As the echoes of the Inferno Dance faded, all eyes turned to Joo-won. The young alchemist stood amidst his cauldrons, his hands still shimmering with ethereal flames, a picture of quiet confidence that belied his humble origins.

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the grand hall, disciples and masters alike struggling to comprehend the unprecedented turn of events. For Alchemist Lee Dok-Hwa to halt the sacred competition, and for a mere country bumpkin to be the cause – it was as if the heavens themselves had been shaken.

Alchemist Jeong's face twisted into a mask of fury, his dreams of his niece's triumph crumbling like sand in the wind. His eyes, burning with barely contained rage, darted between Joo-won and Lee Dok-Hwa, searching for some sign that this was all an elaborate jest.

Lee Dok-Hwa met Jeong's glare with a look of quiet sympathy, as if to say, "Even the mightiest tree must bow before the storm." The unspoken message was clear – in the face of true genius, even the most carefully laid plans must yield.

The hall fell silent as Alchemist Lee Dok-Hwa's voice rang out, clear and authoritative. "Joo-won," he called, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of awe and curiosity, "your prowess has shaken the very foundations of this competition. Truly, your talent is a gift from the heavens themselves."

Joo-won bowed deeply, his face a mask of humility. "This humble disciple is unworthy of such high praise, venerable Alchemist Dok-Hwa."

A ripple of murmurs swept through the crowd, disciples and masters alike marveling at the young alchemist's skill and grace. Yet, just as the tide of excitement reached its peak, Lee Dok-Hwa's next words crashed upon them like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.

"However," he continued, his voice heavy with an unspoken weight, "the path ahead must diverge. Young Joo-won, you are... disqualified from the succeeding rounds."

Gasps of shock and disbelief echoed through the grand hall. Disciples turned to one another, confusion etched upon their faces. Even the stoic masters seemed taken aback by this sudden turn of events.

As Alchemist Lee Dok-Hwa's voice resonated through the pill refinery chamber, a hush fell over the gathered disciples and masters. His words, heavy with both praise and an unexpected decree, hung in the air like incense smoke.

"Young Joo-won's display of skill," he proclaimed, "has surpassed the bounds of our humble competition. To ask others to measure themselves against such talent would be akin to comparing fireflies to the moon."

Murmurs of agreement and disbelief rippled through the crowd. Joo-won stood silent, his face a mask of calm acceptance, though his eyes betrayed a glimmer of something deeper – perhaps understanding, perhaps resignation.

Lee Dok-Hwa continued, his gaze sweeping across the assembly. "We must nurture the flames of talent in all our disciples, not extinguish them in the shadow of one so gifted. Thus, Joo-won shall step aside, his victory assured."

The venerable alchemist's eyes twinkled with a hint of mystery as he added, "Fear not, for a prize befitting such extraordinary skill awaits our young prodigy – one that may shape the very future of our sacred art."

As the declaration faded, a wave of exultation swept through the hall. Cheers and applause thundered like a summer storm, disciples and masters alike caught in the fervor of witnessing history unfold.

Geonwoo found himself at the center of a whirlwind of praise, his fellow alchemists showering him with accolades for nurturing such exceptional talent. Even Sohee, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and resignation, bowed her head in acknowledgment of Joo-won's superiority.

Alchemist Jeong, his face a mask of conflicting emotions, swallowed his pride like a bitter pill. Though his heart burned with frustration, he knew that to challenge the decision would be as futile as railing against the heavens themselves.

As the competition resumed its course, a sense of anticlimax settled over the gathering. The following rounds, once anticipated with bated breath, now seemed but pale shadows in the wake of Joo-won's dazzling display.

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Whispers of Joo-won's prowess and the sudden renown of the Autumn Maple Retreat flitted through the crowd like autumn leaves on the wind. Geonwoo, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, cast a questioning glance at Alchemist Joo, silently seeking answers to the mystery of Joo-won's extraordinary skill.

As Alchemist Lee Dok-Hwa's proclamation reverberated through the grand hall, a silent exchange of glances passed between Alchemist Joo, Do Joon-soo, Hyeol-Ran, and Yi Ji-won. Their eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of a plan unfurling like a scroll of destiny.

The invitation for Joo-won to join Lee Dok-Hwa in private counsel sent a ripple of anticipation through their small circle. It was as if the very heavens had aligned to favor their designs.

