This is Naked Jealousy

Klaun pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was lit, and the visibility was quite good.

He saw several mules and horses in the stable yard quietly eating their feed, with carriages circled around and covered in tattered rags.

A burly man walked toward him, wrapped in a worn-out overcoat, wearing a black felt hat, and sporting a thick beard.

"What are you doing here?" the man with the large mouth and round face barked. "We've booked the backyard."

"Doing business. Buying some things, selling some things."

"Why didn't you come during the day? Why are you running around in the cold at night?" the man grumbled, pointing toward the lit room. "Our people are all in there. Go on in yourself, but don't go near our carriages. If we catch you with sticky fingers, hmph..."

Ignoring the burly man's tone, Klaun strolled toward the room.

It was lively inside, filled with the sounds of a language he didn't understand and bursts of laughter.

He lifted the curtain and walked straight into the room.

The noise in the room died down instantly, and the gazes of the twenty or thirty people inside all snapped toward him.

Being stared at by so many people made him feel slightly uncomfortable, but Klaun quickly steadied himself. "I'd like to discuss a big deal with you, and buy a pocket watch while I'm at it."

"A big deal? How big?"

An elderly Gisai man spoke up. His hair was gray, and the frost of time was etched into his face.

"Cough, cough," the little girl held in the man's arms coughed heavily, burying her head in his chest, listless.

The man's Faruk Language was mixed with a heavy, strange accent, but Klaun, who possessed Tier 3 linguistic ability, understood him perfectly.

"I am an herbalist. I've crafted some very practical potions."

"Wait, what did you say you were? An herbalist?"

The man interrupted him and spoke a few words in a foreign tongue to those around him, drawing raucous laughter from everyone in the room.

After a while, the old man stopped laughing and said in broken Faruk Language, "Young man, you're trying to sell herbal medicine to the Gisai? Don't you know we are experts in herbalism ourselves! You'd better just tell us what price range of pocket watch you want to buy."

"Experts? I don't see how you're experts! If your herbalism were truly impressive, why can't you even cure a little girl's cough? I can see her face is pale; she must be running a fever, too."

The old man narrowed his eyes and looked the man before him over again.

He was handsome, with a faint air of self-confidence on his face, though a slightly hooked nose marred the otherwise harmonious beauty.

"What, you can cure her? Don't tell me you're going to pull out some church holy water and pass it off as a potion you made yourself?"

Klaun set down his medicine chest, took out a Bupleurum Potion, and handed it to the old man. "Try this. The cough will take a day or two to clear up completely, but the fever will break after one dose. This potion can be taken three times; shake it before drinking, and take it with hot water."

The old man took the potion skeptically, opened the stopper to sniff it, then poured some onto his finger and tasted it.

The bitterness of the potion made the old man's eyebrows twitch slightly. He savored it carefully, then picked up a bowl from the table in front of him.

He poured in some hot water and added a third of the potion.

After a moment, the old man tested the temperature and fed the potion to the little girl in his arms.

Five minutes later, a fine layer of sweat appeared on the little girl's forehead.

Another five minutes passed, and the little girl was drenched in sweat, her hair damp.

Five minutes after that, the little girl lay quietly in the old man's arms, letting out soft snores. Her breathing was even, and her occasional coughs had quieted significantly.

The people in the room saw this change and began to whisper, their gazes toward Klaun filled with a touch more respect.

The old man handed the child to a young woman beside him, stood up, walked over, and embraced the young man, enthusiastically pulling up a chair for him. "I am Lemanski, which means 'Child of the Wind' in our ancient tongue. At what price are you prepared to sell this potion, and do you have any others?"

"Klaun Moya. I have also prepared another type of potion and an ointment. This pink one is for stimulation—it extends a man's hardness and duration in battle. This ointment is for treating bruises and injuries."

"The one for fever and coughs is called Bupleurum Potion, priced at 5 silver coins per bottle. This pink potion is 20 silver coins per bottle, and the ointment is 8 silver coins per jar."

Klaun took out all the samples he had prepared and handed them to Lemanski.

The old man took the pink potion and pushed the ointment back. "We know how to make ointment for bruises, but I need to verify the effects of this potion."

"Of course. I'll leave two bottles here for free, one dose per use. I'll come back tomorrow; we can discuss the details of the trade once you've tested the effects."

Klaun was very confident in his potions; the experiments he had conducted on stallions proved that the stuff worked brilliantly!

The old man nodded. "Very well. How much stock do you have of these two potions?"

"500 bottles of Bupleurum Potion, 80 bottles of the pink potion. Can you handle that?"

"If the effects are good enough and the price is reasonable, that won't be a problem at all."

After settling on discussing the trade details tomorrow, Klaun stated his needs. "I'd like to buy a pocket watch—a standard one will do—and then I need to buy some Black Sage and Blue Tulip petals."

"What do you need Black Sage and Blue Tulip for? You don't seem to be an extraordinary."

The old man wore a suspicious expression.

"Do you know of the Blood-Boiling Potion?"

"You can actually craft magic potions?"

Lemanski exclaimed. Herbalism was easy to learn but difficult to master. Beginners required a vast amount of practical experience to become a qualified herbalist.

For an herbalist to grow to the level of being able to craft magic potions, it required more than just accumulated experience—it required exceptional talent.

In some fields, without sufficient talent, no amount of effort could ever lead to a truly profound realm.

"I feel like my ability has reached the point where I want to experiment."

Kraun shrugged, completely unaware of the immense shock his words had dealt the old man.

"Heh heh," Lemanski chuckled with a low, gravelly voice, "Are you under some kind of delusion?"

The old man felt a pang of bitterness, thinking of how he had spent his entire life as an herbalist without ever reaching the threshold of touching alchemy.

A delusion? How is that any different from saying 'Are you sick in the head?'

My ability is real and true; my cheat never lies to me. Otherwise, how would the recipe for the Blood-Boiling Potion have just popped into my head?

This is nothing but naked jealousy. Kraun curled his lip: "Do you have them or not? I need 100 grams of blue tulip petals and three stalks of Black Sage."

"We do. Our caravan's trade route may cover small places, but we Gisai still have experts from the mystical world!"

Lemanski said resentfully: "The petals are 50 silver coins per gram, and the Black Sage is two Gold Shields per stalk."

Kraun stared intently into the old man's eyes and said in a low voice: "A friend told me before I came here that you people fleece customers like pigs."