To repay even a fraction of a mother's boundless love.

That evening, Father Chu reminded Luo Yu to bathe the kitten. Luo Yu hurried over to the cat’s nest and picked up Bastet. Glancing into the nest, he noticed a palm-sized, dark, yellowish-black stain on the off-white mat—was it feces or urine? Luo Yu felt a headache coming on; if the kitten started using the nest as a toilet, cleaning the mat would be a hassle. He’d have to give it proper guidance.

He also noticed that more than half the water in the bowl was gone, but thought nothing of it and carried the kitten off for its bath.

While bathing the kitten, Luo Yu was astonished to find that the little lump was gone! He carefully examined Bastet’s leg joints—there was no sign of swelling or even a scratch. It seemed as if the lump that had once been there was nothing but an illusion.

The Cleansing Elixir! It had to be the elixir’s doing!

“Dad! Dad! Come here, quick! Bastet’s lump is gone!” Luo Yu shouted excitedly from the bathroom.

Father Chu and Grandfather both rushed in, and the three of them examined Bastet together. Perhaps it was just their imagination, but even Bastet’s fur seemed glossier and more vibrant.

Bastet mewed and snuggled against their hands, lively and affectionate. The whole family was delighted, and even Father Chu beamed with joy.

“That elixir really works,” Grandfather nodded. “Let me try one as well.”

With that, all their reservations vanished, and before bed, each of them took a pill.

After taking the golden amber-refined elixir, Luo Yu sat cross-legged on his bed, focusing inward. He could now clearly see within his body: the elixir dissolved upon entry, its power spreading through him. Part of the energy entered his cells, invigorating them and expelling excess trace elements. Other portions circulated among the cells, stirring up lingering waste and strange deposits, which were then pushed out through his pores, all the components working together seamlessly to purify his body.

A small portion of the essence even transformed directly into spiritual energy within him—just one pill produced as much spiritual energy as Luo Yu could normally cultivate in ten days.

Luo Yu was overjoyed—the elixir was astonishingly effective! And this wasn’t even a pill specifically for advancing cultivation—if he could manage to refine a Spirit-Nourishing Pill, his progress would soar.

He tried another elixir made with blood amber and found its effects even swifter than the golden amber version—one was gentle, the other intense, though the difference was not overwhelming. He concluded that in urgent situations, blood amber would be the better choice.

After his experiments, Luo Yu found himself covered in a greasy film, as if he’d run five kilometers, so he took another bath, scrubbing off layers of black grime. He wasn’t even finished when Grandfather and Father Chu began knocking, queuing up for their turn. The three of them ended up taking turns bathing in the middle of the night.

The next day, Luo Yu set his sights on refining Spirit-Nourishing Pills. He splurged on a batch of blood amber, then crafted four strings of “jade-amber” bead bracelets—one each as gifts for his father and grandfather, and the remaining two for Grandfather to sell. Luo Yu had initially valued each bracelet at ten or twenty thousand, but since these were even more beautiful than standard jade-amber, they fetched over two hundred thousand each, totaling five hundred thousand. Luo Yu was elated; now, even if he couldn’t buy a century-old ginseng root, a twenty-year-old one would be easy to obtain! Grandfather shook his head and sighed, “If you hadn’t been in such a hurry, the price could’ve gone higher. That buyer made a real steal. If only these had some age to them, they’d be worth even more.”

Luo Yu replied, “We must remember to be content with what we have.”

With the money in hand, Luo Yu bought two wild ginseng roots—one thirty years old, one twenty, both with certificates and fine, sturdy roots. He also bought a few younger ones, along with various health foods: black sesame, red dates, bird’s nest, goji berries, walnuts, and even some blueberries. He planned to experiment with developing a health elixir for his father and grandfather to take regularly—after a few days, the Cleansing Elixir lost its effect. Its power had reached the limit for optimizing the body; for Father Chu, Grandfather, and Bastet, it would only be useful again once their bodies accumulated new impurities. Only Luo Yu could still derive a bit of spiritual energy from it.

Besides ingredients, Luo Yu prepared a stack of Hetian jade vials and a single mutton-fat jade bottle, all designated for storing the Spirit-Nourishing Pills.

From then on, Luo Yu spent his days holed up in the kitchen, refining pills and researching new recipes even after the Spirit-Nourishing Pills were done. He’d assumed that developing new elixirs would be as simple as blending all the finest essences together, but there seemed to be some arcane law at work: unless the proportions of ingredients achieved a perfect balance, the pill would not coalesce and the result would be nothing but a pile of useless sludge. Luo Yu racked his brain, sampling various extracts, assessing their properties, and adjusting the formula. He went out to buy more promising herbs and kept experimenting. Gradually, he realized that pill refining was like building with blocks: only with the right combinations could something worthwhile take shape; otherwise, it would all collapse.

After more than ten days of painstaking research, he finally succeeded in creating a pill with a dark red luster. He named it “Sprout,” inspired by the verse, “Who says the heart of grass can repay the warmth of spring?”

Having created a new pill, Luo Yu was several times more ecstatic than when he first made the Spirit-Nourishing Pills. Fingering the freshly written recipe for the “Sprout Pill,” Luo Yu set a bold ambition for himself: one day, he would compose a compendium of pills for future immortals to fight over.

The process had been immensely rewarding. Luo Yu had discovered the key to inventing new pills, and when he revisited the recipe for the Spirit-Nourishing Pill, he saw ways to improve it. For example, one of the auxiliary ingredients could be swapped out for blueberries, which should yield good results.

After refining these two new pills, Luo Yu coaxed Bastet into trying both. Bastet happily gobbled them up, but seemed to prefer the Spirit-Nourishing Pill, showing little interest in “Sprout”—perhaps because it was more of a health supplement.

Luo Yu gave Bastet a “Sprout” pill and, seeing that the kitten didn’t have diarrhea and remained lively, decided to try one himself. The effects were remarkable—not only did it slow cellular aging severalfold, but some cells even showed signs of rejuvenation, such as hair follicles and skin cells. Did this mean the pill could reverse aging?

Delighted, Luo Yu presented the pill as a treasure to his father and grandfather, extolling its virtues so lavishly that Grandfather couldn’t wait to swallow one. Father Chu, feigning restraint, took one as well and remarked, “It tastes much better than the Cleansing Elixir.” From then on, “Sprout” became a household staple.

He had refined four or five batches of Spirit-Nourishing Pills, and unlike the Cleansing Elixir, each batch yielded only a dozen or so pills, with varying potency depending on the age of the ginseng used—the older, the better.

During these ten-some days of research, Luo Yu made a point of taking a Spirit-Nourishing Pill daily. With wild ginseng as the main ingredient, the pill’s essence reacted with spiritual energy to create a rare effect—ninety-five percent of the pill converted directly into spiritual energy, the rest enhancing cellular vitality and resilience.

Every dose felt like soaking in a bath of spiritual energy, washing through his meridians and making them tougher and wider. The amount retained in his dantian far exceeded what he’d get from ordinary meditation—it was like fishing: the more fish in the water, the more you catch.

Luo Yu’s days passed in a cycle of cultivation, pill research, and playful bickering with the cat. With more than a month left before school started, he could already sense he was close to breaking through the first stage of Qi Refinement—ahead of schedule, even compared to what Master Shui Jian had predicted. It had taken just over twenty days from his first attempts at cultivation, all thanks to the elixirs. The sensation of impending advancement was peculiar: his whole body brimmed with energy, making it hard to sit still, a bit like the frustration of being unable to relieve oneself.

This concludes Chapter 13 of “Cultivating Immortality with My Best Friend.”