Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

"When Ba Jin died, he chose a sandalwood box as his burial item, which, according to him, contained his most treasured possessions. Everything else, he gave to me."

"And I used this knowledge to learn how to make alchemical ammunition for dragon fire."

"That notebook of Ba Jin's research on the Philosopher's Stone became my reading material when I was bored."

"As I read, it felt like I was standing beside him, watching his experiments, seeing his path become clearer and clearer, and even developing a sense of anticipation, as if he had truly found the right path."

"I feel like I'm witnessing his legend."

"I flipped to the very end of the notebook..."

[I found it! I found it!!! I found the method to create the Philosopher's Stone!!! I became a legend!!! I am the first alchemist in the world to create a legendary stone based on this damn theory!!! I'm a legend too!!! I really should have a drink!!! Hehehe, I did drink it!!! And then my stomach ruptured! Damn it! Damn it!!! I'm going to die, even the Philosopher's Stone can't save me, humph! I'm going to take this secret to my grave, let those fools continue to explore and fail! Hehehe! The Philosopher's Stone will be my greatest secret.]

They're all wrong! Only I am right! The Philosopher's Stone is not our starting point, but our end! It is the death of all things. Its power is to kill diseases in life, to achieve immortality, to kill low-value elements in ores, to regenerate precious metals, to turn lead into gold. Bullets made from it can kill all existence, even... gods.

"Bakin put the Philosopher's Stone in that little box, didn't he?" Sylvetter shook Ralph's arm, eager for the story to continue.

Ralph's tone was flat.

“I dug up his grave. It was in a remote corner of Cassandale Cemetery, so overgrown that not even weeds grew there. His grave was cracked, and the tombstone had collapsed. I used a shovel to pry open the coffin along the cracks and found the little box.”

There were two pieces of paper inside.

The first one.

The fifth element is the soul. It's the fundamental difference between intelligent beings, including humans, and wild beasts. I really want to fucking kill that idiot who came up with the concept of the Philosopher's Stone; that idiot is probably rotten to the core by now.

Only alchemists could correctly distinguish and interact with the four elements; the corrosive influence of those experiments was necessary.

Only alchemists can balance the relationships between the elements, but few have reached the pinnacle of this art, and most who understand it give up. Only I have continued on this path.

Only alchemists can materialize the fifth element soul, even after we die.

An alchemist, tormented and nearly destroyed by the four elements, can survive if he can accurately estimate the materialized form of his soul before he dies and achieve a balance.

We use ourselves as containers to hold balanced elemental reactions, arranging formulas within the body to solidify the soul and achieve balance. The Philosopher's Stone is us after death.

Using the body of an alchemist to contain elements, experiments were conducted to maintain balance, and at the moment of death, the soul was solidified to construct a balance of the five elements.

The Philosopher's Stone is my bones.

We alchemists pursue immortality and forge the Philosopher's Stone, but immortality requires our death as a prerequisite.

What a fucking irony! What a fucking ridiculous thing! This damn trash, I should shove it into the ass of the Alchemist God!

But there's no going back now. I can be like an ugly, disillusioned dwarf, terminally ill. I might even write a report that shatters the dreams of all those stupid juniors. Hahaha, I almost did that.

The Philosopher's Stone is my dream, even if my dream stone is just a cruel joke.

Inside the coffin, the skeleton was less than half full, making even death seem comical.

Sighs of lamentation rose in the chapel.

Violet rested her head on Ralf's shoulder, her eyes closed, as if mourning the deceased.

"And what about the other piece of paper? Did Mr. Ba Jin leave behind anything else of value?"

Ralph pulled his hat down, and his bright eyes disappeared into the shadows.

"On the other sheet of paper, there was only one short sentence. It was concise and clear, yet full of cadence and emotion."

With Violet and Sylvie waiting in anticipation, Ralf repeated the sentence.

Fuck you, Ralph.

Fuck you, Realwolf.

Chapter 482 Strange

“You dug up your dead friend’s grave and turned his bones into weapons…” Sylvie leaned back, observing the expressionless Ralph with mixed feelings. He spoke with such ease and indifference.

"Is digging up graves and retrieving corpses as easy for you as visiting someone's door?" Although Ralph's actions had revealed the wolf's ruthless side, Sylvie still harbored a bit of girlish fantasy: that the protagonist of a story always has a righteous side.

“Yes,” Ralph stared at Sylvie, watching the growing dissatisfaction in her purple eyes, “they are all the same to me, just as difficult. I’m not one to visit other people’s homes unless it’s for work.”

"The living are more important than the dead. I just did the right thing."

Violet pressed herself against Ralf's chest, her flowing red hair interrupting their gaze.

“Mr. Bakkin had foreseen this, hadn’t he? What a fine man. I think this is exactly what he wanted to see.” Violet rubbed wildly against Ralf’s chin, then turned to Sylvie. “Darling, the Philosopher’s Stone can save us a lot of trouble. Drogonlis needs it. You’re a kind girl, Sylvie.”

"So, Ralf, have you tried it? The power of the Philosopher's Stone, turning lead into gold or granting immortality? Darling, will immortality affect fertility?" Violet steered the serious topic into her characteristic humor, revealing a warm helplessness in the cold man.

Although it was only for a moment.

"No, I used all the Philosopher's Stones I obtained to make bullets. It was a very laborious process; the stones are extremely hard, and the polishing work was simply beyond the capabilities of humans."

Violet sighed dejectedly. "You didn't leave anything behind? Wealth is one thing, but aren't you interested in immortality at all?"

Ralf pulled the red hair that had gotten into his collar and used the ribbon on his collar to tie up Violet's clump of wine-red hair.

