Truth Is a Bird That Cannot Be Caged

Anbaixiu did not take Bater and the mercury soul puppets with him. He merely healed their injuries and left them hidden here on standby. This natural Mercury River was the ideal environment for their growth; as long as they sank to the riverbed, ordinary demons would be helpless against them. Anbaixiu's original plan was to keep Bater stationed here to monitor demonic movements, allowing him to tamper with the spatial conduit through the magic mirror whenever necessary. Bater, however, harbored different ideas. As a devout believer in Anbaixiu, he conscientiously embraced Anbaixiu's desires as the goal of his own struggles. Although Bater had no idea what Anbaixiu's true plan entailed, he knew that what Anbaixiu wished to contend with was the demons—the boundless, endless ocean of demons. Floating upon the surface of the Mercury River, Bater shaped a pair of arms and pointed toward the fractured space in the distance. "Our enemies are over there! The White Bone God seeks to destroy these demons, yet we are far too weak. Even joining forces, it took tremendous hardship just to fell one of them." Those winged boar demons earlier had only been slain with the aid of Anbaixiu's illusions. Without that assistance, the demons would have torn them all to shreds with just a little extra time. A mercury soul puppet's magical resistance was formidable, and they could ignore a portion of physical harm, but if struck dead-on by an irresistible blast of brute force, surviving was nearly impossible. For the first time since his birth, Bater tangibly felt his own frailty. The other mercury soul puppets were equally subdued. Since their creation in the divine realm, this was their first true realization of the disparity in power. "The enemy is right there!" Bater emphasized once more. The other mercury soul puppets could only answer helplessly, "But we can't win! Their numbers are overwhelming!" Bater countered, "Our numbers can grow immense as well. This is a Mercury River—we will never lack for sustenance. My kin, are you willing to sacrifice everything for the White Bone God?" "We are!" Different voices chimed in unison; every single mercury soul puppet was willing to give their all for their creator. Bater morphed into human form, raised his right hand high, and cried aloud, "For the White Bone God! For our creator, exterminate these demons!" The mercury soul puppets boiled with fervor, each morphing into various living shapes and shouting at the top of their lungs! Following the passionate declaration, a mercury soul puppet immediately piped up, "Bater, we can still divide and reproduce twice. Given enough time, our numbers can fill this space as well!" Bater shook his head. "It is not that simple. Although our progeny grow swiftly, what can we accomplish with our bodies alone? Even those drooling demons wield blades and armor; why should we rely solely on our bare flesh? Kin, we received divine grace within the realm of the gods! Boundless alchemical knowledge is etched into our inherited memories. Must we fight like beasts using only claws and fangs?" The other mercury soul puppets fell into deep contemplation. Bater's stature suddenly surged taller. His left hand formed a longsword, while his right shaped a wand of mercury. "The gods told us that the world restricted our might, leaving our powerful forebear, Evil Silver Shaded, confined within the divine realm. Yet the laws of the world only bar the transmission of raw power; they do not curb the blossoming of wisdom! From the moment of our birth, we inherited the wisdom and insight of all our ancestors. Can we not employ that wisdom to achieve far more for the White Bone God?!" Holding the mercury wand aloft, Bater began chanting an intricate incantation. A sphere of flame coalesced at the wand's tip, and the fist-sized fire flew over a dozen meters, blasting a small scorched crater into the riverbank. Fire Bolt—hardly even a true spell, merely a cantrip. Bater had never systematically studied magic; this cantrip was among the very few spells he had managed to grasp. "Magic and alchemy—this is the strength of wisdom! Since we have been blessed with intellect, we must not squander it. Kin, pray to our deity! Beg him to bestow greater knowledge so that we may conquer this world!" At Bater's rallying cry, the mercury soul puppets all took up the shout: "For the White Bone God!" Unfortunately, Anbaixiu was still merely mortal. This faith could only drain into his Golden Throne, joining that mountain of gold that had long grown beyond reckoning. The volume of gold converted from this faith was so minuscule that Anbaixiu could hardly detect it. Yet within the divine realm, Evil Silver Shaded felt it with utter clarity. Strictly speaking, Evil Silver Shaded was the true racial deity of the mercury soul puppets; it was just that starting from him, the object of every puppet's faith had warped entirely toward Anbaixiu. Sensing the tide of emotion transmitted from Bater, the hill-sized Evil Silver Shaded blew a few bubbles. "Knowledge? Magic? Alchemy?" Evil Silver Shaded's massive bulk quivered, only for him to realize he understood none of these things. As the very first mercury soul puppet, his intellect was still inferior to that of a normal human, comparable at best to a child barely ten years old. Physical might could not induce a qualitative leap in intelligence; Bater's request was simply an impossible task for him. Evil Silver Shaded had initially intended to ignore the plea of this great-great-great-grandson, but Bater had proclaimed it was for the "White Bone God." "Ah, for the White Bone God." Resigned, Evil Silver Shaded squirmed his body forward until he came before the enormous magic mirror. Reaching out telepathically to Bater far away in the Abyssal plane, Evil Silver Shaded rumbled, "Ask away. I will obtain the answers from the magic