With the continual advancement of alchemy, the divine power of the God of Alchemy swelled steadily. Not long ago, he had even gotten his hands on technology from Hell. By now, he had thoroughly unraveled it, adding a substantial amount of rather hardcore lore to the discipline.
Yet simply accumulating such knowledge was not enough, for the mortal world's perception of alchemy dictated the God of Alchemy's strength. These secrets could not remain confined to the deity alone; they needed to be popularized through specialized means.
Originally, the Alchemy Association would have been a fine choice. They had plenty of alchemists, so gifting the knowledge directly to them would surely spread it in short order.
However, the God of Alchemy decisively rejected Anbaixiu's suggestion.
"This knowledge cannot be handed over to the opportunistic, short-sighted Alchemy Association. Otherwise, Oghma will step in to intervene once more."
Such was the God of Alchemy's warning to Anbaixiu.
Technologies involving infernal engines carried far too many techniques for biological and soul modification. Even though the God of Alchemy had refined them to be less bloody and cruel, the danger level of this knowledge remained extraordinarily high.
If entrusted to the Alchemy Association, they might very well cook up another depraved scheme like that cruel sewer god-creation project. By then, Oghma would not be so easy to appease—perhaps this time, he would slap them all to death with a single strike, offering no second chances.
Thus, the heavy burden of popularizing this new branch of alchemy fell upon Anbaixiu's shoulders. Only Anbaixiu was a student trusted by the God of Alchemy.
Though Anbaixiu was greedy, his capacity for restraint was equally formidable. Only he could properly manage the boundaries.
This put Anbaixiu in a tight spot. Relying on him alone to promote the technology—how long would that take?
Yet Anbaixiu had no alternative. This was a critical matter tied to the God of Alchemy's divine ascension; with any luck, his teacher might directly advance to a greater deity.
For the sake of his divine patron, Anbaixiu had no choice but to bite the bullet and press on.
The revised and reorganized new alchemical knowledge from the God of Alchemy was immense. If written out in detail, the books would fill several cities. After all, it was technology Hell had utilized for countless ages, iterated through untold generations. The reverse-engineered discoveries were correspondingly vast.
Broadly speaking, however, these new technologies could be divided into three parts.
The first was the infernal engine: a technology that burned souls for fuel to provide a comprehensive enhancement to its host. It appeared somewhat similar to the power furnaces of golem puppets, but the mana generated by a power furnace could only flow through pre-designed circuits, whereas an infernal engine could act directly upon any living organism.
Whether an insect or a human, a devil or a demon, any living creature could be empowered by the energy produced by an infernal engine's combustion—and it was an all-around empowerment.
After the God of Alchemy's modifications, the soul engine's efficacy had not diminished; instead, its efficiency was higher, and it could seamlessly replace the power furnaces of golem puppets, taking effect even on inorganic matter. It was a true, superior upgrade.
The warships Anbaixiu created with Simulated Soul technology were exceptionally suited for being retrofitted with this engine, though the cost was somewhat steep, and it could only burn soul fragments.
While this first technology was merely an optimization, the second was genuinely hardcore: biological modification techniques for living beings.
Anbaixiu had witnessed an infernal engine implantation procedure once before. It could hardly be called surgery; it resembled a sadistic murderer disemboweling a victim and forcefully stuffing an infernal engine inside.
Such crude butchery could be performed by any random ogre. Reason dictated that slicing open the body and carving out internal organs ought to be fatal on the spot, yet the success rate of such implantations in Hell was remarkably high.
This was due to Hell's unique biological modification technology: a special concoction that briefly granted an organism tremendous self-healing abilities. Operating almost like an absolute rule, it endowed the modified subject with supernatural adaptability. Though it lasted only a brief window, it was enough for the victim receiving the infernal engine to survive.
The God of Alchemy had once conducted an experiment, tossing a modified white mouse into boiling magma. While the vitality boost and adaptive effect remained active, the mouse had squealed from the scalding heat, yet it rapidly sprouted a layer of heat-insulating fur.
Such was the potency of hellish biotechnology: adaptive self-evolution. Whatever harsh environment it faced, it would develop corresponding resistances until the biological modification effect wore off.
Under normal circumstances, devils relied on this effect to endure the engine implantation. Once the body "adapted" to the foreign object, flesh, sinew, and fascia would fuse seamlessly with the infernal engine.
Of course, this adaptability had its limits; one could hardly expect to adapt after taking a direct slap from a deity. Still, resisting burns in magma, enduring freezing cold on snowy plains, or sprouting hardened scales when struck by blades and spears were all achievable. In most cases, adaptability merely ensured survival; what monstrosity one turned into in the end depended entirely on luck.
Consequently, in Hell, anyone fitted with an infernal engine was considered an elite. Ordinary devils found it hard to obtain one, and those who did often became grotesquely misshapen—the consequence of "adaptation."
