Volume One, Chapter Eighteen: Alchemy

“Rip—”
Sharp claws sliced easily through the membrane covering Montague’s body, tearing his clothing as well.
Blood instantly soaked his collar.
“Stop!”
At that moment, two figures appeared—Montague’s parents, who had recently fused together.
Now, their bodies were combined, sharing a single form, covered in sticky fluid, grotesque and repulsive.
“The master said to keep him for the pill forging. I advise you not to interfere. If you delay the master’s business, you won’t be able to bear her wrath.”
Though they had two heads, their voices merged into one.
“Tch! Boring! I was just scaring him a bit. Why take it so seriously?”
Montianna scoffed, withdrew her claws, and turned away.
The ginseng spirit followed, glancing back at every step.
Watching their retreating figures, Montague finally noticed that his injury didn’t hurt at all.
Instead, it tingled, as though something crawled over his skin.
“Poisoned, perhaps?”
Montague laughed bitterly at himself.
Time slipped away like water.
Night soon fell, and the crimson moon stealthily rose.
Montague was cocooned in a layer of slime, unable to move.
But this didn’t mean he was powerless.
He still had a secret card, unknown to everyone.
These monsters before him were too strong—Nine Faces alone could not defeat them.
So he waited.
Waited for rescue.
Long before he realized the danger, he’d already communicated with Nine Faces, instructing it to call Elder Jiang.
Nine Faces could mimic anyone, so imitating his voice was no problem.
All he could do now was stall for time, hoping the Guardian Squad would arrive to save him.
“Hopefully, they’ll make it in time.”
Montague wasn’t sure if the Guardian Squad would respond after receiving the message.
After all, today had already seen a major incident—they must be busy.
He had intended to consult Da Kang about escaping, only to discover the creature had vanished.
No matter how he called, there was no response.
Now, his hope rested solely on the Guardian Squad’s timely arrival.
Seconds ticked by; a thin mist rose around him.
Under the moonlight, it looked like a veil of blood.
Tap, tap, tap...
A cane struck the ground with heavy thuds.

A stout old woman appeared, her bulging belly prominent, holding an alchemy furnace in her hands.
Montianna and the little old man followed behind her.
“When I forge the pills, you two guard the ritual. When the pills are ready, you won’t go unrewarded.”
The old woman turned her head and addressed them.
“Thank you, Master!”
Both bowed hurriedly in gratitude.
“Mm, step aside. I’ll begin the alchemy.”
With those words, the old woman tossed the furnace above Montague’s head.
Though it was only palm-sized, once released, it rapidly expanded.
In the blink of an eye, it grew to four or five meters across.
Montague felt an irresistible suction, pulling him directly into the furnace.
A spark flared, cast into the furnace by the old woman.
Boom!
Upon entering, the spark exploded, transforming into a raging inferno.
“Go!”
The old woman waved her hand, hurling countless rare herbs and materials into the furnace.
She slowly sat down, hands forming intricate signs.
Montianna, who had kept her head bowed, glanced at the little old man beside her.
Their eyes met briefly, then darted away, afraid of being noticed.
The mist thickened, swirling like a vortex toward the furnace.
It was rich spiritual energy, released as the ancient seal weakened.
With the seal breaking, spiritual energy dormant for millions of years surged forth.
On nights when the moon was full, the surge was at its peak.
Humans, frightened by monsters, only knew mist meant creatures were active.
But few realized it was the best time to cultivate.
The old woman felt the heat from the furnace and a smile crept across her wrinkled face.
“Now! Do it!”
A cold glint flashed in Montianna’s eyes; her arm transformed into a sharp spike, stabbing at the old woman’s back.
The little old man sprouted countless tendrils, binding the target like ropes.
Bang!
The spike pierced her body without resistance.
Yet Montianna’s face instantly turned pale.
“An illusion!”
A gaping hole appeared in the old woman’s chest, but no blood poured forth—only a pool of slime.
“You really thought your petty tricks could fool me? How laughable!”
The old woman’s voice sounded from behind them.

“Run!”
Montianna shouted, her body reverting to its true form.
Eight limbs pushed off the ground, propelling her away.
But as she fled, a rope shot out, binding her tightly.
The ginseng spirit fared worse.
He tried to burrow into the earth, but the red scarf around his neck glowed, and the old woman yanked him out.
“You’re my most important medicine catalyst. Did you really think I’d let you go?”
She sneered, tossing the ginseng spirit into the furnace.
“And you... You dared betray me. Death is far too merciful!”
She turned to the bound Montianna, her face twisted with cruelty.
“Old witch—you really think I fear you? If it comes to it, I’ll drag you down with me!”
Hatred burned in Montianna’s eyes.
Her cultivation was originally higher, but the old woman was immune to her toxins, so she couldn’t win.
In recent years, the old witch had consumed countless medicines, her strength growing rapidly, soon matching Montianna’s realm.
Now, she was no match at all.
Even if she risked everything, only she would die.
“You? Pathetic.”
The old witch snorted, tightening her whip.
Crack!
Bones fractured audibly.
“Aah—”
Montianna screamed in agony.
Within the furnace, Montague heard the commotion outside and thought Elder Jiang and the others had come to rescue him.
He was about to cry out for help when a figure was thrown inside.
It was none other than the ginseng spirit.
“Aah... aah... aah...”
As soon as he entered the furnace, his roots caught fire, sending him writhing in pain.
Montague observed with a puzzled gaze, for he felt no heat at all.
He looked down and saw his clothes had long since turned to ashes, but within the wound on his chest, a swarm of ant-sized spiders were spinning silk.
Their delicate threads wove a T-shirt across his body.
It resembled the birthday gift Montianna had given him—he remembered leaving it on his bedside. How was it now on him?
“Could it have been then...”
Montague recalled the moment when Montianna had attacked him with her claws.