Eternal Cultivation Of Alchemy

Whitesong, the Alchemy God, sat beside five other Gods, watching the alchemy tournament down below. They all sat in a luxurious room within the top of the tower, from where they could see almost anything.

There were five rows of seats in this room, each row containing ten seats. While the six Gods filled six of the seats in the front row, the remaining were filled with various sages and reverends. The ones that were considered below them were seated in the rooms below this floor.

The most handsome and beautiful divinities were put to the task of bringing wine and delicacies for these people to enjoy while they watched.

The Formation God and Artifact God had to be here just to make sure nothing went wrong, but they were also watching the competition quite intently.

The other three Gods that sat there were Gods that had only come within the last decade.

A man sat to the far left, his face painted ashen white with purple lips, and his hair a pale shade of pink that seemed to lack volume. The seats around him were empty at the moment as no one wanted to sit around someone who was known for their poison.

This was Dustvenom: the Poison God. His understanding of poison far surpassed any other human in the entire world.

A woman sat a seat beside him, her face average in beauty and her black hair was of no interesting quality either. What did draw a person’s eyes toward her was the giant cloak she wore around herself.

Dark-stained pieces of wood seemed to fit together like scales on a dragon’s body, forming the cloak she wore. No one who saw this would think of it as being anything more than a defensive treasure.

Those who knew her would know this cloak was much more.

For this was Orangeruby: the Puppet God.

Finally, far to the right was a seemingly young woman of divine beauty with her black hair ending in white frosted tips. She wore a darker shade of blue robes, one that was not visible to others due to the cloud that seemed to gather all around her body except for her head. The room was significantly colder simply due to her presence.

This was a woman Alex had seen long before, one whose beauty had moved him for the first time.

This was Snowchild: the Winter God.

Alongside the six Gods, the sages — the only competition to the Gods in any particular field — and Reverends — high-ranking subordinates of any particular God — watched the competition with varying amounts of interest. The Alchemy God talked with them, answering in detail any questions his guests might have.

“It’s the points, you see,” Whitesong told the Formation God. “Because he received enough points to pass by becoming the first to be ranked, he no longer needs to worry about passing to the next competition, which is why he left.”

The Formation God thought for a moment and nodded. “And there is nothing more to gain from earning points, I assume,” the burly man said.

“None at all. Not when it is this obvious,” the Alchemy God answered.

The Formation God seemed a little concerned with Aethersage’s sudden departure from the competition barely an hour in. The man was still very intent on making Aethersage his disciple.

He went on to answer a bit more questions here and there when the Poison God took the moment to ask a question.

“Why do we not see any pill clouds?” the ashen-faced man asked. “Is there something happening we should know about?”

The Alchemy God turned to the Poison God and slowly nodded. “Yes, I have tinkered with the recipe just a little so that they must fix the issue before they call pill clouds,” the man said.

“I assume that was on purpose?” Discover stories with empire

The Puppet God’s voice came like a hissing snake, low and raspy, sending shiver through anyone who heard it.

“It was intentional,” the Alchemy God said. “Pill clouds earn way more points, so we decided to make it quite sparse. You won’t see it for a long time.”

“We shall wait,” the Puppet God said and looked back down at the field.

The Alchemy God continued his talk for a while when suddenly he sensed something. He wasn’t even the first to sense it as the Winter God had been faster than him. She looked up at the sky — they all did — and saw the mass of churning clouds gather up above.

“Alchemy God, it seems you miscalculated,” she said. “We didn’t have to wait for a long time.”

“It appears to be that way,” the Alchemy God said, smiling ever so slightly. “Someone must have focused directly on fixing the recipe.”

They saw where the pill cloud was gathering, locating the person who called it forth.

“What is his name?” one of them asked.

“Dawnblade,” the Alchemy God said. “He won our third year’s speed tournament. He’s disciple to Silvermist of the Ten Stars of Alchemy and is quite talented.”

“That’s the person who ranked second,” the Poison God commented.

The lightning bolts fell and they watched. It dissipated after three bolts, which disappointed everyone a little. They wished they could watch it come down much more, but they quickly realized that the person who had called it forth was only at the Immortal Origin 1st realm, so their disappointment lessened quite a bit.

“We may see more of that now,” the Alchemy God said, smiling to everyone. “More of the participants should be changing their recipes right now.”

Everyone else nodded, accepting his words.

Whitesong was about to say something else when he felt a medallion buzz. He quickly pulled it out and read the report. Slowly, he stood up from where he sat.

The Artifact God, who was sitting right beside him, was surprised. “Are you going somewhere, Alchemy God?” she asked.

“My apologies, but it seems I am needed by my staff,” he said.

Many of the people gathered raised their brows. “I thought your staff was self-sufficient even without you,” the Artifact God said.

“I thought so as well,” the Alchemy God said. “But it appears someone has decided to become a bit unorthodox with their answers, and now I need to go make sense of it.”