mirror, and then transmit all the knowledge to every member of the clan." The God of Alchemy's divine realm housed the true body of the magic mirror, which naturally possessed every administrative privilege over the mirrors, including a vast array of forbidden knowledge known only to the God of Alchemy. Bater's comprehension of magic was still exceedingly rudimentary, so drawing answers from the magic mirror proved effortless. From there, the foundational knowledge flowed out from Evil Silver Shaded's soul, shared among all the mercury soul puppets. Depending on the aptitude of each puppet, their pace of learning and comprehension varied, but compared to the study methods of other races, this was nothing short of cheating. In merely half a day, the magical prowess of the entire mercury soul puppet race leapt up a full tier. Individuals born with sharper wits like Bater mastered over five spells in that brief span. Though they were all bottom-tier cantrips, the speed far outstripped a human mage copying scrolls, and it came without any adverse side effects. Anbaixiu had just returned and was discussing with Paluriel how to excavate the entire Blood River battlefield when he sensed the shift in Evil Silver Shaded. "Why has this lazy fellow suddenly developed a passion for studying?" Anbaixiu merely voiced an offhand remark; studying was hardly a bad thing, and perhaps in a few years Evil Silver Shaded could even serve as an assistant to the God of Alchemy. The God of Alchemy was even more thrilled. He had never expected a lazy fool to dedicate himself to study, so he decided to grant Evil Silver Shaded a time-acceleration effect and cast several intellect-enhancing spells on him from time to time. Neither master nor disciple paid the matter much heed, however, simply because both had far too much on their plates. Anbaixiu was occupied with investigating the Blood River battlefield while constantly guarding against trouble from Cyric, whereas the God of Alchemy took direct charge of the magic mirror's operations concerning the Alchemy Association. The incantation "Magic mirror, magic mirror, tell me" was by now universally known. Apprentices transformed into licensed alchemists overnight, and junior alchemists passed examinations to advance to intermediate rank. Yet this threw the Alchemy Association into utter turmoil. Talents had multiplied, but positions were in short supply. Intermediate alchemists were originally entitled to handsome monthly stipends, discounts on various magical ingredients, preferential access to private laboratories, and much more. But with so many candidates passing recent exams, the Alchemy Association simply could not deliver on these promised perks all at once. Although Gustavo Fring strove mightily to suppress the rumblings of discontent and promptly suspended the qualification examinations, he knew this was merely a stopgap measure. No alchemist would ever remain content with the status quo; they would relentlessly chase knowledge to claw their way to higher stations. If the association's scale could not accommodate so many alchemists, the institution would inevitably crumble. Yet Gustavo Fring was utterly at a loss for a solution. Physical resources were finite; unlike knowledge, they could not be duplicated at will. The Dwarf Kingdom was only so large, and the Alchemy Association controlled only so many workshops. Even if he ousted the unqualified figures who had relied on personal connections, the newly vacated posts still fell far short of satisfying the crowd. Gustavo Fring massaged his temples; the dilemma was dreadfully intractable. He could not help cursing, "Do they truly not care if their souls are claimed by a devil? Madmen, the lot of them!" Trading for knowledge through the magic mirror did not come without a price. According to that devil, knowledge had to be exchanged for knowledge: if you sought answers on alchemical lore, you had to provide knowledge of equal caliber in return, and whether a transaction succeeded depended entirely on the devil's mood. Should one fail to offer equivalent knowledge, their soul would be forfeited to the devil. Yet despite such peril, countless alchemists still flocked to the bargain like moths to a flame. Perhaps to them, spending an entire lifetime as an apprentice was no different from languishing in Hell. It was nothing more than the nuances of flame temperature, the direction of stirring, or a discrepancy of mere seconds during mixing—knowledge that could be understood in a single sentence, yet zealously hoarded by those high-and-mighty alchemists. Exploited like slaves day in and day out by their mentors, threatened with having their eyes gouged out for stealing a single glance at an alchemical journal—who would want to endure such an existence forever? Who did not harbor the dream of becoming an alchemist? Who did not wish to elevate themselves above the common herd through learning? It was under these circumstances that many apprentices and junior alchemists chose to stake everything on a gamble. Though plenty failed and paid a tragic toll, many nonetheless vaulted ahead in one stride to become licensed alchemists. Introductory alchemical lore was never inherently difficult. Ordinary folk lacked only two things to become licensed alchemists: a viable channel for learning, and the ruinously expensive process of trial and error. Those "exclusive secret formulas" that the older generation had spent mountains of gold coins to piece together were secrets they would sooner take to their graves than impart to their disciples. Yet if those so-called secret formulas were laid bare, many alchemists would discover that others had stumbled upon them long ago. The blockade of knowledge had been the Alchemy Association's instrument for keeping these alchemists under control. Now, however, that cordon had been ripped to shreds by that devil. The unstoppable