As the proctor's voice faded, tension filled the air. "Three incense sticks," he intoned, "that is the time granted to you, young alchemists. From the celestial ingredients before you, no less than five must be included in each of your concocted elixirs. Your own treasures may aid you, but remember - only these fourteen gifts can be used in your creation."

The chamber erupted into a flurry of activity, disciples moving with the grace of cranes and the purpose of tigers. Joo-won approached his station. His fingers, calloused from countless hours of practice, deftly sorted through the mystical substances before him.

His mind, sharp as a master swordsman's blade, began to unravel the secrets held within each ingredient. This is but a basic knowledge he learned from the Tower of Myriad Immortals.

The Selkie Oil, shimmering like captured moonlight on water, held the power of the vast oceans. Its essence, drawn from the blubber of these mystical sea-folk. It has a high regeneration property and fluidity beyond mortal ken.

Wolpertinger Tears, each droplet a tiny crystal of impossible beauty, whispered of healing magics. Joo-won knew that in the right measure, they could mend wounds that defied even the most skilled physician's art. But in excess, this could destroy even the bone of those in the Soldier class.

His gaze fell upon the White Stag Antler, its pearlescent surface seeming to glow with an inner light. The young alchemist's breath caught, recognizing the potent yang energy contained within. Ground to the finest powder, it could ignite passions that would make even the Expert class blush. But too much and this could turn into a state of deadly obsession.

The Rotten Bush, its twisted form reeking of decay, spoke of the delicate balance between life and death. Found in the treacherous mires where few dared to tread, its toxins could bring swift doom to the unwary. Yet, in the hands of a skilled alchemist, it held the power to transcend mortality itself.

Necron Bone lay before him, a fragment of the eternal night. Harvested from the restless dead that prowled the world's deepest caverns, it pulsed with energies that defied the natural order. Joo-won knew that with but a touch, it could imbue objects with shadows that danced at the edge of reality.

The Perfumed Bane sat innocently, its delicate petals belying its lethal nature. Its sweet fragrance masked a nectar so potent that it had become the favored tool of the realm's most feared assassins. A single drop, Joo-won mused, could send a General class to meet his ancestors without leaving a trace.

Noxious Burberry gleamed with a sickly sheen, each fruit a condensed orb of venom. Common in the arsenals of less scrupulous alchemists, it nonetheless held potential that Joo-won's keen mind was already unraveling.

The Liquidized Bamboo flowed like quicksilver, defying its origins as a simple plant. Joo-won's fingers itched to explore its myriad applications, knowing that in the right combination, it could become the foundation of miracles.

The Arachne's Venomous Web caught the light, each strand a testament to nature's cruel beauty. Collected from the lairs of spiders that haunted mankind's darkest nightmares, its neurotoxin could render the mightiest warrior as helpless as a newborn babe.

The Cyclops Tooth gleamed with an inner fire, a relic of the one-eyed titans who once shook the very mountains with their footsteps. In its crystalline structure, Joo-won saw the potential to channel alchemical energies beyond mortal comprehension.

Drifting Bitterweed, delicate as a poet's sigh, floated in its container like a dream made manifest. Its gossamer leaves, when prepared with the wisdom of the ancients, could plunge even the most restless mind into profound slumber.

Ghost Ichor shimmered with an otherworldly light, each drop a testament to the boundary between life and death. Joo-won's breath caught as he contemplated its power to infuse objects with the very essence of the spirit realm.

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The Minotaur Heart-Blood pulsed with primal fury, even separated from its fearsome source. Taken from the labyrinth-dwelling beasts of legend, it promised strength to rival the mightiest warriors of the mortal world.

Lastly, the Grave Boxwood sat silent and unassuming, its gnarled form belying its connection to the world beyond. Joo-won knew its power in necromantic arts, a key to unlocking the secrets of the natural cycle.

As the young alchemists set their cauldrons to boiling, the air thick with arcane potential, Alchemist Jeong turned to his colleague, Lee Dok-Hwa. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of anticipation and something darker, hidden beneath the surface.

