The boy lost no time to divest himself of his added weight as well as his robe and shirt. He also dedicated a few seconds to thank any higher entity nearby that they exercised outside. The infrequent breeze remained the only salvation against heat stroke and an olfactory shut-down. Almost two dozen men doing stances in summer did not smell good. Myrkas thought he was now able to differentiate the special stink of testosterone from regular body odour.

  It was the type of knowledge Myrkas would have preferred to never learn. Male musk was definitely not one of his favourite scents. It almost made him angry. Some primal competitive instinct perhaps.

  Parched, the boy crawled as fast as he could to the blessed water table. Ever a good friend, he settled Snow in the shade with her cups before grabbing his two. He greedily drank every single drop of his water cup as soon as he had it in hand. The life-giving liquid tasted heavenly on his tongue. Water had never tasted better. He could feel his very cells filling back up with the fluid, his skin gaining back its bounciness with his replenished moisture.

  Without thinking, Myrkas took a large sip of his second cup. Only to spit it out as soon as the flavour registered. The concoction tasted vile. No other word could adequately describe it. It was infinitely worse than expected. "Diluted horse piss" undersold how disgusting it was. Diluted horse piss mixed with week-old garbage juice was a more apt descriptor. Myrkas hardly believed his uncle had made this clearly demonic elixir. He was not a mean man. Nowhere villainous enough to come up with "this."

  A horrible aftertaste had stuck in the boy's mouth. The taste itself felt sticky, like the foul liquid had left a film of nastiness on its way out. All to nag Myrkas with his avoidable mistake of fully drinking his plain water first. The boy could not help his dismayed expression.

  What a fate! he thought as he looked at his nearly full cup of Qi-enhanced concoction.

  The boy registered the amused smirks and outright bouts of laughter of his current compatriots. Like Myrkas, most guards had also selected to continue on with as little clothes as possible. Unlike Myrkas, however, the vast majority preferred to refrain from partaking in the provided elixir. The emotional damage it gave overwhelmed its value as a weak cultivation resource.

  "What is one more drop of Qi in my inner ocean," they said, almost in unison.

  Only the three lucky—or meritorious they would insist—bastards chosen by Master Ranil benefited from the delicious, reinvigorating Clear Refreshing Water the boy had tasted earlier in the day. The three bastards savoured their short-lived victory over their comrades. They slowly drank their prize in full view of all and smacked their lips with appreciative hums. It was as if they did not fear any future retaliation. As if they welcomed a challenge to their triumph. The most driven guards watched with gritted teeth, gulping down the vile elixir. One could detect their silent promises to beat the three in the coming hour. The air vibrated with their overt intent.

  Snow had taken a smarter approach than her foolish junior brother. She had plunged her head at once in her plain water before drinking frequent sips of the foul concoction. By alternating cups, she was able to finish her portion of liquid cultivation aid in no time, then leisurely sipped the rest of her plain water.

  Myrkas refused to be beaten by his rabbit. He would never recover if his furry senior sister became stronger than him. Spirit Beasts existed in this world, and while Myrkas had no clue how a mundane animal became one if one could achieve it, it was Snow.

  Determined, the boy looked at his cup like a great foe to be conquered. A drop might not be worth it for the surrounding, weak-willed guards but Myrkas was different. He was made of sturdier materials. Or if not, he would remake himself stronger than all of them. Oceans were made of drops. The strength of a hurricane was proportional to its overall number of water droplets. Null should laugh at the power of one more drop!

  As he considered the best way to ingest the liquid, Myrkas decided to analyze its content. Maybe if he could decipher what was in it, it would seem less disgusting. One could hope. He took an average-sized sip this time, not wanting to prolong the experience any more than necessary. He also did not let the liquid linger in his mouth. His quest to discover the makeup of the elixir was not intriguing enough to warrant such torture,

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Myrkas concentrated on the Qi released by the liquid going down his gullet. The taste was inordinately distracting but at least his self-imposed task made it easier to tolerate. The main "note" was highly reminiscent of ammonia, explaining its likeness to equine urine. Hidden under, Myrkas noticed a hint of overly ripe sweetness, similar to macerated fruits. Some very sweet fruits, like peaches or the large, round, and spiky ones that grew in the warmest places of the Empire. The precise name escaped Myrkas for the moment.

