There was just a single name left. Just one above all.

1. Dyon Sacharro (434) – Peak Empyrean Grade Soul. Record: 1.000. Valiant Record: 1.000

Across all three Steles. There was just a single name.

Gilpin’s words were caught in his throat. His face turned various colors and shades. It seemed like he might keel over and vomit at any moment.

“… Endowment of Multiplicity…”

It was only after the fog on their minds was removed and their bias was shattered that someone realized something. Why were there ten pills and not just one? This was simply impossible.

There were records of those who could use their high skill to use one set of medicinal ingredients to make many pills, but these people were just performing a magic trick of sorts. Usually, one could only do this with a pill far below their current abilities, and even then, there would be a price to pay. Most often, this price would be lower medicinal efficacy.

Maybe the best someone could do with those sorts of methods was 70 or 80% purified pills. These were nothing more than parlor tricks and weren’t worth even a toe of the true Endowment of Multiplicity.

With Endowment of Multiplicity, you didn’t have to take any extra steps. One could put their heart and soul into a single pill, and no matter how perfect its refinement was, it would be multiplied.

Even amongst Endowments, this one was maybe the most heaven defying.

But even then, this was still not the most shocking part. What shook them to the core was that there were actually ten pills. Ten!

Even in the records, the most they had ever seen was a three times multiplier. And those were in cases of Immortal Gods refining Venerable and Empyrean Grade Pills. The idea of multiplying a peak god grade pill by ten made them feel numb to the point of fainting.

Could it be because of Endowment of Multiplicity that Dyon won? But that was impossible, the rules of the God Stele were hard and fastened. It was a competition of who could concoct the best pill, not who could concoct the most mediocre pills. Why would the God Stele recognize Dyon’s win? Nothing seemed to make any sense.

“That… Those… They aren’t phantom pills…” Nazaire’s expressionless visage finally cracked.

Dyon’s lip curled. Despite the fact he was missing an arm, he just seemed just as, if not more, majestic than before. He radiated an unyielding pressure that was now faintly suffocating Nazaire’s own.

“Of course it’s not a phantom pill.”

“You… How…?”

Dyon’s sneer deepened. “For my own disciple, I might explain it thoroughly, but are you worthy of such a thing?”

Dyon’s words shocked and then infuriated the surrounding alchemists.

“Even if you won, do you think it’s appropriate to humiliate us like this?!” Immortal God Millan roared, his willowy body swaying in his rage. “This is still Pill Sword Mountain and you’re still a weak mortal! Do you think you can leave this place if you enrage us?!”

Dyon suddenly began to laugh uproariously. One would think he didn’t even feel the pain wracking his body.

Eventually, he wiped his tears, waving his hand and letting the ten pills land in his hands under the envious glances of many.

“These are you what you want, huh? I guess your little hill really must be as poor as it seems, not even able to produce two sets of a mere peak god grade pill.

“Go ahead and kill me if you want, this is just a clone anyway. The rest of the world will see then that Pill Stick Pebble isn’t worth much at all.”

Dyon’s words were like a lightning bolt striking atop their heads.

A clone…? That’s what he just said, right?

He must be bluffing. They couldn’t even fathom how ridiculous such a thing was.

“You think I would send my real body here to my disciple? Is he the master? Or am I? Is he the one who should be paying his respects? Or am I? What a **ing joke. As if I would come here with my main body.”

Crane and Millman felt their necks go stiff as they slowly turned toward Dyon. What the hell had this boy just said?

Dyon’s words made it obvious that he hadn’t sent a clone here because he was afraid of them, but rather because he disdained to send his true body. His disciple should be coming to see him, where would he put his face as his master if he came to seek out his own disciple? Wasn’t this too ridiculous?

However… Who the hell was his disciple?!

Nazaire’s eyes turned red, his body trembling. He thought after so many years, he would finally be able to see the edges of his master’s robes, that he would finally faintly be able to catch up to him. But who would have known that Dyon would be so far ahead even with a clone?

How could Nazaire know that he had indeed caught up to where Dyon was in his first life… It was just that, since then, Dyon had experienced 108 lifetimes. In each of those lives, he took up alchemy. And, in each one, he was impossibly talented.

The experiences of 108 geniuses from 108 viewpoints, even for the very same pills, melding into one… Just what kind of concept was this?

Even though this was the first time in 108 lifetimes Dyon had refined a peak god grade pill, he was more than tenfold better than he was in his first life.

Nazaire quickly rose only to fall to his knees once more, banging his head against the ground before the whole of the Immortal Plane.

“Master!”