Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time-Chapter 315: Bottlenecks In Refinement
"That’s a common problem," she said. "These mass-produced talismans don’t have refined inscriptions. They weren’t made to handle high-precision control. That’s fine for beginner-level training, but it limits how much finesse you can apply."
Han Yu frowned. "So how do most alchemists get past this?"
She held up three fingers.
"There are a few methods."
"One," she said, folding down a finger, "is obvious. You improve your Spirit Qi control even further. That way, you don’t need to make as many micro-adjustments—you simply hold the right temperature the whole time."
Han Yu nodded slowly. "But that takes time."
"Exactly. That’s why most Outer Court disciples plateau quickly. They don’t want to spend three years just learning how not to burn their pills."
She raised a second finger. "Two. You invest in or borrow a dedicated Flame Array. These are array inscriptions specifically built to channel fire-type spirit energy more precisely. They’re set up around the cauldron and controlled with hand seals or specific rhythm inputs. They respond faster, and they’re far more stable."
Han Yu perked up. "That sounds better. How much does one of those cost?"
"Even the cheap ones? Tens of thousands of merit points," Li Mei said flatly. "Good ones? Upwards of a hundred thousand. You’d need to be in the Alchemy Peak to borrow them for free."
"...Of course."
She then raised a third finger, and her tone shifted slightly—quieter, more serious.
"But the third method—the best method—is to cultivate your own Alchemical Spirit Flame."
Han Yu blinked. "A... spirit flame?"
Li Mei nodded, her gaze drifting to the cauldron.
"A true alchemist doesn’t rely on talismans or external flames forever. They refine a spirit flame attuned to their own Qi—one that listens to their will directly. With such a flame, the alchemist can manipulate temperatures as easily as moving a finger. It’s fast, intuitive, and more importantly, it resonates with your body and spiritual pathways."
Han Yu’s eyes widened. "That... sounds amazing."
"It is," she replied, her voice turning reverent. "A personal spirit flame is considered the soul of an alchemist. It’s part of your core path—shaped by your energy, your Dao, even your temperament. Once refined, it becomes a second heart. With it, you can attempt real, high-grade pills. Even foundation pills for Nascent Soul experts require a spirit flame."
Han Yu absorbed this silently, his mind turning rapidly.
Soul cultivation had already enhanced his mental clarity, his perception, and even his memory. And if he could master an alchemical spirit flame...
The possibilities were vast.
Li Mei, mistaking his silence for intimidation, added gently, "Don’t rush it. Most Outer Court disciples can’t even begin to think about a personal flame. You need specific techniques, compatible spirit materials, and a lot of foundational experience."
"What about you?" Han Yu asked, curious. "Do you have a spirit flame?"
She smirked. "Of course I do. Took me four years and almost melted half my courtyard getting it stabilized."
"Sounds like a fun day."
"It wasn’t. My hair smelled like burned lotus root for a week."
Han Yu chuckled.
But deep down, his resolve solidified.
He would get a spirit flame too.
No matter how hard it was.
He looked down at the cauldron, where his three successful pills sat on a clean tray. The faint fragrance of vitality and wood essence hung in the air, a quiet testament to his progress.
Three pills out of six attempts. A decent start.
But Han Yu didn’t aim to be decent.
He aimed to be exceptional.
And with his soul cultivation, his ambition, and Li Mei’s reluctant mentorship—he would carve his own path into the Alchemy Peak.
The two continued to talk about alchemy before a small shock was delivered to Li Mei.
Li Mei stared at Han Yu for a long second, then slowly blinked as if trying to process what he’d just said.
"...You’ve been cultivating for two years now. You’ve fought people, survived ambushes, refined pills, and you don’t even know your elemental affinity?"
Han Yu scratched his cheek with a sheepish grin. "I mean... I’ve gotten by without knowing it, so it never really felt urgent. Is that bad?"
Li Mei’s hand slowly lifted... and smacked into her forehead with a soft thud.
She groaned. "Are you serious right now?"
"...Maybe?" Han Yu offered.
Li Mei gave him a blank look that somehow conveyed both pity and exasperation. "You’re trying to learn alchemy. You just asked about refining a Spirit Flame, which is one of the most sensitive and dangerous techniques in pill refinement. And you don’t even know the basic foundation needed for it?"
Han Yu raised his hands in mock defense. "Hey, no one gave me a manual when I joined. Everyone just said ’go cultivate,’ and then I got ambushed, nearly killed, went on missions, joined a conspiracy, uncovered traps—"
"Enough, I get it," she cut in, waving him down with both hands. "But still—this is basic cultivation knowledge! You should’ve gone to the Spirit Attunement Stone the moment you entered the sect."
Han Yu blinked. "The what now?"
Li Mei gave him the most exhausted sigh he’d heard in weeks. "The Spirit Attunement Stone. You place your hand on it, and it reveals your elemental affinity. Every major sect has at least one. Ours is in the Inner Court’s Hall of Guidance."
"Oh. Well, that explains why I never saw it," Han Yu said. "I never had reason to go there. Also, most of the Inner Courtyard stuff was off-limits when I joined."
"I swear," Li Mei muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You’re like a talented idiot with no instruction manual. The Hall of Guidance and the Spirit attunement stone are still open to most people."
Han Yu shrugged. "I’m still alive. That’s got to count for something."
"It does," she admitted reluctantly. "But if you’re serious about alchemy, you need to stop relying on pure instinct and actually learn the damn basics."
He nodded, more serious now. "Alright, teach me then. What exactly does affinity do when it comes to Spirit Flames?"
