Chapter 27: The Clumsy Alchemist

Molten iron flowed within the crucible before him, while the magic circle, powered by mana crystals, radiated a terrifying heat.

The array ensured that the crimson, glowing liquid metal maintained its state, preventing any unwanted shifts in its properties.

Wang Yu stood beside the magical furnace, drenched in sweat, his left hand gripping a pair of iron tongs that clamped tightly onto the vessel holding the molten metal.

The Endless Pages floated before him, densely covered in crooked, scrawled characters: "A moderate amount of essence powder, an appropriate ratio of forging steel element, three scoops of liquid gold, one vial of Mobius solvent..."

Muttering to himself, Wang Yu retrieved the required ingredients from the nearby table, added them to the searing iron, and began to stir with a specially crafted rod.

As the iron merged with these substances, it emitted a strange blue glow, the once-red molten metal transforming into a fluorescent azure.

His eyes lit up. With the tongs, he retrieved a preheated mold from the furnace, quickly poured the glowing blue liquid into it, and sealed it tight.

He placed it back into the furnace to continue calcining, counting to two hundred in his mind before removing the mold to let it cool.

A minute and a half later, he opened the mold, extracted the semi-cooled, still-glowing sword blank, and laid it upon the anvil.

He pulled out a hammer and began to strike it with vigor, the rhythmic clanging of metal on metal filling the air.

Then, a jarring, teeth-grinding sound of metal twisting and warping echoed through the room. Wang Yu slapped his forehead—another failure.

A section of the sword blank had buckled inward, a sign that either the heating had been uneven or the material proportions were off. Regardless, the blank was declared a failure.

Setting his tools aside, Wang Yu sat at his workbench, tossing the Endless Pages up and down in frustration. This was his seventy-third attempt to craft a base for an enchanted sword, and it had ended in defeat.

"Why? Can't you provide precise data? What does 'a moderate amount' even mean? And what is the 'appropriate ratio' of forging steel? It’s written just like that in the book, but how am I supposed to know what that actually is?" Wang Yu muttered to himself.

He realized that alchemy in this world was remarkably similar to chemistry.

One had to understand the properties of various materials, then combine and modulate them to form useful objects. What Wang Yu was attempting to create was the foundation for an enchanted blade.

The problem was that while Wang Yu had learned much over the past three months, two months after Lilia’s departure, he had yet to forge a single usable enchanted sword blank.

Seventy-three attempts, all failures. Not one had succeeded, no matter what he tried. This could only mean he truly lacked the talent for alchemy.

He had studied diligently; Lilia had lectured them for a month, and the library’s collection had been fully opened to them.

The first month focused on the properties, mechanisms, and specific combination methods of various materials—mostly rote memorization.

That was manageable; Wang Yu recorded what he could, and what he couldn't, he copied onto the Endless Pages to consult at any time.

But when he moved to practical application, Wang Yu discovered that this field required genuine talent. Alchemy demanded extreme precision, where the slightest deviation could lead to failure.

Yet, many of the recipes in the library’s alchemy primers were maddeningly vague, filled with terms like "moderate amount" or "appropriate ratio."

To Wang Yu, this seemed absurd, but in reality, it wasn't a gap in civilization.

The micro-manipulation required in a laboratory, precise to the milligram or micrometer, could not simply mock the alchemy of this world.

Because alchemy here varied by region, magical concentration, temperature, and even the specific moment in time.

The "moderate amounts" mentioned in many recipes were truly meant for the practitioner to sense—this was the alchemist’s talent, a form of intuition.

One part relied on memorizing material properties, one part on understanding, and the final part on this innate talent to find the "appropriate" standard, regulating the process to achieve the alchemical goal.

Unfortunately, it seemed Wang Yu possessed none of this talent. His knowledge base and understanding of material properties were sufficient.

But he could not synthesize them into the correct proportions based on his understanding. Trying step-by-step, he only met with failure.

He sighed inwardly, feeling it a pity. A warrior crafting his own weapon was, in his view, a wonderful thing.

Alas, he could not do it. In fact, the simpler the alchemy, the more precise the recipe; the more complex and powerful the alchemy, the more vague and "metaphysical" it became.

Thus, some of the most powerful magical alchemical creations were often the result of an alchemist’s sudden whim.

