Alchemy Principles of Type-Moon World

"However, we don't know what happened. Secular colonial activities continued as usual. This is abnormal," Weber sighed softly. "Furthermore, in just a dozen years, local magicians suddenly agreed to the principle of keeping secrets and no longer directly interfered with secular activities."

"Up to this point, the records show a large number of local magicians active during this period," Waver continued, looking down at the information in his hand. "But strangely, I don't know what methods the De Valdés family used, but the local magic activities that can be found increased rapidly for a period of time, and then continued to decline, until they finally disappeared completely."

Kenneth nodded gently. Weber put the paper file away, pocketed it, straightened his collar, and said softly, "This is all the information the El-Melloi family has been able to gather. The De Valdés family considers this method of destroying the colonial magic base to be top secret, and no accessible information has been released."

"Is that so? It's just like that..." Kenneth muttered to himself, "Modern magic wouldn't be possible without a foundation."

"So what you're saying is..." Xing Qingjiu stood aside, his eyes scanning the items displayed on the altar. He quickly grasped the key point in Kenneth's words, "Is this a sacrificial ritual from the Age of Gods?"

"It's hard to say..." Kenneth didn't answer immediately. He shook his head slowly, pondered for a moment, and then said, "The question is, if this is modern magic, then what is the corresponding magical foundation? But if this is magic from the Age of Gods—"

"—Then where is the contract?"

"Does the contract object have to be a physical entity?" Xing Qingfeng thought for a moment and asked, "For example, instead of 'Inti's statue', it should be a more abstract 'Inti's image'?"

"That's impossible." Kenneth flatly rejected this hypothesis. "If it were the Age of Gods when gods still walked this land, then abstract contracts would be possible—"

"—Rather, in the Age of Gods, contracts were often based on abstract things, such as oaths."

"But it's not possible in modern times. There must be an actual contract object to maintain the existence of the contract." Kenneth frowned and thought, "But where is this contract object..."

The room fell into a brief silence. The afterglow of the setting sun gradually disappeared behind the mountains, and the sky became darker.

Xing Qingjiu stood aside, his brow furrowed slightly, reviewing every detail of the past two days. Every link and every detail kept replaying in his mind as he pondered Kenneth's explanation. The statue, the offerings, the time, the location—everything seemed to be in order, but he had a vague feeling that something was being overlooked.

Suddenly, his expression shifted, as if realizing something. He quickly stepped forward and, without hesitation, pulled a syringe from his pocket. Without further explanation, he plunged the needle into a vein in Isidro's arm. As the syringe gradually filled with bright red blood, his gaze grew more focused.

Kenneth watched Xing Qingyu's actions, guessed what he was thinking, and asked, "Do you think it's because of the bloodline?"

"If we control the variables, whether it's the statue, the sacrificial offerings, or the time and location, there's no problem." Xing Qingfeng pulled the syringe out of Isidro's arm, carefully examined the color and condition of the blood, and continued, "Since there's no abnormality from the outside, I can only try to see if there are any clues inside the body."

"Weber," he said, carefully sealing the syringe. He then called Weber over and handed him the syringe. "Now, go mail this vial of blood back to the Clock Tower." He paused, pointing to the syringe. "And by the way, have them collect the medical records of Peruvians over the years. It would be best if they could be as detailed as possible."

When Weber took the syringe, a look of hesitation appeared on his face, and his fingers trembled slightly, as if he wanted to ask something, but in the end he closed his mouth and just nodded: "Ah... OK." He looked at the syringe in his hand with a complicated expression, seeming a little at a loss.

Xing Qingwu glanced at Weber, noticed his expression, then turned to look at Kenneth and found that he looked similar.

"Why," Xing Qingqi raised his eyebrows, immediately understanding what the two were thinking. His tone was a bit teasing, "You don't think I'm going to pull out a bunch of equipment to test this blood on the spot, do you?"

"Hmm..." Kenneth nodded slightly, the corners of his mouth curled up slightly, "Actually, I really thought you called Weber over to draw his blood and do a comparative analysis."

"If I have to do everything myself, wouldn't I just be a test tube maker?" Xing Qingqi said, confused. "I always feel like you guys have some misunderstanding about me—"

“—Actually, I’m a theorist.”

"Mr. Xing, El-Melloi has replied," Weber shouted to Xing Qingjiu as he walked towards the door, phone in hand. "They said it might take a while, about a week, to get tested."

