Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Chapter 626: Alchemy Competition Final (3)

In the center of the elevated stage, a figure appeared, his presence imposing. It was the same elder responsible for the previous stages, his hair and beard completely white, his long golden robe shining under the light.

Embroidered across his chest was the symbol of the Alchemists Association, the emblem of an organization that had existed for millennia.

The elder walked to the center of the stage, his eyes sweeping over the twenty-five finalists with an assessment that seemed to penetrate beyond the surface. His voice, when he spoke, echoed throughout the arena with the clarity of a jade bell.

“Welcome to the final of the Alchemy Competition of the Celestial Descent Festival.”

The amplification formations spread throughout the arena, causing his voice to reach every corner, every ear.

“After several stages, countless participants have been eliminated. Of the thousand who initially registered, only twenty-five have made it to this point. Each of you has demonstrated skill, knowledge, and perseverance.”

The elder paused, his eyes sweeping over the finalists one by one.

“You represent the greatest talents who participated in this competition.”

Some people in the stands began to applaud, the sound quickly growing like a wave. The elder waited, allowing the recognition to settle. Then he continued, his voice cutting through the applause.

“But reaching this point does not mean that you are perfect alchemists.”

Silence returned, the applause quickly dying down.

“It merely means that you were capable of surviving the previous stages. The true test is yet to come.”

Some participants frowned, while others remained indifferent. The elder smiled, a smile that carried years of wisdom.

“The final will be different.”

He raised one of his hands, and an enormous spiritual formation was activated above the arena. Golden light appeared in the sky, and then countless characters began to appear, written in a complicated language that only experienced alchemists could fully decipher. A recipe.

But there was something wrong. It was incomplete, some lines were present, others had disappeared, certain symbols were partially erased, and several fundamental pieces of information simply did not exist. It was like a map with blurred roads, where only some paths were visible.

The expressions of several finalists changed, their eyes widening as they understood the challenge.

Kyrian narrowed his eyes, his attention sharpening.

The elder continued, his voice maintaining its solemn tone.

“What you see before you is an incomplete rank 6 recipe.”

This time, the reaction was much more intense. Even some of the more experienced finalists opened their eyes, their expressions betraying surprise. A rank 6 recipe was not something that could be treated casually, recipes of this level were extremely valuable, guarded with the same care as treasures.

A single complete recipe could be worth a small fortune, and in some regions, rank 6 recipes were not even sold publicly. And now the Association had placed one before twenty-five alchemists, even if it was incomplete.

“All of you have a spatial pouch on your tables.”

The finalists looked at them, small dark fabric pouches resting beside their cauldrons. Kyrian opened his, his fingers sliding over the fabric as his perception penetrated inside.

Inside were approximately twenty-five herbs, each carefully selected, each with its own history and properties.

His eyes passed over the materials, one by one. There were herbs of different attributes, some were hot, radiating an energy that warmed his skin, while others were cold, emanating a sensation of freshness that contrasted with the heat of the arena.

Some contained clear medicinal properties, while others were clearly auxiliary ingredients, useless on their own but essential to the process.

The elder continued explaining, his voice providing the rules of the challenge.

“The original recipe contains approximately thirteen main ingredients.”

Kyrian raised his eyes, his attention divided between the floating recipe and the herbs on his table.

“Inside the pouches are enough materials to identify the nature of the recipe.”

Some competitors immediately began examining the herbs, their hands moving quickly as they separated and smelled the ingredients.

“Seven of the ingredients used in the original recipe are described in the incomplete recipe.”

Kyrian’s expression remained calm. Seven was a considerable number, but it still left six ingredients to be discovered.

“You will need to determine which ingredients are missing, their proportions, the order of refinement, and the correct method of combination.”

A small commotion arose among the finalists, whispers of concern spreading like fire through dry straw. This made the test far more difficult than any previous stage; knowing herbs was not enough, nor was having a good refinement technique.

They had to reconstruct a partially destroyed recipe, filling the gaps with understanding and intuition.

The elder raised one finger, emphasizing each point.

“You will receive no additional information.”

Another finger.

“You may not consult books, scrolls, or any other reference material.”

Another finger.

“You may not speak with the other participants.”

And finally, the fourth finger.

“And you will have exactly three hours.”

The crowd reacted immediately, murmurs of surprise spreading through the stands. Three hours to reconstruct a rank 6 recipe was extremely little, almost impossible for most alchemists.

But the elder was not finished.

“At the end of the allotted time, each participant must present a completed pill. Its quality, rank, and how closely it matches the original recipe will determine the final ranking.”

Then he raised his hand, and a beam of pure Qi shot into the sky. The formation above the arena shone intensely, and an invisible pressure spread throughout the entire space, a containment that enveloped each participant in their own isolated bubble.

“Begin!”

The silence was broken instantly.

‘Clang!’ The lid of a cauldron was opened with a metallic sound.

‘Whoosh!’ A spiritual flame appeared, crackling with a bluish light.

‘Bang!’ A participant crushed an herb inside a container with a dull impact.

Within a few seconds, the entire arena transformed into a whirlwind of activity.

Twenty-five alchemists began working simultaneously, each following their own method, their own approach.

Some organized the herbs into orderly rows, others quickly wrote on scrolls, while some closed their eyes and used their spiritual perception to examine each ingredient in depth.

The elder who was in the position closest to Kyrian immediately began separating the herbs into groups, his hands moving with the efficiency of someone who had performed that movement for decades.

The young man in white clothing took out a small crystal instrument and began testing the properties of each material with meticulous precision.

The old man with the white beard simply remained motionless for a few seconds, his eyes closed, and then picked up one herb, smelled it, then another, and another, his eyes becoming increasingly focused.

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