Chapter 38: The Miracle of Alchemy, the Philosopher’s Stone
The Philosopher’s Stone—the embodiment of miracles, the pinnacle of alchemy.
Its concept was first proposed in 648 CE by Isaac, a master alchemist and Holy Domain mage from the Central Republic.
Using the bodies and crystal cores of numerous magical and ferocious beasts, he refined a fragment of this miracle—a speck of the Philosopher’s Stone no larger than a grain of dust.
Subsequent experiments on this “dust” yielded two conclusions:
First, the Philosopher’s Stone was a universal material, applicable in any alchemical or magical context.
It served as the ultimate equivalent in alchemy, capable of being exchanged for any item of equal value.
In magical arrays and rune inscriptions, it was a flawless conductor of mana, transmitting it without delay or loss.
If judged solely by this first conclusion, the Philosopher’s Stone could indeed be called the embodiment of miracles and the apex of alchemy.
However, compared to the second conclusion, the first seemed almost trivial.
The second conclusion was that the Philosopher’s Stone could grant a wish equal to its weight, provided an additional cost was paid.
Experiments revealed this cost could be more Philosopher’s Stone, material from the physical world, or the most ethereal thing—fate itself.
If the stone’s weight was sufficient, it could even achieve the greatest miracle: resurrection.
Yet, no alchemist had ever achieved this miracle of resurrection.
In the over one thousand years since Isaac, no alchemist had replicated his process to create the Philosopher’s Stone—not even its residue or magically charged byproducts.
This led later alchemists to suspect Isaac had concealed critical details of the refining process.
This suspicion wasn’t baseless.
Historical records noted that within fifteen minutes of Isaac’s death, his residence was consumed by raging flames.
By the time his students extinguished the fire, everything in the house was destroyed—except for a jade tablet clutched in the hands of Isaac’s charred skeleton.
This tablet, Isaac’s final relic, known as the Emerald Record—the truth of alchemy—was recovered by his students and preserved in the White Tower to this day.
When Yuehua produced the half-fist-sized red crystal with a faint golden glow inside, Corona’s attention was immediately drawn to it.
Mysterious—that was Corona’s first impression of the crystal.
Then, it felt as if her soul was being pulled in, her mind overwhelmed by countless chaotic voices.
In a daze, she glimpsed the fundamental laws governing the world’s operation.
“Is this some kind of beast core?” Corona asked Yuehua.
“No, this is the most precious thing in the world—the embodiment of miracles, the Philosopher’s Stone,” Yuehua said slowly.
Corona’s pupils contracted, her gaze darting between Yuehua’s face and the stone.
“In the nearly fifteen hundred years since Master Isaac’s death, countless alchemists have searched for the correct method to refine the Philosopher’s Stone, yet none have succeeded,” Yuehua continued.
“But today, Lady Mercury handed me this half-fist-sized Philosopher’s Stone—far larger than the speck Master Isaac created.”
“Are you saying Lady Mercury, the chief alchemist of the Alchemy Society, broke through and found the way to refine the Philosopher’s Stone?!” Corona said, shocked.
“Yes. During our academic exchange today, she gave me this crystal.
It’s time for it to serve its purpose,” Yuehua said, standing up.
“What’s your relationship with Lady Mercury, and why use something so precious here?” Corona asked, her eyes complex as she looked at Yuehua’s reddened eyes.
Corona knew what the Philosopher’s Stone was.
Every child in the Central Republic had heard the tale of Isaac creating a miracle.
The embodiment of miracles, the pinnacle of alchemy—given enough weight, it could even make resurrection a reality.
But to Corona, this stone’s weight was too immense.
It could do far more—push the era forward—not just be used on a dead Tier-Seven grand mage, especially when it might require an additional cost.
The Central Republic had plenty of grand mages; losing Lu Ming wouldn’t make a difference.
Yet, for once, the ever-selfless Corona harbored a selfish desire—she wanted Lu Ming to live.
This miracle belonged to the world, but Corona wanted to claim it, no matter the cost, if it meant Lu Ming could open her eyes again.
“She’s my teacher, and I’m an alchemist too.
We must act quickly,” Yuehua said.
“What cost do I need to pay?” Corona asked.
What was the cost?
Corona didn’t want to owe Little Moon such a massive favor.
Even if the miracle wasn’t replicated, this debt would be one she could never repay, even if she gave herself entirely to Yuehua.
“No cost is needed,” Yuehua said to Corona.
“You’re my sister, and Lu Ming is like my own child.”
“Besides, she’s Lady Mercury’s grand-disciple.
This Philosopher’s Stone was entrusted to me by Lady Mercury—I have the right to decide its use.”
“So, Lu Ming is worthy of this miracle.”
And this is what I should do, what I must do, Yuehua thought to herself.
At her words, tears poured down Corona’s face.
My sister, my Little Moon—if I don’t have to pay a price, then who will bear the weight of this life?
Why are you doing so much for me, for Lu Ming?
I love you so much, and I’m so sorry.
“I’m sorry…” Corona choked back sobs.
“It’s okay, Captain.”
And I love you.
Yuehua crouched down, hugging Corona tightly.
It was the only thing she could do for her now.
But if something went wrong, wouldn’t that be too selfish toward Lu Yue?
Lu Yue, that child, loved her mother dearly.
Yuehua glanced back at Lu Yue, still lying on the stretcher.
“Captain…” Yuehua said to Corona.
“If something happens to me, please be her next mother.”
The world’s first miracle had no blueprint for Yuehua to follow.
She could only rely on herself to achieve resurrection in this rushed moment.
An accident was entirely possible.
“You…” Corona looked at Yuehua sharply.
Yuehua only smiled and said, “You understand, Captain.
My mind is made up.”
Corona closed her eyes, silent for a long moment, then nodded heavily.
She would treat Lu Yue as her own.
“Then hand Lu Ming to me.
Let’s find a quiet place to bring Sleeping Beauty home,” Yuehua said, extending her arms to Corona.
Corona gently placed Lu Ming into Yuehua’s embrace.
The two then took to the air, flying toward the wetland park.
High in the sky, Lu Ming’s lifeless body lay in Yuehua’s arms.
The wind whipped her hair, revealing a serene, almost lifelike sleeping expression.