Xing Qingyu nodded slightly and waved his hand, signaling Weber to continue: "Tell them to contact a trustworthy research institute, preferably to have the blood tested." He paused and added, "If you can't find a trustworthy research institute, let me know and I'll do it myself later."

The atmosphere in the room relaxed a little. Xing Qingqiu moved his stiff shoulders, stretched, and glanced at the dark night sky outside the skylight.

"It just so happens that the Sun Festival is this week." His tone was much more relaxed. "There's no need to cling to this one clue. If we can't make any progress here, we can try another direction. Besides, the main purpose of this trip is the Sun Festival."

"As for this old guy," Xing Qingfeng glanced at Isidro, who was still tied to the chair and unconscious, with disgust, "I'll see if I can get the whereabouts of those tourists from this old guy—"

"——No matter what, this matter must be explained."

------------------

The room was cold and damp, the wooden floorboards creaking slightly under the weight of footsteps. A few oil lamps hung on the walls cast a dim glow, barely illuminating the simple room. Outside the window, the Peruvian night was deep. The wind whistled in through the old window frames, carrying the mountain mist and filling the air with a damp and musty smell.

Xing Qingyu stood in the center of the room, arms folded across his chest, his gaze coldly fixed on Isidro, who lay bound to a chair in front of him. The old man's frail body was bound tightly by ropes, his head bowed, as if all his strength had been exhausted. His face was covered in wrinkles of age, his eyes hollow, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, evidently after days of torture. His chest rose and fell with each breath, as if every breath was a struggle for life.

"Damn, what a tough nut." Xing Qingfu gritted his teeth and walked to a table nearby. Various tools were scattered on the table, some of which were stained with blood. A few pieces of red rags were piled casually in the corner, and the air was filled with a faint smell of blood.

"Stop for a moment," Kenneth said in a low voice, his face gloomy, his hands crossed on his chest as he stood aside. "There's nothing that can come out of this guy's mouth."

Xing Qingjiu said nothing. He picked up a pair of tongs from the table, stared at the old man for a moment, then snorted coldly and casually dropped the tongs back onto the table with a crisp sound. Isidro's body trembled, as if on reflex, but he still made no sound.

"We've been tossing and turning for so many days. We've tried everything, whether it's physical interrogation, truth serum, hypnosis, or even directly stimulating his nervous system..."

“…It’s completely useless.”

"No, it worked, but the problem is... he can't speak at all. Notice how every time he tries to speak, he just makes a meaningless roar and can't even utter a complete word—"

"——This guy has been cast under a spell similar to 'Forced Essay Collection'. It's very powerful and there's almost no way to get around it." Kenneth shook his head slightly and sighed.

Xing Qingyu pinched his brows and thought for a moment: "How about I directly read the memory in his soul?"

"Don't be impatient," Kayneth said, frowning. "This magic relies on his subjective consciousness. If we rashly read his soul, it's likely to trigger more dangerous reactions, or even completely destroy his spirit. Silencing him is one thing, but completely destroying him is another."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"I plan to tamper with Lu Ba's cognition bit by bit," Kenneth said after a moment of thought. "By changing his understanding of certain key pieces of information, I can circumvent the restrictions of that magic and make him unconsciously reveal some information."

After hearing this, Xing Qingwu nodded and sighed softly: "Alright, you try, but be careful when you do it. His blood and spirit may be the key, don't let him collapse completely."

The room was filled with ghosts again and silence returned for a moment, with only the oil lamp on the wall still flickering with a faint light.

"Haven't you examined the soul?" Kenneth suddenly asked.

"I've checked it," Xing Qingfeng shrugged helplessly, "but the problem is that the differences between people's souls are sometimes greater than the differences between people and dogs—"

"—How the hell do I know which variable is the problem?"

"Indeed, the soul issue is always a thorny one. Well, since this approach doesn't work, let's just take our time. It's not easy to get a result in such a short time. I'll try tampering with the concept of tourists and see if I can get him to confess something."

"How long will it take?" Xing Qingwu asked casually, his eyes still fixed on the cold corn tortilla on the table, which had become hard.

"It might take a while," Kenneth sighed, his tone slightly helpless. "My job is in the mineral science department, and this is my first time doing something like this. This old man is a unique specimen, so we'd better take our time."

Xing Qingyu nodded without saying anything. He grabbed a tortilla from the table and took a bite. The cold biscuit made a "crunching" sound, but his mouth was filled with a tasteless, dry, and hard feeling.

