Will You Wait a Few Days for Me

After the witcher and his apprentice left, Kraun tossed his flattened iron pot into the backyard.

After tidying up the mess, he used a chair to prop up the door, which was hanging by only half a hinge.

Praise the Lord of Flame; while cleaning up, he had specifically checked and found that the room where he refined herbs had not been damaged by the werewolf.

He had originally thought he could calmly deal with the world's troubles, but now, the werewolf's revenge was imminent.

"Should I run?" Kraun muttered to himself.

His life here had just started to improve, and now the werewolf was going to shatter this peace; he was quite furious.

He would earn money first and see if he could use the priest's connections to learn how to become a Crusader.

During his conversation with Geralt, Kraun learned that the so-called Crusader was what he called an extraordinary knight profession.

They possessed strong bodies and could handle monsters with ease, but they were less effective against spirits like Evil Spirits, relying only on specific weapons to inflict damage.

However, Kraun felt it was a perfect match for him.

His Spirit Controller ability felt a bit lackluster, but the Golden Light Incantation could deal with spirits; if he could learn to become a knight, his advantages would complement each other.

As for the claim that dual-cultivating two extraordinary professions would easily drain one's energy, that didn't exist for him—he would just grind it out.

He briskly tidied up the experimental table and took out the other materials for the Blood-Boiling Potion he had prepared, dividing each portion into smaller parts.

Recalling the refining steps for the Blood-Boiling Potion in his mind, Kraun officially began the process.

Refining potions looked easy, but it was actually physically demanding work.

An herbalist had to maintain constant focus and concentration; otherwise, a tiny mistake would render the entire batch a waste.

Blue tulip petals floated in pure water. Kraun waited for the water to boil before dripping in basil juice, and the slightly purple blue instantly diffused through the beaker.

Black sage was ground into powder in a mortar, heated dry in a gooseneck flask, and the rising fumes were channeled into the boiling beaker.

Half an hour later, Kraun shook his head and dumped the residue into the trash can.

Unsurprisingly, the first attempt ended in failure.

After resting for a moment, he reviewed the refining process in his mind, searching for the mistakes he had made.

Once he understood how to avoid those errors, he began a new round of refining.

Once, and then again.

Kraun had already refined it seven times, and he was making fewer and fewer mistakes.

On the last attempt, he could almost say he had succeeded, but in his joy, he failed to move the alcohol lamp in time, and the potion was ruined.

He sat in his chair, pressing his fingers against his temples.

A golden wall appeared before his eyes.

[Herbalism: 142/5000; Tier 3]

After refining the potion seven times, his proficiency had increased by over 100 points; his herbalism was once again advancing by leaps and bounds.

With a knowing smile, Kraun stood up, twisted his waist, and stretched his legs.

Then, he performed two cycles of Golden Light Incantation meditation.

Ever since the skill leveled up, the hunger caused by cultivation was much less than before, provided he didn't meditate during the hours of Mao (5-7 AM) and You (5-7 PM).

The Golden Light Incantation was excellent for restoring energy; after finishing two cycles, he felt that more than half of his exhausted brain nerves were ready to work again.

Time to grind!

Kraun strode to the experimental table, cleared away the remnants of his previous attempt, and began a new round of refining.

With confidence in his heart and familiarity with the process, this time, success came naturally.

Placing the potion on the cooling rack, Kraun struck while the iron was hot and continued refining.

Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes he failed, and by the time it grew light outside the window, he realized it was almost the hour of Mao.

Throughout the night, he had performed 12 refinements in total, succeeding three times, with 18 small portions of materials left to refine.

With a satisfied smile, Kraun temporarily set aside his work and began preparing for meditation.

In winter, the sun rose later and later, which affected his proficiency grinding for the Golden Light Incantation.

His wok was no longer usable, and the chicken he had stored had been eaten clean by the werewolf, so he had to go out to find food.

The next day, near noon, Kraun wrapped the nine successful Blood-Boiling Potions in velvet cloth, put them in his backpack, and walked out of the house, heading straight for the Goat Inn.

At this hour, business at the inn was slow, and Old Jason was dozing at the counter.

He didn't wake him; perhaps the innkeeper was too exhausted from the night before. The effects of the Pink Potion could last for two hours, and the inn closed late—plus, if they were active for that long...

Walking into the backyard, Kraun went straight to the room where Lemanski was staying.

Inside the room, the Gisai's belongings had already been packed.

"You're in such a hurry to leave?"

The old man, who had been sitting with his eyes closed, opened his squinted eyes: "After we eat lunch in a while, if you hadn't come, we would have set off directly."

Kraun placed his backpack on the table, pulled out the potions inside, and said nonchalantly, "Care to verify them?"

Lemanski, who had been listless just a moment ago, sat bolt upright and snatched the potions away. "Did you brew all of these?"

As the old man spoke, he picked up one of the vials and gave it a few shakes.

Seeing that the color of the potion remained vibrant and free of any impurities, he uncorked the bottle and held it beneath his nose.

"Hey, you've been sniffing that for a while now. I obviously checked my own potions before coming here; I am a very professional herbalist, after all."

Watching Lemanski with his eyes closed, sniffing away like a puppy, Kraun mocked him with a hint of amusement.

The old man ignored the teasing and repeated the same action eight more times in succession.

Once he had finished inspecting all the potions, he spoke with a grave expression: "When dealing with supernatural potions for the first time, caution is necessary. If these kinds of concoctions are brewed incorrectly, they cease to be helpful and become lethal poisons instead."

"Well? Any poison?"

The old man remained silent for a few seconds before repeating his earlier question: "Did you brew all of these?"

"Of course. In a tiny place like Zack Town, I'm the only herbalist around."

Hearing an answer he had already anticipated, the old man's expression grew even more solemn as he pressed further: "Have you ever brewed this type of potion before?"

Kraun pulled up a chair and sat down, his tone light and steady: "If I told you I hadn't, and that last night was my first time, would you believe me?"

He wanted to showcase his talent as much as possible to earn the respect of others.

As for hiding his light under a bushel, there was simply no need.

An awl in a sack will eventually reveal its point.

If one's ability is only slightly better than others, it invites jealousy. But if it far exceeds them, it only earns gazes of awe.

Another factor was that he was desperate for money; he wanted to begin the priest's training immediately.

Lemanski's face remained impassive, but he drew a sharp breath inwardly.

Brewing supernatural potions was no easy feat. To date, he only knew how to craft two types, and his success rate was less than twenty percent.

If what the young man said was true, achieving a success rate of over twenty percent on a first attempt at a brand-new potion made him a walking alchemy machine—and a high-efficiency one at that.

"By the way, is there some urgent matter that has you in such a rush to leave? If it's not too pressing, would you be willing to wait a few days for me?"