The Way asks no questions.

At last, both feet stomped down in unison with a thunderous roar. The white jade tiles shattered, leaving a deep pit in the floor, and cracks, fine as the trails of ants, spread outward as dust rose and swirled, blurring everyone’s vision.

Below the stage, the audience held their breath, all eyes fixed on the settling dust, unwilling to look away.

“Are you alright, young man?”

At that moment, a Daoist, unable to bear the suspense, wanted to step onto the stage to see what had become of the competitor. But he noticed that the Elder on the stage wore a shadowed expression. The Elder’s raised foot trembled in midair, then slowly withdrew.

A fit of coughing broke the tension as the smoke cleared, revealing a blurry figure—Qin Chuan.

Seeing this, the crowd finally exhaled in relief.

Qin Chuan was panting heavily, hacking twice to expel the blood that had pooled in his throat and lungs. Apart from the blood, his face was ghostly pale. His left shoulder trembled uncontrollably, both legs numb to the bone, and it was a while before he could feel even a hint of warmth.

Within three feet around him, the tiles had been pulverized into fine dust, burying his legs. He tried to pull them free but made no progress, so he stopped struggling. Instead, he slapped his storage pouch and grabbed a handful of healing pills, shoving them into his mouth along with the blood, swallowing them without care.

Yet even after all this, the powder he held in his right hand, Bone-Purging Powder, remained untouched by any dust. When he let go, it shone with golden light.

“Is that Bone-Purging Powder?”

The Elder recognized it at once, though he hesitated to explain. The powder Fang Mu had refined was an ordinary brown-black, similar in size but nothing like this.

“I added an herb rich in earth essence to the formula and used celestial energy to balance it. In the end, I refined this—Blackheart Pill!”

Qin Chuan was unsure what to name it, but a glance at the Elder prompted him to blurt it out. The name echoed the Bone-Purging Powder.

The Elder seemed not to notice, or perhaps ignored the implication, his expression dark as water. He cast a glance at Hua Song.

“This matter is for you to decide.”

Although Qin Chuan had refined the pill, it was difficult to judge whether he had exceeded the time limit.

Now the final judgment rested on whether the Blackheart Pill had formed within the allotted time.

The Elder had no choice—if he declared Qin Chuan defeated without question, the crowd below would likely tear him apart in their outrage.

He had hoped to use this to pressure Fu Luan, but now he was ensnared in his own web. The people were dissatisfied with him and no longer followed his lead.

By retreating, he managed to salvage a little dignity.

Hua Song was not of the First Pill Pavilion, so entrusting him with the decision was fitting.

“I—I’m to decide? Elder, didn’t you just say…”

He was taken aback. The choice was difficult—no matter whom he chose, some would call it unfair. Sighing inwardly, he glanced at Qin Chuan and Fang Mu.

A headache indeed!

Just as confusion clouded his mind—

“I concede!”

“What?”

The crowd and Hua Song alike were stunned; no one expected Fang Mu to admit defeat at such a crucial moment.

The Netherfruit was precious, but Fang Mu knew that if he claimed it, he would become a target.

Moreover, Qin Chuan had promised to heal Wan Tong.

At the start, he would never have believed it, but now, he saw no other choice. The First Pill Pavilion was no longer trustworthy; only with Qin Chuan was there still hope.

He wondered, though, about Qin Chuan’s origins. Such mastery of alchemy could not come from nowhere!

No matter how he considered it, he never thought of the Fu Luan Hall.

Fu Luan Hall was always mysterious, and its disciples…

The Elder was stunned at Fang Mu’s words, his eyes suddenly older. With a bitter smile, he cast a meaningful glance at Master Su.

His gaze swept the assembly, as though piercing through layers of mist, uncertain whether he looked at the vast Azure Mountain Sect or the world itself.

Leaning on his cane, he hobbled down the mountain. Without realizing it, two lines of turbid tears traced the wrinkles of his cheeks, staining his long robe and falling upon the stone slabs, making him seem all the older and more desolate.

“All these years, have I been wrong?”

“Was I wrong…”

On the viewing platform, Master Su watched the Elder’s retreating figure and murmured, “The fault lies with heaven and earth.”

At the horizon where Azure Mountain met the sky, a muffled thunderclap suddenly rang out, scattering the roosting birds in the forest.

“The weather’s changing…”

As for Qin Chuan—

Now that Fang Mu had conceded, there was no point in further debate. Qin Chuan had gained some hollow fame, but more importantly, he was about to receive a Netherfruit.

Yes—about to.

The Netherfruit was no ordinary item; most people couldn’t see it, let alone touch or pluck it.

This opportunity was something one had to seize for oneself; the reward merely offered the possibility.

Thus ended the Pill Competition, at least for the crowd. There was no Body-Tempering Pill recipe to be won, but to witness such a young talent made the time worthwhile.

For Fang Mu and Qin Chuan, it was different.

With Fang Mu’s help, Qin Chuan painstakingly freed his legs from the rubble.

Tiny beads of blood oozed uncontrollably from his pores.

He managed a bitter smile, trembling as he reached into his storage pouch for another handful of healing pills, about to swallow them, when someone seized his hand.

Looking up, he saw it was none other than Master Su.

“Mas—Master…”

A flush of color returned to Qin Chuan’s porcelain-pale face, and he stammered, drawing a subtle reaction from the maiden nearby, who thought to herself, “He’s still just a child. It must have been hard for him.”

She chuckled softly, a dimple appearing on her fair face, her tone gently reproachful.

“I never taught you to act so recklessly!”

Even Fang Mu, standing to the side, was momentarily entranced by her presence.

It was as if spring had come to an autumn courtyard; the faint fragrance stirred his heart, making the moment feel like a lifetime ago.

Collecting himself, he silently recited, “Do not look at what is not proper, do not look at what is not proper!”

Yet his heart pounded uncontrollably, faster and faster.

“The Way itself asks no questions, nor does it answer. Only by questioning the Way can one enter it—then comes enlightenment and proof.”

“This is true of the Way of Man and the Way of Heaven alike.”

“Alchemy takes its essence from the Way of Heaven, refined through the Way of Man. In entering the Way, you have done well.”

“But you have neglected to question the Way!”

“With your methods, you can only suppress your injuries temporarily. Even if you overcome them, hidden wounds will remain.”

As Master Su spoke, Fang Mu listened intently. Her voice was so gentle it seemed to melt into his bones, softening his very being.

But her next words made his whole body jolt. The phrase echoed in his mind: “The Way itself asks no questions, nor does it answer. Only by questioning the Way can one enter it—then comes enlightenment and proof.”

“Neglecting to question the Way…”

“Questioning the Way? What does it mean to question the Way?”

Without realizing it, he spoke aloud.

His gaze drifted to Master Su, but though her lips moved, he heard nothing—not a sound. Or perhaps, he could no longer hear.

“Indeed—the Way itself asks no questions, nor does it answer! I was careless; I’ve lost my way, mistaken the path.”

The Way itself asks no questions, nor does it answer…