Free Web NovelChapter 209: Chapter 203: Analysis
Early the next morning, before Ian could even leave, a knock came from the door.
"Elder Marcus, are you there?"
It was Kenna’s voice.
Ian walked over and opened the door. Four people stood outside.
Kenna, Robert, and two other new employees from the Magic Pharmacy.
Upon seeing Ian, the four of them immediately bowed, their attitude so respectful it bordered on subservient.
"Elder." Kenna’s voice was a little agitated. "The Magic Pharmacy... there are too many people."
Ian raised an eyebrow, having a good idea of the reason. "Explain in detail."
"Yes." Kenna swallowed. "Starting yesterday, people have been lining up in long queues to buy Potions. The stock in the warehouse... was sold out in half a day."
Leia added, "And many people are asking to see you by name, saying they want to commission custom Potions..."
Ian frowned. He didn’t have time to perform Alchemy for others.
"I understand," he said. "I’ll make a trip to the shop today. You four head back and maintain order for now."
"Yes!" the four replied in unison and turned to leave.
Ian closed the door and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
’Fame really is a double-edged sword.’
He changed his clothes and left with Gaga.
The Magic Pharmacy wasn’t far, a quick walk away.
Before he even reached the shop’s entrance, Ian saw a long queue stretching from the store all the way to the street corner, with at least a hundred people in it.
There were Level One Wizards, but most were High Level Apprentices, along with a few fancily dressed individuals who looked like butlers for noble families.
Discussions buzzed through the line.
"I hear Elder Marcus is back?"
"Obviously. Why else would so many people be here?"
"I need to buy a Concentration Potion! I’ve been stuck as a High Level Apprentice for ten years, I’m just one step away..."
"I want a Rock Bear Potion! Money is no object!"
...
Ian entered the shop through the back door.
Kenna and the others were behind the counter, sweating profusely from the work. Seeing Ian enter, they hurried over to greet him.
"Elder, you’re finally here..."
Ian waved his hand dismissively, walked to the counter, and glanced at the crowd outside.
"From today onward, sales are limited to one hundred bottles of Concentration Potion and fifty bottles of Rock Bear Potion per day. All other Potions will be sold as usual."
Kenna was taken aback. "Limited sales? But what about all those people outside..."
"Let them wait in line," Ian said calmly. "I will gradually reduce the number of Potions I’m Refining in the future."
Once the Magic Potion Alchemists of the High Tower fully understood the Rock Bear Potion, he would stop Refining this Tier Zero Potion.
He planned to integrate it into a Tier One Bloodline Potion, which would further enhance his physical strength.
He then quickly handled a few miscellaneous tasks and turned toward the Alchemy Room in the back.
"Also, put up a sign," he said to Kenna, turning back at the doorway.
"Accepting commissions for Tier One Potions, but the price is tripled, materials must be provided by the client, and the completion time... depends on my mood."
Kenna’s mouth fell open, but in the end, he didn’t dare say anything and just nodded in agreement.
Ian walked into the Alchemy Room and closed the door.
The following month was exceptionally full for Ian.
He didn’t need to worry about the Magic Pharmacy. The Rock Bear Potions and Concentration Potions were in such high demand they couldn’t keep them in stock.
Some Wizards even started lining up a day in advance just to snatch a single bottle.
The Magic Pharmacy’s profits skyrocketed like a snowball rolling downhill. Kenna and the other three were counting money until their hands went soft every day, and their admiration for Ian had reached a point of near fanaticism.
During the day, besides Refining Potions in the Alchemy Room, he spent most of his time researching the Abyssal Fettering Ritual.
At night, Ian immersed himself in his cultivation.
The information he had on the Fettering Ritual was even more fragmented than what he had on the Abyssal Soul Contract.
Therefore, he was still focusing on the Abyssal Soul Contract, as the Abyssal Altar’s structure was better suited for it.
If he wanted to sneak into an Otherworld, besides building an Abyssal Altar and linking to an intelligent being from that Otherworld, there was also a most crucial Secret Technique.
Before, without the Phase Soul Weaving Technique, Ian had only planned to exchange knowledge of different worlds with the Otherworld.
Now, a path with higher risks but far greater rewards lay before him.
