Fresh plant roots, still clinging with soil, had been carefully placed in wicker baskets lined with damp cloth. A fine layer of dust seemed to float in the air, the unavoidable debris from all kinds of dried materials.
An elderly man with graying hair and thick crystal spectacles stood behind the counter. Using a small silver medicine spoon, he carefully scooped faintly glowing blue powder from an open ceramic jar and portioned it into smaller crystal bottles.
Hearing the door open, he did not look up and merely said leisurely, "Feel free to look around, customer. If you need anything, just call for Old Edgar."
Duke nodded. Rather than heading to the counter, he slowly paced through the shop.
His gaze was sharp and focused as it swept across row upon row of shelves and the fresh materials in wicker baskets. His nostrils twitched almost imperceptibly, catching the subtle differences in scent lingering in the air.
Duke stopped before a wicker basket containing several fresh plants. Their leaves were long and narrow, a deep purple in color, while their roots were a distinctive purplish-black. They were still covered in moist soil and gave off a cool, unique scent with a faint hint of decay.
He reached out and gently pinched a leaf between his fingers, feeling its texture and thickness with his fingertips. Then he leaned closer and smelled the minute trace of sap seeping from its broken edge.
The wicker basket was labeled Shadow Grass in Bristol. It was essentially the same plant as Ghost Moss from the Wizard Plane.
Duke then continued examining the other potion ingredients. He recognized quite a few of them; they simply went by different names here.
He committed all those potion ingredients to memory. For him, memorizing such a vast amount of information