Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The library was hushed, imbued with the faint, ancient scent of ink from aged manuscripts. Orange-white light, emanating from the alchemical ciphers etched into the walls and ceiling, cast a gentle glow upon the two figures engrossed in their studies.

A subtle dampness lingered in the air, mingled with the light fragrance of shampoo. Though Luo Lin tried to immerse herself in the complex alchemical manuscript before her, her gaze involuntarily drifted towards the girl seated opposite. Eve’s silver-white hair, freshly washed and dried, retained its characteristic long, straight, and smooth texture, yet now possessed an added fluffiness.

Eve had somehow acquired a pair of plain, thick-rimmed round glasses that rested on her straight nose. Her serious expression lent her an unexpectedly earnest air, tempting Luo Lin to playfully poke her back with a pen cap. Not for any particular reason, just the inexplicable urge to playfully disrupt a peer so deeply engrossed in study.

Luo Lin prided herself on not being a bore. She was simply weary from reading, and given the rare company, she sought to break the silence. "Why do you shower every night before coming here now?"

"Hmm," Eve hummed, not lifting her head, her voice thick with a slight nasal congestion. "Just got back from the training room. I was drenched in sweat, and it felt sticky and uncomfortable."

Since the family-mandated practical training sessions began each afternoon—be it mecha piloting or mental state exercises—Eve had adjusted her nightly self-training accordingly. Apart from her weekly four sessions in the simulated combat room where Maria consistently "beat her up," she dedicated the rest of her time to physical training in the gym.

While possessing formidable mental power, Eve’s physical fitness was somewhat lacking. She couldn’t always rely on magic as a physical force. She had an S-level mental state to maintain, and eventually, a mecha to operate. There simply wasn’t enough mental energy to simultaneously manage three demanding tasks.

Thanks to consistently pushing herself beyond limits, in just a few days, Eve felt her mental power showing signs of loosening, hinting at a breakthrough to A+ level.

Indeed, desperate situations truly unlocked potential.

Eve refocused, a slight headache brewing as she gazed at the convoluted ciphers. She still struggled to fully grasp the core concepts of alchemy; even with Luo Lin’s assistance, she could only comprehend the most basic alchemical formulas.

Merely memorizing formulas was the extent of a one-star alchemy apprentice. She had a long journey ahead to reach the three-star Grand Alchemist level required to establish herself on Black Star. That level demanded the ability to independently deconstruct and apply basic formulas, and to imbue other objects with them.

She had been studying for days with little progress. Even Luo Lin, a three-star alchemist, hadn’t achieved a truly effortless grasp of the fundamental concepts—which was understandable. If Luo Lin’s comprehension of alchemy’s core concepts were so profound that she could teach anyone to master them, she wouldn’t be merely a three-star; she’d be poised to claim the empire’s fifth legendary alchemist title.

Strictly speaking, alchemy wasn’t a creation of interstellar civilization.

It was a cultural heritage of ancient humanity, originally destined to vanish into the mists of history alongside other cultures, or to become a fashionable cultural symbol in the new era, much like religious myths.

However, with the expansion into interstellar territories and the discovery of the fifth element from beyond dimensions, someone unexpectedly succeeded in refining the legendary Philosopher’s Stone. Only then did people realize: *This stuff actually works?*

Eve stared despairingly at the alchemical ciphers, attempting a silent plea: *Fellow ancient human orphan adrift in the stars, how about a cheat code, a backdoor? A little help for a countryman?*

Alchemy, however, remained impassive, its silent response: *Sorry, who are you?*

Simply learning the language wasn’t enough; ultimately, one had to follow the classic research path of tracing ancient origins.

Tonight, Eve had brought a wealth of materials on the origins and foundational doctrines of alchemy, determined to start from scratch and conquer this subject.

The essence of alchemy was transformation. As its name implied, its original doctrine focused on transmuting other substances into gold. Later, it evolved beyond gold, encompassing any transformation between substances. For instance, the illuminating alchemical ciphers in the library converted energy from circuits into light. It even included the transformation of lower-tier substances into higher-tier ones, or the further purification of high-tier substances. A prime example of the latter was the conversion of the fifth element into the Philosopher’s Stone, purifying transcendent energy elements into the elixir of eternal life.

This was common knowledge among all alchemists, and Eve had initially approached her studies with this understanding.

But the more she read, the more something felt amiss.

This ability seemed less like transformation and more akin to creation.

Eve had previously noted that the interstellar knowledge system differed significantly from that of her original world. This meant her mind housed two parallel, non-intersecting knowledge systems. She felt that if alchemy truly revolved around the concept of transformation, no one should be more adaptable than her—after all, if one knowledge system couldn’t provide an answer, she could seamlessly switch to the other for an explanation.

Yet, despite this unique advantage, Eve found it harder than others to grasp alchemy’s so-called transformation.

While basic alchemical formulas could be explained as the transformation between two substances, advanced formulas often delved into the creation of life. Take, for example, the transformation from the fifth element to the Philosopher’s Stone, or mid-to-high-level alchemical potions. Transformation could only occur between inorganic substances. How could there be transformation between living and non-living matter?

The evolution from inorganic matter to the simplest organic unit, protein, required a long and complex process. Yet, under the skillful hands of alchemists, even living organisms could be manipulated.

Eve hadn’t forgotten that she was a transmigrator from another world, and thus firmly believed in the existence of souls in this realm. The notion that inorganic matter, devoid of life, could involve souls through so-called "transformation" struck her as absurd.

