The following conversation with his uncle did not go exactly as Myrkas had hoped for. At first, everything seemed great, amazing even. Koriss Hakhmir congratulated his young nephew on his judicious choice of focusing on acquiring Qi-sensing abilities instead of diving head-first into martial arts, and body cultivation. Koriss agreed that while the latter would make Myrkas stronger faster, only a deep understanding of Qi itself–starting with being able to perceive it–would allow Myrkas to ever reach the skill threshold the boy envisioned. Koriss praised Myrkas for his thoughtful approach. The man was quite glad his nephew was to embark on the more academic path of cultivation. The older man had feared his nephew would be disproportionately influenced by Suna Ramil, and chose to concentrate all his efforts on violence and mayhem.
Unfortunately for Myrkas' preemptive plan, his uncle did not agree at all with the boy's "risky and reckless" idea of mixing all available techniques. The skilled Alchemist Koriss Hakhmir was a fervent proponent of the "safety first and foremost" approach. The older man insisted on going slow, steady, and safely for the entire process. Hence why Myrkas found himself limited to using one puny Qi-leech only twice a nonat. For the other methods, any noxious or internal insemination of foreign Qi had been strictly vetoed as too dangerous to try. The "high Qi concentration" one was then deemed too expensive for the potential benefits compared to the freely available gardens filled with Qi-rich plant life.
"A waste of resources, Kassa," Koriss had declared when pressed any further.
Finally, Myrkas had convinced his surprisingly opinionated uncle to allow for a two-hour session of sensory deprivation in a very weak, almost homeopathic, medicinal bath each day after his "leech therapy."
In the end, Koriss was exceedingly happy with their plan. If everything went as planned, young Myrkas should acquire Qi-sense within the next five years, much faster than Koriss' eight years from start to achievement when he was himself a teenager. Of course, Koriss had also been delayed by a paucity of available resources in his own youth. The now forty-seven-year-old man had not benefited from a generous crafter or an established cultivator relative. The alchemist had only had access to what resources his own father—a lowly corporal within the Imperial Army—could do without. The man had truly started to progress when he entered the Sagace Glass Cauldron Sect's Academy of Alchemy in his late teens.
Myrkas was on the fast track, according to Koriss. Well on his way to becoming a respectable cultivator and alchemist by his late twenties. A remarkably mundane achievement, cultivation-wise. Impressive for a non-noble, a simple member of the Common people, for sure. But not anywhere near good enough to satisfy Myrkas' inner ambition. He wanted more. Thirsted for greatness and nothing less.
Myrkas nonetheless held his tongue with tremendous restraint. This was the start, a good start. There was more than enough time to persuade his uncle to alter the regimen in the future. No need to stick to this very plan for the next five years. At worst, his brand new Martial Master would let him take more risks, Myrkas was pretty darn sure of it. A slow start was still a new beginning. That was all that mattered. To finally take a significant step past the starting line and keep at it.
It has to do for now, Myrkas reflected, unable to completely dismiss the mild disappointment within at the much-delayed gratification in his vision.
On a more optimistic note, the uncle and nephew duo had readily agreed on a schedule for Myrkas to begin helping and learning in the Hakhmir Alchemy Laboratory, as Myrkas vehemently insisted "laboratory" sounded better than "workshop. Not that it changed much as this information was not written or used anywhere. Yet.
For Myrkas had a secret plan. A plan for "Jade HAL Industries" to revolutionize the hygiene market in the near future. Branding started at home. A professional mindset set the tone to walk on wannabes. Success started with the mindset. Or something. A future proverb to be worked on.
Of course, Myrkas' first foray into the alchemical field would be equal to a toe dip, a foot bath at most. His ever-worried uncle would not allow the youth to do more than handle ingredient and material preparation before Myrkas was at least a Novice in Qi-sense. Even then, Myrkas would need to learn some Qi manipulation before being allowed to touch any truly potent reagent. Hard to stay enthusiastic when Myrkas' view was filled with an unending amount of glassware to clean, water to distill, and grasses to cut and mash. It sounded much like mundane chores, to Myrkas' dismay. Again, a start was better than nothing and Myrkas couldn't really complain.
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And so three nonats passed. To the surprise of none but young Myrkas, Suna Ranil did not show his face as he had promised. The combat training Myrkas had in alternation feared and hoped for was hence deferred indefinitely. Myrkas was a touch disappointed, to his own surprise. As he had dreaded further interactions with Master Ranil, the boy could not deny he had anxiously anticipated the opportunity to grow his martial abilities. While his current martial instructor wasn't exactly bad, he was no true cultivator. Myrkas had never felt much pressure while facing the man hired by his uncle. The techniques he taught were basic and uninspired, evident even to Myrkas' novice eyes. On the other hand, Master Ranil's tutelage promised a real power-up, a bonafide training montage! With bamboo poles and headstands at sunset.
