William Foster had always thought that if he could solve the problems in the mountains, spending his whole life holed up here wouldn’t be so bad. In his previous life, he died from falling off a cliff; crossing over to this world was like being given a second chance at life—so why not just enjoy it?

He sang “The Song of Contentment,” not to put on airs of being in a fairyland, but because he had seen too many seekers of immortality, and was moved to sing.

“You know, the night is so beautiful…” he murmured, as if talking in his sleep.

Alice Carter, still sulking, let out a “hmph,” seemingly in disdain.

In fact, it was precisely for this reason that Alice Carter always thought William Foster was very suited for cultivating immortality. He had a calm and tranquil aura—unattached, unambitious, with no desire for worldly rank or title. It was as if a thatched hut was enough for him to live out his days. People like this were more suited for cultivation than those who piously kowtowed and desperately begged for it.

Unfortunately, he refused to cultivate.

Actually, heaven knows, what was called “calm detachment from the world” in William Foster’s world had another name: being a homebody.

Chapter 3: Not Believing in Immortals

After slowly finishing the wine in the pot, William Foster glanced at the sundial in the courtyard, calculated the time again, then turned back to the stove. The fire flickered slightly in the wind, and he immediately shielded it carefully, not leaving again, focusing intently on the flames, not blinking once.

He didn’t know how long he stared, but eventually the clay pot on the fire began to tremble slightly, as if a faint light was emerging, and a fragrant aroma filled the air. William Foster quickly clamped down the lid, and the fire went out.

Carefully lifting the lid, he saw a deep blue pill lying quietly inside, with a faint glow flashing around it.

“Is it done?”

“It’s done.” Alice Carter’s voice sounded again. “You say you have no desires, but when you do things, you have the patience to endure. Alchemy is so tedious, yet you can sit still and focus for so long—how do you manage that?”

“Give me a game, and I can sit still even longer.”

“…You treat alchemy like some kind of game?”

“Pretty much. It’s all about leveling up anyway…”

“Forget it.” Alice Carter was speechless. “Anyway, the pills you made before only dispelled illnesses caused by resentment, not true antidotes. This one is a real elixir that can cure a hundred poisons with one pill—of course, it’s just the lowest grade of ninth-rank, only effective against ordinary poisons, and it depends on the severity. But you can say you’ve mastered the basics.”

William Foster’s face showed little expression, but inside he was stirred.

Holding the pill in his palm, he could truly feel a kind of energy flowing within, as if it contained countless mysterious meanings he couldn’t comprehend.

After more than two months, he had finally produced his first “immortal pill” that was no longer a mere “mortal product.”

This was done without practicing any cultivation techniques, without a trace of spiritual power, without special herbs, special fire, or special furnace—just using a brilliant alchemy recipe and precise control of the fire, he had refined an immortal pill!

“Now you know I wasn’t lying to you.” Alice Carter said coldly.

William Foster picked up the spiked club from the corner. The club was pitch black, but under the moonlight, a faint dark red seemed to glimmer on its surface, as if stained with ancient blood—quite sinister on closer inspection. He sighed, “Even without cultivation, I can set up formations and refine immortal pills. What you’ve taught me must be some high-level method, right?”

“It’s also because you’re so compatible. You’re the most suitable person for cultivation I’ve ever seen.” Alice Carter didn’t argue with him anymore, but instead praised, “Such perception, such patience, such clarity and purity—even many who claim to be accomplished can’t compare to you.”

“Stop trying to persuade me to cultivate every day. My life is most important—just the thought of body-snatching is terrifying. Who would dare take that risk?”

“You’re just too afraid of death.” Alice Carter said coldly. “The pills I taught you to make before, you didn’t dare eat a single one. Don’t think I don’t know what you meant by calling them ‘date pills.’ What do you want to name this new one?”

William Foster didn’t answer, staring at the pill in a daze. Suddenly, he said, “You want to teach me cultivation so that I’ll have the ability to help you rebuild your body in the future, right?”

Alice Carter replied irritably, “Right.”

“Yet when I suggested sending you out to find another master, you refused. So many seekers of immortality would treat you like a treasure—why bother pestering me here, repeating the same things day after day? Don’t you get bored?”

Alice Carter said coldly, “These past two or three months, you’ve been wary of me, but haven’t I been observing you as well? You may be fearful and suspicious, but you’re kind at heart—others may not be. I’m just a remnant soul, powerless to protect myself, and I fear entrusting myself to the wrong person, ending up doomed forever.”

William Foster laughed, “You, such a vicious artifact spirit, are actually afraid of trusting the wrong person?”

“I’m not an artifact… never mind.” Alice Carter said nonchalantly, “It’s precisely because I’m this kind of… artifact spirit, that I know all too well what happens when you meet your own kind.”

“Fair point.”

“Of course it’s a fair point.” Alice Carter said languidly, “I’ve waited millions of years in these mountains, I have plenty of patience. Since you’re interested in alchemy and formations, one day you’ll be unable to resist cultivating with me… Honestly, could you really bear to throw me away?”

William Foster twitched his lips, saying nothing.

Alice Carter sneered, “Just like the little stories you told me—human nature really is all about ‘true fragrance.’”

“Did I ever tell you about another aspect of human nature?”

“What?”