Joo-won took a deep breath, knowing it was time to show what he could really do. His goal here is not to win the competition, but to gain the attention of Alchemist Lee and perhaps his cooperation to their mission. He reached into his spatial pouch and started pulling out cauldrons - not just one or two, but seventeen of them!

As he set each one down, they made different sounds. The first one sounded like a mix of string instruments and drums. The others added their own unique noises, until the whole room was filled with a weird but cool symphony.

Joo-won didn't waste any time. He got to work, tossing ingredients into the cauldrons like he was born doing it. His hands moved so fast they were almost a blur. The way he threw stuff in made a beat, kind of like someone playing drums really well.

The flames under the cauldrons danced along, making the whole scene look like something out of a lively theater performance.

The other alchemists and even the judges looked on in confusion and amazement. No one had ever seen anything like this before. Some whispered to each other, trying to figure out what Joo-won was up to, but nobody could make sense of his technique.

Little did they know, they were witnessing the Muse Symphony, an ancient technique created by the 4th Alchemy God during the Desolate Era. It was a lost art, forgotten by time, and Joo-won was bringing it back to life right before their eyes. It was a time younger than the Primordial Era

Joo-won's peculiar technique unfolded before them, and the gathered alchemists found themselves at a loss for words. Alchemist Kwon, his eyes wide as saucers, was the first to break the stunned silence.

"Heavens above!" he exclaimed. "What manner of sorcery is this young disciple performing? It's as if he's weaving a fabric of music and alchemy together!"

Alchemist Jeong, ever the skeptic, cast a sidelong glance at his colleague. His brow furrowed in doubt as he spoke, "Music and alchemy, you say? Surely you jest, Kwon. This seems nothing more than a fanciful display to me."

Yet it was Alchemist Lee Dok-Hwa who watched with the keenest interest. His weathered face bore an expression of deep concentration, as if trying to grasp a memory that danced just beyond his reach.

"There's something... familiar about this technique," he murmured, more to himself than to his fellow judges. "It reminds me of a sight I beheld in my youth, though this... this is far grander in scale."

Lee Dok-Hwa's mind raced back to a distant memory, to the time when his mother was gravely ill and no medicinal alchemist dare to help them. It was then that he stumbled upon a master alchemist wielding seven cauldrons in a dance of creation that had inspired his own path. But here, before his very eyes, young Joo-won commanded not seven, but seventeen vessels in a symphony of alchemy.

The veteran alchemist struggled to maintain his composure, unwilling to voice his suspicions without certainty. Yet deep within, a spark of excitement ignited. Could this be the rebirth of a long-lost art?

As Joo-won's hands moved with the grace of a master calligrapher, the seventeen cauldrons before him erupted into a symphony of flames. Each vessel bore a fire of unique hue - crimson as fresh blood, orange bright as the setting sun, and gold that shimmered like the scales of a celestial dragon.

The assembled crowd stood transfixed, their breath caught in their throats as they beheld a spectacle. Only Joo-won knows, this was no mere display of skill, but the resurrection of a legendary technique - the Inferno Dance, an art believed lost to the mists of time.

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Alchemist Lee Dok-Hwa, his aged frame trembling with a mixture of shock and reverence, rose from his seat. His eyes, which had witnessed countless alchemical marvels over the decades, now struggled to comprehend the profound mystery unfolding before him.

"By the ancestors," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the crackling flames. "This is no simple performance. There are depths here that even I cannot fathom."

As he watched Joo-won's fluid movements, each gesture precise yet flowing like the rhythm of soound, Lee Dok-Hwa felt a chill run down his spine. For a master of his caliber to be unable to decipher the intricacies of this technique... it spoke volumes of the young alchemist's prowess.

"Who are you, child?" he mused, his brow furrowed in concentration. "What lineage of forgotten masters has produced such a prodigy?"

As the Inferno Dance continued, the other alchemists noticed Lee Dok-Hwa's astonished expression. His fellow judges leaned in, curiosity written across their faces.

"Master Lee, what troubles you?" one whispered.

Lee Dok-Hwa's eyes never left Joo-won's mesmerizing performance as he spoke, his voice tinged with awe. "It's as if... as if each movement unravels a knot within my mind. I've not felt such a sensation since..." His voice trailed off, lost in memory.

Suddenly, realization dawned upon him. "Enlightenment," he breathed, the word hanging in the air like incense smoke.

A collective gasp rippled through the gathering of masters. For Lee Dok-Hwa, a revered figure in the world of alchemy, to speak of enlightenment was no small matter. His peers exchanged meaningful glances, their minds racing.

"Surely, you jest, Master Lee?" one ventured, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his own amazement.

Another leaned forward, eyes narrowed in concentration. "If it is as you say... what manner of prodigy stands before us? To guide even one such as yourself towards enlightenment..."

The competition reached its zenith. Joo-won paused, reaching into his robes to retrieve a small, jade-green pill. With a swift motion, he swallowed it, and a faint golden glow briefly enveloped his form. The spectators held their breath, recognizing the act of consuming a potent energy restorative.

"Truly remarkable," an elder alchemist murmured. "To maintain this level of energy and concentration for so long... it should have drained most student alchemist."

Yet Joo-won showed no signs of fatigue. He returned to his cauldrons with renewed vigor, his movements as fluid and precise as when he began. The contrast between Joo-won and his fellow competitors grew ever starker.

While others furrowed their brows in concentration, frantically measuring ingredients with shaking hands, Joo-won moved with the grace of a master swordsman. Each toss of an ingredient, each adjustment of the flames, seemed part of an intricate dance known only to him.

The Inferno Dance continued unabated, flames of crimson, azure, and gold weaving patterns in the air that left onlookers spellbound. Each cauldron sang its own fiery song, a harmony of heat and light that defied conventional alchemy.

As the competition neared its end, a fragrant mist began to permeate the air, hinting at the imminent completion of someone's alchemical work. All eyes turned to Joo-won as he made a graceful gesture, lifting the lids of his seventeen cauldrons.

A spectacle unfolded before the astonished onlookers. From each vessel rose a swirling fog, coalescing into ethereal forms. Seventeen muses, as if plucked from the realm of immortals, danced in the air above Joo-won's workspace.

The flames beneath the cauldrons extinguished, and a dazzling array of alchemical marvels emerged. Pills of various hues, shimmering potions, potent antidotes, deadly poisons, mystical pastes, and radiant elixirs.

The assembled alchemists gasped in awe, their own creations forgotten in the face of such mastery. But before anyone could react further, a thunderous voice shook the refinery room.

"STOP!"

Alchemist Lee Dok-Hwa’s eyes blazing with recognition and conviction. The room fell silent, all attention now on the venerated master.

"This competition is over," he declared, his voice brooking no argument. "To continue would be an exercise in futility. The outcome is as clear as the summer sky."

As murmurs of confusion rippled through the crowd, Dok-Hwa's gaze remained fixed on Joo-won. In his mind, the pieces had finally fallen into place. The technique he had witnessed as a child, performed by an ancient master, now lived again in the hands of this young prodigy.