’I’m building an Abyssal Altar, relying on the great power of the Abyss’s Will, so... the Otherworlds I can communicate with are also worlds that have had contact with the Abyss, or have even been invaded by it.’
This was an extremely dangerous move. Through Meditation, Ian had successively received a great deal of knowledge from the Abyss.
He was very clear on just how terrifying the Will of the Abyss was.
Chaos, distortion, pain, madness...
It couldn’t even be accurately defined by the existing knowledge and language of the Wizard World.
All records of it were correct, yet also wrong; they were all incomplete.
’No matter how dangerous, I have to try. This is the ultimate path to compensate for my flawed Talent.’
Ian’s eyes were slightly closed as he calmed his mind.
In his Sea of Spirit, the Silver Crystal floated quietly, the thread-like patterns on its surface flowing slowly.
The information on the Phase Soul Weaving Technique was too vast. It had taken him a full half-month just to barely make sense of it.
The core of this Secret Technique was, after successfully communicating with an Otherworld, to sign an Abyssal Soul Contract with someone on the other side.
After that, he would "weave" a Soul projection within the Otherworld contractor’s sea of consciousness.
The projection would grow in sync, and all the experience and insights it gained would be fed back to the original body.
It was equivalent to double the time, double the rewards.
But the risks were also immense.
Contractual shackles, Energy consumption, phase pollution, exposure of one’s existence...
If any part of the process went wrong, it could lead to eternal damnation.
"I have to be cautious," Ian muttered to himself. "And I need to alter the terms of the contract."
’I can’t just tell them they’re signing an Abyssal Contract. Who would dare sign that?’
First, it needed to be packaged differently. Also, signing a contract required a price.
In the Wizard World, High Tier Contracts were generally arbitrated by an entity known as the "Eye of Contract."
It was one of the Wizard World’s Rule Created Creatures, possessed extremely high authority, and the price for violating it was something ordinary Wizards absolutely could not bear.
It was said that only the great True Spirit Wizards could completely ignore such contracts.
During the first month after returning to his small building, Ian barely went out.
He had cleared the stone table in the living room, covering it with all sorts of yellowed Parchment and fragments of Metal plates.
There were also the manuscript notes from his continuous deductions during this time.
The air was filled with the smell of ink and parchment. In the next room, the small silver tree was absorbing Energy from the flawless Magic Power.
He sat at the table, his brow furrowed, pinching a small piece of a Rune pattern between his fingers.
It was a rubbing taken from a fragment of a Soul Weaving Civilization Stone Slab.
Ian’s gaze was focused. His Spiritual Power, like the most precise carving knife, repeatedly sketched, deconstructed, and reconstructed the complex lines in his mind.
The Abyssal Fettering Ritual focused on using the altar as a fulcrum to forcibly "anchor" a coordinate in an Otherworld.
This would establish a relatively stable, yet one-way, "extractive" channel, more akin to a predatory colonial outpost.
The Abyssal Soul Contract’s core relied on the chaotic and powerful "notarization" force of the Abyss’s Will to reach a mandatory exchange agreement at the Soul level of both parties.
The difference between the two was somewhat like a "transaction" versus a "binding."
’One is like a hook, forcibly dragging something over. The other is like a chain, binding things together.’
Ian muttered to himself, his fingertips tapping unconsciously on the tabletop.
’What I want isn’t to plunder a world. I don’t have the ability to do that right now, it would cause too much of a commotion, and I’d die quickly.’
’What I want is to sneak in silently and grow parasitically...’
’The difficult part is how to use the ’chain’ of the Soul Contract to disguise and achieve the ’hook’ of the Fettering Ritual.’
’In other words, under the guise of the other party’s consent, complete a one-way implantation of a Soul projection.’
He closed his eyes, and deep within his Sea of Spirit, the Silver Crystal began to glow faintly.
At the same time, the long-dormant [Knowledge] panel quietly appeared.
A large amount of fragmented knowledge from the Abyss, Purified and absorbed from skimming benefits during his Meditation, flowed through his consciousness like a trickling stream.
This knowledge was originally chaotic and distorted, filled with incomprehensible ravings and insane images.
But after being silently filtered and organized by the panel, what ultimately settled were some cold, objective, fundamental Rules concerning "contracts," "Souls," and "interaction with Otherworld Rules."