Of course, it was also expensive. While it was a lucrative industry—"three years of famine, one year of feast"—the cost of materials and the operation of magic circles burned through gold coins rapidly.

He tossed his shriveled coin purse in his hand. The jingling sound was gone; only a lonely gold coin remained inside.

In three months, Wang Yu had spent all his money on materials and mana crystals for his alchemical experiments.

His own ten gold coins, plus the ten Avia had given him—twenty in total—were now reduced to one. It was a total loss.

While he had learned to engrave simple magic runes and craft basic armor and weapons, any skilled blacksmith could do better; it was meaningless.

And the slightly more advanced enchanted swords were completely beyond his reach. It seemed it was time to give up.

"Damn it, why is it so hard? Why can't I grasp the ratios of these properties? My chemistry was decent, so why does this not work?"

Wang Yu frustratedly threw the ruined sword blank onto the table and pondered.

With his money nearly gone, he wasn't stubborn; if he lacked the talent, he lacked it. If he couldn't do it, he couldn't do it. He had tried his best, and if it didn't work, there was no helping it.

It was a shame he couldn't keep smithing. He actually enjoyed it; the feeling of striking iron with a heavy hammer was satisfying, and it was excellent for building muscle.

Through these three months of smithing, his strength attribute had reached a 1.5 coefficient, nearly hitting the intermediate level of a squire, even if his other attributes lagged behind.

"Forget it, give it up. Crafting my own gear just isn't in the cards." He shook his head, piling the ruined materials together, intending to dispose of them later.

He no longer planned to pursue alchemy as a secondary profession. He lacked the talent; he wasn't cut out for it.

Avia, however, had talent as astonishing as ever, proving quite excellent at alchemy.

"Come to think of it, the essence of alchemy is rearranging structures, using complex reactions to achieve more stable and powerful forms. The sword blank is essentially meant to be a metal capable of carrying magic rune circuits. Could I try a different approach...?"

Just as Wang Yu was about to walk away, this thought struck him. There was nothing to lose; he might as well try.

He gathered the power of the Void into his fist. Chaos—the more chaotic, the better. Since he was just experimenting, he would twist it as chaotically as possible.

In fact, this was a property Wang Yu had discovered: any use of Void energy consumed less when it was more chaotic.

This was why Wang Yu found it nearly impossible to use Void energy to directly warp a mobile phone or a magical item.

For such precise objects, the consumption of Void energy was astronomical, far beyond what Wang Yu could afford.

"Does the Void naturally tend toward chaos and disorder?" Wang Yu muttered to himself, but he didn't dwell on it; it wasn't something he could consider right now. There was no need to overthink it.

What he was doing now was simple: gathering enough Void energy in his fist and slamming it into the ruined sword blank.

The goal was to distort the structure—the more chaotic, the better. He smiled self-deprecatingly; how could it possibly work? While theoretically feasible, the probability was infinitesimally small. Among countless possibilities, useless, ruined structures made up the vast majority.

When enough Void energy had gathered, Wang Yu steeled himself and slammed his fist into the ruined blank. The Void energy, carried by ripples, surged into the metal block.

The ripples rebounded and transmitted internally, scattering the chaotic Void energy throughout the material.

Following Wang Yu’s will, this energy restructured the material’s properties in the most chaotic form possible.

Because of the extreme disorder, the small amount of energy proved persistent. As Wang Yu struck, the scrap began to vibrate, slowly creeping across the table.

About a minute later, accompanied by a series of crisp, fine cracking sounds, a web of fissures appeared across the material, and its overall color turned dark and dull.

Though it had been a failure, it had at least looked clean and azure. Now, with its dull color, fractured surface, and disintegrating structure, it looked more like a pile of rubble.

He shook his head helplessly. It was useless. As expected, such good fortune was impossible.

Otherwise, every wizard would be an alchemist. With a clatter of breaking stone, the entire piece shattered and scattered, turning into debris on the table.

"Hm?" Wang Yu’s gaze sharpened. He suddenly noticed a piece about half the size of his palm among the rubble that had maintained its structure.

It hadn't shattered; it lay buried beneath the fragments.

He reached out, brushed aside the messy debris, and examined the strange object. A look of bewilderment crossed his eyes.