"The day after tomorrow is Sun Festival, let's try to finish it before then," Xing Qingfeng sighed. "I haven't been able to light a fire these past few days. I'm almost tired of it."

"In Peru, fire and food are forbidden for three days before the Sun Festival," Kenneth said nonchalantly. "You could use that Eastern escape technique you stole to Mexico right now and feast on roasted corn."

"Forget it, I have to go investigate the salt mines in Maras later." Xing Qingfu said.

“Do you suspect it has something to do with diet?”

"That's right," Xing Qingfeng nodded. "It's been in use since pre-Inca times. Up to now, the local residents have harvested more than 3,000 salt wells. I think it's worth a visit."

"Ha, that's great," Kenneth shook his head and began preparing to tamper with his consciousness. "You continue to travel around here, and I will have to stay in this little room and do the needle-eye carving work bit by bit."

"Then let Weber come," Xing Qingqi said casually, "Isn't that why you asked him to come here just to do this kind of thing?"

"Weber? Forget it," Kenneth said with a smug smile. "Let him handle the practical work. When we come back, we might just end up looking at this old man's corpse."

----------------

I'm a bit stuck in the writer's block. I thought about it and decided to put the reveal of the first part of the truth after the Sun Festival, which is only a few chapters long. Although the current foreshadowing can point to the truth, I feel that it is still a bit insufficient. After I gave a little spoiler in the group, some group members guessed the general direction (

The above is a new book by a new author. Please vote and give me feedback. Thank you!

Volume 15: Symbiosis: . Day of the Sun

Xing Qingjiu strolled through the streets of Peru, the surrounding landscape imbued with a rich, exotic atmosphere, as if the culture of the Inca Empire had never been lost. Sunlight pierced the clouds, shimmering down the streets. Ivy and the traces of time clung to the mottled stone walls. The soul of this land, seemingly undiminished by time, remained alive in every corner, from the vibrant clothing of passersby to the aroma of spices wafting through the street markets. Peruvian culture remained vibrant throughout this land.

He walked through the bustling market, where wooden stalls were filled with colorful fruits, handwoven alpaca shawls, and ancient totemic ornaments. The air was thick with the aroma of spices, mixed with the fragrance of grilled meats, tortillas, and fresh coffee. Every time Xing Qingqi walked the streets, he felt that the colors, aromas, stories, and legends of the ancient Inca capital were still alive.

But this wasn't the original Inca tradition. With the arrival of colonists, the beliefs and customs of the former Inca Empire gradually vanished under centuries of oppression. Only after the former Inca struggled to preserve their original customs while embracing Spanish colonial culture did they become the people of Cusco today.

Even though the language they speak is completely different today, the people of Cusco still firmly believe that they are descendants of the sun god and are children of the sun and Pachamama (a goddess revered by the indigenous Andean people, also known as the Mother of Earth and Time).

Xing Qingjiu stood before a ruin, his fingertips gently tracing the cold stone surface. He wore a garment woven from alpaca wool purchased in the Chinchero region. His red outer garment gleamed in the sunlight, a vibrant color common in the region. However, Xing Qingjiu's inner garment was black, a deliberate choice. In the region, black symbolizes the soul and the earth, hinting at a connection to the spiritual world.

He had once tried to perform a sacrifice to Inti while wearing this attire, but no matter how hard he tried, the sacrifice before him remained calm, and his sacrifice received no response.

He once chewed fresh local bitterwood leaves, hoping to emulate the indigenous Peruvian lifestyle and experience their reverence and connection with nature. A bitter taste permeated his mouth. But in the end, he was unable to connect with the legendary spirits, only experiencing a brief dizziness and a slight stomach upset.

Xing Qingfeng then embarked on a journey to the Maras Salt Mine. He remembered hearing from locals that the rock salt in the Maras Salt Mine possessed special spiritual properties that could help purify one's soul and even open the door to the spirit world.

Arriving at the salt mine, Xing Qingfeng was greeted by a vast expanse of white salt fields, the salt pools gleaming silvery in the sunlight. He squatted down, scooped up a handful of crystal-clear salt crystals, and felt the roughness and coldness of the grains with his fingertips. But when he tried to perform a ritual with the salt, he still received no response, only a chilling breeze brushing his face.

Xing Qingjiu finally returned to Cusco and walked along the cobblestone streets of the alley. Night had fallen completely, leaving only scattered points of light in the sky. Occasionally, a stray dog or two passed by, their low panting sounds blending with the melodious music emanating from the distant alley.

