CHAPTER 108: CHAPTER 100: RISING PROSPERITY

In the workshop, dozens of sheets of paper were scattered across the table, dense with notes full of crossings and changes.

Rows of test tubes were neatly arranged on the workbench, containing liquids that presented various strange colors, some even continuously changing hues as if alive.

The night was deep, yet Ron persisted in conducting experiments.

His black hair looked messy due to the long hours spent bowing his head in research, and the fine beads of sweat on his forehead shimmered faintly under the dim magic crystal lamp.

"Wrong... still wrong..."

Ron irritably tossed the notebook in his hand onto the desk, with a few droplets of ink splattering onto his sleeve, though he seemed completely oblivious to it.

He rubbed his brow forcefully, attempting to alleviate the stinging pain there.

This was already his third sleepless night.

He tried over a dozen new formulas, adjusted countless times the proportions of ingredients, and even risked using some rare and dangerous materials, but found fatal flaws during the theoretical deduction phase.

Every seemingly hopeful combination ultimately collapsed at one point, just like a meticulously constructed house of cards, always toppling before the final step.

"Why can’t I find the right balance point?"

Ron stood up and paced back and forth in the cramped laboratory, furrowing his brow.

The improved bloodline activation potion needed to meet three conditions simultaneously:

Sufficient activity, maintaining the direction of bloodline mutation, and stability to suppress distortion.

These three conditions constrained each other, like an impossible "choose two out of three" puzzle, improving any one condition often leads to a deterioration of the other two.

"Increase activity, and directionality becomes uncontrolled; enhance stability, and activity is insufficient..."

Sighing softly, he walked to the corner of the laboratory and took down the violin leaning against the wall—a gift from Trish to celebrate his certification as a professional alchemist last time.

Though music couldn’t be recorded into the skill bar like other extraordinary skills, he found that playing the violin effectively eased his anxiety.

The increase in comprehension brought by the Dual Soul talent also allowed him to learn music theory and practice pieces at a speed far surpassing ordinary people.

He gently positioned the violin on his shoulder, closed his eyes, and began to play a soft tune.

The sound produced by the friction between the bow and the strings was particularly clear in the night, and though the melody was simple, it was full of emotion.

The melodious tune seemed to have a magical power, able to soothe the turmoil within him.

"Alright, the piece itself is indeed good, but my basic technique still needs improvement..."

Ron laughed self-deprecatingly and put down the violin.

The music indeed worked, significantly calming his emotions and clarifying his thoughts.

He looked at the failed samples on the workbench, each bottle representing an attempt, a setback.

Some were too mild to provide enough activity, like trying to light wet wood with a candle;

Others were too aggressive, with a high distortion risk—using them would be akin to suicide;

And some, despite decent stability, failed to provide enough directionality, incapable of pointing to more ancient and pure bloodlines, only enlarging existing weak traits, far below his expectations.

Taking a deep breath, Ron forced himself to calm down: "Maybe I need to think from another perspective..."

He closed his eyes, feeling his heartbeat gradually stabilize, muscles relax bit by bit.

After several rounds of deep breathing, he decided to temporarily set this issue aside and focus on other matters in the workshop.

"Staying here will only increase anxiety pointlessly; better to shift focus and gain new inspiration instead."

He said to himself, trying to conquer emotions with reason.

Recently, the shop’s business was quite good, yet Trish hadn’t personally visited.

It seemed her promise of visiting when free was merely a polite remark; she had been constantly sending Li Yue to pick up orders and continually introduced new clients to him.

Several intermediate and advanced apprentices came because of her introduction. Though they knew Ron was a recently renowned magic potion genius, they doubted his potion refining experience given his age.

But under Trish’s credit guarantee, they were still willing to tentatively purchase some potions to try.

If the effects of these potions were acknowledged, the reputation of the workshop would undoubtedly rise even higher.

But with that comes a noticeable increase in order volume, which was already difficult for him to manage alone.

Previously, he mainly relied on Andre for help, but the latter had no aptitude for magic potion making, only able to handle miscellaneous tasks. Now he urgently needed a professional assistant, and this was an urgent matter.

Ron picked up an order from the floor, frowning as he looked at the deadline—it was just three days away.

