Chapter Thirty-Three: Demonic Potion of Dark Breath (III)

Dissolution, as the name suggests, is like the thawing of snow atop a mountain peak.

When the sublimated mist settled back into the flask and gradually transformed into cool ice, Carlos no longer hesitated. With a gentle flame from an alcohol lamp, he warmed it carefully.

In no time, the multicolored mist vanished, leaving behind only a portion of dark liquid in the cup. Carlos’s face lit up with unconcealed delight, the joy at the corners of his eyes impossible to hide. “It’s done.”

“Teacher, would you take a look?”

Du Buyi nodded, stepped to the alchemy table, and lifted the cup to examine the liquid, sniffing it lightly.

“Hmm, well done. This is indeed the Demon’s Breath Potion.”

Carlos chuckled sheepishly, about to offer a few modest words, when he saw Du Buyi hand the cup back to him. Bewildered, he asked, “Teacher?”

“Drink it.”

“What?” Carlos’s mind suddenly went blank.

Du Buyi replied sternly, “The potion’s effects are best fresh, especially with Demon’s Breath potions. With every passing moment, its efficacy weakens. Since you brewed it yourself, you should drink it now.”

Carlos’s expression turned so sullen it seemed he could wring water from his face.

“Don’t we test on animals first or something?”

After all, this was his first alchemical attempt, and Carlos was naturally uneasy—especially when his own life was at stake. He was particularly reluctant.

Du Buyi glared in anger. “Nonsense! That’s the shame of an alchemist! If you ever brew a potion for an employer and tell them to feed it to a dog before taking it themselves, what do you think will happen? If they’re the impulsive sort, they might just smash your head in on the spot.”

Carlos muttered inwardly that he was only being responsible for life.

After all, even the best make mistakes.

His resistance thoroughly enraged the old alchemist. Slamming the cup onto the table, Du Buyi snapped, “That simply means your alchemical skills aren’t good enough.”

He suddenly wanted to pry open Carlos’s skull to see what was inside. This boy, barely in his teens, had managed to complete his first alchemical attempt smoothly, every step watched closely by Du Buyi. Though Demon’s Breath Potion wasn’t the most difficult to brew, for a novice to succeed independently was impressive.

Yet this noble brat, who both delighted and exasperated him, now raised his face and asked, “Teacher, have you never failed before?”

The old man gritted his teeth. “You’re overthinking it. Even if something goes awry during the process, I can instantly tell whether the potion has failed. As for finalized products, I almost never make mistakes.”

Carlos nodded, placing his hand on the container of Demon’s Breath Potion. After a moment of sensing, he reasoned that if the old man said it was safe, nothing would go wrong. Raising the cup, he swirled the liquid before his lips, rather pleased with his own first success.

“Teacher, be sure to teach me how to judge a potion’s success later,” Carlos said lightly.

Then he drank it all in one go.

The potion carried a numbing, spicy flavor; as soon as it touched his tongue, it tingled, as if he were chewing on peppered grass. The sensation was indescribable.

At that moment, Carlos felt almost wild with agitation.

His stomach churned tumultuously. The dark energy within him, previously lying dormant like stagnant water, stirred and became a rushing stream.

There was no need for conscious control; the current surged directly into his heart, merging with his blood.

Carlos had never experienced such a feeling. Based on the alchemical treatise’s description of the Demon’s Breath Potion, he surmised that his body was now converting the dark energy.

Previously, all the residual dark energy had pooled in his abdomen, slowly evaporating away. Although the evaporation was gradual, Carlos reasoned that, left unconverted, it would eventually dissipate entirely.

The conversion process drew the dark energy from his abdomen into his heart, where it merged with his blood and circulated through his veins, thus preserving it.

For now, the Demon’s Breath Potion was working remarkably well.

Carlos suddenly felt an urge to brew more.

Most importantly, he realized that, post-ingestion, the transformation of dark energy was gentle—so long as it remained within, it did not hinder his actions.

Except for the numbing sensation on his tongue, everything else was perfect.

Staring at the empty cup, he asked Du Buyi cautiously, “Teacher, do we have much of the herbal transmuter left?”

The old man pursed his lips in a show of pride. “Plenty, but using it for Demon’s Breath is a waste.”

Carlos grinned. “Teacher, I’m willing to pay for it.”

“In your dreams. The herbal transmuter isn’t especially difficult to make, but only high-ranking alchemists can master it. What price do you think will persuade one to brew more for you? A hundred gold coins per liter? Two hundred?”

Carlos was stunned. A single gold coin was nearly a miner’s yearly wage in Saltwell Town. Who would pay a hundred coins for a liter of transmuter?

Judging from Du Buyi’s expression, even two hundred coins wouldn’t buy half a liter from him.

Carlos was a little disheartened, but at least the three herbal ingredients for Demon’s Breath, though uncommon, weren’t rare. He could ask his family for help gathering them, bypassing the need for the transmuter, streamlining the process and resulting in an even purer potion.

Thinking thus, Carlos felt somewhat consoled.

His eyes darted as he considered another approach. “Teacher, you mentioned a method to judge whether a potion has succeeded. What is it?”

Du Buyi smiled slyly, settled into the sofa, took a shallow sip of wine, and looked at Carlos with interest. “You want to learn?”

“Yes, yes,” Carlos nodded eagerly.

Du Buyi’s expression turned solemn. Suddenly, a dazzling, dark-gold magic circle materialized above his head, radiating authority. The runes within spun and shifted; Carlos, scrutinizing them, realized that many were described in the ‘Foundations of Alchemical Geometry’ and could vaguely decipher a corner’s meaning.

“Teacher, what’s this?” Carlos asked in amazement, watching the old man conjure such a spectacular display with a mere gesture.

His face showed both surprise and delight.

The luminous circle spun briefly, then stopped with a resounding thud.

Du Buyi let out a sinister chuckle. “The Gold Verification Array. Master this, and you’ll be able to assess the quality of your alchemical creations—and naturally, determine their success or failure!”

As he finished, Du Buyi snapped his fingers.

The formidable array vanished with a bang.

The sound echoed like spring thunder in the basement, lingering long after.

It set Carlos’s heart pounding in his chest.