"I'm more interested in destroying other people's immortality."

“As expected of you, you wolf.” Violet’s fingers were rough, but Ralf still couldn’t stand her hand stroking his neck.

"It's getting late, and people are going to die tomorrow."

"Ok."

……

Cemeteries are inherently somber places, but the Dagonris Cemetery was even worse. The sickly green weeds were a foot tall, and if it weren't for the wooden plaque hanging from the twisted iron frame at the beginning, no one would have guessed that Dagonris's final resting place was in this desolate area.

Even the number of dead buried beneath this cemetery remains unknown.

The gravel is embedded in the gray soil. From the regular edges and engravings, you can imagine the original appearance of this tombstone and also imagine the tragic fate of the tombstone's owner.

Tomb keepers are professionals who prevent the living from disturbing the dead, because this is an era when tomb raiders are rampant.

“In Cassandel, this guy would be fired.” Ralph stomped the gravel further into the ground, chatting casually with the two ladies. The Philosopher’s Stone seemed to have changed the sheriff’s hunting attitude. “Although the gravediggers in Cassandel are also terrible, they’re not this bad.”

"When I was digging up Barking's grave, the gravedigger of Cassandra was asleep in his little house, less than half a meter from the nearest tombstone. On the other hand, that was a very good quality."

"If Ba Jin were buried here, I would never have found his tombstone so quickly." Because the place is desolate, and weeds have erased all the geographical features.

“But the soil here is quite loose, so digging will definitely be much easier. I don’t even need a shovel.”

Ralf, unusually quiet, began to chatter incessantly after entering the cemetery, recounting his experience of exhuming the grave of the deceased alchemist Bakkin. He went into every single detail, but the two ladies were uninterested in the subject. They had already heard the story of Bakkin, a dead legend, and Ralf's narration made them feel as if they were actually there, a truly unpleasant experience. Even Violet could only offer a stiff smile in response.

But Ralf's voice continued, as if obtaining the Philosopher's Stone was a memorable experience for him.

“Look at this, this is a freshly dug grave. I have experience with this. Judging from the color and moisture of the soil, hmm… someone dug this up a day ago, a day ago.”

“I take back my assessment. This gravedigger is very hardworking; he must be an excellent farmer.”

“Look at the soil particles on it, they are just the right size. I could never rebuild the grave so beautifully, after all, I’ve only done it once.”

The girl couldn't take it anymore after repeating it over and over again.

"Why do you keep repeating that you dug up your friend's grave? Do you think we're interested in that?! Do you think I don't know you're a cold-blooded bastard?! What are you doing this for?! Why do you disgust me so much?!"

Sylvie shouted in the cemetery, her young voice denouncing the man's indifference and the absurdity within her.

Contrary to my expectations, he shouldn't be this kind of person.

Ralph... returned to calm.

"That's because some naive young noblewoman seems to have some unrealistic ideas." Ralph's eyes flashed like knives as he glared at Sylvie, whose face had turned red from shouting.

"You are the leader of Drogonris. A leader governs his territory not by fairy tales. You will face choices in the future. When you encounter situations like mine, where you must choose between the peace of your friends and the safety of your family, you must remain indifferent."

"I will save Dagonriss through the sacrifice of my friend Bakkin. It is my disgusting decision that has shaped the future of Dagonriss."

"You'd better remember this, girl, there's always a bad guy."

That makes sense.

This is Ralph's purpose: to shatter his own naiveté through self-deprecation.

Silvette savored the terrible feeling that was emanating from her.

“I’m so sorry…” Sylvie squeezed out a few words with a tearful, disappointed voice.

She must hold a special place in this man's eyes, which is why he would use this method to remind her—a strange way of evoking a mixture of respect and resentment.

“This is wrong.” A cold voice came from behind the three of them.

His black overcoat was torn at the corners, and his pale, disheveled hair covered his face like a large hat. His black uniform wrapped his muscular body tightly, and he held a huge iron shovel in both hands, with bits of dirt still clinging to its edge.

The gravedigger revealed a single, malevolent eye.

“Human evil originates from conflict; it’s an instinct stemming from individual differences. You shouldn’t give in.” The gravedigger pointed a finger at Ralf, looking at Sylvie. “Deep down, you don’t actually agree with his ideas. Ask yourself honestly; you’re actually very angry, and there’s a kind of manic frustration at being refuted in your mind.”

"The real way to resolve differences is to fight with him, so that the remaining person can tell his truth."

The gravedigger seemed to be in a daze, repeatedly repeating his bloody methods of eliminating dissidents.

At this moment, Silvet had already run behind Ralph, bringing the two men face to face.

Ralph's face was icy cold.

The gravedigger's face was cold.

Dragonfire and the shovel were lifted, and Ralf revealed a sinister smile.

"I hate it when I'm educating younger people and some nobodies bother me."

"Hehe, then let's do it your way."

“I will kill you, and bury your garbage words and your disgusting body together, gravedigger.”

Chapter 483 The Stone of the End

At two meters tall, the visual oppressive presence of the tomb keeper was much less than that of the bell ringer. The tomb keeper was also considerably more intelligent in his words and actions; he possessed his own thoughts and even his own theories, though all of this was based on his inherent evil.

Ravens circled in the air. There were no birds in Drogonris. The cawing birds left trails of black mist behind their wings and tails. These were the solidified forms of dark power. They drew a circle above the gravedigger's head and finally landed on the freshly turned graves, turning into a black shadow and sinking into it.

The gravedigger used his power.

"Death and birth are two extremes, withering and sowing are also two extremes. Just as you said, I am a diligent gardener, and now, look at the fruits I have harvested."