Wang Shui Teaches You Alchemy

Wang Shui was woken by the clang of metal. When he sat up, he discovered that he had slept fully dressed on the bed.

His body felt weak and insubstantial, his limbs limp, but he was fairly alert mentally, nothing like someone who had lost 1,500 milliliters of blood.

Wang Shui made his way with difficulty to the rubbish heap downstairs. Sure enough, a "Greyhound" delivery robot was banging on the old iron door with its mechanical arm.

The composite-material crate outside contained his powered armor, while the thin wooden crate held the books he had ordered. Once he confirmed receipt, the flat, iron-gray delivery robot immediately darted out of the alley with extraordinary agility. Wang Shui had only raised a hand; he had not even managed to say, "Help me carry them inside."

Fine, then.

Returning slowly to the shop, Wang Shui could not find his usual lightweight powered arms. He could only rummage through an old shelf for an ancient exoskeleton. Its main component was a broad belt. Below the metal belt, two metal strips followed his legs down to the ground and wrapped around the soles of his shoes. Above the belt, however, two metal arms hung limp like cables.

Oh, an external power supply. What an ancient design.

Wang Shui pulled a thin metal cable from the repair bench beside him and plugged it into the side of the belt. The two metal arms immediately rose, reaching over his shoulders like flexible tentacles and entering standby mode.

Damn. Only after several failed attempts to connect did Wang Shui realize that this powered mechanical exoskeleton was actually manually operated. It had no interface for thought control at all. Was this thing a hundred years old?

Fortunately, technological products were fairly foolproof to operate. The touch-sensitive buttons on the belt were simple, and after a little experimentation, Wang Shui could control the two mechanical tentacles with considerable dexterity.

Even with the exoskeleton's assistance, Wang Shui still felt weak. Losing too much blood felt awful, and this was one of the concerns that had always kept him from selling his blood.

As it happened, the priest had first encountered Wang Shui while bringing a newcomer over to have something repaired, and had then been drawn to the aura of his blood.

Only after a bewildering exchange about science and theology had Wang Shui managed to gain a rough understanding of what made him special.

Wang Shui's body was not actually all that rare. In this city alone, there were at least tens of thousands of others belonging to the [First Series Human Race], just like him.

What was very peculiar, however, was that after birth, any individual would normally be permeated and irradiated by the various energies of the supernatural world. This did not go so far as to cause mutations, but the energies did seep into their flesh and blood, and even their souls. Of course, this was not harmful; it was simply the process of an individual synchronizing with the world.

Wang Shui was different, however. His body was indeed synchronizing with the world, but he had not changed to adapt to it. His body would grow and age, yet it would forever remain fundamentally in its newborn state. The priest believed the reason lay in his soul, while Wang Shui privately thought it was probably an issue with his talent.

The [Blood of the Newly Born] sold on the market was a very obscure and rare resource. It had other names, too, such as newborn umbilical cord blood or heart's blood.

After warning Wang Shui to protect his little secret, the priest immediately proposed buying his blood. At the time, however, Wang Shui was still a nervous newcomer and knew nothing about the priest. Seeing only that the man seemed reasonable, he had firmly refused.

The priest had not insisted. He left his contact information and departed. Wang Shui was rather worried about this potentially fatal information, but could only bury it in his heart.

Fear of being drained to death, distrust of a stranger, and not knowing how much his blood was worth: those had been Wang Shui's three concerns at the time.

Later, his steadily growing knowledge gradually dispelled those concerns, but Wang Shui still had not considered selling blood, because [Blood of the Newly Born] was merely rare, not particularly valuable.

He had thought of selling blood to the priest in exchange for items yesterday only because, of everyone Wang Shui knew, the priest had the highest tier and the best reputation.

In the end, the rewards had been good, but the aftereffects were a little deadly. Wang Shui felt that even eating would be a struggle now.

He controlled the exoskeleton's mechanical tentacles to carry the two crates inside,

Wang Shui inspected the goods first. The powered armor was brand-new and unactivated, so there were no problems there; he set it aside for now. The other major purchase was the alchemy notebook worth ten silver coins, housed in a wooden box in the middle of the book crate. Wang Shui recognized almost all the writing in the notebook. It used the two modern common languages of this safe zone-[Book Language] and [Youtula Language]-along with a large number of simple geometric symbols, such as triangles and circles.

There were very few particularly abstract alchemical symbols, indicating that the knowledge in this notebook had taken shape in modern times. It should not be difficult to learn, but Wang Shui could not yet understand those strange diagrammatic formulas.

Fortunately, the tools for finding the answers were right beside him: the other books in the crate, a comprehensive introduction to alchemy totaling 114 volumes.

