Soulbound: Dual Cultivation

The Grandmaster Elder, still regaining his composure from the earlier revelation, swiftly called the assembly to order. His voice carried with it a tone of command now mingled with a reverence that hadn't been present at the start of the gathering. The room, which had only moments ago been a flurry of whispered conversations and awestruck murmurs, gradually quieted under his authoritative presence.

"Let us not forget," the elder said, his hands clasped behind his back, "why we are gathered here today. The purpose of this conclave is not only to assess newcomers but to advance our collective understanding of alchemical arts and address the pressing matters before our Order."

With that, the formal meeting commenced in earnest. Complex diagrams etched with chalk and luminous ink began to emerge on floating slates around the central table. Senior alchemists took turns presenting their findings, some sharing recent developments in refining efficiency, others proposing experimental theories on energy containment and compound merging. A few daring scholars even broached the subject of harmonizing spiritual herbs with artificial cultivation cores, a technique still considered too volatile by most standards.

Throughout these discussions, Lucas remained attentive and deeply engaged. When intricate formulae were posed and the hall fell silent in thought, it was often Lucas who broke the quiet with a single suggestion, one that unlocked the puzzle or rerouted the problem entirely. His observations were insightful, and his way of simplifying otherwise difficult equations caused even the most rigid minds in the room to shift slightly in their seats. At one point, he even corrected an equation that had stumped the elders for over a four years, offering an alternative method of transmutation that not only worked on paper but could theoretically reduce spiritual loss by nearly a quarter. No one dared to interrupt him anymore. They listened.

And it wasn't just theory. Lucas contributed practical knowledge as well. When one of the alchemists questioned the inefficiencies of a common flame stabilization method, Lucas demonstrated a subtle but ingenious technique of layering the ignition points in a triangular feedback loop, an idea so elegant and yet so unnoticed that a few of the more experienced alchemists began taking furious notes. He didn't gloat, he didn't demand praise. He simply spoke when he had something to say and gave openly when asked. And because of that, by the time the meeting transitioned into the interactive stage, where members were allowed to speak freely, propose challenges, and offer demonstrations, a majority of those gathered sought him out.

It began with the most curious ones first, the younger generation of alchemists who were not too proud to admit when they saw brilliance. They approached Lucas with caution at first, asking timidly if he could spare a moment to look over their private research or give insight into failed experiments. Lucas, with his usual calm composure, accepted what he could and patiently walked them through their errors. For some, he helped identify a single misplaced rune or overlooked reaction timing. For others, he offered entirely new approaches, solutions rooted in logic they had never considered. Before long, even some of the older Alchemists found themselves gravitating toward him, swallowing their pride in the pursuit of growth. He treated each one with the same respect, whether they were seasoned or novice, never letting their status or his own shift the tone of the conversation.

Then came the portion of the gathering that was always the most anticipated: the project presentation phase. Alchemists from all across the Order revealed newly invented concoctions, tonics, salves, and potions. These were not mere academic exercises. Many of these items were destined for auction houses in major cities, highly sought after by nobles, sect leaders, and cultivators alike. Each creation brought forward was carefully explained and demonstrated, with focus placed on its unique properties, potential market value, and arcane merit.

There was a celebratory tone now among the crowd. The earlier tension had all but vanished, replaced by a sense of unity and mutual excitement for the breakthroughs shared.

And then, as eyes turned toward Lucas once again, he stepped forward. His expression was as calm and unreadable as ever, yet there was a glint in his gaze that suggested he was fully aware of what he was about to reveal.

He hadn't said much about his own work until now.

The potion in his possession gleamed faintly inside a translucent vial. He held it up with steady hands and stepped into the center of the presentation circle, knowing that what he was about to show them would upend yet another foundational belief in this room. For he had created a solution unlike any other, a potion capable of reigniting crippled meridians, reawakening dormant cultivation pathways, and restoring shattered potential. It was the potion he had prepared for the crippled grandmaster locked away in the palace dungeons.

He looked at the faces around him, some curious, some skeptical, and others already leaning forward with anticipation, and he said nothing at first. Because he knew. The moment they saw what this potion could do, the room would never be the same again.

Lucas raised the vial gently, allowing the flickering light from the crystal lamps above to pass through the shimmering liquid within. It pulsed softly, almost alive, glowing in hues of silver and violet that twisted and danced in rhythm with his movements. There was no mistaking it, this was no ordinary concoction.

He stepped forward and faced the circle of Alchemists, each of them watching him intently now, their earlier dismissiveness long buried beneath awe and a hunger for knowledge.

"This potion," Lucas began, his voice steady, "is designed to reawaken crippled meridians. It restores severed cultivation pathways. It has the potential to give a second chance to those whose cultivation has been shattered, whether through injury, backlash, or poor foundational practices."

A murmur rose from the gathered alchemists. The claim was outrageous, Potions that strengthened the body? Yes. Elixirs that cleared impurities from meridians? Certainly. But one that could repair and reignite a crippled cultivation base? That was outrageous.

One of the elders, his robe embroidered with the symbol of transmutation, raised a skeptical brow and leaned forward. "You claim this as fact, but there are no existing records of any solution being able to achieve such an effect, not even among the ancient sects. Such damage is irreversible. At best, we've seen slight improvements, never restoration."

Lucas met his gaze, calm and unshaken. "That's because this potion doesn't rely on conventional pathways. The restoration is rooted not just in spiritual energy, but in harmonizing essence resonance. It doesn't force the meridians to repair, it convinces them to remember their original state."

A sharp intake of breath swept across the room.

That explanation was foreign to most, even incomprehensible to a few. But for those with the experience and theoretical depth to understand what Lucas meant, it was a breakthrough concept. Essence resonance, the idea that everything has an original frequency or 'memory' it once operated with, was a fringe theory at best, often dismissed as baseless mysticism. Yet here was a youth, not more than twenty, speaking of it as though it were foundational knowledge.

Still, skepticism clung to their expressions, even as wonder flickered behind their eyes.

"You expect us to believe this?" another Alchemist challenged, stepping forward. "That this one potion can undo crippled cultivation? That it can restore the very flow of Qi to a broken core?"

"I don't expect anything," Lucas replied simply. "But you've all seen what I did earlier today. You saw the flame binding essence. You saw the purity. I'm not here to boast, and I have nothing to gain from lies. You asked us to present our work. This is mine."

There was a pause. No one laughed now. No one rolled their eyes. Because for all their hesitation, there wasn't a single person in that room who had forgotten the impossibility Lucas had performed earlier. And it wasn't just that he had done it, it was how easily he had done it. With elegance, with control, with knowledge beyond his years.

The Grand Elder himself leaned forward, his gaze narrowing slightly as he studied the young man before him.

"if we bring a crippled cultivator, you're sure it'll truly work?" he asked, his voice slower now, cautious but curious.

Lucas nodded. "I'm sure and I'll show you the results. The theory is sound, I can reproduce it as many times as you require." He was extremely confident of his abilities.

The room was silent once again, but not because they doubted him. No, now, they were contemplating. Measuring the weight of his words. Wrestling with the implications, if Lucas was right, this single potion could change the entire future of alchemy. If he was right, entire sects would fight to control him. Kingdoms would rise around the formula. The desperate, the broken, the fallen, all of them would look to him for a second chance.