银河证券软件

"Show me the recipe immediately!" He wrote in rage, using the baby's finger.

The still happily smiling apothecary, obliged, too engrossed in scanning the potion's aspect to notice the urgency in the message.

Focusing, Adam skimmed through the content and swiftly reached the end of the page, where he saw a short warning. Upon reading it, he almost had a heart attack... Or a soul attack?

Caution in the event of consuming a failed potion:

The Ghostly Elixir, designed to enhance mana flow and heal the soul, tragically backfires. Instead of its intended effects, it subjects the individual to a nightmarish chaos.

Unpredictable mana surges distort reality, and ethereal flames intensify, consuming the individual. In this torment, death or madness becomes a bleak refuge, shattering the promise of empowerment or healing the elixir held.

His eyes wide in fear, he swiftly understood why the potion was forbidden. Between the vague explanations and the terrible side effects, who would want to consume it?

"Hum, are you alright, sir?" After five minutes of silence, the apothecary asked, curious as to what he needed the book for.

'This old dog is trying to end me.' Adam thought after hearing the voice of the grinning old man.

"I see that you didn't take me seriously, old dog! Let's see if you'll still smile after I curse you for Forty generations!!!" He wrote in capital letters, clenching his teeth and infuriated that he concealed the book's title from him.

"WHAT? Why? We brewed the potion. What have I done wrong?" The apothecary jumped in fright, his smile vanishing entirely from his face, replaced by a grimace.

"What's the book's title and the consequences of ingesting a failed potion?"

After reading this last sentence, he dropped to his knees in fright and stuttered, "Sir, please... li... listen to my explanations. I'm just an apothecary, not an alchemist. Potions potent enough to have soul-healing effects are not within my range of expertise."

Then he pointed at the book, trying to justify its use. "That's the only alchemical book I have acquired in my entire life. Under the urgency of your situation, I had no choice but to try to help the best I could."

Books related to magic were an overly rare commodity that most commoners never had the chance to see. It was even more so for alchemical books.

Alchemists dabbled in the production of mystical potions and items. Their recipes, crafting methods and techniques were secrets they were unwilling to share.

Despite their rarity, he luckily bought one from a hermit who needed money to conduct experiments. He wasn't certain but suspected he was a rogue mage.

"In addition, sir, as an apothecary, it was my lifelong dream to push my discipline beyond its limits and brew an alchemical potion." The apothecary pleaded, his eyes glowing with sincerity.

"Your lifelong dream? Your head! I don't care about that! How safe is the potion?" Adam wrote, his anger lessening a little. After all, the man's arguments made sense.

"I'm 80% sure that we brewed it successfully," he answered with conviction.

Exasperation covered Adam's face as he wrote, "80% again? Are you throwing random numbers?"

"I don't know, sir. I can't feel mana. Maybe you did it right, maybe not." He responded earnestly, afraid for his descendants' future.

'I'm going to kill this old donkey." Adam screamed in anger. "What kind of answer is this? So, since the beginning you had 80% to handle the materials but no idea about the rest!"

"I'm not satisfied with our deal. You had to brew a potion for me, yet I had to do the most difficult part. Even worse, the potion has terrible side effects, and despite that, you can't tell me if it is safe for consumption or not." Adam wrote, his face distorted by anger.

"But sir, I vow I did my utmost to help you..." The alchemist tried to speak, but Adam interrupted him, using the baby's hand to throw ash at his face.

"To compensate for your poor services, I sentence you to take care of this baby every day while his mother is at work. In addition, you will allow him to play here and read your books."

He was genuinely angry, but the baby and its mother helped him. That's why he thought of ways to repay them a little. Knowing her baby was safe and cared for as she worked would give her peace of mind.

Of course, this idea also benefited him. He could read the man's books, broaden his knowledge, and maybe even brew another potion from that compendium. After all, he had thirteen boring years to kill.

"I can't! I have to take care of the shop, make medicines and tend to the customers." He tried to refuse with reasonable arguments, but Adam was adamant.

"Just let it play alone close to the library and feed him at fixed hours. Explain the new deal to Alina and give her the potion." Adam wrote categorically, not accepting no for an answer.

He hesitated briefly before reluctantly agreeing, scared to hear a hundred generations if he didn't. Then, he turned to Alina in defeat and mumbled she could bring the baby before going to work.

Upon hearing the good news, she jumped in joy and her eyes brightened with relief. Her days were too stressful as she always worried for her baby's safety and health while working.

Then, he hurriedly placed the potion in her hand and guided her to the door before locking it behind him.

Despite achieving his lifelong dream to brew an alchemical potion and a tier two no less, he failed to be happy. In exchange, he had to care for a baby daily and fear the ghost's curses if he didn't.

Should he be happy or sad? He failed to find the answer as he sat behind his counter with a sigh.

But before he could finally relax, he noticed a new message written with the same ashes.

"If I die after drinking this potion, I'll use all my strength to curse your descendants until the end of times. I don't care!"

The old man almost cried. Why did the length keep increasing when he was honestly doing his best to help?