Due to the power of the bloodline curse, the Prince's Tomb was crawling with undead creatures. And with the journey to the Bone Plane looming, Leon was now preparing alchemical potions specifically designed to deal with the undead.
To be honest, alchemical potion masters of this era have very few ways to deal with the undead. Most of the time, this sort of thing falls to enchanters or formation alchemists—a weapon imbued with holy light, a formation that frightens the undead, and your combat power skyrockets against them.
But that's only true for alchemists of this era...
For Leon, achieving all this through potion alchemy was hardly a challenge.
What Leon was preparing now was none other than a bottle of Angel Elixir.
The formula for Angel Elixir simply doesn’t exist in this era, because its most crucial equation won’t be discovered for another three thousand years. The calculation behind it is so complex that alchemists today just aren’t capable of working it out.
In fact, Leon himself wasn’t capable of calculating it either.
But Leon had the answer...
So, shamelessly, Leon began to cheat—he simply took the result and plugged it straight into the formula.
Now, both the formula and the answer were handed over to Farrow.
"Farrow, follow these numbers and help me arrange the formulas—make them into a proper recipe."
"Alright." Farrow promptly took the draft paper and got to work at the alchemy bench, calculating with practiced efficiency. As a professional alchemist, Farrow hardly needed Leon to spell out what to do.
But it wasn't long before beads of sweat began to trickle down Farrow's forehead...
He was barely a tenth of the way through the calculations, but the deeper he went, the more terrified he felt. For a moment, Farrow even wondered if, once he finished this formula, Merlin the Archmage would silence him for good...
No wonder—this formula was simply too astonishing!
Once all the calculations were done, a little rearrangement would yield at least five brand-new recipes—each one something Seaview City had never seen before, each destined to cause a sensation. And all of this, Merlin the Archmage had handed to him as if it were nothing.
Farrow could hardly believe it. That he would one day get to handle a formula like this—if word got out, even master alchemists and grandmasters would be clamoring for it. It was terrifying...
No wonder Merlin the Archmage could guarantee that he'd make Farrow a master alchemist in three months.
For someone who possessed such terrifying knowledge, even three months sounded modest. Farrow thought that if he could study the formula properly, three weeks would be enough for him to step effortlessly into the ranks of master alchemists.
For a moment, Farrow truly felt that leaving the Blackhorn Auction House for the Gilded Rose had been the best decision he'd ever made. If not for joining the Gilded Rose, how could he have received Merlin the Archmage's personal guidance? How else could he have come into contact with knowledge of this caliber?