My Respected Prince

"Risk and reward had always been equal. To venture into the deepest darkness, one naturally had to seek a guide most familiar with the dark."

His choice of Snape had not been a whim, but a decision made after careful consideration—the one most in line with the code by which a cultivator acted.

First, Snape was a double agent. He was accustomed to secret dealings and understood the principles of "value" and "exchange." Reaching an agreement "outside the rules" with him would be far easier than negotiating with an upright person like Professor McGonagall.

Second, Snape was consumed by an irrepressible curiosity about his Alchemy Path techniques and that cauldron of "spirit liquid."

That "desire" was the best possible hook.

Third, and most importantly—Lin Yuan held a fatal trump card that could make this gloomy Potions Master shed every last disguise in an instant.

Hogwarts's underground classrooms were always so cold and damp.

Drops of water seeped from the walls, gleaming in the torchlight like the tears of ghosts.

The air was thick with the complicated scent of mixed herbs.

This was Snape's kingdom.

As Lin Yuan's utterly unhesitating footsteps echoed down the corridor leading to Snape's office, he seemed like prey that had wandered, heedless of death, into a viper's nest.

He gently knocked on the heavy oak door, its surface gleaming black.

"Enter."

A slick, icy voice came from within, carrying unmistakable impatience.

Lin Yuan pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Snape's office was even more oppressive than the classroom. Countless glass jars lined the walls, containing all manner of horrifying animal specimens suspended in liquid.

The only illumination came from the ghostly green flames dancing in the fireplace, casting Snape's pale, gaunt face in the likeness of a judge returned from hell.

He sat behind a massive desk, lifting those obsidian-black, emotionless eyes to look at Lin Yuan.

"Mr. Lin," he said in his characteristic tone, one capable of freezing the very air, "I hope you have not come to boast about your... 'cleverness' merely because you have brewed another 'glowing cure for boils.'"

"No, Professor." Lin Yuan remained calm, as if he could not feel the crushing pressure in the room that would have made any young wizard's legs go weak. He shut the door behind him, and the soft click sounded like a signal.

"I came to request a signed permission slip to enter the library's Forbidden Section."

A mocking curve tugged at Snape's lips. "The Forbidden Section? A first-year Gryffindor fantasizing about entering the Forbidden Section? Who do you think you are? Potter, the savior? Or have those pathetic little tricks of yours in Potions class given you such absurd confidence?"

"My confidence comes from my thirst for knowledge, Professor." Unmoved, Lin Yuan met Snape's gaze as it sought to pierce his soul. "The Alchemy Path I command and the Potions Mastery of this world share the same origin, though they have taken different paths. I have discovered that the principles behind many advanced potions are only vaguely addressed in current textbooks. I suspect that more fundamental theories concerning 'energy neutralization' and 'material sublimation' exist only in those ancient alchemical texts."

"Absurd!" Snape snorted coldly, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest in the posture of a judge. "That spiel of yours may fool a simple-minded fool like Flitwick, but do not bring such mystifying tricks before me. Now get out of my office. Gryffindor loses ten points for your nighttime wandering."

Lin Yuan did not move.

He merely looked quietly at Snape, then slowly said in a tone as ordinary as if discussing academic matters:

"For example, when brewing a Soothing Agent, why does the textbook require whole Sleeping Draught beans rather than crushed ones? Because crushing them releases an 'inert energy' that conflicts with Moonstone Powder, making the potion unstable. But if..."

His tone suddenly shifted.

"...if a drop of juice from a 'fig,' cut with a silver knife, is added to the crushed Sleeping Draught bean powder, that conflict can be perfectly neutralized. Not only can the brewing time be cut in half, but the potion's calming effect can be improved by at least thirty percent."

The mocking expression on Snape's face froze instantly.

His black eyes abruptly constricted, as though pricked by a needle.

Because what Lin Yuan had just described was one of the proudest improved formulas Snape had recorded in messy handwriting in his own copy of Advanced Potion Making during his youth!

No one besides him could possibly know about it!

"You..." For the first time, Snape's voice held an almost imperceptible tremor. He stared fixedly at Lin Yuan and asked, word by word, "How did you know that?"

The temperature in the office seemed to plunge to freezing in an instant.

An invisible magical pressure brimming with killing intent surged toward Lin Yuan like a tsunami.

Yet Lin Yuan still stood there, straight-backed as ever. The pressure vanished three feet before him, like spring snow beneath the sun.

His incomparably resilient soul was a rock no spiritual pressure in this world could shake.

"I also know," Lin Yuan continued, ignoring Snape's nearly murderous stare as he dropped an even heavier bombshell in that same even tone, "that when grinding moonstone, turning it clockwise three times, counterclockwise once, then adding a drop of sneezewort juice can greatly improve the stability of a Draught of Peace... That method is not in the textbooks either."

He paused and lifted his eyes. In his pitch-black pupils was reflected Snape's face, twisted by extreme shock.

Then, in a voice nearly a whisper yet perfectly clear, he spoke the ultimate spell capable of shattering every one of Snape's psychological defenses.

"These are all your original insights, aren't they? My respected... Half-Blood Prince?"

"!!!!"

"Boom—"

It was as if a silent bolt of thunder had exploded inside Snape's mind!

"Half-Blood Prince"!

The alias he had given himself in his youth to fight against the mockery of pure-bloods, to prove the humble yet proud heritage he had inherited from his Muggle father and pure-blood mother—a name buried in the deepest recesses of his heart!

A secret filled with pain, struggle, talent, and inferiority; a ghost from the past that he had believed had been forever buried with Lily's death!

And now, an eleven-year-old Gryffindor first-year had spoken it so casually, right to his face!

"Bzzzt—"

Snape shot to his feet. His right hand flashed into his sleeve and drew the wand he had kept hidden there, its black tip aimed precisely at the center of Lin Yuan's brow.

Every glass jar in the office let out an overloaded hum beneath his out-of-control magic. The green flames in the fireplace leaped wildly, casting his enormous shadow onto the wall behind him like a demon poised to devour its prey.

"Who exactly are you?!" His voice no longer carried slick mockery, but a deadly, hissing growl suppressed to its limit. "Did Dumbledore send you? Or... the Dark Lord?"