…

Joo-won followed the venerable alchemist, their footsteps echoing through hushed corridors like the steady beat of a war drum. Though outwardly composed, the young prodigy's heart fluttered like a caged bird, aware that each step carried him closer to a pivotal moment in his journey.

The weight of destiny pressed upon Joo-won's shoulders as he trailed behind Lee Dok-Hwa. He knew that in the coming moments, every word, every gesture would be crucial.

As they approached the sanctuary of Lee Dok-Hwa's private chambers, Joo-won steeled his resolve. For in this moment, he stood not just an alchemist, but an important part of their plan to reclaim the district from the grasp of the poison masters.

Joo-won stepped into Alchemist Lee Dok-Hwa's sanctum. The air is thick with the essence of countless elixirs. Tomes of arcane knowledge lined the walls.

Lee Dok-Hwa's gaze, sharp as a blade and deep as an ancient well, fixed upon the young prodigy. In those eyes, Joo-won saw a spark of curiosity mingled with perplexity, as if the venerable master beheld a riddle wrapped in human form.

Without a word, Lee Dok-Hwa ventured into the heart of his sanctuary, a place few had ever glimpsed. Before an unremarkable shelf, he paused. At his approach, thorned roots, pulsing with virulent toxins, writhed and retreated, recognizing their master's presence.

The shelf parted like mist before the dawn, revealing a chest of untold antiquity. With a gesture as old as alchemy itself, Lee Dok-Hwa offered a drop of his blood essence. The chest yielded its treasure – a parchment that seemed to breathe with the very breath of creation.

Joo-won's breath caught in his throat. The energy emanating from the ancient text resonated with a familiar power, akin to that which dwelled in the tower, yet not quite as pure. It was as if he gazed upon a fragment of the world's ancient alchemical formula.

Alchemist Lee Dok-Hwa's eyes grew distant, lost in the mists of memory. "In my youth, I witnessed a miracle that kindled my passion for alchemy. An old master brewed a potion that saved my mother's life, his technique an art I could never forget."

His gnarled fingers caressed the ancient parchment. "When I obtained my current position, I vowed to uncover that technique. This fragment is all I've found - merely an introduction to what they call the Muse Symphony. The same technique you used a while ago."

Joo-won's eyes gleamed with hidden knowledge. He knew he was being probed. How could he, as a child, knew such a legendary alchemical technique? A smile played on his lips as he spoke, "Venerable master, I ask one thing- that you listen to my tale."

Lee Dok-Hwa nodded, curiosity piqued. "Agreed, young one. Speak, and I shall listen."

Joo-won's voice, soft yet clear as mountain spring water, filled the chamber with tales of his past. "Years ago, this humble one ventured into the misty peaks of the Unforgiving Gorge, seeking the wisdom of an alchemy master. For moons uncounted, I braved the wilds and treacherous paths."

His eyes gleamed with the memory of that fateful day. "When hope had all but abandoned me, heaven's grace led me to a hidden grotto. There, I encountered an ageless hermit, a sage whose knowledge seemed to span eons."

Lee Dok-Hwa leaned forward.

"The nameless master spoke of watching my journey from afar, awaiting a worthy disciple to inherit his art. This unworthy one pleaded for his teachings, and by some miracle, he acquiesced."

Joo-won's voice took on a reverent tone. "For years, I absorbed his wisdom, unraveling the mysteries of the Muse Symphony."

As he spoke, Joo-won carefully omitted any mention of the Inferno Dance.

As Joo-won's tale unfolded, Lee Dok-Hwa's brow furrowed, his mind wrestling with disbelief. How could one so young claim mastery of arts that took lifetimes to perfect? Yet, as he gazed upon the youth before him, memories of his own childhood stirred like leaves in an autumn breeze.

The words of a long-forgotten master echoed in his mind: "Knowledge is not limited by age." Could it be that the disciple of the nameless alchemist who had saved his mother now stood before him?

"Tell me, young Joo-won," Lee Dok-Hwa's voice carried the weight of decades of curiosity, "this master of yours... truly he bears no name? Can you paint a picture of him with your words?"

Joo-won's eyes took on a distant look, as if gazing upon a figure shrouded in mist. "Venerable sir, my master is as elusive as the morning dew. He shuns recognition, finding joy only in the pursuit of alchemical truths. His identity remains a mystery, wrapped in silence and seclusion."

Lee Dok-Hwa nodded slowly, his fingers absently tracing the patterns of his robe. The pieces of a grand puzzle seemed to dance just beyond his grasp, tantalizingly close yet frustratingly unclear.