The material was irregularly shaped, looking like a bomb frozen halfway through an explosion, or perhaps a sea urchin.

Its form was chaotic beyond measure, yet its surface emitted a faint, pale blue glow, and every facet displayed a glazed, iridescent luster, creating the illusion of shifting colors.

"What is this?" He pinched the object between his palms and pressed down, the irregular spikes on its surface pricking his skin with a dull ache.

This suggested the spikes were far from fragile; if they could sting Wang Yu’s calloused palms, this material might truly possess some hidden potential.

He retrieved a hammer from the workbench and struck the strange material against the anvil, but there was no metallic ring. Wang Yu wore a puzzled expression.

He tried to lift the hammer for another blow, but it wouldn't budge, which left him genuinely astonished.

With a forceful tug, he succeeded, though the entire anvil shifted. To his amazement, the material had embedded itself into the iron, which was already harder than standard metal.

The spikes on its irregular surface were impossibly tough; the hammer’s face was pitted with holes, and the object itself had driven deep into the anvil.

Wang Yu tried to pull it out by hand, but it was wedged tight; forcing it further would only drive the barbs into his own flesh. No matter—for a problem that seemed troublesome but was actually quite simple, he would use sorcery.

Void energy surged. Twisting the shape of a material should have been trivial. He poured the energy into the strange object, mentally guiding the distortion, changing its form—wait?

Wang Yu’s eyes widened as he stared at the material. The urchin-like shell remained as strange and disordered as ever. Had this thing resisted his sorcery?

His void energy felt like a stone cast into the sea; his attempts to twist it had failed. The sorcery that had always served him well had proven useless against this "scrap."

"This?" Wang Yu found it hard to comprehend. How could sorcery fail against such a thing?

He had a rough hypothesis: this object had appeared by chance when he randomly twisted structures until they became chaotic.

In other words, the object was already sufficiently chaotic and distorted, so the Void—which itself tended toward chaos and disorder—could no longer exert any influence upon it.

"That makes sense..." Wang Yu rubbed his chin, finding the theory plausible. He decided he had no further use for the anvil; if he couldn't twist the material, twisting the anvil instead would suffice.

He channeled all his remaining void energy into the anvil, warping the metal until the strange, urchin-like object was successfully pried loose.

Wang Yu decided to show it to Elvia. If Lilia were here, she would be a better choice, but for now, Elvia would have to do.

Before that, however, he decided to test the inexplicable sorcery he had stumbled upon once more.

He gathered the scraps from dozens of failed attempts and struck each one with his fist. The sorcery didn't consume much energy, so it didn't take long to process them all.

Looking at the pile of fragments—utter, worthless debris—Wang Yu curled his lip. As he suspected, the "urchin" in his hand was a singular exception.

The technique he had created was truly useless. Relying on it to strike it lucky was worse than following the crowd to those back-alley shops that peddled fake curiosities.

At least those had a one-in-a-thousand chance of a real find. Did his technique even have a one-in-a-million chance? Probably not.

He piled the debris together. They might have fetched a few coins at the nameless village smithy, but now they were truly worthless waste.

He felt no regret. Wang Yu liked money, but he was never greedy.

Clutching the special material, Wang Yu approached the wooden cabin where Elvia stayed. From within came the faint, rhythmic clinking of metal.

Wang Yu peered through the window. The girl was hunched over her wooden desk, meticulously carving something.

Her long golden hair was tied back in a practical ponytail. She wore a grey tank top instead of her usual wizard’s robes, looking incredibly focused.

From his angle, Wang Yu could only see her profile, which held a youthful air. In truth, he thought she looked better this way.

Wang Yu was undoubtedly a blockhead, but even he could tell that Elvia always carried a heavy burden on her mind.

Yet, with her gentle nature, she never wanted to trouble others, keeping it all bottled up. That wasn't good—at least, that was what Wang Yu thought.

But when the little mage was deeply engrossed in a task, everything else faded away. That was why, in this moment, she possessed that youthful radiance, and Wang Yu thought that was quite nice.

Not wanting to disturb her, Wang Yu stood by the window for about half an hour.

The girl finished her carving, let out a soft sigh, and offered a satisfied smile. She wiped the sweat from her forehead caused by her intense concentration and held the object up to examine it carefully.

