Translator: CinderTL
This was no longer mere tasting.
Roland's senses seemed to have been abruptly elevated to another dimension.
What flooded his consciousness was not simply the basic tastes of sour, sweet, bitter, and spicy, but a surging torrent of pure information.
Countless minute sensory fragments, complex mana fluctuations, and intricate material compositions were instantly sculpted into shape by an invisible chisel, etching themselves clearly into his spiritual vision.
The secrets of the protection potion suddenly became clear in his spiritual vision.
At its core lay a strand of Silverleaf Grass sap blessed by moonlight, combined with the hardness of refined cold iron powder, the purity of holy water essence, and the unique death-resistance properties derived from frost lizard bone marrow extract.
The brewing process was exceedingly rigorous.
These basic ingredients had to be combined in a mithril crucible at the dead of midnight, then personally infused with a faint yet crucial strand of divine energy by the spellcaster upon a blessed sacrificial altar.
Ultimately, all these elements coalesced into a delicate and precise negative energy deflection field, its core embedded with a tiny anti-evil rune and its outer layer veiled in an almost imperceptible frost aura.
It effectively deflects the corrupting influence of low-level undead creatures' claws and the corrosive effects of negative energy. However, against the death knight's terrifying wither aura or a lich's instant death spells, this protection proves woefully inadequate.
More alarmingly, excessive consumption of this potion can cause a sudden drop in body temperature and temporary mental numbness.
Next, the intricate details of the concentrated nutrient potion were revealed in meticulous detail.
Its surging vitality stems from the essence extracted from the heart of a centennial oak, blended with the gentle purity of powdered moonlight moss, the crisp clarity of mountain spring water, a trace of dragon blood as a potent catalyst, and a precious substance brimming with life force, derived from dryad tears or the ashes of unicorn hair.
The potion's creation process resembles a natural ritual.
The oak essence must be harvested from a clearing in the grove at noon, while the moonlight moss must be gathered and ground on the night of the full moon.
All ingredients must be patiently ground and blended within an ancient wooden bowl inlaid with turquoise, under the first rays of dawn, using a sacred Mistletoe branch, then left to settle quietly in natural sunlight.
Finally, a highly concentrated, gentle yet incredibly potent stream of life essence was born, its core governed by a tiny health rune.
This force could instantly stimulate the deepest reserves of vitality, replenishing vast amounts of physical and mental energy while gently accelerating the healing of minor injuries.
With a single swallow, Roland felt as if he had personally witnessed the entire painstaking process of the two masters' alchemical refinement.
The near-divine material requirements, the ancient ritualistic steps, the exquisitely intricate energy structure, and even the hidden secret art of inheritance were all imprinted into his mind as clearly as if they had been branded there, transforming into two readily accessible "recipe blueprints."
Reproducing these formulas had shifted from an unattainable imitation to a tangible reality within his grasp.
After fully digesting the surging torrent of information in his mind, Roland slowly opened his eyes, his gaze falling upon his own palm.
A clear intuition arose within him.
As long as he gathered the necessary equipment and materials for the Negative Energy Protection Potion and the concentrated nutrient potion, he was confident he could successfully replicate these two previously unfamiliar potions.
Five attempts?
No.
Perhaps three would suffice.
"Taste synesthesia... This ability is far more powerful than I imagined!"
Roland couldn't suppress the upward curve of his lips.
"Now..."
He had personally experienced the potency of potions.
Even setting aside Vanessa's two remarkably effective potions, the Energy Potion, Sharp Eye Potion, and life potion he had previously concocted himself, though weak in effect, had proven unexpectedly useful in critical moments.
His fifth-tier basic alchemy skill had now surpassed the novice level.
The reason he hadn't attempted more advanced potions was simply because
he lacked the recipes.
Although Bronson had devoured countless books in the High Tower, alchemy wasn't his innate talent, so he hadn't deeply studied or memorized the recipes for various potions.
The River Domain Nations thrived on trade, and their royal capital was relatively prosperous, but the primary goods in circulation were everyday commodities, and the potion trade remained underdeveloped.
This left Roland with no means to acquire recipes for other potions.
But now, everything had changed.
With taste synesthesia, he could instantly analyze the recipe, complete brewing process, and core principles of any potion simply by drinking it.
Even if the River Domain Nations lacked potion shops, the Golden Valley Kingdom's royal capital, his next destination, was far more advanced and prosperous. Surely, he would find places to purchase potions there.
Once he acquired a potion, no matter how advanced, he was confident he could perfectly replicate it, provided he had the necessary materials and tools.
With these thoughts, Roland's anticipation for his journey to the Golden Valley Kingdom grew.
He slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, calming his restless mind, then lay down on the soft bed and quickly drifted into sleep.
The next morning, as the dawn's first rays touched the horizon, Roland was already packed and ready to depart for the Blacksmith's Guild.
He crossed the river by small boat and stepped onto solid ground. As he passed the area still heavily guarded by layers of soldiers, the faint yet familiar sensation within the magic elements in the air further confirmed his earlier suspicions.
It seems... the second magic well lies beneath this restricted zone, he mused inwardly, his pace unwavering.
After all, given his current status, the matter of the magic well was far beyond his ability to interfere with or participate in.
"Mr. Roland!"
The moment Roland stepped through the guild's main gate, a voice brimming with delight rang out in his ear.
Turning toward the sound, he saw Dwarf Noel striding purposefully toward him.
"You're finally back! I thought..."
Noel's face relaxed with relief as he recalled the mithril shipment—the one that had endured countless obstacles and checkpoints to reach this place.
"Long time no see, Noel."
To prevent the straightforward dwarf from uttering the potentially suspicious word "mithril," Roland quickly interrupted him.
"Has the shipment I requested arrived?"
"Of course, Mr. Roland!"
Noel bowed slightly in greeting, then gestured toward a nearby corridor.
"This way, please."
Before the words had even left his lips, he had already taken the lead, guiding Roland down the dimly lit hallway.
After a short walk, they arrived at a door tucked away in a secluded corner.
Click!
The brass key slid into the lock with a crisp sound.
The door swung open, revealing a cramped room.
At its center sat a sturdy wooden crate covered in thick cowhide.
Noel swiftly closed the door, drew a sharp dagger from his belt, and carefully sliced through the cowhide seal.
As he slowly lifted the lid, he lowered his voice.
"Mr. Roland, please inspect... see if the quality of this 'merchandise' meets your satisfaction."
(End of the Chapter)
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