Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Chapter 631: Alchemy Competition Final (8)

More herbs were added, the flame increased, then decreased, the temperature changing several times within a few seconds. The Qi inside the cauldron began to circulate, the medicinal essence of the ten correct herbs mixing with the four auxiliary ones.

The combination seemed chaotic to any external observer, but Kyrian could see every flow, every current of energy. He knew exactly where each energy was, knew when to increase the fire, knew when to reduce it, knew when to release Qi and, most importantly, knew when to do absolutely nothing, a patience that came from his deep understanding of the process.

The elder responsible for the competition watched every movement, his expression becoming increasingly serious.

“He isn’t following any conventional techniques.”

Lio Han smiled, his voice filled with conviction.

“Because he doesn’t need to.”

“Even so, he should be making mistakes.”

“He is.”

The elder turned his face, surprised.

“What?”

“He hasn’t found the three remaining herbs.”

The old man fell silent, processing the information.

Lio Han continued, his voice calm.

“But he found something different. Substitutes. Four herbs to compensate for three.”

The elder slowly nodded, recognizing the logic.

“That should make the refinement more complicated.”

“And it did.” Lio Han smiled, his eyes fixed on Kyrian’s cauldron.

“But he can control it.”

Inside the cauldron, the essence finally began to condense, the energies merging into an increasingly stable structure. The flame became smaller, more concentrated; the fire no longer needed strength, it needed precision, a touch that could guide rather than force.

Kyrian slowly raised one hand, a small amount of Qi entering the cauldron like a breath of life. The fourteen essences began to spin, once, twice, three times, their colors blending into a whirlpool of light. Then they began to merge, each layer integrating with the previous one in perfect harmony.

The spiritual aroma had not yet appeared, but it was close. Kyrian could feel its presence, a promise in the air. He closed his eyes for a moment, sensing the composition, the temperature, and the pressure. Everything was correct.

A faint smile appeared on his face.

‘Now…’

He increased the flame just a little, a minimal adjustment that made the black cauldron tremble gently. And then, for the first time since the beginning of the final, a gentle smell began to escape from its opening, a delicate, fresh, and slightly sweet aroma, like the fragrance of flowers blooming at dawn.

The scent spread through the air around Kyrian’s table, a wave of fragrance that touched the senses of everyone present.

Lio Han opened his eyes, surprised. The elder responsible for the competition became completely motionless, his expression frozen in a state of shock.

Both recognized that aroma.

The essence of a pill was beginning to take form.

The aroma continued spreading throughout the arena, a wave of fragrance that seemed to gain a life of its own as it dissipated through the space.

It was gentle but impossible to ignore, like a song that slips into one’s ears and refuses to leave.

It did not possess the aggressive intensity of some high-level spiritual herbs, which could cause dizziness or headaches in unprepared cultivators.

Nor did it have the bitterness common to certain medicinal pills, which left an unpleasant taste in the mouth even when inhaled.

It was a delicate, fresh, and slightly sweet perfume, accompanied by a sensation of purity that made the cultivators involuntarily breathe more deeply, as if their lungs were being purified simply by inhaling that aroma.

Kyrian noticed it immediately. The essence was ready for the final stage, all the pieces of the puzzle finally fitting together into a complete picture.

Inside the cauldron, the fourteen essences had lost their individual forms, merging into a single mass of energy that pulsed with a gentle light.

The ten correct herbs from the original recipe were perfectly integrated, their properties complementing one another in a harmony that seemed to have been designed from the beginning.

Meanwhile, the four auxiliary herbs had occupied the spaces left by the three ingredients Kyrian had failed to identify, filling the gaps with a precision that bordered on divine intuition.

It was not exactly the original recipe, but the energetic result was extremely close, so similar that only the most experienced eyes could distinguish the difference.

Kyrian maintained a calm expression, his face a mask of composure that contrasted with the intensity of the process taking place inside the cauldron.

His hand remained suspended above the container as he carefully controlled the spiritual flame, adjusting its intensity with the precision of a musician tuning an instrument.

A little more. Then, less. He waited, allowing the essence to find its own balance, allowing the energies to harmonize without unnecessary interference.

The medicinal essence began to rotate slowly, a movement that seemed to possess a life of its own, as if the pill itself were dancing inside the cauldron. A layer of energy condensed around the center of the mixture, forming a protective film that enveloped the essence like a shell.

Then another, and another, each layer adding stability and structure to the forming mass.

The spiritual mass began to take on a rounded shape, its edges smoothing out, its surface becoming more polished with every rotation.

Kyrian did not need to merely see what was happening inside the cauldron; his violet eyes followed every alteration in the structure of the essence, every change in density, and every small fluctuation caused by the heat.

He knew exactly when to act, when to intervene, and when to guide the process with a touch of Qi. And, above all, he knew when not to act, a patience that came from his deep understanding of the process, from his ability to see the flow of energy and trust his own perception.

A mistake at that moment could destroy all the work, turning hours of effort into a useless mass of ashes.

Therefore, he remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the cauldron, his breathing calm and steady. The spiritual flame diminished until it became a small red tongue at the bottom of the cauldron, a fire so controlled that it barely heated the surrounding air. The essence continued to rotate, its rhythm steady, hypnotic.

Then.

‘Whoosh.’

A small wave of spiritual energy passed through the cauldron, a vibration that seemed to come from the very center of the essence.

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