Meanwhile, the cracks on the cauldron’s surface continued to spread silently, the structure inching closer to rupture under the overwhelming heat.

  Yet Eklavya did not spare it even a single glance, and Magha deliberately chose not to warn him, believing that enduring this moment of pressure and consequence was essential for Eklavya’s growth.

  This was a lesson he had to learn through experience, discipline, and risk.

  And failure, if necessary.

  Eklavya steadied his breathing and attempted once more, this time with a calmer and more disciplined mindset, carefully following the method he had murmured to himself earlier. He divided his concentration into two controlled streams, one maintaining the delicate flow of flame into the cauldron while the other guided ki toward his three-coloured ring.

  Unlike his previous failures, his focus did not waver, and the herbs slid out smoothly without disrupting the flame, allowing the fire inside the cauldron to continue burning steadily rather than collapsing under divided attention.

  However, the moment his gaze shifted toward the cauldron with a faint, satisfied smile, the interior surface abruptly darkened into an ominous black, as though the accumulated heat and stress had finally surpassed the threshold of stability.

  Before he could react, an explosion erupted. Sending a shockwave of heated air, shattered fragments, and scorching residue outward in all directions, the herb that he took out got burned.

  Eklavya reacted instantly, forming a layered ki shield around his body with reflexive speed, successfully blocking the brunt of the blast, though not entirely escaping its aftermath. Soot and dark residue splattered across his face and clothes, staining him in thick black smears, causing his already dark hair and now-blackened face to match so closely that he nearly resembled a charcoal statue sculpted from shadow.

  His yellowish robes, though briefly dirtied, soon revealed their extraordinary nature as the filth slid off and dissolved onto the ground, leaving the fabric pristine once more.

  Unfortunately, the same could not be said for his face, which remained coated in soot, lending him a comically grim appearance despite the tension of the moment.

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  From within the ring, Magha shifted his perception outward, adopting a third-person view of the scene, and upon seeing Eklavya’s soot-covered face and matching dark hair, he could not restrain his laughter.

  “Your face and hair match perfectly,” Magha remarked with amusement. “A truly harmonious couple.”

  Eklavya closed his eyes with a weary sigh and slowly removed his mask, revealing that the skin beneath had remained untouched, as the soot had stained only the mask itself. He then reached into his storage ring and retrieved a thin handkerchief that Anshvi had given him long ago.

  A simple piece of cloth that nonetheless carried the warmth of cherished memories tied to the quiet intimacy of their time in the valley cave.

  As he held it, fragments of the past resurfaced in his mind—the soft glow of moonlight that bathed the cave, the faint tremor in Anshvi’s voice when she was trying to stop him from leaving. The unspoken emotions that had lingered in the air between them that night. A slow breath escaped his lips, and he shook his head lightly as a gentle, heartfelt smile formed on his face.

  Unlike before, when he had to force his expressions into existence, the smile now came with only the slightest effort, blooming naturally as a warmth spread through his chest. Not from explosive power or cultivation surges, but from the quiet comfort of bittersweet remembrance.

  Using the handkerchief, he wiped his face slowly and carefully, then cleaned his mask with the same deliberate tenderness, while Magha continued laughing within the ring, too entertained to interrupt or comment further for the moment.

  Once the soot was cleared, Eklavya glanced at the shattered remnants of the cauldron scattered across the ground, and a faint sadness tugged at his expression as his lips curved downward slightly, regret settling in over the destruction of such a finely crafted artifact.

  Noticing the subtle shift in his mood, Magha softened his tone and reassured him, “Do not dwell on it. I have more cauldrons of the same design.”

  Eklavya’s face brightened instantly at those words, his disappointment dissolving as relief and renewed motivation took their place. He stepped closer to the scattered herbs that had fallen to the ground during the explosion, carefully retrieving them before they could lose their potency.

  Holding the herbs in one hand, he summoned a second cauldron from his three-coloured ring, observing it for a moment as it emerged—identical in craftsmanship and design to the previous one, with the same refined patterns etched into its surface. Without wasting time, he guided his bluish-purple flame toward it once more, steadily raising its temperature to the level required for pill refinement.

  As the cauldron began to heat, Magha resumed his instruction, explaining the nature and compatibility of the herbs with a firm, precise tone, while Eklavya maintained the flame with renewed focus, listening intently and ensuring that not a single detail escaped his attention as he prepared himself for another attempt.

  This time, he would not fail.