If he had a professional assistant, he could save a lot of redundant material handling steps, at least not exhausting himself to the point of a heart attack every time.

"The tree spirit... that tree spirit with a unique perception of plants should be very suitable for a magic potion workshop."

Ron recalled the creature he saw at the Blake Exotic Race Exchange, a look of determination flashing in his eyes:

"With my current funds, buying it shouldn’t be a big problem."

He tidied up the lab bench, carefully labeling and storing the failed samples — perhaps one day they might provide some inspiration.

He changed into a suitable robe and fastened a pouch containing magic stone fragments at his waist.

The silver pocket watch lay gently in the inner pocket near his chest, ticking softly, as if reminding him of the preciousness of time.

Upon leaving the workshop, Ron casually checked the order book.

There were currently three urgent orders that needed to be completed within three days, especially the batch of potions for Trish, some materials of which needed pre-processing; otherwise, it would be difficult to deliver on time.

"It’s indeed time for some help." He locked the workshop door and quickly headed to the market area, a decision formed in his mind.

The weather in Black Mist Jungle was as gloomy as always, faint mist swirling on the ground like countless transparent snakes slithering around.

Passing by the school cafeteria, Ron saw several elementary apprentices lining up for food, looking numb and exhausted.

They were hunched over, their eyes hollow, like soulless shells driven only by instinct to continue moving.

Though they barely survived the waiting period, they faced the next round of eliminations, eyes filled with uncertainty and fear of the future.

Ron silently lamented, a few months ago, he too stood in the same place, equally anxious, unsure of where to go.

"Life’s encounters are indeed unpredictable..."

He quickened his pace, unwilling to be weighed down by these thoughts.

Time is precious, and not seizing hard-earned opportunities is the greatest disrespect to fate.

......

The Blake Exotic Race Exchange was located in the shadows on the eastern side of the market, its shaky wooden sign still hanging crooked at the entrance, the letters becoming more blurred, as if they could vanish into the wind at any moment.

The two half-beastman guards at the door were more vigilant than last time, their eyes coldly gleaming, muscles taut, ready to subdue any troublemakers.

But when they saw Ron, they immediately retracted their hostility, respectfully bowing their heads to make way.

"Honorable Lord Ron, I have heard of your recent glorious achievement in passing the professional alchemist certification!"

The short and stout slave merchant immediately stood up from behind the counter upon seeing Ron, raising his voice and wearing an ingratiating smile as he approached:

"Ever since your last visit, I’ve been anticipating your return."

The merchant’s beady eyes turned into slits, his smile overly greasy, reminding Ron of some second-hand dealers he had seen in his previous life.

Ron nodded slightly, uninterested in the other’s flattery, going straight to the point:

"Is the tree spirit I saw last time still here?"

"Here! Of course, it’s here!" The merchant rubbed his hands, a sly glint in his eyes:

"I’ve been keeping it just for you. Every day someone offers to buy it, but I always tell them it’s already reserved."

Ron sneered internally, not believing a word of it.

The last time he came, this merchant probably already noticed his interest in the tree spirit and deliberately retained this "rare item," waiting for him to return and purchase it at a high price.

The merchant led Ron through rows of cages, the sounds of various extraordinary creatures growling, sobbing, and whispering intertwined, creating a tragic chorus.

Finally, they arrived at a separate enclosure in the backyard.

Compared to last time, this enclosure seemed cleaner, with a few pots of greenery even placed in the corners.

It looked like an attempt to create an environment more suitable for the tree spirit’s survival or, more accurately, to showcase the "item’s" value.

The tree spirit curled up in the corner, its calm eyes lifting to gaze quietly at Ron.

Its skin still a pale green, covered with small scales, vine-like hair slightly swaying, showing a peculiar vitality.

Unlike last time, the tree spirit seemed to have a subtle reaction to Ron’s arrival.

Although its posture remained quiet, its eyes flashed with an emotion Ron couldn’t quite define, as if it recognized him.

"Look, it’s in such great condition!"

The merchant proudly patted his chest, his voice full of pride:

"I specifically ordered people to water it with nutrient solution every day, ensuring its vitality doesn’t decrease."