He pushed open the heavy wooden door, and it creaked on its hinges. The room was dimly lit, but he could vaguely make out the vibrantly colored artifacts hanging on the walls: a shawl woven from alpaca wool, a decorative clay mask, and a mirror woven from feathers and wire. Research materials lay scattered on the table, and books lay open on it, their pages curled at the edges. Next to a few manuscripts, a small pile of locally gathered herbs gave off a faint fragrance.

In the corner of the room, under the dim light, Kenneth sat intently, his hands raised slightly. His gaze fixed on the unconscious Isidro before him, his fingers gently moving. From time to time, a trace of magical energy rippled through the air, rising and falling with his gestures.

"Any progress?" Xing Qingyu asked casually as he took off his coat, his voice a little tired.

"There's not much progress," Kenneth said without looking back, still staring intently at Isidro in front of him, "We still have to wait for a while, what about you?"

"I've been to a lot of places today," Xing Qingqi stretched, feeling a slight crackling sound from his bones. He walked to the table, flipped open a book, and said lazily, "In the end, it was all useless—"

“—but I had a blast.”

"Damn it, what are you bragging about again?" Kenneth's shoulders trembled slightly when he heard him say that. "I've been busy here all day, and you're bragging about it while you're traveling across the country."

"Right, right." Xing Qingyu smiled carelessly and spread his hands nonchalantly. "I was wandering around the city, trying to find any clues. I didn't find anything, but I had a lot of fun. Tomorrow is Sun Festival, so since there's no progress here, let's stop for now."

Kenneth's eyes flickered when he heard the word "Sun Festival." He finally lowered his hands, stood up, and stretched his shoulders. His muscles were slightly stiff from his long period of concentration. He sighed, walked to the window, and half-opened the wooden window. The cold night wind, mixed with the distant noise and lights, poured into the room.

"Tomorrow is the Sun Festival..." Kenneth leaned against the window and muttered to himself, "It's time for us to shift our focus."

"We need to monitor several important ceremonies tomorrow," Xing Qingqiu said after a moment of contemplation. "Especially in Sacsayhuaman. I heard the grandest Sun Festival will take place there. If there are any spiritual fluctuations, they should be reflected there."

"We have to get up early tomorrow to prepare," Kenneth nodded, walked to the table, and began to organize the things on it. "When the sun rises is the most important moment."

--------------

The morning air was filled with a damp chill, and Cusco was shrouded in the last shadows of night. The surrounding mountains were gently wrapped in morning mist, like the gentle embrace of Pachamama, the Earth Mother. The hustle and bustle of the streets had not yet begun, and only the occasional barking of dogs in the distance broke the silence.

Xing Qingfeng and Kenneth emerged from the hotel—hoping Kenneth would sleep in the shabby, temporarily rented lab was worse than hoping Weber's magic reserves would suddenly surge, transforming him into a Super II—and were greeted by the morning. They had already changed into the clothes of the locals. Xing Qingfeng wore a cape woven from alpaca wool, its black and red patterns interwoven. Kenneth was more modest, wearing a thin coat and a casually grabbed blanket draped over his shoulders.

——Because Kenneth forgot to prepare clothes for himself, he originally expected Weber to take care of it, but he had altitude sickness.

"The weather is nice today." Xing Qingyu yawned and looked at the gradually whitening sky in the distance with a little sleepiness.

"Yes, but it's freezing cold," Kenneth replied softly, his hands in his coat pockets, tightening his collar. His eyes occasionally glanced towards Sacsayhuaman in the distance, where the tall, ancient stone walls gradually revealed a vague outline in the morning light.

The two walked steadily along the cobblestone streets through the center of Cusco, heading towards the Temple of the Sun. Along the way, they passed many people who had already prepared to participate in the Sun Festival. Most of them were dressed in traditional Inca costumes, with feather-decorated headdresses and colorful fabrics. The air was gradually filled with the murmur of the crowd.

"It was already noon when I came here last time," Xing Qingfeng said in a low voice, looking around at the growing crowd around him, his fingers habitually stroking the wool of his cloak, "I was still a little late when I came here last year."

"You might not find anything if you come too early," Kenneth shook his head. "Last year you stayed here for two months and only brought back a bag of corn—"

"—I've been here for less than two weeks this year, and you've already made so much progress. I think you're the one who's not suited to field research."

