Oh well, since I'm already here...
Might as well take care of what President Monty asked me to do, and while I'm at it, show these Gilded Rose alchemists what real potion alchemy looks like.
Hawkins shook his head helplessly, hoping this wouldn't waste too much of his time.
"I'm here today because I heard that the Gilded Rose has made quite impressive achievements in potion alchemy. The Elixir of Hope you launched recently has been called the most miraculous potion in Seaview City in the past decade. Heh..."
Hawkins stopped there, but that little chuckle was full of disdain and mockery.
"Grand Alchemist Hawkins, what brings you to the Gilded Rose today?" Farrow knew he had to step forward at this moment.
Honestly, if this had been before, Farrow would have turned and left the moment he saw someone like Hawkins. Seriously, with his status as a Ninth-Rank Mage and alchemist, going against a Grand Mage and Grand Alchemist was just asking for trouble...
In fact, that's exactly what Farrow always did back at the Blackhorn Auction House.
When it came to reading the room and adapting to the situation, no one at the Blackhorn Auction House was better than Farrow.
After so many years at the Blackhorn Auction House, Farrow had only ever made one mistake—and that was the time he really hit a wall, because that time, he ran into Leon...
But today, Farrow didn't leave...
"Who are you?"
"My name is Farrow, an alchemist at the Gilded Rose. Back when I was at Auckland Academy, I attended several of your lectures."
"Oh, Farrow, sorry, I'm getting old—my memory isn't what it used to be." Hawkins smiled, though his smile was tinged with a hint of disdain.
Hawkins was only in his forties, hardly "old" by any stretch. He said it just because he didn't want to bother with an ordinary alchemist—he was a Grand Alchemist, after all. Running into a familiar face from out of town wasn't exactly something he'd brag about...
Saying his memory was bad was really just his way of saying, Sorry, I don't know you. Don't act like we're old friends!
Unfortunately, Farrow was nowhere near as tactful as Hawkins had hoped...
After Hawkins brushed him off with that "bad memory" line, Farrow acted as if he hadn't picked up on the hint at all, and just kept being unusually enthusiastic.
"I never expected to run into Grand Alchemist Hawkins here in Seaview City! By the way, did you say you came to the Gilded Rose for a technical exchange? That's fantastic! Grand Alchemist Hawkins, ever since your lectures at Auckland Academy, I've always admired your vast knowledge. If you have time, could you give me some more guidance?"
"Uh, Farrow, I'm really busy right now." Hawkins's face was already starting to look sour. Damn it, didn't you get the hint when I said my memory was bad? I meant I don't know you, alright?
"Wait, Grand Alchemist Hawkins, aren't you here at the Gilded Rose for a technical exchange?"
"Yeah, that's right. What about it?"
"Well, I already introduced myself—I'm an alchemist at the Gilded Rose..."
"I..." Hawkins nearly choked on his own breath. For a moment, he really wanted to grab Farrow by the ear and ask if he understood what a 'technical exchange' actually meant. I'm here to crush your reputation, to humiliate you! Did you seriously think I traveled all the way from the Black Tower, got paid a fortune in rare magical materials by President Monty, just to come here and give you guidance?
Calm down, calm down...
Hawkins took a deep breath, reminding himself over and over to stay calm.
He was a Grand Alchemist, after all. Losing his cool in front of an ordinary alchemist and a bunch of onlookers would be a disgrace to the Black Tower.
Fine, it's just a bit of guidance.
How much advanced alchemical knowledge could a twenty-something alchemist possibly have? I could guide ten of them without breaking a sweat.
Alright then, I'll just give some casual pointers. Might as well use this chance to show everyone just how pathetic these Gilded Rose alchemists really are. And they have the nerve to brag about brewing the most miraculous potion in Seaview City in the past decade? Please...
"Alright, Farrow, if you have any questions, ask them quickly. I'm really busy."
"Thank you, Grand Alchemist Hawkins." Farrow eagerly pulled a sheet of draft paper from his pocket. "Look, Grand Alchemist Hawkins, this formula is missing just one key piece of data. I've been working on it for months, but I still can't figure it out. Could you help me solve it?"
"Hmm, let me take a look..." Hawkins took the draft paper absentmindedly and began to examine the incomplete formula.
A minute later, Hawkins frowned slightly.
Ten minutes later, Hawkins's expression grew serious.
Thirty minutes later, Hawkins pushed through the crowd, found a table, and took out a quill to start calculating.
An hour later, sweat began to bead on Hawkins's forehead.
Two hours later...
Alright, after two hours, it was Farrow's turn to start getting impatient!
"Um, Grand Alchemist Hawkins, have you figured it out yet?"
"Hold on..." Hawkins wiped the sweat from his forehead, his quill scratching furiously across the draft paper. One sheet wasn't enough anymore—now, dozens covered the table, each packed with symbols and calculations.
But the more Hawkins calculated, the more powerless he felt. Damn that Farrow—who knows where he got such an incomplete formula. It was like a labyrinth: no matter how hard Hawkins tried, he just kept circling around, unable to even get a single outer value, let alone the final result...
"Grand Alchemist Hawkins, it's getting late. Would you like to stay for dinner?"
With a snap, Hawkins's quill broke in his hand...
"Someone, get Grand Alchemist Hawkins a new quill. And bring him a blanket too—he might have to spend the night here."
"Yes, Alchemist Farrow." No need to ask—Howes knew he was the one being called. He quickly fetched a new quill for Hawkins, but when he brought the blanket, he found the Grand Alchemist glaring at him in fury, and hesitated, unsure whether to hand it over.
"Don't worry, Grand Alchemist Hawkins. There's still plenty of time—take your time with the calculations."
Farrow looked utterly sincere, but inside, he was already laughing his head off. What a so-called Grand Alchemist—he really thought he was invincible, coming to the Gilded Rose for a technical exchange without knowing whose turf this was. Now he knew: just a formula Master Merlin casually gave me for practice is enough to wear you out.
Hawkins's quill scratched across the paper, and aside from Farrow occasionally asking after him, the hall was completely silent. Every onlooker was full of curiosity, eager to know what kind of formula could stump a Grand Alchemist for an entire morning.
But only Farrow knew the real reason...
This formula was given to him a few days ago by Master Merlin, who told him to use it for daily practice. Farrow remembered Merlin's exact words: 'Whenever you finish calculating this formula, that's when you can start thinking about advancing to Grandmaster.'