My Ultimate Sign-in System Made Me Invincible

The Five Thousand-Year Spirit Ginseng hit the white flame and immediately began transforming. The root’s physical structure dissolved within seconds, breaking down into pure essence that swirled inside the cauldron like liquid light.

Liam watched the process with focused intensity, his Primordial Alchemy Sovereign talent feeding him constant information about temperature, timing, and the exact moment when the essence reached optimal refinement.

"Perfect. The first step had gone flawlessly," he muttered to himself.

He reached for the second ingredient—a Beast Core from a Rank 4 Flame Tiger. The sphere was roughly the size of a fist. Liam held it above the cauldron for a moment, feeling the flame’s rhythm, then dropped it in.

The core fell into the white flame and cracked open like an egg, releasing concentrated fire-attribute energy that mixed with the ginseng essence. The two energies began circling each other, searching for a way to merge without conflict.

Liam adjusted the flame’s intensity with a thought, raising the temperature by precisely three degrees. The energies responded immediately, their resistance weakening as the heat forced them closer together. Within thirty seconds, they’d begun to blend.

Good. Very good.

The process continued smoothly. Ingredient after ingredient went into the cauldron, each one breaking down and merging with what had come before.

Liam’s hands moved with steadiness and precision. His timing was perfect and his control was absolute. The Primordial Alchemy Sovereign talent guided him through each step like an invisible teacher whispering instructions directly into his mind.

By the time he’d added the eighth ingredient, the mixture inside the cauldron had transformed into something remarkable, as it swirled in a beautiful pattern and with captivating colours.

The spiritual energy radiating from it had grown so dense that it created visible distortions in the air above the cauldron’s rim.

This was going better than Liam had dared hope. Perhaps his first attempt really would succeed. Perhaps the Primordial Alchemy Sovereign talent truly was as powerful as its name suggested, and creating even a complex rank 4 pill on the first try wasn’t beyond his capabilities.

He reached for the ninth ingredient—a vial of Thousand-Year Ice Lotus Essence. This was where things would get more complicated. The essence carried extreme yin properties that would need to be balanced carefully against the yang energies already present in the mixture. Too much cooling and the fusion would destabilize. Too little and the final pill would be too volatile to consume safely.

Liam uncorked the vial and let three drops fall into the cauldron.

The reaction was immediate and violent.

The mixture inside began roiling like a storm-tossed sea. The carefully balanced energies that had been swirling in harmony suddenly fought against each other, yin clashing with yang in a conflict that sent spiritual pressure radiating outward in waves. The cauldron itself began to vibrate, its engravings flashing erratically as the artifact contained the chaos inside.

Liam’s eyes widened slightly. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The lotus essence should have integrated smoothly if the proportions were correct. But something had gone wrong, and now the entire mixture was on the verge of complete collapse.

He focused, channeling more of his will through the Primordial Alchemy Sovereign talent, trying to understand what had caused the imbalance. His mind raced through the process, reviewing each step, searching for the error. And he found it.

It was because of the Flame Tiger core. He’d adjusted the temperature to help it merge with the ginseng essence, but that adjustment had left residual heat in the mixture that he hadn’t fully accounted for. When the cold yin essence met that lingering yang warmth, the conflict had been inevitable.

Liam immediately tried to compensate, lowering the white flame’s intensity and attempting to guide the warring energies back into balance. But it was like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. The more he pushed one element into alignment, the more another would slip out of control.

The spiritual pressure continued building inside the cauldron, growing stronger with each passing second. The engravings on its surface were glowing so brightly now that they hurt to look at directly.

Then, with a sound like breaking glass, the mixture collapsed entirely.

The swirling energies dissipated in an instant, their careful structure destroyed beyond recovery. What remained inside the cauldron was nothing more than a puddle of worthless sludge, all the expensive ingredients reduced to waste.

Liam stared at the ruined attempt for a long moment, and sighed softly. The failure stung more than he’d expected. He’d been so close. The first eight ingredients had gone perfectly. But because of one miscalculation, and the entire process had come crashing down.

He took a slow breath and forced himself to analyze what had happened without emotion clouding his judgment. The mistake was clear now. He’d need to be more careful about how temperature adjustments in earlier steps affected later additions. The lotus essence required a completely neutral thermal environment to integrate properly.

Liam cleaned the cauldron with a thought, the white flame burning away the sludge and leaving the artifact pristine once more. Then he arranged a new set of ingredients, identical to the first batch, and began again.

***

The second attempt progressed with meticulous care. Liam paid obsessive attention to temperature management, making sure that each adjustment was completely resolved before moving to the next ingredient.

When he added the Flame Tiger core, he let the mixture settle for a full minute afterward, allowing any residual heat to disperse naturally rather than trying to compensate through flame control.

By the time he reached the ninth ingredient again, the mixture inside the cauldron was even more stable than it had been in the first attempt. The energies swirled in perfect harmony, their balance so precise that Liam felt genuine confidence as he uncorked the Thousand-Year Ice Lotus Essence.

Three drops fell into the cauldron.

This time, there was no violent reaction. The yin essence integrated smoothly, cooling the mixture and creating a beautiful equilibrium between opposing forces.

Liam allowed himself a small smile as he watched the energies dance together, yin and yang spiraling around each other like they’d been designed to coexist.

He continued adding ingredients. The tenth, eleventh, twelfth—all merged flawlessly. The mixture grew denser, more refined, its spiritual energy condensing toward the critical point where liquid would transform into solid.

