This is still their internal selection and drilling before the main tournament begins. Let's clean up and rewrite this scene to reflect all of that more clearly—while keeping the mischievous Yue Ling vibe, the reactions from everyone, and of course, the buildup to her alchemy among the numerous young cultivators in the Snake Tribe, only twenty were selected to participate in the refining trials. It wasn't that the others lacked effort—it was simply a fact that not everyone was born with the affinity or spiritual temperament required for alchemy. Having twenty promising alchemists in one generation was a rare feat, something that hadn't happened in any tribe in years. It was said that a true alchemist could change the tides of battle with just one pill—release a calming fragrance to dull the opponent's senses or create a burst of spiritual energy that could knock out an entire group in seconds.
Though the Snake Tribe had never taken part in an official alchemy competition, this year, everything was different. Both combat and alchemy segments would be tested in the grand tournament. Knowing this, the tribe was determined to refine not just pills, but also their weaknesses.
As the internal drill began, the twenty selected refiners stood in their positions, each with a furnace before them, flames lit, and spiritual ingredients prepared. Just as the process was about to begin, someone suddenly spoke up:
"Wait, number 149 is missing."
Whispers spread.
"Yue Ling? Where is she?"
"…Isn't that the monster who sent people flying with a flick earlier?" "…Don't tell me she ran away!"
Grandfather Yue remained calm, arms folded, eyes narrowed.
Only he knew where Yue Ling was.
He gave a subtle glance to Butler San.
"She's preparing again," Butler San muttered under his breath.
Empress Qingtan raised a brow. "Preparing… for another disguise? Is that how unserious she's become? You didn't even teach her properly, Father. Thank heavens I didn't allow Mei to train with you!"
Grandfather Yue scoffed under his breath. "You think it's that easy? Her father had a knack for disguises. Seems the blood runs strong."
Empress Qingtan chuckled to herself. "What a funny girl she must be."
But her amusement faded quickly.
"This is not what we agreed on," she said suddenly, her voice cold. "We had a deal. You'll explain yourself after this competition."
Just as the murmurs intensified, a voice echoed through the clearing, loud and unapologetic.
"Oh! Sorry I'm late!" Yue Ling's voice rang. "Had to change my outfit. Wanted to be tall enough to see what I'm refining."
Gasps followed as a figure stepped forward, dressed in a scholarly robe that made her look taller and more masculine. She turned toward Princess Mei with a roguish smile.
"This scholar look suits me, doesn't it, beauty?" she winked. "Let me know if you like it—I'd only dress this way for you."
Then, without waiting for a response, she leapt to the front of her cauldron, number 149, and stood there with one hand behind her back like a true gentleman.
Shock rippled through the crowd.
"Wait… that's not a girl. Right?"
"No way a lady can be that mischievous…"
"He's definitely handsome…" someone muttered dreamily.
Butler San whispered under his breath, "What does she gain from confusing people?"
Empress Qingtian was laughing now, nearly holding her sides, while Princess Mei puffed up indignantly. She had no idea the so-called 'scholar' teasing her was a fellow lady.
As the cauldrons roared to life, the drill began. Flames danced, spiritual herbs sizzled, and thick aromas filled the air.
While others were focused, sweating, and carefully measuring ingredients, Yue Ling sat cross-legged with her chin in her palm. She looked like she was either meditating—or napping.
"Is she asleep?!" someone exclaimed.
"No way she even knows how to refine..."
A loud explosion to the left caught everyone's attention. One participant had added an incompatible herb, resulting in a backfire. Another soon followed—unable to maintain his spiritual thread's stability, his cauldron cracked. Two more tried rushing through the sequence and ended up ruining their pills entirely.
Four out—already.
Still, Yue Ling hadn't even moved.
Empress Qingtian's brows twitched. "So this is your idea of teaching her refinement?" she snapped at Grandfather Yue. "You gave up on cultivation only to let her humiliate us like this?!"
Grandfather Yue remained silent.
But just as the incense stick burned halfway—thirty minutes left—Yue Ling stirred. She cracked her knuckles, yawned, then gracefully stood.
With fluid movements, she began. Her hands were swift, but precise—like someone who'd refined in secret for years. She didn't even test the herbs. Just one glance, a slight pinch, then straight into the cauldron.
Each step was executed with a casual elegance that belied her speed.
"Wait… what technique is that?"
"She's not even measuring with spiritual threads?!"
The crowd watched in stunned silence as the room filled with new aromas. Meanwhile, four more participants failed—one's cauldron exploded due to overheating, another fainted from spiritual exhaustion, and two others burned their ingredients beyond recognition.
Yet, Yue Ling danced between ingredients like a poet with words.
By the final ten minutes, she had formed the pill essence—clear, vibrant, and radiant with inner warmth. Two more participants collapsed, unable to form anything at all.
When the timer ended, only eight participants had pills on display.
Then the Elder Refiners stepped forward—one of them being the highly respected Alchemist Shan. He examined each pill one by one, silently nodding, occasionally frowning.
But when he picked up Yue Ling's pill, he paused.
"…This…" he said, voice thick with awe, "is near perfect."
Gasps filled the air again.
"Top one in quality… clarity… composition. This is professional-level work. Number 149 is… first."
Jia, one of the twin fighters in ring five, came in second—her result impressive but clearly not as refined as Yue Ling's.
The announcement echoed across the courtyard.
"All eight have passed. Congratulations. Return tomorrow for the next stage of the competition."
The crowd erupted in excitement—though half were still staring in disbelief at the grinning, robed 'scholar' who waved cheekily at them as if nothing extraordinary had happened.