Chapter 601: In Good Spirits
Whether it’s Crimsonfire Mithril or Fallen Mage Gold, both are metals of extraordinary rarity—together, they’re worth more than four million gold coins. But the Serdon Gem? The Watson Family barely has a handful in their entire vault. And now Leon’s asking for it as if it’s nothing. How could Reid Watson not feel his blood pressure spike, his anger threatening to boil over?
Think about it—these materials aren’t just expensive; they’re treasures he’s guarded for years, almost like talismans against the chaos of the world. Losing them now feels like a personal defeat.
"If you’re not willing, I honestly couldn’t care less. If I can’t brew the potion, it’s no real loss to me." Leon wore a look of weary annoyance, his tone almost theatrical. "It’s just that Archmage Seth is desperate for this potion…"
"Damn it." Reid Watson muttered, his patience stretched to the breaking point. Leon’s demands were outrageous—how much longer could he swallow his pride and keep quiet? The urge to lash out was almost overwhelming.
"Enough!"
But just then, Cyrus Watson cut in, impatience flickering across his face as he silenced Reid Watson with a sharp gesture. He didn’t care about Reid’s stunned look—he simply stepped between him and Leon, commanding, "Hand over every last material Archmage Leon just named."
"Archmage Seth." Reid Watson was left speechless, his mind scrambling for something—anything—to sway Cyrus Watson. Panic and frustration warred inside him as he searched for the right words.
"Reid Watson, say one more word and I’ll make sure you never speak again." Cyrus Watson’s glare was sharp enough to cut stone. Damn it, can’t he see I’m twice as frustrated as he is? At a moment like this, why is he hesitating, making things even harder for me?
"Yes..."
Seeing Cyrus Watson so furious, Reid Watson shrank back, not daring to say another word. He just couldn’t understand—why was Cyrus so willing to let Leon bleed the Watson Family dry, and so spectacularly at that?
"Give me a minute..."
Brewing the potion was almost insultingly simple. The herbs collected from the Watson Family were quickly processed into a liquid, then poured into a beaker. Leon mixed them together, gave it a shake, and, as if by magic, a bottle of sky-blue liquid appeared before everyone’s eyes.
The whole thing really did take just a minute—not a second wasted.
In the next moment, Leon handed the freshly brewed potion to Cyrus Watson. "Drink up."
"Leon Merlin, you demanded a mountain of magical materials—said you needed nearly eighty ingredients for this potion. But now you just grabbed a few random herbs and whipped it up? Isn’t this daylight robbery?"
This scene left Reid Watson wide-eyed, his anger practically making his hair stand on end. His heart felt like it was bleeding. ‘Anger’ didn’t even begin to cover it—if he could, he’d tear Leon to pieces right here and now.
"Brewing the potion really did only take a handful of herbs. As for those seventy or eighty magical materials—well, that was just to put me in a good mood. I can only brew alchemical potions smoothly when I’m feeling cheerful. By the way, Lord Reid, what’s with all this excitement? I have to warn you, I get nervous when people get this worked up. If you keep it up, my mood might sour again, and that could make things... complicated."
"What are you playing at?"
"Nothing, really. Oh, I almost forgot—Archmage Seth’s Venomfire needs three bottles of antidote potion to be completely cured. One bottle a day..."