Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Chapter 625: Alchemy Competition Final (2)

There were men and women, young and old, although the younger ones were clearly a minority, their smooth faces contrasting with the deep wrinkles of the more experienced.

Some remained motionless, eyes closed and breathing slowly, meditating before the test began. Others examined their cauldrons, their fingers running over the surface in search of any imperfection. Some spoke discreetly with the assistants, adjusting the final details of their stations.

But there was something almost all of them had in common, experience. Just by observing their hands, Kyrian could perceive years of practice.

Some had small burns on their fingers, old scars that told stories of past mistakes. Others had calluses on their palms, marks from countless hours spent holding tools.

There were old scars near their wrists, probably caused by explosions during poorly calculated refinements.

Alchemy was not exactly a safe profession for everyone. A mistake in control could destroy an entire batch of materials, wasting resources that had taken months to collect.

A bigger mistake could cause the cauldron to explode, scattering metal fragments and energy throughout the area. And an even more serious mistake could kill the alchemist himself, his energy being consumed by an uncontrolled reaction.

These people had survived all of that for decades, each scar a lesson learned.

Kyrian recognized this. As extraordinary as his ability was, he did not completely underestimate those who had dedicated their entire lives to alchemy.

He did not know who they were, did not know their techniques, did not know their experiences, and had no reason to assume they were weak. Each of them had reached the final for a reason.

Still, there was one fundamental difference. Kyrian was not there seeking recognition, he did not need to be recruited by a great family, he did not need to establish a reputation as an alchemist, and he did not need to prove that he was a great alchemist.

To him, alchemy was a tool, an extremely useful tool that could accelerate his cultivation, heal injuries, restore Qi, be used as currency in exchange for resources, and, most importantly, help him reduce his dependence on other people.

But Kyrian had never considered making alchemy his main path. His goal remained simple, become stronger.

As he thought about this, the final two figures finally appeared, and the entrance to the arena immediately caught the attention of everyone present.

The first to enter was a young man in his early twenties, perhaps a few years older than Kyrian.

He was clearly the second-youngest participant among the finalists, his face still carrying traces of youth that contrasted with the seriousness of his expression.

He wore a long white robe with blue details that gleamed beneath the light, and carried a small personal cauldron secured inside his spatial ring.

His eyes were calm, and serene, without arrogance, only concentration. He walked toward his position without looking to either side, his steps firm and determined.

The second participant was completely different. He was an elder, very old, his hair completely white and his beard so long that it almost reached his waist.

Each step was slow and careful, as if he were conserving energy for the test that was approaching. But his posture remained straight, his spine erect, without any sign of weakness in his body.

On the contrary, the spiritual presence of that man was profound, a well of energy that seemed to have no bottom. Even without deliberately releasing his Qi, there was a sense of weight around him, as if the air surrounding him were denser, more charged.

The stands erupted in comments, voices rising in excitement.

“It’s him!”

“Master Bai has finally appeared!”

“They say he refined an almost perfect rank 6 pill more than twenty years ago!”

“Not only that! I heard he has already tried to refine a rank 7 pill!”

“Impossible! He’s still not a rank 7 alchemist!”

“But they say he managed to complete more than half of the process!”

Kyrian heard some of the comments, his eyes briefly passing over the elder.

‘Interesting.’

Then he returned his attention to his own table, uninterested in the rumors. Reputation did not matter at that moment, only what each person could do in the test that was about to begin.

Shortly afterward, the final two contestants took their places. Now they were complete, twenty-five, the twenty-five best remaining participants in the competition, the survivors of around one thousand who had registered.

The crowd grew increasingly noisy, anticipation building with every second. Small groups began circulating lists containing the names of the finalists, scrolls on which the names were arranged according to their probability of winning.

Kyrian noticed some young men moving through the stands with these scrolls in their hands, selling their predictions for a few spirit stones.

On one of them, his name was in fifth place. Kyrian raised an eyebrow slightly, a hint of surprise appearing on his expression. He was not offended, in fact, he found it amusing.

‘Fifth?’ A small, imperceptible smile appeared on his lips.

It was not a bad position, among twenty-five participants, being considered one of the five favorites was already a demonstration of recognition, a sign that his performance in the previous stages had attracted attention.

But Kyrian knew that those lists did not mean much. People evaluated reputation, age, apparent experience, results from previous tests, and perhaps some information obtained secretly.

But no one there knew his true abilities, no one knew what his eyes could see or what his perception could reach. And that was good, he preferred it that way.

‘They’ll find out soon.’

Kyrian turned his eyes back to his table, his mind preparing for the challenge that was approaching. Shortly afterward, an enormous spiritual bell rang, its deep sound reverberating throughout the arena like distant thunder.

‘Dong!’ The sound reverberated throughout the arena, and the conversations began to die down, voices falling silent one by one.

‘Dong!’ The second chime was even deeper, its vibration traveling through the stands like a wave. Thousands of people fell silent simultaneously, anticipation hanging in the air.

‘Dong!’ The third chime completely ended the commotion, leaving only the absolute silence of a crowd in suspense.

Please vote with power stones and golden tickets, it will help a lot!!