Blood Potion, What a Wonderful Thing

The docks were crowded with figures carrying sacks, pushing handcarts, and shouting instructions for the hoists. Sweat, profanity, and steam blended into one.

Evan ran along the edge of the docks for a while, his gaze sweeping past the signs on rows of warehouses before finally settling on one.

Bryce Transport Company.

The warehouse doors stood wide open, brightly lit inside as workers busily moved large quantities of cargo.

Sacks, wooden crates, and iron barrels were unloaded from wagons, then carried one by one into the depths of the warehouse and stacked neatly.

"Uncle Parker! Are you still hiring?"

Evan jogged over and stopped in front of a sturdy middle-aged man. He bent over and caught his breath twice, his face piled with smiles.

Parker, forty-six years old, was the foreman here.

When Evan's father Anta had still been alive, the two had been coworkers and had known each other reasonably well.

The foreman clenched a charred briar pipe between his teeth, the embers of its tobacco flickering in the night wind.

His face had been weathered year after year by sea winds and sunlight. His nose and neck were sunburned red, and his skin was as rough as sandpaper.

A limp flat cap sat on his head, its brim ringed with salt stains from sweat.

He smelled of fish, tobacco, and cheap rye whiskey, a strong and rugged combination.

Parker's first reaction upon seeing Evan was surprise.

He took the pipe from his mouth and looked Evan up and down twice, his brows knitting together.

"Evan? How did you get so thin?"

Then he sighed, lowering his voice. "I heard about what happened to your parents. What a shame. Anta was a good man."

Evan gave a quiet sound of acknowledgment and did not linger on the subject.

"I'm fine. I stayed up late studying for exams. I recently got into Sage University and wanted to earn some spending money."

Parker's eyes lit up. "You really got in?"

He tapped his palm with the stem of his pipe and broke into a grin, revealing a row of teeth yellowed by tobacco.

"Ha! That guy Anta can rest easy now. Back then, he kept saying his son would become a doctor someday."

He knew what Sage University's tuition was like, so he did not ask about money.

"The standard daily wage is one dollar twenty for twelve hours." Parker put the pipe back in his mouth, his tone switching back to foreman mode.

"If you don't work a full day, you'll only be paid by the hour. Eight cents an hour, with someone assigned to supervise you. Slacking off gets your pay docked."

He looked Evan over again, his gaze pausing on those two arms as thin as bamboo poles.

"Can you handle it?"

Evan patted his chest and grinned through heavy breaths. "Perfect chance to get in shape!"

At the end of the day, Parker and Anta had only been drinking buddies who shared a few drinks after work. There was no special treatment to speak of.

He jerked his chin toward a small shack beside the warehouse.

"Get your work tag over there. Go on."

Evan jogged all the way to the registration desk.

An old man was dozing inside the shack. Before him lay a greasy registry book and a box of tin work tags.

Evan gave his name, signed the book, and received a numbered work tag, which he pinned to the strap of his overalls.

Then he followed the other workers to the docks, bent down, grabbed a sack by both sides, and swung it onto his shoulder.

It took some effort.

Blood Potion, What a Wonderful Thing

The sack weighed around forty pounds, about eighteen kilograms, and was filled with tobacco leaves. Even through the coarse burlap, he could smell a rich, fermented, spicy scent.

The sack bore down on his shoulder, making his knees bend slightly, but he held steady.

The skilled, burly men beside him could carry three sacks at once. More than a hundred pounds rested on their shoulders, yet they still strode with vigor, their boots thudding across the wooden pier.

Carrying his single sack of tobacco leaves, Evan followed the line for around thirty meters, delivered it into the warehouse, and stacked it in the designated spot.

"Where did this one come from? Carrying them one sack at a time? Do you think this is a charity house?"

A shrill voice exploded from the side.

Evan turned and saw a supervisor with a long, narrow face standing there with his hands on his hips. Spittle flew from his mouth, and his expression looked as though he had stepped in something filthy.

He wore a gray coat slightly more presentable than those of ordinary workers. A red armband marked his status, and he gripped a pencil for recording work hours, its tip repeatedly jabbing in Evan's direction.

Evan did not get angry.

He smiled. There was humility and smoothness in that smile, a skill he had developed during his years working in sales on Earth.

"Brother, I'm new here, so I'm still not familiar with things."

"How about this? I'll make sure I meet the quota first. Once the other workers are off duty, I'll stay and work a little longer. Sound good?"

The supervisor looked Evan up and down after hearing that.

Fair skin, a frail build—one look was enough to tell that he was not cut out for this kind of work.

Just as he was about to say something else, Parker walked over from behind. The tobacco in his pipe had already gone out; he only kept it in his mouth out of habit.

"Enough, Carey, enough." Parker patted the supervisor on the shoulder, his tone casual but carrying the weight of a foreman.

