The morning air was exceptionally fresh. A heavy rain had just fallen, and the moment one pushed open the door, that crisp chill immediately woke a person up.
What was somewhat troublesome, however, was that the rain had come with wind. Though the wind was not strong, when it whipped raindrops into one's face, it hurt like being cut by knives.
What filled the sky was hardly rain at all. Mixed with the wind, it was practically a shower of tiny blades.
Thus, the pedestrians on Rika Town's streets were all in a hurry today. Even those who occasionally came out to work moved several times faster than usual, hastily finishing their tasks before returning home. No one wanted to remain outside in such dreadful weather for even a moment longer.
Romon watched thoughtfully.
Under normal circumstances, even powerful magical beasts and Bear Goblins would hide away rather than forage in such terrible weather. Adventurers tasked with hunting them naturally would not make things difficult for themselves by going into the forest to do something so pointless.
Yet some adventurers were still leaving town for some reason. They had wrapped themselves up tightly and hurried down the roads.
Looking toward Thorn Forest, Romon had always found it strange—what was in there? What drew people in so strongly? Or was there some mystery he did not understand?
Of course, most adventurers remained in town. Today, they had all gathered at Motte Inn to drink and enjoy themselves.
Motte Inn was destined to be extraordinarily lively today.
Even Romon broke from his usual routine and did not go to the forest to practice martial skills. Instead, he sat curled up in his room, propping his chin on his hand as he stared blankly ahead.
At that moment, a small ledger lay open on the old wooden table before him. The sparse lines of writing constantly reminded him just how dismal the potion shop's business had become.
These were the shop's income records from the past few days. What depressed Romon was that although quite a few adventurers had been injured recently, his shop had actually sold fewer potions than before.
According to Nick, the root of it all was the potion shop across the street.
After operating at low profits for a while, that potion shop had actually lowered its prices again. Many of its special-effect potions were even around ten percent cheaper than Romon's.
Ten percent was not merely a number. A potion containing the effect of Cure Minor Wounds cost around ten silver coins and had a shelf life of one month.
A ten percent reduction meant nine silver coins. Do not underestimate that single silver coin—it was enough to sway most adventurers. After all, who would want to make trouble with money? Potions were often used during adventures, and the costs added up to a considerable sum!
Besides, one silver coin was enough to stay at Motte Inn for a day. Thus, apart from a handful of adventurers, everyone else had gone to the shop across the street to make their purchases.
"Are they trying to start a price war with me?" Such things often happened when merchants competed on Earth, but Romon's expression was still unpleasant.
This shop meant a great deal to Romon. It was the first shop he had opened, carrying his hopes and dreams.
He truly wanted to make this potion shop succeed. So even if others did not drive it out of business, he still had to quickly find a new solution—a way to reverse his current disadvantage.
But that was easier said than done.
Leaving aside the fact that he was only a Second-Level Druid, there was already a vast gap in strength between him and Jefa, a Fifth-Level Druid. As a druid's level increased, they mastered more spells and techniques, and their knowledge of potion brewing and medicinal properties far surpassed his.
Jefa could use his power more efficiently, making his potion costs around ten percent lower than Romon's. Moreover, Romon's success rate when brewing potions was certainly nowhere near as high as that of Fifth-Level Druid Jefa.
Even Jefa's female apprentice, under Jefa's guidance, was likely not much less proficient at brewing potions than Romon. She might even be better.
Furthermore, they were merely practicing and familiarizing themselves with medicinal properties, while he had to worry about the potion shop's operations, train in martial skills, and study the Temple's books.
Even more frighteningly, that Fifth-Level Druid had already established greenhouses and laboratories, making his production costs extremely low.
Comparing all these factors, the difference between them was immediately clear. If Romon did not possess the Shennong Horn Space, which let him produce raw materials at virtually no cost, he would not even have been qualified to compete.
Even if his costs were low, there was no profit if he could not sell anything!
"What exactly should I do to reverse this disadvantage?" Romon closed his eyes and carefully recalled what he had seen and heard in his previous life.
What policy should he adopt? That was a serious problem. He absolutely could not simply follow them into a price war, but if he did not, how was he supposed to fight?
Recalling the things he had seen in his previous life, Romon opened his eyes and made up his mind.
He still had to reduce costs!
But he had to find a justifiable way to lower the cost of brewing potions. He needed to use fewer ingredients to produce more effective potions. That way, he could not only win customers but also avoid weakening himself in the competition against his rival.
"That's what I'll do!" Though he did not yet have a specific method, once he had a goal and was no longer lost, his state of mind naturally improved considerably.