There were many things before Wang Shui now: studying alchemy, testing and familiarizing himself with the powered armor, practicing the use of secret cards, and carrying out the modifications he had planned.

He had only a week. Wang Shui did not dare waste it.

He closed the shop straightaway, then went upstairs to begin studying alchemy. This would take the most time, and it was also what Wang Shui valued most. He hoped to acquire the ability to repair his powered armor whenever necessary in the wilderness, which would make things much safer.

While taking out all the books, Wang Shui also discovered a paper packet. Inside were Old Moran's handwritten recommended reading order and a translucent, tea-colored crystal card.

This card was not a secret card, merely a data storage card, similar to a USB drive.

The data consisted of pictures and videos that accompanied certain books. This was what Wang Shui liked about the Moran Bookstore. Price aside, the goods were certainly genuine.

Following Old Moran's advice, Wang Shui opened the first book, The Alchemical View of the Ages. It was an accessible history of alchemy that explained its origins in simple, straightforward terms:

At the time, the term "alchemist" did not yet exist. In the course of understanding and exploring the world, ancient sages had treated cheap metals through methods they themselves did not understand, producing a gold-like appearance and texture. They believed they had achieved "turning stone into gold," and recorded and passed down this knowledge.

Clearly, these had merely been chemical phenomena. As that knowledge spread through centuries of ignorance, it gradually became distorted and even turned into legend. The term [alchemy], however, survived, and later gave rise to the discipline of chemistry.

Alchemy in its modern, supernatural sense originated with the earliest people to acquire supernatural powers. They consciously explored the source of those powers and, through the accumulation and transmission of knowledge, gradually refined a system of supernatural knowledge centered on changes in energy. Alchemy was one of its products.

The core of modern alchemy was [ascension] and [descension]. Its specific primary definitions also included "transformation," "creation," "dissociation," "harmonization," "optimization," "degradation," "positive and negative catalysis," and more.

Divided into specific categories, there were "energy alchemy," "mechanical alchemy," "pharmaceutical alchemy," "biological alchemy," and so on. These did not exist in opposition to one another. They were interconnected, influenced one another, and were inseparable.

Wang Shui learned from the book that modern mathematics, physics, and chemistry were also foundational disciplines of alchemy. If someone did not even understand the basic properties of matter or know how to use mathematical tools, how could they hope to work with delicate transformations?

Further on came the history of the evolution of alchemical symbols, as well as the development of alchemical spells and energy use.

Early symbols were complex. A long string was needed to express a single occult meaning, and they contained numerous errors, omissions, and ambiguities. Modern alchemy abstracted alchemical concepts into simple geometric shapes, also used small amounts of modern writing to construct alchemical arrays, and established standardized terminology and a unified system of measurement.

Overall, modern alchemy was more specialized and had a much higher barrier to entry, but research had become more coherent and orderly.

Wang Shui already had a decent foundation in mathematics, physics, and chemistry. What he lacked was supernatural knowledge, especially knowledge of the occult.

Wang Shui soon finished the relatively thin book in his hands and opened the next one, The Legacy of Hermes, a detailed analysis of ancient alchemy. The book after that was Gold Transmutation, the Philosopher's Stone, and the Elixir of Life. It explained how ancient alchemical scholars had mistranslated texts from even earlier times. They had translated certain philosophical ideas about exploring divinity and the spirit, proposed by sages of remote antiquity, into concrete legendary objects: the so-called "philosopher's stone," "Sage's stone," "elixir of immortality," and so forth.

They had lived in a rather dark age. Believing that alchemy's transmission had once been severed, they imagined that alchemy had been extraordinarily advanced in more ancient times. They then fantasized about alchemical products with wildly exaggerated capabilities and devoted their lives to recreating them. This had led alchemy down many winding paths, but had also broadened the horizons of later generations.

Interestingly, the most advanced products of modern alchemy had truly realized some of their fantasies. To commemorate that dark, frenzied, and helpless age, the major academic institutions had jointly established an academic award for alchemy-the [Philosopher's Stone Award].

Wang Shui was not reading these materials for amusement. He was refining his understanding of alchemy. The greatest concern with learning through unorthodox methods was going astray and wasting time. Establishing a correct overall perspective first was important.

Moreover, Wang Shui had already discovered quite a few things that differed from his preconceptions. For example, he remembered that back home, people used an alchemical concept called [Equivalent Exchange]. This was a premise from modern entertainment works, and everyone felt it had a philosophical quality, so they spread the concept around.

Yet Wang Shui found that the vast majority of texts explicitly stated that the alchemical process was not equivalent: input always exceeded output. Of course, "exceeded" here did not refer to worldly value, but to the abstract algebraic sum of matter and energy.