It might as well be called creation.

Different atoms were extracted by alchemists into fundamental elemental units, then reshaped into entirely new forms and selectively imbued with energy. Those capable of bestowing life were the highest-level alchemists, while those who could only repurpose elemental units were considered second or third-rate creators.

This line of thought brought a certain clarity.

Eve had also perused the Cionanado manuscript collection. She didn’t know who this alchemist named Cionanado was—she hadn’t found any record of a renowned or legendary Grand Alchemist by that name in the empire’s history. Yet, his views somewhat resonated with her own. On the title page, the alchemist who penned this manuscript had written in elegant cursive:

"The essence of Alchemy is creation."

"But creation is the right of the Creator. Those top alchemists, to conceal their theft of the authority to create, disguised creation as transformation and have deceived generations of alchemists thereafter."

Eve’s gaze drifted downward, lingering over the intricate cipher letters until she reached the final sentence on the title page, which read like a curse:

"Those who steal the authority of fate will be punished by fate. This is rebellion, and only the incomplete can reach the pinnacle of Alchemy."

This was far too abstract.

If being "unfortunate" meant becoming a top-tier Grand Alchemist, then most people in the interstellar community would eagerly vie for the position, praying to the heavens for such misfortune.

Eve blinked, holding up the slightly worn manuscript, and asked Luo Lin, "Luo Lin, do you know how this book came into our family’s possession?"

"Which one?" Luo Lin leaned over to look, and upon recognizing the cover, her expression cleared. "Oh, this one. The family acquired this manuscript only a few years ago. I remember the First Steward was responsible for collecting these books. This one seems to have been obtained from an elderly professor nearing retirement at the First Empire Academy. She was advanced in years, but her children had no talent for alchemy and couldn’t inherit her legacy, so she offered the book in exchange for a future for her child."

"That batch of books was quite high quality, except for this Cionanado manuscript. No one knows who the author really is, and the writing on the title page is rather cryptic."

Luo Lin rubbed her temples. "But my teacher thinks the ideas in this book, though unorthodox, are quite novel. Reading it helps with understanding the path of alchemy, so I borrowed it to take a look. Are you very interested in this book, Eve?"

"Somewhat," Eve said, catching another point in her words. "Your teacher?"

After spending so much time together, this was the first time Luo Lin had mentioned her mysterious teacher.

Most alchemists in the empire were registered with the Alchemist Association. Eve had assumed Luo Lin’s teacher was an alchemist supported by the family or secretly guided by the First Steward. But from Luo Lin’s tone, her teacher didn’t seem to be from the Medici family.

This was peculiar because Luo Lin being a Grand Alchemist was supposed to be a secret. Her name wasn’t registered on the Alchemist Association’s official website, and from Eve’s probing, Cecil only knew his sister studied alchemy but wasn’t aware she was already a three-star Grand Alchemist.

The latter was because he never asked, and Luo Lin never volunteered the information.

Who could keep Luo Lin’s affairs so tightly under wraps?

Eve had initially thought it was the family’s doing, but now she instinctively felt it had something to do with that teacher of hers.

But Luo Lin seemed reluctant to elaborate. She smoothed her snow-white hair, her gaze drifting absently for a moment before she snapped back to reality and said softly, "Sorry, Eve. My teacher forbade me from revealing her identity. It’s not that I don’t want to tell you—when I can, you’ll be the first to know, okay?"

"So the family head doesn’t know either?"

"He always thought the First Steward taught me."

It sounded like there was quite a secret involved. Eve tilted her head back, thinking for a moment, and decided curiosity killed the cat. If it wasn’t mentioned in the original novel, perhaps it wasn’t that important.

Perhaps it was better she didn’t know. "Alright then. If the family head doesn’t know, and I don’t know either, that’s fair. It kinda feels like I’ve been elevated—like claiming you earn less than a billion when you actually make three thousand a month, that kind of verbal artistry."

Luo Lin chuckled, but before the laughter could fully fade, Eve followed up with another question: "Then, did you tell your teacher about what I reminded you of last time? It’s not a small matter—better to know early and treat it early."

"I did. My teacher specializes in this area and has already taken my blood. She should have results soon," Luo Lin said, pursing her lips. "Thank you for reminding me, but there’s no need to worry anymore."

Eve nodded. As long as it was resolved.

Smart people knew when to stop talking. She buried herself back in her study of alchemy.

This Cionanado manuscript was unlike other alchemical works. Most others were legacy works where alchemists poured their life's learnings, eager to cram every profound insight they’d grasped into a small collection of manuscripts. Master Cionanado, however, seemed to have had a leisurely pace—not only did he write a preface that hit like a thunderclap, outright denying the widely accepted truths of the alchemy community, but he also slowly started from the most basic alchemical formulas, interpreting them from entirely new perspectives, making it quite suitable for beginners.

It’s just that his viewpoints were somewhat prone to leading beginners astray.

Eve flipped to the end of the book. The pages rustled as she reached the final few pages. She strained to read a couple of lines, only to make out what looked like alchemical recipes.

Something about... extraction... something... re-creation...

The ingredients were unfamiliar, and the process was incomprehensible.

Eve paused, then without changing expression, flipped back to the beginning of the book.

Never mind—she felt this book suited her quite well and decided to start learning slowly from the beginning.

As for Lorca, who was waiting for the life-saving medicine... well, he’d just have to stay alive on his own for now.