Liam reached for the thirteenth ingredient—Emperor Jade Toad Essence. This was the most potent component in the entire recipe, the ingredient that would provide the pill’s miraculous healing properties. It came in a small crystal vial, the liquid inside glowing with golden light.

He uncorked it carefully and tilted the vial, letting a single drop fall into the cauldron.

The moment the extract touched the mixture, everything changed.

The liquid inside the cauldron began to thicken rapidly, far faster than it should have. The spiritual energies that had been flowing smoothly suddenly became sluggish, their movement restricted as if moving through honey rather than water.

Liam watched with growing alarm as the mixture started to congeal prematurely, hardening around the edges while the center remained liquid.

This was wrong. The condensation into pill form should happen gradually, evenly, allowing all the ingredients to fully integrate before solidification began. But the Emperor Jade Toad Essence was forcing premature crystallization, trapping some essences before they’d properly merged.

Liam’s talent screamed warnings at him. If the mixture solidified in this state, the result would be a malformed pill. It will be unstable, potentially toxic and completely useless for healing.

He needed to reverse the crystallization, return the mixture to liquid state so the integration could complete properly. But how? Raising the temperature would work, but it would also destabilize the delicate yin-yang balance he’d fought so hard to achieve. The mixture would collapse just like the first attempt.

Unless he was extremely precise.

Liam focused, dividing his attention between the flame and the mixture inside the cauldron. He began raising the temperature in tiny increments—fractions of a degree at a time—watching carefully for any sign that the balance was breaking.

The crystallization slowed. Good. He raised the temperature another fraction.

The edges of the mixture began to soften, returning to liquid state. Better. Another small increase.

But he’d misjudged. The temperature rise that had seemed perfectly controlled suddenly crossed a threshold. The yin essence, already stressed from the earlier integration, couldn’t maintain its structure under the additional heat. It began to evaporate, rising as pale mist from the cauldron’s surface.

Liam tried to lower the temperature immediately, to trap the escaping essence before too much was lost. But the damage was done. Without sufficient yin energy to balance the yang, the mixture’s equilibrium shattered.

The liquid inside the cauldron separated into distinct layers—yang essences floating to the top, yin remnants sinking to the bottom, neutral ingredients trapped uselessly in between. No amount of stirring or temperature adjustment could force them back together now. The window for integration had closed.

Liam watched the layered mixture for a few seconds, hoping against reason that it might somehow resolve itself. But alchemy didn’t work on hope. The separation was final.

He exhaled slowly and dismissed the ruined batch, the white flame consuming it entirely. Two attempts. Two different failures.

The first had taught him about thermal residue. The second had revealed the Emperor Jade Toad Essence’s tendency to force premature crystallization and the narrow temperature range required to reverse it without destroying the yin-yang balance.

Both were lessons he could only have learned through failure.

Liam looked at his remaining materials. Enough for three more attempts. But he’d already used two trying to brute-force his way through a process that clearly required more than raw talent and instinct.

Maybe he should stop here. Go to the Pagoda, study proper alchemy techniques, understand the theory behind pill refinement instead of relying on his talent to carry him through. There was wisdom in acknowledging when you needed guidance.

But something inside him resisted. He’d come so close in the second attempt. The first twelve ingredients had been perfect. It was only the Emperor Jade Toad Essence that had caused problems, and now he understood what to watch for. He knew the mixture would try to crystallize prematurely. He knew exactly how much temperature increase the yin-yang balance could tolerate.

One more attempt. Using everything both failures had taught him. If this one failed too, then he’d accept that he needed more foundation before attempting such a complex pill.

Liam arranged the ingredients for a third time, his movements deliberate and measured. This time around, he’s going to carefully apply the lessons he had learned.

He picked up the Five Thousand-Year Spirit Ginseng and held it above the cauldron.

Then he dropped it into the white flame and began again.

If the knowledge of Liam wasting two Five Thousand-Year Spirit Ginseng, an item that can be considered a treasure of a major sect, they will come after him in massive droves.

***

Outside the storage room, in the living area of Master Han’s house, Luo sat on a simple wooden chair with his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

His knee bounced unconsciously, a nervous habit he’d developed over the past months that he couldn’t seem to break.

Master Han sat across from him, his damaged leg stretched out at an angle that reduced the constant ache. The old blacksmith’s expression was serene, patient, showing none of the anxiety that radiated from his apprentice like heat from a forge.

"How long has it been?" Luo asked, breaking the silence that had stretched for what felt like hours but was probably only forty minutes.

Master Han glanced toward the window, gauging the sun’s position. "Perhaps an hour since he began. These things take time, Luo. Pill refinement isn’t like forging, where you can see and hear the progress. It’s a quieter craft."

Luo nodded, though the answer didn’t do much to settle his nerves. "Do you think... I mean, Grandmaster seemed very confident, but what if—"

"What if he fails?" Master Han finished gently. "Then he fails, and we’re no worse off than we are now. And if he succeeds, I’ll have my hand back." The old blacksmith smiled softly. "Either way, I’m grateful he’s trying."

"I just want it to work," Luo said quietly. "I want to see you at the forge again, Master. It’s been so long since I heard the ring of your hammer, since I watched you shape metal like it was clay in your hands. The shop feels dead without that sound."

Master Han’s expression softened. "I miss it too, my boy. More than you know."

They fell silent again, both staring toward the hallway that led to the storage room, both hoping desperately that Liam’s confidence hadn’t been misplaced.

Both waiting for a miracle they barely dared believe in.