"This is Anta's son, one of Sage University's top students."

He paused, then added, "Maybe one day, you'll need to ask him for help."

The moment the words Sage University came out, a flash of understanding crossed Carey's eyes.

Anyone who could get into a school like that would become either a doctor or a Lawyer in the future. Neither was someone to be trifled with.

He put away his harsh expression and snorted. "Fine. If you don't meet the quota, stay longer and make up for it. Don't make things difficult for us."

These low-level managers did not hold high positions, but they had plenty of room to manipulate things.

One pencil, one work log—whether an extra hour was recorded or omitted depended entirely on which way that pencil tip leaned.

Evan smiled, nodded his thanks, then turned and ran back to the docks, bending down to grab the next sack.

This was not an easy job.

A forty-pound sack on his shoulder, thirty meters there and back, set it down, run back, carry another, walk again.

Over and over.

The wooden pier thudded beneath his feet. Sea wind poured in from the harbor, chilling the sweat on his body.

All around him were grown men three times his size. Shouts, curses, and the dull thumps of sacks hitting the ground blended into a deafening symphony.

But thanks to the effects of the two potions, Evan clearly felt something incredible.

With every trip, his body grew a little stronger.

This was unlike the vague changes from before, the kind that took several days to notice.

This was real growth, something he could feel with every single trip.

The burden on his shoulders grew lighter, strength filled his legs, and his breathing became steadier.

Two hours later, a notification suddenly popped up.

[Physique +0.2]

[Detected further recovery in health. Mental strength has naturally recovered.]

[Mental Strength +0.2]

Taking two potions together made them digest faster.

0.903 Physique, 1.002 Mental Strength.

That was about the same as an ordinary person.

So Evan began carrying two sacks at once.

Eighty pounds pressed down on his shoulders. His back bent, but did not buckle.

He gritted his teeth and stepped forward, his boots striking the pier twice as heavily as before.

Time passed amid the work.

Having gradually figured out the trick to it, Evan still could not carry three or four sacks at once like Parker's veteran workers.

But his pace back and forth had clearly become much faster.

With two sacks of tobacco leaves on his shoulders, he almost jogged the thirty-meter distance. When he put them down, he even had enough energy left to stack them neatly.

Carey stood at the warehouse entrance with his pencil tucked behind his ear, watching Evan run in and out. At some point, the harsh expression on his face had disappeared.

It had been replaced by an indescribable confusion.

Two hours ago, this kid had struggled with one sack. Now he was carrying two and running faster than the veteran workers?

For the next stretch, Evan worked at the docks for four hours.

For those four hours, he was like a wound-up Robot, barely stopping at all.

He only took two short breaks in between, five minutes each. He squatted by the warehouse wall, gulped down a few mouthfuls of cold water, caught his breath, and went back to carrying sacks.

His body was growing stronger far too quickly, and the consumption was equally astonishing.

The leftovers from Professor Pulis's dinner had already been completely digested.

His stomach was like a bottomless pit, protesting without pause.

During his first break, he ran to an all-night food cart by the docks and spent eight cents on a large piece of black bread, a big bowl of mixed bean soup, and a sausage.

The sausage was the cheapest kind. Its casing was rough, and he had no idea what sort of meat was stuffed inside. Once he bit into it, his mouth filled with the taste of grease and garlic powder.

But he wolfed it down, even using his fingers to scrape every last crumb from the bottom of the enamel bowl and lick it clean.

His body needed fuel. He could not care less about the taste.

Ten o'clock at night.

Evan had just stacked two sacks of tobacco leaves in the warehouse when a notification suddenly appeared.

[Blood Potion side-effect reversal complete]

[Your anemia has been greatly alleviated! 30% → 5%]

[Your self-healing ability has permanently increased by 2%]

[Your blood quality has permanently increased by 1%]

...

[You have reversed the side effects of the Night Demon Potion.]

[Your anemia has fully recovered, and your blood quality has permanently increased by 1%]

[Your self-healing ability has permanently increased by 2%]

The changes came swiftly and directly.

It was as though someone had lit a lamp inside his skull, sweeping away the murky fog that had long shrouded his mind.

His vision became clear and sharp, the ringing in his ears vanished completely, and even the noisy voices on the docks became distinctly layered.

His body had changed even more dramatically.

Solid strength filled his limbs. The dull pain and cramps in his abdomen, which had persisted for who knew how long, vanished completely, replaced by a warm, relaxed sense of fullness.

His appetite increased even further.

He felt like he could eat another three bowls of bean soup.

"My anemia recovered, but blood quality... what does that mean?"

He opened the details.

[Blood Quality: Your blood can carry more nutrients and vitality.]

"Ho ho ho, interesting. Blood can be strengthened too."