

The meaning in his eyes was clear: not enough.

Yan Chuan looked at me, remained silent for a moment, and then quietly went to steam another pot.

That expression seemed to say: I can't afford to raise them, but I have to.

The steamed buns are ready, so I'll continue eating.

Suning was counting them from the side.

Murong Zhuo looked at me as if I were a little monster.

Gu Chenguang wrote down the number "twenty" in his notebook and then drew an exclamation mark next to it.

The eldest brother didn't say anything, but silently pushed his steamed bun in front of me.

I looked at him, then at the steamed bun.

"Senior Brother, aren't you going to eat?"

I'm not hungry.

I picked up the steamed bun and ate it.

The twenty-first one!

"I ate one more than the sect leader," Su Ning said.

I swallowed the last bite of steamed bun and took a sip of water.

"I was so hungry after running in the mountains."

Gu Chenguang added another line to his notebook:

—Junior Sister's appetite analysis: on par with the sect leader.

—Possible cause: Excessive mountain running.

Other possible reasons: growth spurt.

The most likely reason: It's because I can eat a lot!

...........................

After finishing our meal, we returned to our cave.

Murong Zhuo is watering my flowers, holding a small watering can in her hand, her movements are gentle.

He placed several new pots of flowers in the small niche he carved into the wall of my cave.

There were red, yellow, and purple flowers, blooming brightly under the moonlight.

They also lit a plate of incense at the cave entrance.

The smoke curled upwards, carrying a faint fragrance of flowers and wood.

"Fifth Senior Brother, what does this incense smell like?"

"Calming incense. It helps with sleep."

"I sleep very well."

"I know," Murong Zhuo continued watering the flowers, "but this fragrance makes me feel good."

I thought about it, and it makes sense.

Then Gu Chenguang brought over a familiar wooden bucket.

No, it should be described as a familiar medicinal bath.

It's an upgraded version of a medicinal bath.

He carried it very steadily, his steps were slow, as if he were carrying a fragile piece of porcelain.

But the water in the bucket was sloshing around, more violently than usual.

It wasn't that he couldn't hold it steady; it was that something in the water was moving.

I glanced into the bucket.

The water was dark brown and murky, like mud.

Floating on the water were scorpion tails, centipede legs, and some other things I didn't recognize... some were segmented, some were plate-like, some were thread-like, and some were...

I've decided not to watch it anymore.

"Sixth Senior Brother, I've already reached the Golden Core stage, so I don't need to take a medicinal bath anymore, right?"

Gu Chenguang put down the medicinal bath and wiped the sweat from his forehead: "Someone's watching you. You need to become even stronger."

"The difference between the early and late stages of the Golden Core realm is significant."

"And this medicinal bath is more expensive than the previous one."

"The previous one cost 100 low-grade spirit stones. This one costs 100 mid-grade spirit stones."

He raised a finger, which appeared exceptionally long and cruel in the moonlight.

I looked at the bucket of dark medicine, and then at Gu Chenguang's serious expression.

His expression left no room for negotiation, only a firm "This is for your own good, don't be ungrateful" attitude.

I sighed.

Take off your shoes.

Go in.

Then~~

"vomit--!"

I leaned over the bucket and threw up again.

The smell was like boiling a hundred pairs of unwashed socks into a soup, then adding fermented bean curd and stinky tofu...

Shen Qingchen found himself standing at the cave entrance without anyone noticing.

He walked over, routinely handed me a piece of candy, and then turned and left.

The movements were fluid and seamless, even more so than his swordsmanship.

They just left much faster than usual.

With candy in my mouth, the taste finally subsided a little.

"My senior brother always walks so fast," I said.

Murong Zhuo, who was watering the flowers nearby, didn't even look up: "Senior Brother is afraid you'll vomit on him."

"My senior brother would never think that way."

That's what he thinks. He told me that himself last time.

I admire Murong Zhuo.

His expression was calm, not like he was joking.

"When did you say that?"

"After you vomited during your last medicinal bath."

I was silent.

The eldest brother is the kind of person who keeps everything to himself.

But the words he occasionally utters are more piercing than his sword.