In the meantime, Myrkas' time had devolved into a boring routine. A minute amount of his vital Qi–barely perceptible to his senses–was drained once every four days by one lesser spirit beast leech. The very next day, Myrkas spent time in a "basically water" medicinal bath, situated in a dark and silent room, for never more than two hours at a time, as prescribed, to preserve his "fragile psyche." And while his alchemical studies brought a welcome break from his more mundane ones, Myrkas had a hard time staying interested as his uncle slowed any practical progress to an injured snail's pace.
Alchemical theory was interesting to Myrkas, as was learning about all the different plants and reagents. The boy's main problem was that his uncle refused to diversify his tasks and responsibilities. One task in particular took over three-quarters of Myrkas' precious time in the laboratory: namely, the processing of the hateful Piercing Jade Grass.
That son of a weed plant had grown to be the bane of Myrkas' existence. That damn stabby grass grew everywhere, as the name Piercing Jade Valley implied. One would think the herb the city was named after would be amazing right? Except not! Its only positive points were its abundance and cheapness. And the reason it was so cheap was that no one else wanted it, and for good reasons. Sure, it naturally had a good amount of Qi, the grass being able to gather the precious energy with minimal human intervention required. It was great in theory. Except that this particular green devil's Qi was so harsh, so innately aggressive, that all alchemists apart from his uncle avoided it like the plague. Its purifying Qi didn't just purify, it scraped raw everything on its path that wasn't itself. Used inappropriately, it could remove years of cultivation progress along with impurities. It was simply too much of a hassle to work with. Its effects too crude and unpleasant to warrant a high enough price to get interesting profit margins. To all but his uncle, the only alchemist catering to the lower strata of the population.
That herb had become Myrkas' most hated nemesis, well beyond any undue animosity he held towards the original main character. Every day, he poked his fingers on green spikes. Woke up with red rashes where inadvertent droplets had touched his tender skin. Had to rush to the bathroom to avoid staining his pants, a side-effect Myrkas was convinced was caused by that damned grass. Indeed, no one else was experiencing inconvenient, blackish bowel movements, not that the boy had explicitly asked.
As carefully as Myrkas handled the task, he was never able to completely avoid any contact with the Piercing Jade Grass oil, its most potent component. So potent in fact, they threw it out, keeping only the water infused with residual light-green energy after cleaning, cutting, lightly mashing, and boiling the plant. Everything else was disposed of. Worst of all, all that matter could only be used as fertilizer to grow more stabby grass. The compost it made rendered whatever soil it was mixed in inhospitable to any plants other than the Piercing Jade Grass, one of the main reasons the almost weed dominated the countryside around the city. Such a selfish vegetal!
Still, the resulting Piercing Jade Grass infused water, much diluted, remained the principal component of Koriss Hakkmir's affordable healing and purifying concoctions. A terrible thing, according to Myrkas, as it meant the boy was doomed to forever process a gigantic amount of the hateful plant. A secretly demonic plant, Myrkas had convinced himself.
Green had become the boy's most hated colour. He had nightmares of fields of stabby grass transpiercing his flesh throughout the night. The youth was unable to escape even in his dreams. Doomed to repeat his day's ordeal in his sleep. Myrkas could not even enjoy seeing his newfound enemy being eaten ruthlessly as the thorns could hurt the grazing ruminant, and any amount ingested induced a violent gastrointestinal "purification," leading to dehydration, and often death, in the poor animals unfortunate enough to have tasted it.
In conclusion, a horrible vegetal, period. No wonder other alchemists upgraded to nicer, more expensive ingredients as soon as they could. Not only were they easier to work with, they also mixed more easily with other reagents, allowing for fancier, more refined mixtures. Their effects were similarly more gentle and palatable, warranting a higher price tag. In addition, an increase in diversity, rarity, and potency of used reagents generally led to alchemical breakthroughs and epiphanies, advancing the crafter's cultivation level.
Myrkas' uncle must be possessed by a bleeding heart to continue to use the stuff with his established reputation. No other ingredient would allow him to sell so cheap. Although, even with the large quantities he made, Koriss’ profits were not that substantial. Enough to live very well, but nowhere near the Empire's upper crust. That was the lack of industrialization for you. Without it, it was impossible to mass-produce cheap medicine. A true downside of artisan-based production.