Chapter Thirty-One: The Devil’s Breath Potion (Part One)

The old man seemed quite satisfied with Carlos’s answer. He picked up the bottle and withdrew to a sofa nearby, sitting upright and gesturing for Carlos to begin at once.

“Ah, teacher, you haven’t given me the transformation reagent yet?”

“The alchemy experiment starts now. What you need is among those bottles. Find it yourself.”

Carlos was momentarily stunned by this response, feeling a wave of frustration wash over him—a bucket of cold water before anything had even begun. Yet, as he looked at the old man’s calm, unhurried demeanor, it was clear he wasn’t joking. With resignation, Carlos moved to the alchemy table, cross-referencing the general notes in the alchemy scroll, and began slowly sifting through the bottles.

The herbal transformation reagent was typically a highly concentrated liquid; otherwise, it couldn’t corrode the raw materials, let alone fuse and transform them. Remembering what the scroll described, Carlos lifted each bottle, holding it up to the open gas lamp on the table, and examined them closely.

“What’s this?”

A crystal glass bottle filled with a vivid blue liquid caught Carlos’s attention. He turned it over several times, fascinated by the fluid’s dreamlike sky-blue hue. Even though he knew such a clear liquid couldn’t possibly be the transformation reagent, he couldn’t resist gazing at it a little longer.

He pulled out the stopper, and an aroma reminiscent of fragrant soap wafted over him. Carlos quickly replaced the stopper.

“Damn, that smell—must be the body odor eruption potion mentioned in the alchemy scroll, used for mixing with blood eruption elixirs. This stuff makes you want to involuntarily pass gas. What a bizarre thing.”

Carlos grimaced as he set the glass bottle down, feeling his stomach tighten. His complexion darkened, and he hurriedly lifted his shirt to cover his nose and mouth. After a moment, his stomach gradually eased, and his face relaxed. It seemed, as noted in the basics of alchemy, that silk truly could restrain such odors.

From then on, Carlos proceeded with greater caution, no longer daring to open any stoppers carelessly. Fortunately, the transformation reagent wasn’t hard to find. When he picked out a bottle containing a viscous pale green liquid from the table, his eyes brightened—it had to be the one.

Carlos considered carefully. He took an 80-gram block of rock salt and a 68-gram block of tin ore, weighed them, soaked them in water, and then used a measuring cylinder to pour 30ml and 20ml of the green herbal transformation reagent into the two kinds of ores, respectively.

As the transformation began, he opened the steam engine’s valve, pouring the two converted substances into the crucible on the alchemy table.

The steam engine began to shudder like an old washing machine, emitting a mournful whimper, as if a parched fish gasping for its last breath of air.

“Teacher, what’s happening?”

Carlos was clearly startled by the machine’s violent state, turning to look at Dubois, his eyes full of inquiry.

The old man glanced at Carlos, speaking with remarkable indifference, “There’s core liquid in the big vat. Feed it a spoonful.”

Carlos followed the instruction, and the effect was immediate.

Then, he waited for the mixture with the properties of algae grass and sunflowers to be ready, dumped all impurities into the trash, ground and sorted the algae grass, and extracted another 20ml of the sunflower mixture to continue adding the herbal transformation reagent.

Naturally, throughout this process, the philosopher’s stone was indispensable.

Five minutes later, the demon grass mixture emerged in the steaming white mist. Carlos’s lips curled into a smile as he wiped the fine sweat from his brow.

He checked each ingredient, and, confirming that each had been evenly transformed, he said, “Teacher, could you look over these? If everything’s fine, all that remains is to prepare the potion.”

“Let’s hope so.”

The old man stood, surveying the three herbal mixtures like a stern proctor at a chemistry exam. He moved closer, then farther, placing the three cups under the gas lamp and shading them from the light with his hand, studying the bubbling contents before declaring himself satisfied.

“Not bad. For a first attempt, this is very successful.”

Receiving such praise, Carlos murmured, “Do you think this counts as a success?”

“Yes. The materials are evenly transformed, and there are no large impurities. That’s quite good.”

Dubois spoke honestly. In his alchemical career, unless crafting high-grade, specialized potions, it was rarely necessary to transform ingredients to a very refined degree. The herbal mixtures Carlos produced with the binary method were more than sufficient for brewing the Demon’s Breath potion.

Carlos asked, “Should I try to make it even more uniform? I think I can do better.”

Dubois appreciated Carlos’s attitude toward alchemy—it showed he was a child who paid attention to detail. He neither panicked at his first attempt nor grew arrogant at his initial success, though the old man still didn’t show much expression.

He suddenly glared and asked, “Are you showing off?”

Carlos laughed and swore he wasn’t. After all, this Demon’s Breath potion wasn’t just for the alchemy exam; it was intended for his own use. If he could brew it better, why not?

With his teacher’s approval, Carlos focused his attention back on the potion’s preparation.

He placed his hands firmly on the alchemy table, stared intently at the three cups, and carefully selected a dye from the heap of glass bottles to add. As the dye dripped into the cups, the herbal mixture emitted a dazzling halo, illuminating Carlos’s deep, inscrutable black eyes in a blue iridescence, like two drops of ink splashed onto a rainbow.

The potion needed to go through seven steps: coloring, coagulation, distillation, corrosion, calcination, sublimation, and dissolution—not complicated, but demanding great care. For example, during the algae grass coagulation step, he’d add varying amounts of additives to the herbal mixture, observe whether magical condensation occurred after boiling, and adjust variables to find the optimal dosage.

Because the materials were limited, he carefully referenced the approximate ratios he’d noted in advance, adding the reagent drop by drop. Twice he failed, but thankfully the algae grass mixture was plentiful, and after some waste, the third coagulation experiment succeeded swiftly.

Observing this success, Carlos realized the amount of additive required was actually greater than what the scroll had recorded.

Watching the algae mixture react, magical energy condensed a dazzling rainbow into a colored crystal, encircled by iridescent mist.

Carlos’s mood quickly recovered from the shadow of the previous failures, and the tension in his face eased.

He murmured to himself, “It’s true—even in the basement, the material reactions are still affected by some interference. It’s impossible to precisely control the reagent’s dosage as the notes suggest.”