Regrettably, tolerance to this potion built up very quickly. Most devils could use it two or three times at most; endless evolution was impossible.
As for the third technology, it seemed rather underwhelming: Hell's techniques for modifying souls. Reading memories, manufacturing false recollections, brainwashing, fusing... These were merely alterations, unlike Anbaixiu's ability to create souls out of thin air.
Anbaixiu casually flipped through the catalog of these techniques, immediately pointing at the second category and saying, "This is brilliant. We could sell it directly as an alchemical potion. Who wouldn't want to take a swig and become invulnerable?"
The God of Alchemy, however, replied, "Adding just one more alchemical potion would do little for me. I synthesized these technologies and designed this."
The God of Alchemy unfurled a massive blueprint. Countless lines and figures projected from its surface, dazzling Anbaixiu's eyes.
Soon enough, though, Anbaixiu picked out familiar elements.
"Mercury soul puppet, giant race's flesh piling, equipment enchantment..."
As he examined it, Anbaixiu read aloud the concepts he recognized. It incorporated over a dozen distinct alchemical creations and hundreds of alchemical principles, all converging into an entirely new species.
By the time Anbaixiu reached the end, he could not resist cursing, "Teacher, you're crazier than that sewer god-creation scheme!"
This new species looked like an ordinary mercury soul puppet on the surface, but it possessed several more innate talents than the original.
The original mercury soul puppet already boasted formidable magic resistance, the ability to devour metal, and shape-shifting mimicry—capabilities that were already extraordinarily potent.
Yet this modified mercury monstrosity also possessed infinite stacking, enchantment consumption, and berserk state.
Infinite stacking had originally been a divine spell of the ancient giant race, a blessing from Talos that allowed the corpses of warriors to be endlessly fused together until they turned into an indestructible material used for forging city gates or combat golems. The stuff was absurdly tough; even Arthur Ryan's Divine Smite had left only a minor nick upon it.
Now, the modified mercury soul puppet possessed this ability as well. By devouring its own kind, it could stack endlessly, simultaneously bolstering its magic resistance and physical resistance. In theory, so long as it did not overgorge itself, it could grow stronger without limit—until even deities could inflict no harm upon it.
Enchantment consumption was even more absurd. So long as one fed this creature a piece of enchanted gear, devouring it would allow the creature to replicate the enchantment's effects.
In theory, if this new mercury soul puppet devoured an artifact like the Blood of Lathander, it would gain the artifact's powers: summoning Holy Light, casting Resurrection, and the game-breaking ability to strip away the perceptions of the undead.
If it swallowed an anti-magic weapon, the attacks manifested by the mercury soul puppet would also carry an anti-magic effect. By extension, combined with infinite stacking, so long as it ate enough, this mercury soul puppet would possess countless magical effects. Five enchantments already constituted an artifact, yet this monster could theoretically possess infinite special properties.
Compared to those two preposterous abilities, the final berserk state seemed almost modest: burning its soul for an all-around enhancement, equivalent to the effect of an infernal engine. However, when activated, the mercury soul puppet would also gain the power to devour souls, sustaining itself continuously.
And in this blackened... no, berserk state, the mercury soul puppet would truly become ten times stronger.
Just imagine: a multi-ton monster with maxed-out physical and magical resistances, shimmering all over with dozens of magical glows, charging straight at you—and after taking a single bite out of you, it would grow ten times stronger still.
"Teacher, bringing this thing into existence is genuinely absurd. How are you any different from that bunch of lunatics?"
The God of Alchemy also recognized that the design went a bit too far; otherwise, Oghma wouldn't have actively warned him. Thus, the God of Alchemy said to Anbaixiu, "I summoned you here precisely to help me weaken it. This thing cannot be made without a nerf. But so long as we tone it down so it doesn't cross the line, this new species will become my divine servitors. Their very existence will stand as the ultimate symbol of alchemy."
Anbaixiu understood his teacher's intent: the technology could not be proliferated, but the product could.
Anbaixiu alone could never match the production capacity of the entire Alchemy Association, making solo promotion far too slow. But a self-reproducing species could be bred just like pigs. Allowing them to grow and multiply would yield tremendous output.
The more specimens there were representing the pinnacle of alchemical achievement, the greater alchemy's influence would become, and the faster the God of Alchemy would complete his divine ascension.
It was a fine plan, but how was he supposed to nerf this abomination?
It fused alchemy, Simulated Soul, soul puppet crafting, Talos's divine magic, and Hell's biological modification techniques... Anbaixiu didn't even know where to begin trimming it down.
After pondering for a long while, Anbaixiu suggested, "How about we first construct a prototype in the divine realm? Then we can observe whether its abilities degrade across generations. If they do degenerate, things will be much simpler."
Chapter 582