  Underlying it all, the boy denoted some more subtle flavours. Subsequent swallows help to identify them. Traces of yeast, fish, and peppercorn revealed themselves to Myrkas' traumatized tongue. It was enough for him to know, with absolute certitude, what its main ingredient was. Myrkas had finally discovered the answer to a question that had puzzled him since he had started his alchemy apprenticeship. This, this foul cultivation and recovery aid was where the juice from the fermented Soothing Seaweed went.

  The six-month-long fermentation process was his uncle's way of extracting the maximum potential from the lowest—and cheapest—quality soothing seaweed on the market. The fermented leaves themselves were rinsed and turned into a paste to be used in Koriss Hahkmir's inexpensive topical healing products. Those were easily his bestsellers with civilians. He had a whole range to treat anything from arthritis to infections.

  Myrkas had wondered why he had to rinse the leaves before grounding them into a paste. It made little sense, as some of the precious Qi would wash away with the rinsing water. Sure, it did help the smell by a lot—a definite advantage with marketing. But Myrkas had worried they were wasting some potential there. Same for the foul-smelling juice left in the earthen jars once the boy was done fishing out the leaves.

  A mystery solved. This was where the rinse water and the fermentation juice ended up. Down the most motivated city guards’ throat. This was a case where the "risk"—taste-wise—did not increase the returns. The "diluted horse piss" provided only one-quarter to one-third of Qi and healing energies compared to a similar or even smaller amount of Clear Refreshing Water. A true shame, really. By Xianxia convention, it should have been a Supreme Elixir, a secret cheat for the favoured and bold. Not an unwanted consolation prize for the less talented or dedicated city guards in Piercing Jade Valley.

  Still, more Qi was more Qi. Cultivation resources were expansive and somewhat rare by definition. Myrkas would not waste this opportunity, even if it made him gag going down. And after, with its awful and slimy aftertaste. Hence the boy drank all his allotted elixir. Every single awful drop. His rabbit did the same.

  By the third break, Yue and Rivak, the youngest trainees after Myrkas, followed suit. The meagre amount of Qi headed straight to their muscles and bones, helping with the accumulated strain of the day. The energy restored just enough stamina for Myrkas to complete the afternoon without fainting once. A goddamn miracle. A heroic feat only achievable through pure grit and determination. A feat which made a few very happy and others quite grumbly, as Myrkas saw many coins change hands depending on whom had betted which way.

  The day ended without much fanfare. Tired, Myrkas dragged himself one last time to the series of cups holding both his salvation and his damnation. That last cup was the drop that made the vase overflow. This fourth cup of "horse piss" broke the boy's carefully maintained stoic demeanour. He nearly broke into tears but managed to merely crumble on the ground, inwardly cursing his Master and fate.

  The youth fumed. Gone was his optimistic outlook. Any sincere gratitude towards receiving that elixir was impossible, as freely given as it was, The princely original main character did not have to subject himself to such foulness to advance. Of course not! That guy undoubtedly ingested the best of the best, carefully crafted for optimal taste and benefit. The imperial scion was showered in the finest cultivation resources, trained by the most talented Masters, all personally tailored to perfect his Imperial Path.

  Completely unfair, Myrkas sulked.

  He had to deal with a sadistically mischievous Master who derived may too much unabashed pleasure from watching his disciples suffer. The scarred man revelled in his subordinates' disgusted faces as the few truly driven drank the "piss" down to improve their chance of advancement.

  Myrkas raged as the aftertaste lingered. He cursed his luck in not being a noble scion himself. And his lack of bloodline. And his lack of any other classic fantasy cheat to propel his growth. He cursed under his breath, vowing to himself to surpass that prince at any price, purely out of spite. This was his story now. Myrkas would become the most overpowered of his generation. No one else!