dissemination of foundational knowledge spurred a meteoric rise in the competence of the lower ranks. Gustavo Fring had considered raising the evaluation standards—demoting former intermediate alchemists to junior status, and junior alchemists to apprentices. It was simply a matter of ramping up exam difficulty, and drafting a far more challenging test posed no problem for him. Yet the moment the idea was proposed, it met with fierce opposition from every member of the Alchemy Association. Not every alchemist was a legend. Even among senior alchemists, who didn't have relatives or friends in the trade? A blanket demotion like this would slash more than half of the privileges they already enjoyed. If they refused to accept it, how could the alchemists who had just passed their examinations ever agree? Were such a policy enforced, the Alchemy Association would unravel in short order. Yet dragging things out was no remedy either; Gustavo Fring had to resolve this crisis as swiftly as possible. This was not solely an internal affair of the Alchemy Association; it would also jeopardize his partnership with the Goblin Bank. Long ago, when the New Alchemy Association was first established, Gustavo Fring had run into a severe financial crisis and was forced to borrow from those crazed goblins. What he paid was not mere interest, however, but involuntary entanglement in their deranged scheme. By now, Gustavo Fring had received multiple warnings: if the Alchemy Association failed to resolve this problem promptly, the goblins would initiate a complete buyout of the entire association to safeguard their secret project, demoting Gustavo Fring to a mere hired hand. Just as he was agonizing over what course to take, the magic mirror atop his desk lit up unprompted, and the God of Alchemy manifested upon the glass. Gustavo Fring had never seen the God of Alchemy's true visage. At their previous encounter, the deity had merely projected a fabricated incarnation that differed markedly from his current appearance. Yet the instant he laid eyes on the figure, Gustavo Fring knew who it was. Staring in shock at the deity in the mirror, it took him a long while before he managed a respectful murmur: "Wise and mighty deity, does your appearance herald even worse tidings?" The God of Alchemy sighed. "Flynn, desist. An alchemist ought to devote himself to scholarship; squabbling over power and profit offers you no benefit whatsoever." Gustavo Fring gave a bitter smile. "So all of this was your doing. I had thought it was that damned lich." Although the news of Anbaixiu's resurrection remained concealed, it was hardly a secret to figures of great stature; with such an uproar in Hell, it was impossible for no one on this plane to take notice. The God of Alchemy shook his head. "Your heart is poisoned with envy, and that sentiment has clouded your intellect. You once had other choices, yet you still settled upon the greediest, most erroneous path." Had Gustavo Fring not coveted Anbaixiu's holdings and instead preserved the status quo as the elves had done, Anbaixiu would never have plotted against the Alchemy Association, and Gustavo Fring would never have been reduced to his current straits. Yet these words seemed to prick the legendary alchemist's pride. Gustavo Fring flared with anger: "You do not even bother hiding your partiality! You are the God of Alchemy—you ought to shield us alchemists! Why side with that lich?!" The God of Alchemy did not answer the accusation directly. Instead, he spoke leisurely of the past. "Flynn, when you were ten years old and first touched alchemy, your curiosity led you to blend two potions that triggered an explosion, injuring your right hand. Yet far from being cowed, you penned a diary entry about the mishap. Do you still remember what you wrote back then?" Gustavo Fring froze, caught entirely off guard by the God of Alchemy bringing this up. How could the deity possibly know of it? He had almost forgotten the memory himself. "I no longer remember," Gustavo Fring ground out through clenched teeth. "You wrote in your diary that once you became an alchemist, you would make sure to record that accident in a book so that other alchemists would know such an act leads to an explosion. It was on that very day that I began watching over you." He had been watching him all this time? Impossible. Utterly impossible! "Flynn, you were once just like those apprentices, desperately hungry to absorb every scrap of knowledge, and desperately eager to share everything with others. I watched you grow, and I watched you stray into ruin. You were once thrilled to share your discoveries; in the end, you became a staunch guardian of hoarding knowledge." Gustavo Fring retorted passionately, "That is the reality of alchemy! We need funds, and we need ingredients! How else could we accumulate them without monopolizing knowledge? A single experiment of ours demands thousands, tens of thousands of gold coins in trial and error. If we publicized formulas willy-nilly, others could replicate them for a handful of silver coins. Had I acted like that, I would have starved to death long ago!" The God of Alchemy shook his head. "I am not debating right and wrong with you. I am merely stating a reality—just as water flows downhill, just as gold remains stable, just as the youth potion cannot do without magical ingredients from the elves. This is not about right or wrong; it is a fact. "And the fact is, truth is a bird that cannot be caged. The day will come when it breaks free of its bars and takes flight before all eyes. You have spent your life suppressing alchemical knowledge, yet you never prepared for this day. You accuse me of favoritism, but mark my words: I have never bestowed upon him a single blessing in alchemy. On the contrary, every single one of you legendary alchemists received my aid during your ascensions—I simply never told you."