Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Chapter 526: The Second Phase of The Alchemy Competition (5)

Kyrian remained motionless in front of his workstation.

His arms crossed over his chest, his eyes closed, and his slow breathing gave the impression that he had fallen asleep while standing.

His posture was relaxed, almost meditative, as if the competition around him were nothing more than distant, insignificant noise.

In reality, his mind remained completely awake.

While the other contestants raced against time, adjusting temperatures, changing proportions, and trying to save refinements on the verge of failure, he simply waited in silence.

There was no anxiety in his heart, no doubt in his mind. The recipe had been created, tested within his imagination, and executed with precision. All that remained was to wait.

The small jade bottle containing the Thunder Reinforcement Medicinal Lotion rested on the table, subtly reflecting the light of the flames from the hundreds of furnaces scattered throughout the arena. The blue-violet liquid inside shone with a light of its own, as if it contained a fragment of the night sky.

Around him, the competition grew increasingly chaotic.

The first explosions erupted just minutes after he had completed his refinement. The sound of a furnace disintegrating echoed across the arena like thunder.

‘Boom!’

A column of black smoke rose from a nearby platform, engulfing the competitor in a thick cloud. The young alchemist coughed, his eyes burning as he tried to salvage what remained of his work.

Soon after…

‘Boom!’

Another furnace exploded, this one even more violent than the last. Fragments of metal flew in every direction, forcing the nearby competitors to shield themselves.

Then another. And another. As time passed, the explosions became almost constant. The sound of furnaces being destroyed became the background music of the competition, a symphony of failure that played without end.

Thirty. Maybe forty. No one bothered counting anymore. Every explosion was a shattered dream, hours of work lost in an instant.

The spectators watched everything with varied expressions. Some chuckled quietly at the sight of alchemists completely covered in soot, their clothes burned, their hair singed.

Others shook their heads in disappointment, recognizing the difficulty of the task they had been given.

After all… even though it was only a medicinal lotion, creating an entirely new recipe had never been a simple task. Alchemy was an art of precision, where every mistake was amplified, where every wrong choice could lead to disaster.

No one had a ready-made formula. Every combination was a gamble, a leap into the dark based on knowledge and intuition. Every ingredient added could completely stabilize the mixture… or destroy it that very instant.

A single mistake in understanding was enough for hours of planning to vanish in an explosion.

The less experienced alchemists were eliminated quickly. Many had chosen incompatible ingredients on their very first attempt, basing their decisions on shallow intuition rather than deep knowledge. By the time they realized their mistake, it was already too late. Their only portions of those ingredients had been wasted, and there were no replacements.

Others came close to success, their refinements nearly complete. But when they added the final ingredient, the entire medicinal essence became unstable. A chain reaction spread throughout the furnace, turning hours of work into smoke.

The result… more smoke. More explosions. More eliminations.

There was also another group, the overly cautious. They spent nearly two full hours simply analyzing the ingredients, calculating possibilities, and mentally reviewing every step. Their minds worked tirelessly, but their hands remained still.

When they finally decided to begin… they discovered there was no longer enough time left. They could only desperately speed up the refinement, compressing hours of work into mere minutes.

Naturally… the greater the haste, the greater the mistakes. The pressure of time drove them to make errors they would never have made under normal circumstances, and every mistake delayed them even further.

The scene had turned into a true battle of knowledge, experience, and emotional control. Only those who possessed all three could hope to succeed.

Meanwhile… Kyrian did not even open his eyes.

Time passed slowly, every minute dragging on like an hour. One hour. Then another.

When approximately ten minutes remained before the end of the trial… his violet eyes finally opened.

He calmly surveyed the entire arena, his gaze sweeping across every workstation, every competitor, and every furnace. Many workstations were completely empty, their occupants having given up after their refinements failed. Numerous participants had already abandoned their positions, their faces marked by frustration and defeat.

Others remained motionless before destroyed furnaces, staring at the remains of their work with vacant expressions. Some were still refining desperately, sweat pouring down their foreheads as they tried to finish their recipes in the final minutes.

Kyrian made a quick estimate, his eyes scanning the rows of competitors.

‘Probably… around half will be eliminated.’

Out of the approximately seven hundred initial participants, perhaps only three hundred, at most three hundred and fifty, would advance to the next round. The rest would be eliminated, their dreams of progressing in the festival shattered in explosions of smoke and frustration.

The remaining ten minutes disappeared quickly, every second counted by the competitors still racing against time.

Then…

‘Dooong!’

The enormous bell rang out once more, its deep sound spreading throughout the arena like a wave of bronze. The vibration seemed to shake the very air itself, instantly silencing every conversation and drawing everyone’s attention.

At that same moment… the old elder upon the main platform slowly opened his eyes.

A powerful spiritual pressure spread silently throughout the venue, so subtle that many barely noticed it. But its effects were immediate.

‘Whoosh!’

As though an invisible hand had swept across the entire arena, every spiritual flame still burning was extinguished at once. Hundreds of furnaces were plunged into darkness, their heat rapidly dissipating.

The alchemists who were still refining froze completely, their hands suspended in midair, their eyes fixed on the now-cold furnaces. Some slowly lowered their heads, accepting their defeat. Others closed their eyes in regret, the frustration evident on their faces.

They had been so close… but the rules were absolute.

The elder calmly observed all the participants before speaking, his gaze passing over every face present.

“Time is up.” His voice echoed throughout the arena, clear and firm.

“Those who failed to complete their refinements have been eliminated.”

No one objected. There was no room for arguments, no possibility of appeal. Everyone knew that this outcome was inevitable, that the rules had been clear from the very beginning.

Immediately afterward, the elder turned his gaze toward the deacons stationed around the arena.

“Begin the evaluation.”