Alchemists do not need self-cultivation

"Quiet down, all of you!" the prison guard shouted angrily, banging on the iron gate.

Isaac looked at the roaring prisoners of war: "They're really spirited, but that's all they can do now."

He walked up to the prison guard and said, "This is none of your business. I'll handle the rest. Also, tell the staff here that they have a day off today."

"Yes, Commander!" The prison guard had no doubts, gave a military salute, and withdrew.

After everyone left, Isaac looked at the group of prisoners of war locked behind iron bars and said, "I have good news for you. Gadalik has amassed a large army and plans to attack Mazig."

"Hahaha, the country really didn't abandon us!"

"You can all just wait to die!"

When the prisoners of war heard Isaac say that, they all burst into laughter.

"So happy? Well, I have some bad news for you: the attacking army will be wiped out soon." Isaac laughed.

"What did you say?"

"Stop joking!"

The prisoners of war clearly did not believe in superstition.

"Don't believe me? Then let me tell you something believable." Isaac revealed a sinister smile. "Today, you will all die here."

"what!"

"You bastard!"

"Has it finally come?"

Upon hearing this news, some reacted strongly, while others took a more detached view of life and death.

But Isaac didn't care how they looked, and quietly walked out of the prison.

“Mr. Isaac, here’s the paint and brush you requested.” Outside the prison, Gilbert handed Isaac a large bucket of paint and a brush. “What do you need these for?”

"Just adding some 'materials'."

Gilbert returned to his post, while Isaac, with paint and brush, circled the perimeter of the prison, painting as he went.

Several hours later, Isaac returned to the place where prisoners of war were held.

"Didn't you say you were going to kill us? Come on!"

"You killed us! Galdarik's army won't let you get away with it!"

When they saw Isaac return, the prisoners of war roared at him again.

"I just happened to come back and find that this is the center." With that, Isaac placed his Philosopher's Stone on the ground and walked out.

"Well then, let's get started."

Isaac looked at the giant transmutation circle that had been completed beneath his feet and slammed his palm down hard.

Suddenly, the once clear sky was covered with dark clouds, and red lightning flashed out from time to time.

The citizens of Mazig City also noticed the changes in the sky and looked up at the strange and unpredictable weather.

Chapter Sixty: What is Power?

The air in the sky was constantly turbulent, a strong wind was blowing, dark clouds swirled above the prison, and red lightning streaked across the sky.

The animals in the city were all trying to break free from their cages and collars, howling incessantly in that direction.

Everyone in Mazig was stunned by this apocalyptic scene.

"Haha ...

Standing by the prison, Isaac burst into laughter at the sight, his laughter sounding particularly eerie amidst the howling wind and the occasional screams emanating from the prison.

Gilbert stood in the doorway, shielding his face from the stinging wind, staring in horror in the direction of Isaac.

"What... happened?!"

This terrifying scene lasted for about an hour before gradually subsiding.

Isaac saw the red light on the transmutation circle dissipate, knowing it was complete, and then walked into the prison.

The once noisy prison was now completely silent, and the sound of footsteps on the ground was so clear.

If it were before, the prisoners of war in the cell would have been cursing by now, but now it is unusually quiet. They are all lying haphazardly in the cell, as if they are asleep.

Walking inside, Isaac picked up the egg-sized red gem from the ground.

"It was only the size of a fingernail when I got it, and now it's this big. I've made a killing," Isaac said with a sly smile, looking at the red gem in his hand.

"I am now invincible!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Gilbert waited anxiously outside the prison. Although Mr. Isaac had told him not to move around, it was impossible not to be worried after such a commotion.

Just as he was considering whether to go in and take a look, Isaac came out.

"Hey, sorry to keep you waiting."

"Mr. Isaac, are you alright?"

"What could be wrong with me? I'm in a really great mood right now." Isaac patted Gilbert on the shoulder to reassure him, "Like wearing new underwear to welcome the New Year's morning!"

What a terrible analogy...

Gilbert didn't think much of it. Since Isaac himself said he was fine, there was no need to worry too much.

"By the way, go to the logistics department and ask a few people to clean up the prison."

"Have those prisoners of war caused trouble again?"

“No, they’re all dead,” Isaac said with a laugh. “I did it.”

"What?!" Gilbert looked at Isaac in surprise.

That's over 4,600 people! Even if you kill them one by one, it will take a very long time.

Moreover, as a soldier, he knew that killing too many people at once would cause significant mental health problems. This "too many people" refers to no more than a hundred.

Killing over four thousand people at once, so Mr. Isaac...

He looked at Isaac with concern, only to find that his expression was no different from before.

“Mr. Isaac…are you really alright?” Gilbert asked worriedly.

“Don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine, in every sense of the word,” Isaac said. “Let me teach you something, Gilbert.”

"what?"

"A person's strength is not necessarily in terms of physical strength, but more so in terms of mental strength. When they realize that they have to make a mistake, many people cannot get over their inner hurdle and get caught up in their inner struggle."

“There are two kinds of truly powerful people: one is the one who knows something is wrong and refuses to do it without hesitation, and the other is the one who believes something is right and does it without hesitation.”

"Which category does Mr. Isaac belong to?"

“I belong to the third type: I know it’s wrong, but I’ll still do it without hesitation,” Isaac said with a smile.

"..."

Gilbert lowered his head in thought, seemingly lost in thought about something.

"The key to strength is simple: just be able to act without hesitation."

After thinking for a long time, Gilbert looked at Isaac and said, "Thank you for your guidance."

Isaac waved his hand without saying anything.

The two walked on the streets of Mazig.

After the celebrations of last night's thanksgiving ceremony, the citizens have returned to their usual work.

The streets were bustling with traffic, and occasionally children would run and play on them, creating a harmonious scene.

People had smiles on their faces.

Looking at this harmonious scene, Gilbert couldn't imagine what would happen to them if their army withdrew; would they still have their usual smiles?

Several children saw Gilbert dressed in military uniform.

"biu! biu! biu!"

The children made their hands into gun shapes and fired at Isaac and his companion.

Gilbert also saw a few children, smiled, and seemed to be thinking of his own childhood.

And Isaac...

"Ah! I've been shot!" He leaned back, making an exaggerated gesture as if he had been shot.

After seeing Isaac "defeated" by themselves, the children happily exclaimed:

"We've defeated the enemy!"

Watching the children leave, the two continued walking towards the military camp. Gilbert looked at Isaac with some surprise.

"What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"

“Nothing much? I didn’t expect to see Mr. Isaac like this,” Gilbert said.

“Children are treasures no matter where they are,” Isaac said with a smile.

"really."

“I participated in the Ishvalan annihilation campaign. I was a fourteen-year-old boy at the time. When faced with Ishvalan children who were the same age as me and had guns, I chose to shoot.”

"..."

"Once you're on the battlefield and holding a weapon, everyone, regardless of age or gender, is a soldier, so I show no mercy when I fire."

"Mr. I remember your marksmanship should be..."

"Shut up!" Isaac suddenly snapped, enraged.

Gilbert wisely refrained from bringing up the matter of marksmanship further.

Isaac continued, "People living on the battlefield don't need pity, even if there's just a child in front of you. But if you keep them away from the battlefield, that's enough."

Isaac looked in the direction where the children had gone and said, "You don't want the guns in their hands to turn into real guns one day, do you?"

"..."