The master of Qingxu Temple, Elder Xuanxuan, was an old man with hair and beard as white as snow and a thin, refined face. He usually lived in seclusion, spending most of his time in quiet cultivation on the main peak; ordinary disciples rarely caught a glimpse of him. On this day, moved by a sudden impulse, he went without attendants, strolling alone through the temple grounds on a leisurely inspection. His pace appeared casual, yet his spiritual sense was like a gentle spring rain, softly sweeping over every corner of the temple, sensing the disciples' cultivation states and the overall atmosphere of the sect.
When he reached the area near the back mountain, where the servant quarters and kitchen were located, a strange fluctuation of spiritual power caught his attention. The fluctuation was extremely faint; had his cultivation not been profound and his spiritual sense keen, he would hardly have noticed it. This was not the kind of fluctuation produced by ordinary cultivation or spell‑casting. Rather, it resembled an extraordinarily refined, almost instinctual manipulation and application of one's own spiritual power, carrying a unique rhythmic quality.
Elder Xuanxuan's gaze shifted subtly, but his steps did not pause. He turned seemingly at random toward the direction from which the spiritual power fluctuation came—the kitchen's rear courtyard.
At this moment, Xiao Qi was wholly absorbed in his "kitchen cultivation." On the stove top sat his black, unremarkable frying pan, in which he was stir‑frying some ordinary spiritual grain and wild vegetables. He was not using a fierce flame; instead, he controlled the gentle, dancing fire in the hearth. Meanwhile, his right palm rested lightly, almost imperceptibly, against the pan's handle. A thread of fire‑attribute spiritual power, so weak it could almost be overlooked, was being injected into the pan with an extremely stable and exquisite frequency.
Under his control, the pan heated with unthinkable evenness. The spiritual grain and vegetables inside tumbled at precisely the right temperature. Each grain of rice was evenly warmed, gradually turning golden and plump, releasing a pure, cereal fragrance without the slightest hint of scorching. The wild vegetables, too, maintained their emerald‑green color and crisp texture under the exacting heat; loss of spiritual power was minimized.
This mastery of fire had already transcended ordinary culinary skill; it was more like a talent integrated into instinct, a profound understanding and command of the subtle connection between "implement" (the frying pan) and "fire" (spiritual power).
Elder Xuanxuan stood silently in the shadow of the courtyard gate, uttering not a word. His gaze rested on Xiao Qi's focused profile and the steady hand controlling the pan handle. A trace of barely perceptible surprise flashed in his eyes.
He recognized this child. He was the newly registered disciple accepted by Discipline Elder Xuan Lin, named Tang Xiao Qi. He was said to be a pitiful orphan whose spiritual‑root aptitude was jumbled and of the lowest grade. The temple's joking talk about him as the "Pan‑Shield Hero" had occasionally reached Elder Xuanxuan's ears, but he had regarded it merely as amusing gossip among disciples and paid it no mind.
Now, however, seeing it with his own eyes, he formed a new view of this child with mediocre aptitude. Such feeble spiritual power, yet capable of displaying such exquisitely detailed control—especially in the handling of "implement" and "fire"—this was by no means ordinary. What astonishing concentration, perception, and fine‑grained mastery of one's own strength did this require? This was no simple matter of practice making perfect; it was more like an inborn, blood‑borne talent that just happened to manifest through this unremarkable pan and the act of cooking.
"The Way of Implements"... or perhaps the even more unorthodox "Way of Object Manipulation"? Elder Xuanxuan pondered inwardly. Qingxu Temple established its sect with sword techniques and Daoist arts; it did not reject the Way of Implements or the Way of Object Manipulation, but they were not mainstream. There were not many elders or disciples in the sect who excelled in these paths. If this boy truly possessed extraordinary talent in this way, it might be an alternative route that could compensate for his lack of aptitude.
Only, the "implement" he used was actually a common, mundane frying pan—somewhat... peculiar. Was it coincidence, or was there some other reason?
Elder Xuanxuan did not reveal himself to disturb; he simply observed quietly for a while. He watched as Xiao Qi dished out the stir‑fried spiritual grain and vegetables; the food looked enticing, its aroma pure, clearly showing that his control of fire had reached consummate mastery. Afterwards, the boy picked up the pan again and, using the embers still glowing in the hearth, began practicing that odd motion other disciples mockingly called "tossing the pan." In the turning of his wrist, the application of force also exhibited an unusually precise coordination.
"A tranquil heart‑nature, finding truth in the minutest details... My junior brother Xuan Lin has indeed taken in an interesting disciple." Elder Xuanxuan gave a slight nod; his mind was already made up. He did not rush to a conclusion, nor did he intend to interfere with Xuan Lin's teaching. A seedling of genius requires suitable soil and timing; intervening too early does more harm than good. He merely stored the name of this disciple, Tang Xiao Qi, in his mind, intending to pay closer attention to his growth in the future.
A light breeze swept by, and the shadow by the courtyard gate was empty, as though no one had ever been there.
Xiao Qi knew nothing of this. He had just completed a perfect fire‑control exercise and was looking with satisfaction at the golden, perfectly separated grains of spiritual rice in the pan. He wiped the fine sweat from his forehead, feeling only mental clarity and comfort; his command over his own spiritual power seemed to have advanced another fraction.
He did not know that his daily "cultivation" had already fallen under the temple master's gaze and left a rather special impression.
He carefully wrapped up this food, which carried the pure fragrance of grain, intending to take it back and share it with the rabbit spirit—now he occasionally brought some of his meticulously prepared, non‑spiritual food to the secret base, and that greedy‑mouthed rabbit spirit was quite fond of it.
Night quietly fell, and Qingxu Temple remained as tranquil as ever. But a seed concerning talent in the "Way of Implements" and the "Way of Manipulation" had been quietly planted in the mind of Temple Master Elder Xuanxuan. Waiting only for the right moment, it might break through the soil and bring new possibilities and turns to Xiao Qi's already variable cultivation journey.