“Don’t be nervous. I won’t make you do anything you feel awkward about,” Luo Wei said in the gentlest, gentlest, absolutely gentlest tone she could manage. “I just want you to brew another batch of healing potion.”
“We’ll be fighting more magic beasts. Injuries are inevitable. Better to have extra—just in case.”
The second sentence was for the magic bees above—so the judging professors would know they weren’t poisoning beasts, merely brewing healing potions for themselves.
Saying it this way avoided hassle. She didn’t want outside professors deciding they were “cheating” with poison; she had no patience to argue.
In truth, the tournament rules never said you couldn’t poison magic beasts. Even if they openly dropped beasts with toxins, that was still their skill.
What—were they supposed to apologize for having a Master Poisoner?
Luo Wei’s gaze on Hol grew ever softer. “Hol, I’ll trouble you.”
“Not trouble at all! I’ll go pick ingredients right now.”
As if he’d dare call it trouble—especially under that superior gaze of hers that felt indistinguishable from a threat.
“It’s just…” He looked conflicted. “Do you want a healing potion—or the same healing potion as before?”
“What’s the difference?” Luo Wei asked.
Hol nodded solemnly. “Huge difference. Every batch I brew is different.”
“…You don’t have a formula?”
Hol bared an awkward eight-toothed grin. “Honestly, I improvise each formula on the spot. Whatever’s on hand goes in. Sometimes I add so many random things I can’t even remember them all.”
Luo Wei smiled faintly. “Hol, you’re a genius.”
“No, no…” He waved frantically, certain hidden blades lurked in that praise.
Luo Wei shut her eyes briefly. With a teammate like this, the fact she and Gladys weren’t dead from poisoning was pure luck.
“Alright, let’s gather ingredients. The sooner the healing potion’s done, the sooner we can farm more points.”
Hol said he couldn’t recreate the exact previous batch—but Luo Wei already had a deep grasp of his poison craft. Deep enough to entrust him—strictly limited to brewing potions.
She trusted Hol’s hands—to fail at producing anything normal.
The sun dipped west; dusk thickened.
The Siria squad followed the river deeper into the eastern forest without a single stop.
They hunted magic beasts while collecting the herbs—and all manner of bizarre insects and bones—Hol required, finishing the brewing task before sundown.
A strange, vile stench drifted through the forest, surpassing the afternoon reek.
When Hol announced completion, dense red-black smoke billowed from the pot, which glug-glug bubbled like churning mud.
Several small flying magic beasts returning to their nests crossed above the canopy. The moment the smoke reached them their wings went limp; they dropped—plop, plop—straight into the iron pot wreathed in red mist.
“Hiss—”
At the instant they hit the paste, Luo Wei and her three non-lich teammates sucked in a cold breath.
Living flying beasts plunged in—no time even to struggle. Their tough feathers were corroded at once; their bodies slumped into a puddle of blood, merging with the rolling brew.
Hol’s eyes lit. “Eye-Eating Zhen—perfect addition to this batch!”
“I just felt the efficacy was a bit lacking. Add Eye-Eating Zhen feathers—now it’s flawless!”
“Are you serious?” Luo Wei couldn’t help asking.
“Eye-Eating Zhen feathers are highly toxic. You’re sure people can still drink this?”
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