Chapter Twenty-Nine: Forging the Thunderblast Bomb

External alchemy, as understood in the previous life, is essentially a combination of Daoist techniques and chemistry. Thus, its refinement is all the more intricate.

Shangguan Chuanyun crushed various ingredients into fine powders, removing impurities from each, one by one. If these impurities aren’t extracted, uncontrollable obstacles will arise—much like the essence, energy, and spirit within internal alchemy; if they aren’t pure, no pill can ever form.

He drew symbols in cinnabar to wrap the materials, preserving their properties. The crucial point isn’t the quantity of ingredients, but rather their inherent medicinal qualities—what matters is the energy within.

He then lit the pill furnace, purifying the materials one by one. Each time he purified a batch, he cleaned out the residual waste, though it was tedious, the success rate was higher and the resulting external pills were exceptionally pure.

Even if he failed, it would never blow up the pill furnace; if he were to throw everything in at once, the medicine would be impure, the pill unstable, and the furnace would likely explode. In that scenario, the impurities would clog the furnace’s nine apertures, turning it into a bomb—one careless moment could put himself in danger.

Shangguan Chuanyun placed the purified materials into separate jade vessels. Jade, being the essence of heaven and earth, best preserves vitality. Gazing at the various crystals, he picked up a few to examine them carefully, nodding in satisfaction at the results.

Afterward, he carefully reset the pill furnace, slowly preheating it. The primary medicinal ingredient came first, and to deal with the centipede spirit, nothing was better than comb rooster’s blood.

He tossed several rice-sized crystals formed from the rooster’s blood inside, then added tiny silvery particles refined from lightning-struck wood.

Instantly, the pill furnace flashed with electricity, forming a mass of red liquid streaked with lightning, floating within the nine-apertured pill furnace.

He slowly cooled the furnace. If fire powder were added directly, it would explode—temperature had to be lowered first.

Once cooled, Shangguan Chuanyun added the powder mixed with cinnabar, dispersing it through the liquid medicine, then cast a spell to instantly heat it, forming a pill the size of a thumb.

He opened the furnace, took up his talisman brush, focused his gaze, channeled Daoist energy, and used firestone powder mixed with cinnabar to draw thunder-fire symbols atop the pill. Then he placed the pill back in the furnace to gently nurture it over a low flame.

The Thunder Sky Bomb is simple to make, but the mixing is key—it’s the most prone to explosion. Many external alchemists met their end here, but with some cultivation, even if the furnace explodes, one is only seriously injured, rarely killed.

It’s only the ordinary folk, without any cultivation, who perish in such explosions.

...

The Daoist with the wild hair, Wuchenzi, was rather leisurely. He sat in a tavern near the imperial city—though the closest was still a thousand paces from the palace, whose defenses were formidable.

There were clear divisions between inner and outer grounds, spacious surroundings, towering walls, each topped by sturdy, armored guards vigilantly watching. A moat encircled the palace, with Imperial Guards in black armor patrolling ceaselessly. Even outside, the area was open until one left the palace precincts.

Wuchenzi chose a seat by a window with a view of the palace, donned a fresh pale-blue Daoist robe, and carried a flag over his shoulder.

He ordered a pot of wine and a few small dishes, savoring them while occasionally attuning himself to the palace’s energy.

Since last night, though the fourth son of Marquis Wu’an was rather bloodthirsty, he wasn’t bad overall. All his current attire was bought with that gold.

...

Not only that, but his magic banner, the Glazed Golden Light Flag, was battered from repeated explosions, nearly ruined. He used some of the gold to buy materials and reforged the flag, supplemented cinnabar talisman papers, and drew new talismans. Now he was fully armed, no longer so shabby as before.

He hummed tunelessly in excitement, living life with relish.

He thought, though this trip to Shengjing hadn’t brought much achievement, it was still worthwhile. Once he’d slain the monster, he could establish his own Daoist temple and propagate his sect.

Glancing at the strange atmosphere enveloping the imperial city, he sighed, knowing this would not be resolved quickly. He planned to rent a cheap room in Shengjing and wait for opportunity.

...

Shangguan Chuanyun spent an entire day refining all the materials into Thunder Sky Bombs, yielding thirty-six pills—the full count for a day under the celestial stems.

There were a few failures, but nothing dangerous—just bursts of explosive energy spraying from the nine apertures, making the furnace bounce about the room and break a few things, but nothing catastrophic.

This was thanks to the initial purification of materials—without impurities, the apertures wouldn’t clog and turn the furnace into a true bomb.