To change the form or even the type of matter, to make energy change, or to harmonize or separate substances, one had to expend additional energy or matter to control the process.

[Reducing the cost] was what alchemy here pursued.

Alchemy was so fascinating that, without the pressures of making a living, Wang Shui would even have wanted to become a professional alchemical scholar. Just as he had loved chemistry in college, this creative knowledge possessed a peculiar beauty.

Learning without thought led to confusion; thought without learning led to peril. Wang Shui also believed that learning without action led to emptiness.

After spending a long time reading, Wang Shui prepared to put a few small projects into practice and begin the first alchemical work of his life.

There was a slight problem with the first step. Wang Shui had noted down all the little tools alchemy required, but gathering them at short notice would be difficult unless he went out to browse an alchemy shop right now. Not wanting to waste time, he first ordered a set online for delivery tomorrow, then prepared to find some substitutes to practice with.

Soon, Wang Shui found a protective steel plate downstairs to replace a professional array plate, and some [conductive gel]-a cold-bonding substance similar to solder-to replace energy-bearing chalk. Then he began drawing straightaway.

Drawing standard geometric shapes freehand was supposedly a fundamental skill in alchemy. Wang Shui did not currently have that degree of bodily control, so he chose to use a ruler and compass.

With a few simple strokes, he finished a palm-sized basic pattern of concentric circles containing an upright equilateral triangle. Wang Shui added no other symbols. He planned to replace writing with speech, which would be a little safer.

After repeatedly confirming that simple alchemy would not explode, Wang Shui rested both hands on the edges of the protective steel plate. His eyes fixed on the alloy nut placed in the very center of the pattern, and he guided his mental power out through his hands toward the plate while reciting:

[Let the mind mirror the stars, kindle the pale-blue crystal glow, ascend within the cycle, and shape within thought.]

After finishing the recitation, Wang Shui continued guiding his mental power. Finally, another five seconds later, the conductive gel lit up with a pale-blue glow: the glow of unattributed energy.

After a long while, the alloy nut in the center of the protective steel plate suddenly flattened a little, as though it were modeling clay being squeezed by something invisible.

That was Wang Shui's mental power, an occult energy produced by the intertwining of the "thought" and "mind" attributes.

Wang Shui worked hard to focus his mental power, and the alloy nut in the middle soon crumpled into a metal ball. He had wanted to observe it a little longer, but as his 216 points of unattributed energy ran out, his connection to the makeshift alchemical array rapidly broke.

A sense of loss washed over him. Wang Shui felt as though he were missing two hands, and his mind grew dazed, his head a little dizzy.

Looking at the newly formed metal ball, Wang Shui first briefly examined its exterior, then cut it open with a cutting machine to inspect it. Finally, he burned and melted it down in a clay crucible.

Wang Shui opened a digital notebook and recorded the process of his first alchemical experiment in detail, along with his experiences during it and the properties of the product. This time, he did not use paper.

Once he finished recording, Wang Shui began comparing his results with the information in the introductory books, and quite a few questions arose.

Overall, the experiment had gone smoothly, but the experience differed greatly from the books' descriptions, making Wang Shui frown deeply. He sent a text message and, upon receiving a reply, immediately changed into clean casual clothes, threw on a black shoulder cape, and went out.

Heading east through the night, Wang Shui paid no attention to the journey. His mind was still reviewing the alchemical experiment he had just performed.

When he stopped and raised his head, an old three-story brick-and-stone building stood before him. Its overall floor area was large, but its storefront was extremely narrow. Wang Shui checked the sign:

[Moran Bookstore]

This was the place. Wang Shui pushed open the heavy iron-bound wooden door. The brass bell above gave a low, aged chime, and the young man dozing over the counter by the entrance blearily opened his eyes to look at him.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Moran. He told me to go straight to the small study," Wang Shui said, getting directly to the point.

"Mm~ uh-that way. Just open the door at the back," the clerk answered listlessly, showing no intention of leading him.

Wang Shui gave him a slight nod of thanks, then strode through the narrow aisle, squeezed past the "plump" bookshelves and piles of loose books on the floor to reach the very back, and pushed open the thick wooden door.

It was a small study, and the whole room was rather dim. One wall had been converted into bookshelves, though there were not many books on them. The enormous solid-wood desk in front of the shelves, however, looked quite comfortable.

Opposite the desk was a large fireplace with a small fire burning inside. Beside it stood a low table and several armchairs. A small night-light was actually clipped to the back of each chair.

Old Moran, a little old man with a neatly groomed, grizzled full beard, was reading a hefty tome in the armchair closest to the fireplace. He beckoned to Wang Shui as he entered, then asked in a slightly hoarse voice:

"What, unhappy with that notebook and looking to return it?"