Chapter Forty-Nine: The Heir Sells His Grandfather’s Fields Without a Care

"What are you doing shutting the door in broad daylight? Are you still running a business or not?"
As soon as he entered, the old man unleashed a barrage of scolding.
Murong Xun merely listened, offering no retort.
Suddenly, Modo sensed something was amiss.
"Why are so many shelves empty? Was business really that good these past two days?"
He had only stepped out for a while, yet half the goods on the shelves had vanished.
"An undead legion besieged the city gates. The Night Watchers requisitioned supplies. I was drafted as well and fought some vampires. I’ve just returned for a bit of rest."
At this, Murong Xun looked at the old man with curiosity.
"Master, how did you get back?"
"Ah, haha, wasn’t it the White Knights who escorted me in?"
Modo forced a laugh, glossing over the question.
He felt aggrieved—he’d left merely to check on the undead outside, and now his own shop had nearly been emptied out.
Staring at the barren shelves, his heart bled. Those were years of hard-earned stock!
"As long as you’re alright, Master," Murong Xun said with concern, handing him a list.
"This is a record of the items taken by the White Knights. You can use it to claim compensation from the Night Watchers."
"Oh? Let me see."
Modo took the list, and his expression darkened.
"I can understand them taking supplies to replenish their losses. I even get them taking various enhancement potions. But why would they take things like Nightshade Elixir? That’s useless in the battle outside the city, and the White Knights wield the power of light—Nightshade would only harm them."
"Ah, that!"
Murong Xun lied without batting an eye.
"I figured hardly anyone comes to the shop, so it’s rare to sell anything. When they arrived, I took the chance to push a few extra goods. Since it’s all reimbursed anyway, we still make a profit!"
"You truly are my good apprentice,"
Modo managed to utter after a moment of silence.

His heart was bleeding.
Going to the Night Watchers to claim compensation was out of the question—he’d never set foot there in his life.
So he could only swallow the loss, unable to let his apprentice see his distress.
Ordinary folk had no trouble visiting the Night Watchers, but his own reluctance was due to a guilty conscience.
Modo hadn’t expected that while he’d gone out to see how the undead had come to the royal city—he’d known this day would arrive, but so soon! At this point, the undead’s power wasn’t sufficient; their incursion would only cause minor trouble for the kingdom.
Yet in just two days’ absence, the Night Watchers had used his potions against the very undead he’d painstakingly created. How bitterly ironic!
Seeing that he’d successfully misled the old man, Murong Xun felt relieved. After all, the Night Watchers were the ones being fleeced; he’d managed to squeeze a bit more profit. The old man could make up his losses with compensation from them, so he felt no guilt whatsoever.
Unbeknownst to him, the old man dared not seek out the Night Watchers, so he had to bear the loss himself.
Once called Elmer von Claudie, now known as Modo, the greatest alchemist had crafted his most magnificent creation—granting mankind resistance to death—only to find himself in such an awkward predicament.
Immortality was humanity’s eternal pursuit.
Especially for those with extraordinary abilities; upon reaching a certain level, all would walk this path.
He had initially sought this road because he refused to slip quietly into death.
Yet, after actually concocting the elixir of undeath, he regretted it.
He would rather die than become such a monster.
Still, before his end, he wanted to use the undead to accomplish certain goals, so he spread the potion through others.
Murong Xun, beside him, knew nothing of these thoughts and unwittingly put the old man in a tight spot.
Despite being tricked, the old man’s affection for his apprentice was genuine.
"Let’s see if you’ve been slacking off. Come, let’s make some potions."
With that, Elmer von Claudie led him to the workshop.
When he was away, the workshop was sealed; Murong Xun couldn’t enter.
After this period of practice, Murong Xun’s rank as a potion-maker had improved greatly. His speed, success rate, and the effects of his concoctions had all markedly increased.
Watching him effortlessly craft the potions he’d previously learned, the old man nodded with satisfaction.
Approaching the end of his life, he was very pleased with his apprentice.
Even without using the Dark Affinity talent, Murong Xun’s creations now consistently reached one star, sometimes one and a half, and occasionally even two stars.

With Dark Affinity, the potion’s quality would instantly rise by another star.
Yet, frustratingly, he couldn’t control the talent; he couldn’t steer the potion’s effects as he wished during crafting.
That would require time to master.
Claudie’s greatest regret was that he had little time left and likely wouldn’t live to see that day.
"Excellent, you’ve done perfectly. Today, let’s learn a new skill—material processing."
One taught with dedication, the other learned with earnestness, and time slipped by swiftly.
Meanwhile, in the void, a castle drifted aimlessly.
Upon the throne, Ephesoya sat with one leg crossed over the other, her hand propping up her chin as she watched a scene unfold before her.
"Master, you took that item ahead of time and gave it to that little fellow. He may be in for trouble,"
The wolf steward cautiously ventured.
"Don’t you find it amusing?"
Susanna Ephesoya’s crimson lips curled, her almond eyes casting a glance at the steward below.
"The journey is dull—one must find something to pass the time."
"As you wish,"
The wolf steward bowed.
"As long as you’re happy."
"Heh."
Susanna Ephesoya chuckled lightly.
"When a group finally assembles all the pieces of the treasure map, follows its guidance, and arrives at the treasure’s location, only to find that what they seek has long since been taken—how furious and frustrated they’ll be!"
Hearing his mistress’s sly words, the wolf steward remained silent, bowing even lower.
"A stroke of luck—let’s see if, upon suddenly obtaining a legendary artifact, he stagnates and depends on it, or strives forward and becomes a true master of the void."
Susanna Ephesoya stretched languidly, her graceful figure on full display, yet within the castle, there was no one to appreciate the sight.