Only then did Romon realize he was hungry. He helplessly patted his stomach, then casually picked up a piece of pastry and put it into his mouth.
It tasted delicious. Mrs. Motte's cooking truly was beyond reproach. Nick and the others had brought it back for him when they went out that morning, and it was still warm.
Romon swallowed it in a few bites, and his spirits immediately rose.
Suddenly, a burst of commotion caught his attention.
"The potions you sell are obviously no good! They were supposedly brewed by a druid, too! I say it's all a scam!" someone shouted loudly at the entrance of Romon's Potion Shop.
His booming voice immediately drew a large crowd of onlookers.
"What's going on?"
"What happened?"
"I don't know either. I just got here!"
Gossip truly was human nature. Even in such freezing weather, quite a few people braved the knife-like wind to come watch.
Seeing that people were watching, the young man grew even bolder. He casually tossed a bag of medicine onto the potion shop's counter and shouted, "What are you going to do about this? My brother took your medicine yesterday, and not only did he not get better, his condition got worse! How is this medicine that saves people? It's clearly poison!"
As he spoke, he pointed to his side. Sure enough, a person wrapped up tightly stood there. When the young man pointed at him, he even coughed a few times to prove that his condition had indeed worsened.
The townsfolk immediately erupted in uproar.
"You're talking nonsense!" Nick stood at the shop entrance. Facing the accusation and everyone's puzzled looks, his face reddened with anger. "The potions in my shop are all carefully brewed. No one else has had any problems, so why is your brother the only one?"
After thinking it over, he remembered that he was now the shop manager and needed to consider the bigger picture. He suppressed his anger and said, "How about this? I'll invite your brother inside and have Romon examine him, so everyone here can see for themselves. If it turns out that our shop's potions truly caused his condition to worsen, then our shop is willing to compensate for all losses. But if not..."
"Th-this..." The man immediately hesitated. He had thought a young boy would be easy to bully, but he had not expected him to be so difficult to handle. He and his companion had both been paid to cause trouble. How could either of them truly be sick?
So he glanced toward the crowd. Someone within it gave him a look, and he immediately understood, bursting into laughter.
"Don't try that with me. Once I enter your shop, won't I be entirely at your mercy? Romon himself is the shop owner—how am I supposed to trust him? Everyone!" He turned toward the crowd and shouted, "This shop is cheating people! It sells nothing but fake medicine, so don't let yourselves be fooled again!"
The onlookers began discussing it after hearing that. Just as Nick was so angry that he could not speak, a middle-aged man suddenly walked in from outside the crowd.
"What is going on?" Fifth-Level Druid Jefa looked at the farce before him with a dark expression and asked coldly.
"My lord, it's like this..." The young man immediately shrank back when he saw Jefa. Jefa was not like Romon. Romon was merely a Second-Level Druid with no background, while Jefa was already a Fifth-Level Druid.
Once any profession reached Fifth Level, one gained considerable privileges. This was a world ruled by power.
After he repeated what he had said to Jefa, the young man was surprised to see that the druid, whom he had expected to side with him against Romon, instead turned a sharp gaze upon the "patient."
"He isn't sick at all." Jefa made his judgment after only one glance.
Unlike doctors on Earth, druids had extraordinary sensitivity to the aura of life. Simply sensing someone from a distance was enough to determine whether they were ill.
Of course, the strength of that ability was directly related to a druid's level.
Since Fifth-Level Druid Jefa had said so, the man was certainly not sick. Furthermore, in everyone's eyes, Jefa and Romon were rivals, so there was no possibility that Jefa would make excuses for him.
Thus, the final result was naturally that those people slunk away in disgrace.
"Master Jefa, thank you for your help." Romon, who had hurried over from the back courtyard and learned what had happened, sincerely thanked Jefa.
Jefa merely gave a soft snort. Without even responding, he left with an indifferent expression.
"That man really is..." Romon shook his head and could not help giving a bitter smile.
But as he turned to enter the shop, a figure in the distance made him frown.
"So it was him..." The tax officer was mixed in with the crowd, walking away into the distance.
His appearance at that moment truly set Romon thinking. "Bakar, it seems I really cannot let you stay alive. I have to deal with you quickly. Otherwise, if you keep coming to make trouble, it will be a real nuisance..."
If, before, resolving the matter had not necessarily meant that he had to eliminate him, Romon's thoughts had now turned in that direction.
A dim flame rose in his eyes. After pondering for a moment, a cold smile appeared on his lips.
I'll let you live a few more days.
Before you continue