"You're yelling again," Xing Qingfeng replied leisurely without getting annoyed. "Bro thinks he's taking all the credit, but most of the work was done by Weber. And you yourself have been rewriting that old man's cognition, so why haven't you produced any results yet—"

"—Even one of the biggest clues was revealed because of Weber. If it weren't for Weber's furious death, we might not have made any progress until now."

"Weber is my student," Kenneth said. "My student's achievements are naturally my achievements."

As the sky gradually brightened, a large number of devout people had already gathered at the entrance of the Temple of the Sun. They lined the square in neat rows, awaiting the sacred moment of sunrise. Xing Qingfeng and Kenneth stood at the back of the crowd, gazing at the priests in front of them. They were dressed in gorgeous robes, their faces solemn, and they held up golden scepters that symbolized their authority.

The first rays of morning sunlight slowly filtered down from behind the eastern mountains, gradually illuminating the ancient city. At that moment, a deep, ritualistic sound rang out from the square, blending with the sounds of Andean flutes, drums, and other percussion instruments. As the sun bathed their faces, Xing Qingqi felt a warmth rising from his feet, as if Mother Earth, Pachamama, was responding to the arrival of the Sun God. In that instant, he sensed a subtle, magical ripple in the air, as if the very land were awakening, resonating with the Sun God.

"Is this... caused by a ritual...?" Xing Qingqiu asked Kenneth thoughtfully, "No, it's more like a natural phenomenon at the beginning of the festival in the spiritual land."

During festivals, the magical power of the land grows. Festivals represent the extraordinary within the ordinary, symbolizing the singularity of ending, rebirth, and a new beginning. Whether creating or destroying, the accumulated anomaly aids magic.

"Have you noticed," Kenneth suddenly said, "that not only are there locals from Cusco gathered here, but there are also quite a few tourists—"

"—I roughly estimated that it's about one-fifth."

"What's wrong?" Xing Qingyu asked in confusion.

"Foreign visitors have a much greater dilution effect on the mystery of local rituals than locals do," Kenneth explained. "If such rituals really existed, where magic was performed in public and produced effects, then it couldn't be modern magic at all."

"The word 'Mistel' is derived from 'Mystery', which is a Greek word meaning closure, locking, concealment, and self-termination. Since magic was given the name 'magic', it has become mysterious from the inside out."

"That's why magic is absolutely forbidden to be made public. It's forbidden for the vast majority of people to understand or use it." Kenneth frowned and said, "I only just realized something was wrong. There are so many foreign tourists here, and the Sun Festival has become a local tourist attraction. The ritual has been exposed to the public for so many years, and the mystery attached to it should have dissipated long ago—"

"—But according to what you said, at last year's Sun Festival, right in front of everyone's eyes, the sacrifice gained a spirituality that lasted for a whole year."

"This can't be magic, it definitely can't be modern magic, it's not even close to magic from the Age of Gods," Kenneth said in a low voice. "I've only seen relevant records in the ancient texts left by the Archibald family from before the Christian era. Without relying on mysterious miracles, it's simply impossible for a magician to do this."

"—This is the product of the god himself directly using his power," Kenneth explained, "but now that the Age of Gods has receded, there are no gods at all, so I think there must be something wrong."

"But," Xing Qingfeng thought for a moment and asked, "What if such a god really exists?"

"Then it's not a magic ritual, it's a pure sacrificial ritual," Kenneth replied, "It's through sacrifice that we communicate with the gods, allowing them to use their power to perform miracles—"

"—but that's simply impossible, unless you tell me what kind of unusual situation could have happened so early in the morning in front of so many people."

At that moment, a priest, clad in magnificent golden armor and symbol of the Inca Emperor, slowly approached the center of the altar. In his hand, he held aloft a golden disk, symbolizing the sun god. The disk shone with a dazzling light, even more dazzling than the sun's radiance. The emperor's priest slowly raised the disk, facing the rising sun, slightly bent his knees, and began to chant softly.

At that moment, the entire square fell silent. Everyone's eyes were focused on this sacred ceremony, quietly awaiting Inti's response. The sun's rays grew brighter, as if answering the priest's prayer.

"I feel like there's some movement," Xing Qingqiu turned to look at Kenneth, only to find that he had put on his glasses without him noticing, "but there's no actual phenomenon yet."

"Then it's not a big problem. It's probably because the festival rituals emphasize the extraordinary nature of the festival, causing the magical power of the spiritual land to rise again, and the rising magic power is then stimulated by the rituals—"

"—After all, if there really were still gods here, then all the colonial activities in history would have been impossible."