’The Will of the Abyss itself doesn’t seem to care about the specific content and form of the contract.’
’What it cares about is the establishment of a ’Link,’ the spread of Chaos, the sinking of a Soul...’
A flicker of understanding hit Ian. ’So, as long as the specific terms of the contract don’t violate the core tenets of ’establishing a Link,’ ’paying a price,’ and ’bearing constraints,’ there’s actually a lot of room to maneuver...’
He grabbed a Feather Pen, dipped it in ink, and began writing quickly on a new sheet of Parchment.
Time flowed by with the RUSTLING sound of the pen tip scratching against the paper.
It wasn’t until a GRUMBLE of protest came from his stomach.
Only then did Ian jolt out of his complex deductions and look up at the window.
The sky had darkened without him noticing, and a few stars twinkled faintly in the night.
"GAGA! I’M STARVING! IAN, ARE YOU TRYING TO STARVE ME TO DEATH?"
Gaga’s weak voice came from the direction of the sofa.
It was sprawled out on its back on a soft cushion, its belly flat, its small eyes glaring resentfully at Ian.
"This Demon King returned from inspecting his territory to find a cold stove and an empty pot! My heart has gone cold, gaga!"
Only then did Ian remember that from the moment he sat down in the morning until now, he hadn’t even had a sip of water.
He hadn’t felt it while his mind was highly focused, but the moment he relaxed, a wave of intense fatigue and hunger washed over him.
He rubbed his throbbing temples and stood up, his bones making a few soft cracking sounds.
"What do you want to eat?"
"Roasted fish! A big piece! And I want Blood Essence too!"
Gaga was instantly energized, flapping its wings and flying to his shoulder, rubbing its head against his cheek.
"And I want that sweet juice from last time, gaga!"
"Quite the demanding little one, aren’t you?" Ian’s lips curved slightly as he walked toward the kitchen area.
His residence was small but had all the essentials; it was equipped with basic cooking facilities.
Soon, Ian was cooking himself. The SIZZLE of grease dripping onto the flames echoed from the kitchen, and a rich, meaty aroma mixed with some kind of spice began to spread.
He skillfully turned the chunks of meat on the metal skewers, while his other hand held a small silver pot, pouring bright red juice into a few cups beside him.
Gaga perched on a nearby cabinet, its eyes glued to the roasting meat.
A GULP of saliva could be heard from its throat.
"By the way, did those five little things cause any trouble today?"
Ian asked casually, handing a piece of fragrant fish, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, to Gaga.
Gaga eagerly snatched it in its beak, hissing from the heat, its words muffled.
"Hmph... It-It was fine... Lucy led them, trying to wrap my feet with silver threads, but I froze them with my shadow. It made them so mad their leaves curled up, gaga!"
It swallowed the meat in a few bites, licked its claws, and looked smug.
"This King used a little trick to string the five of them together and hang them on their mother tree’s branch to dry for half the day. They’re much more behaved now."
Ian pictured the scene—five glittering silver fruits strung together by Gaga’s Shadow Silk Thread, dangling from the branch of the small silver tree and chirping in protest—and couldn’t help but chuckle.
"Don’t actually bully them."
"I didn’t! They started it!"
Gaga huffed righteously, then nudged closer to rub against him again.
"Ian, what on earth are you doing, staring at those ghostly, twisted Runes every day, gaga? You’re even more engrossed than when you’re in Meditation."
"I’m working on something... that will let us go ’play’ somewhere else."
Ian paused from cutting the meat and thought for a moment, trying to explain it in a way Gaga could understand.
"It’s like the Underground Palace, but bigger than the Underground Palace. It’s an Otherworld."
Gaga’s small eyes instantly went wide.
"Another world? But the Underground Palace doesn’t have good food, just some bad guys, and you have to fight."
"I’m not sure either. There might be good food, or there might be bad guys."
Ian placed the roasted meat and juice on a tray and walked toward the living room.
"Mostly, it’s the unknown. But the risks are high, and the potential rewards could be high, too."
"I don’t get it, gaga!" Gaga flew down opposite him and snatched a piece of meat.
"But if you go, I’ll go! We’ll beat up the bad guys and snatch the good food!"
Ian smiled but didn’t say anything more. ’Gaga can’t go.’