Seeing that Elvia was finished, Wang Yu tapped on the window. The girl looked toward the sill, startled, her expression flustered as she hurriedly tucked the object away.

She ran to the window, pushed it open, and looked at Wang Yu, who had been standing there for quite some time.

"Wang Yu, is something the matter?"

"Ah, yes. I have something strange here for you." Wang Yu held out the odd material to Elvia.

"Oh? What is it?" He couldn't tell if it was his imagination, but he noticed the girl’s face flush slightly.

"I made something strange while practicing alchemy, but I have no idea what it is or how to use it. I thought I’d ask you, since your talent for alchemy is excellent and you’re so skilled at engraving magic circuits."

"Oh?" Elvia watched as Wang Yu opened his palm to reveal the "urchin." Her tone betrayed a hint of disappointment, though she quickly composed herself.

Wang Yu gave her a brief explanation of how the object came to be and described the inexplicable sorcery he had used, which immediately piqued the girl's interest.

"It shields against sorcery? Materials like that exist, but they usually rely on precise structures to twist the Void, requiring massive amounts of energy. But this piece of yours, Wang Yu, it’s quite unique!"

A look of fascination crossed her face, the expression of someone who had stumbled upon a treasure.

She waved her right hand, and mana surged forth, a faint glow encircling the material in Wang Yu’s hand before dissipating.

A first-circle detection spell? Truth’s Glimmer—a spell mages used to recall information from their memories.

If the object matched something in her memory, it would reveal itself. This reaction meant the object had no connection to anything in Elvia’s knowledge.

"It’s a new material! Wang Yu, this could be used to create some truly interesting alchemical items. Not only does it repel the Void, but from your description, its durability is also quite impressive!"

The girl seemed genuinely excited. It appeared she not only had talent but a true passion for alchemy.

"Then it’s yours. I clearly have no talent for alchemy, so it’s useless to me."

Seeing how happy she was, Wang Yu placed the object on her windowsill.

"Really? Thank you! Oh, this is for you!" She was delighted. After a moment's hesitation, she blushed and took out the item she had tucked away earlier, handing it to Wang Yu.

"A spell ring. I only had enough material to make one. It contains a Fireball spell; once you replenish the mana, it can be cast once. It’s not a very powerful magical item—my level isn't that high yet."

The girl handed the ring to Wang Yu with a shy expression.

Wang Yu was surprised. A magical artifact? He knew she had great talent, but he hadn't expected her to craft one in just three months. While it wasn't a powerful weapon, it was very practical for him.

He accepted the ring and thanked her solemnly. "Thank you!"

As he tucked the ring into his pocket, he noticed his name engraved on it. Of course, it wasn't in Chinese characters, but in the script of this world.

The language of this world struggled to replicate the pronunciation of "Wang Yu," so the spelling on the ring sounded more like "Wang-Yu" (a pun on 'Prosperous Fish'). Wang Yu couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"What are you laughing at?" Elvia asked, looking even more embarrassed.

"Nothing, nothing. It’s just that my name sounds so strange when read off this ring."

"Oh? Well... do you want to give that sorcery of yours a name?" Elvia, clearly flustered, changed the subject with a stiff transition.

Wang Yu scratched his head. A name for this useless sorcery? Why not? Perhaps it would be useful someday.

"How about 'The Bungling Alchemist'?" Wang Yu thought it fit perfectly, as that was exactly what he was.

"That’s so strange. How about 'Fate Reconstruction'?" Elvia thought Wang Yu was saying weird things again, so she suggested a name that sounded a bit dramatic to him.

"No, no. That name gives me the chills. It’s bad luck." It wasn't that he disliked the drama, but the name reminded him of his past gaming experiences with Darkest Dungeon, and he was terrified.

"Then how about... 'Chaos Reconstruction'?"

"Perfect! Let’s call it that!" Wang Yu approved.

Elvia looked at the "urchin" in her hand, then at Wang Yu, who was admiring his ring. Her sharp intuition gave her the feeling that today’s material, and Wang Yu’s useless "Chaos Reconstruction," would eventually serve a greater purpose...

(Well, the transition period should be coming to an end soon. We are about to enter the climax of this volume. I will do my best to write it. The upside is that, like today, a 4,500-word update might turn into 6,000 words, haha.)