When Immortal Ascension Fails Time Travel to Try Again

We reached a large arena built almost similar to a massive version of the college lecture rooms from my past life. It had a standing room at the back, various people sitting in seats in the middle, and special guests in their own private sitting near the front.

On the stone arena floor, the guild had set up forty stations, each one with a provided earth flame, a table, tools for prepping ingredients, and isolation formations around each so that sounds from the people around them couldn’t distract the student alchemists from working.

Fortunately, in this world, alchemy was normally set up so everyone could stand like reasonable people. Because if you were going to be dealing with explosive substances, sitting was a bad idea.

In the front of the staging area, on a raised platform, was a table set up for three currently absent judges.

Several participants had started setting up the provided tools in familiar locations or taking out tools they prepared from their own storage rings.

Employee Stone brought us to my station, an awkward position near where people would pass to turn in their pill to the judging panel.

Considering the traffic, it was a shit spot. But since I was participating last minute, I didn’t blame them for shoving me there.

“I’ll leave you here.” He bowed, then brought Little Spring over to a seat in the stands.

The little main character waved at me but the worry on his face showed even from this distance.

He’d be fine.

I began my setup.

Using traditional seals, I lowered the earth flame. Then, with a wave of my hand, I set Old Smokey over it. His golden sides gleamed as if declaring that he was back and ready to concoct.

I turned the flames up a bit to begin the slow warming process. Because he was still a little damaged I wanted to avoid sharp increases and decreases that could aggravate his situation.

Once he was heated up, I increased the flame slowly. A small bit of smoke started to come up from the bottom.

The fuck?

I peered under him. There was no reason why this was happening.

A thousand years of alchemy experience and I had no clue! I mean, I could figure it out given time to research, but this was truly baffling. Unless...

Shit. Old Smokey was cursed! Presumably.

Who the fuck hated his past owner so much they’d put such a lame curse on a mundane pill cauldron?!

Whatever. This smoke, wherever the fuck it came from, was partially the cause of his previous condition. And likely how he got his name.

Well, since I couldn't cure the disease (right now), I had to treat the symptom.

The first step was to prevent the smoke from contaminating the eventual contents. I couldn’t use spiritual energy for this since I needed all of it for the actual alchemy. This meant that I had to rely on my knowledge of formations.

I needed a formation that was limited to smoke. And it had to let heat through. With the way the room was set up... Then I had to use another of those secret crafter’s formations. One used when forging a material that gave off damaging smoke. It was a small array, the least obtrusive, and, most importantly, it wouldn’t affect the contents of the cauldron.

I took out my stones and set them around my space. This was tricky because they also needed to be in areas I wouldn't casually kick.

Fortunately, setting it up didn't take long.

As soon as I placed my last one, and powered it with a couple of spirit stones, the little bit of smoke began falling unnaturally to the floor where it stayed like wisps of black fog. Satisfied, I looked up. Then I blinked.

The manager stared down at me with a business-like smile. With that eye of his twitching, he also looked miffed.

“Fairy Lin. We’re beginning soon. Please step out of the isolation formation and wait with the others.” He gestured to where thirty-nine cultivators of varying realms gathered near my station to await the judges.

Most of them were sending me impatient glares.

Fuck? Had everyone been waiting for me?