Fortunately, all was completed smoothly. Thirty-six pills, a good result. Shangguan Chuanyun weighed one in his hand; its color was dark red fading to black, inscribed with runes, full and taut, seemingly ready to explode at any moment.

He took out a yellow talisman pouch, one he’d confiscated from the diviner last time, designed to store external pills, and packed the Thunder Sky Bombs away.

He considered his father’s order to join the army. He was merely an idle son, unlikely to be much help. Though he’d read military books, those were just theory—he could command a handful of men, perhaps, but not much more.

Still, his father had spoken, and from his perspective, the leniency was considerable. By the laws of Great Liang, Shangguan Chuanyun was not in the right.

Besides, he wanted to hone his flying sword and seek his destiny. He couldn’t stay home forever, but his family situation wouldn’t allow it. Ever since the Compassionate Salvation Society entered the capital, Shangguan Chuanyun felt his days were numbered. If he didn’t advance quickly, he’d soon have no place to stand.

The eldest son, Shangguan Hongyun, had to be dealt with. His temperament was violent, capricious, and narrow-minded. Staying in Shengjing, he was bound to cause trouble.

Though his martial arts weren’t high—only at the level of covert force—he acted recklessly, even madly. If not dealt with, who knows what he might do. Shangguan Chuanyun wouldn’t wait for him to strike first; as the saying goes, attack is the best defense. He decided to be proactive.

He pondered—Hongyun could likely only recruit that centipede spirit. If he could eliminate it, Shengjing would be stable for now. Once Hongyun was handled, the Marquis's manor would be truly safe.

But the centipede spirit’s cultivation was deep; a sneak attack might not succeed—he’d need a helper.

There weren’t many experts to call upon. Jia Cai? No, still recovering. Shangguan Qingyun? Would only end up as a sacrificial pawn.

Suddenly, Shangguan Chuanyun’s eyes lit up as he recalled the wild-haired Daoist.

“How could I have forgotten him? He’s a ready-made expert, here in Shengjing to slay monsters. His Daoist skills are profound. Even if he can’t defeat the centipede spirit, his spirit is commendable. If I team up with him, we might just succeed. Once the centipede spirit is dead, the rest will be easy.”

...

Shangguan Chuanyun strapped on his three-foot green blade, shouldered his sword case, and tucked the Thunder Sky Bombs into his robe.

He prepared to cast a tracking spell to locate Shangguan Hongyun and the wild-haired Daoist Wuchenzi, but reconsidered and put it away.

Wasn’t the Jia Family Trading Company widely represented in Shengjing? He’d see if he could gather information there.

Magic tracking was easy, but as the fourth son of the Marquis, grandson of Jia Wanqian from Jiangnan, finding someone in Shengjing shouldn’t be hard.

Even in his previous life, a Daoist priest from Baiyun Temple in the capital who could use the Godspeed Horse spell rarely used it to travel—he’d take trains or planes when going out. Shangguan Chuanyun had asked him why, and the priest replied,

“Godspeed Horse is about as fast as a train—from the capital to Chang’an takes six or seven hours. Compared to a plane, it’s much slower. Times have changed, you know?”

He gave Shangguan Chuanyun a scornful look, leaving him embarrassed.

Not far from the Marquis's manor in Shengjing, in a Jia Family pawnshop, Jia Deyin lounged at a desk in the back hall, flipping through ledgers, occasionally sipping tea, sometimes frowning in thought, sometimes nodding and swaying in contentment.

After a while, he gazed toward the Marquis's manor, brows furrowed, then relaxed.

He reflected on his years in Shengjing—from a young lad to middle age, from a chubby youth to a portly man, from a junior accountant to the chief manager of Shengjing. The journey had been arduous, but thanks to his persistence and loyalty, everything he did revolved around the Jia family's growth. The Marquis's manor was paramount, with no room for error.

If trouble arose here, the Jia family’s business in the Great Liang Dynasty could shrink by more than half, and their influence in Shengjing might be expelled.

Recent news was troubling—the Marquis sent south to quell unrest, Hongyun returning to be made general, then recruited by the emperor as imperial son-in-law. Life for his cousin, the third madam of the manor, was becoming harder. In the past, fortune was sacrificed to avert disaster, but now nothing was certain.

Luckily, his nephew Shangguan Chuanyun reappeared and turned the situation around. As a distant relative, he was counted as family, and Jia Deyin felt renewed hope.

"Knock, knock, knock." Suddenly, a series of knocks jolted Jia Deyin from his reverie.

He stirred his corpulent body, straightened his attire, and called out,

"Come in."