"Fear not, Dok-Hwa," he murmured, his voice low and assured. "These trials shall separate the true inheritors of our art from mere dabblers. Only those with the spark of greatness shall emerge victorious from this crucible."

As the autumn breeze rustled through the podium, Alchemist Lee Dok-Hwa's brow furrowed with concern. His eyes, bearing the wisdom of countless moons, met those of Alchemist Kwon.

"Esteemed colleague," Kwon spoke, his voice low and heavy with worry, "these new trials tread perilously close to the boundary between challenge and peril. A single misstep could lead a promising disciple down the path of no return."

Alchemist Jeong, his face a mask of cold ambition, waved a dismissive hand. "Such is the crucible that forges true masters of our sacred art. Those unworthy will fall by the wayside, as is the way of heaven and earth."

Lee Dok-Hwa's sigh carried the weight of mountains. Though his lips remained sealed, his heart stirred with unease. The whispers of the wind seemed to carry portents of a storm brewing on the horizon of the Hundred Poisons Assembly.

Joo-won's small hands moved with ease, arranging the precious ingredients before him like a general positioning troops on a battlefield.

Taking a deep breath, the young alchemist closed his eyes, his spirit sinking into a meditative trance. The bustling world around him faded away, leaving only the whispers of ancient alchemical wisdom in his mind.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, blazing with inner fire. His hands danced across the table, measuring and mixing with a grace that seemed to defy his tender years. Each movement flowed like water, precise yet fluid, as if guided by the very essence of the Dao itself.

The onlookers, from the stern-faced proctors to the seasoned masters, found themselves captivated. Even the usually stoic Alchemist Jeong couldn't hide his astonishment, a flicker of envy crossing his face before being quickly suppressed.

As Joo-won worked, a faint, ethereal glow seemed to emanate from his concoctions, hinting at the potent qi infused within. The air around his station hummed with energy, drawing gasps of wonder from the gathered disciples.

Alchemist Jeong, his jaw clenched tight, tore his gaze away to focus on his niece's progress. Yet try as he might, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was witnessing the birth of a once-in-a-generation talent.

As the competition unfolded, all eyes were drawn to Joo-won's table. His movements were a mesmerizing dance, each gesture precise and purposeful. The young alchemist's hands flew across the pill refinery, measuring and mixing with a grace that seemed to defy mortal limits.

The air around him shimmered with energy, wisps of qi curling around his fingers as he worked. To the onlookers, it appeared as if the very essence of alchemy itself guided his actions.

"Heavens above," whispered a wide-eyed disciple, her voice tinged with awe. "It's as if we are witnessing the spirit of the Divine Pharmacist."

Even the stern-faced proctor found himself captivated, his usual stoic demeanor cracking in the face of such raw talent.

Alchemist Jeong, however, stood apart from the crowd, his eyes narrowed to slits. "Hmph," he scoffed, his voice low and bitter. "A pretty performance means nothing if the pills lack potency. We shall see if this country bumpkin's results match his showmanship."

Yet even as the words left his lips, a seed of doubt took root in Jeong's heart. For in Joo-won's movements, he glimpsed echoes of legendary alchemists long past – masters whose names were whispered in reverence throughout the cultivation world.

Alchemist Lee Dok-Hwa's eyes widened, his weathered face a mask of astonishment. "In all my years," he murmured, stroking his long beard, "never have I witnessed such mastery from one so young. To think, this prodigy hails from a humble academy in the hinterlands!"

Beside him, Alchemist Kwon nodded sagely, his brow furrowed in thought. "Indeed, his skill is remarkable. Yet, let us not be too hasty in our judgments."

The grand hall hummed with anticipation, disciples and masters alike whispering in hushed tones. Joo-won's display had set the cultivation world abuzz, like a stone cast into a still pond, sending ripples of excitement and uncertainty through the gathered crowd.

"Should he reach the final trials," Lee Dok-Hwa mused, his eyes glinting with a mixture of excitement and concern, "we may bear witness to a battle of wits and skill unseen since the days of the legendary Pill Emperor."