Mental Interference with Matter

"No problem. I reckon I can get it for one or two Gold Talers, probably in two weeks. You don't need to pay. Your old man has money."

Romon waved a hand as if he did not care, though a flicker of pain crossed his face.

"Man-Hitting Willows are common in the north of the city-state, near the Lar Mountains. It's just that few people need those crown tubers. They're troublesome and not very useful, so ordinary demon-hunting teams simply steer clear of them."

Just as Ace had expected, Romon readily agreed to inquire about and purchase a Man-Hitting Willow crown tuber.

He still had quite a bit of money left from selling his full suit of heavy armor, and Ace did not stand on ceremony. After all, this was his father. Once he finished compiling the dictionary and secured Citizenship, he would move the whole family to the First District and let Romon live like a citizen's family again.

At a tavern Romon often visited. The tavern itself had no name. Its owner was called Connie, a skinny old man.

When Old Connie was young, he had fought monsters and lost a leg to a bite. He had fitted himself with a wooden prosthetic leg, but it often ached on rainy days, so he needed alcohol to dull the pain. Urged on by his old comrades, he had simply opened a small tavern.

"Brother Connie, let me buy you a drink." Romon sat at the bar, grabbed a bottle, and poured Old Connie a cup.

"Since when have you, Romon, ever bought me a drink? What family heirloom are you trying to sell this time?" Connie took the drink and boomed.

"Keep it down, keep it down. Brother, this is a little embarrassing, but I want to get a crown tuber from a Man-Hitting Willow and give it a try."

"What's there to try about that thing? Man-Hitting Willows are a nuisance, and getting a tuber won't be cheap."

"Brother, you can't laugh at me when I tell you."

Connie's face was full of curiosity. With that big mouth of his, he probably could not keep any secret.

"Spit it out, spit it out. Everyone knows I can keep my mouth shut."

"I see. No problem, no problem. Family harmony comes first. It just won't be cheap, so get your Gold Talers ready."

"Then I'll have to trouble you, brother."

Romon chatted nonsense with Connie for a while longer before staggering out of the tavern.

"Brother, what were you talking about with Romon?" Once Romon had left, several old soldiers came over to pry.

"Can't say, can't say."

"Then let's drink, brother."

After several cups of wine.

"You lot can't spread this around. Romon can't perform in that department anymore. He heard Man-Hitting Willow tubers might help, so he wants to get one and try it."

"That thing is a pain to get. It definitely won't be cheap!"

"It's only because it's expensive that it might really work. Why don't we get some too? We can try it later, heh heh..."

A few days later, word spread through the tavern that Man-Hitting Willow tubers were good for family harmony. Romon ignored the strange looks people gave him. He had already thought it through: the formula for the potion his son concocted had to remain secret. It was necessary to throw up some smoke and confuse people.

Two weeks later, Ace received a large Man-Hitting Willow crown tuber and stored it somewhere dry and dark.

He had not been idle during this time. By reading related books, he learned several formulas for calming potions, bought plenty of herbs that soothed the mind and sharpened awareness from the market, and caught many little mice. He tied them all up and prepared to begin his experiments.

Based on the properties of the ingredients, he put together ten different formulas. He cut the tuber into small pieces, ground into powder the crystal taken from a slain Panic Crow, mixed them at a three-to-one ratio, and brewed them into pastes using different supplementary ingredients. Four were green, while the others were nearly black.

Ace force-fed these pastes to the captured mice. Three died on the spot, while the others that ate the black paste did not last half an hour either.

The four mice that ate the green paste did not die immediately. Ace tied them up and hung them from the ceiling beam on long strings to observe the effects.

His library work had ended. He had received ten Silver Talers as payment, along with credit equivalent to one beheading. Now, aside from compiling the dictionary with Teacher Peter during the day, he spent every night at home conducting experiments. The mice all developed fevers to varying degrees, and in the end, none of them survived.

Ace carefully recorded the experiment results on parchment. Based on the available data, the blackened formulas were incorrect and could be recorded for use as poison.

The green formulas should have worked. Whether the proportions needed further adjustment or the dosage needed to be reduced would require more experiments.

For some time afterward, dead mice frequently appeared in Ace's room. Every morning, he carefully carried them out to burn and bury them. Soon, rumors began circulating among the neighbors in the Eighth District that Romon's family liked eating mice.

At last, Ace concocted a jade-green gelatinous potion. Though the mice developed mild fevers after consuming it, they did not die.

He carried out group tests, giving the same tests to mice that had consumed the potion and mice that had not.

He discovered that the mice that consumed the potion reacted more quickly, had stronger memories, and were smarter. After several more rounds of experiments confirmed that the potion's effects were stable, Ace decided to take it himself.

He first took a mouthful at the mice's dosage. After confirming that there were no ill effects, he continued taking the same dosage three times a day. More than half a month passed like this, and Ace felt his memory, reaction speed, and ability to make associations improve rapidly.

The most direct proof was the swift progress of the dictionary compilation. In another half month or so, he would be able to finish the section on common vocabulary.

The autumn air was crisp, and the hottest season had passed. Every Sunday was a day of rest, also known as God-King Day, said to be the birthday of God-King Knoans on the seventh day after the world was formed.

Ace went nowhere that day. He took a leisurely nap at home, and when he woke groggily, he habitually took a sip of the emerald-green potion.

After swallowing it, Ace suddenly felt unbearably hot. His head felt as though it were splitting apart, and he could not breathe. Like a drowning man, he struggled for a long time as darkness seemed to fill his vision.

"Gasp! Gasp!" After a long while, Ace, who had stopped struggling, suddenly began sucking in great breaths of air. He could finally breathe. His mouth and tongue felt dry as he slowly climbed out of bed, wanting to pick up his tao cup and drink some water, only to see the tao cup wobble into the air.

Crash!

The tao cup fell to the floor, chipping its rim and spilling the water inside into a puddle.

Ace stared at the sight before him in disbelief. He had long forgotten about his parched mouth. Focusing his mind, he tried to make the tao cup fly again. Like a baby that had just learned to walk, it flew clumsily at first, then gradually became more adept, circling Ace again and again. The corners of Ace's mouth nearly stretched to the back of his head.

As the tao cup danced through the room, small objects in its path rose into the air alongside it, as though they were playing a cheerful serenade.

Crash!

The objects that had been flying so happily suddenly fell. The cheerful serenade came to an abrupt stop, and shattered pieces covered the floor. Ace rolled around on the bed, clutching his head. It felt as if someone were relentlessly smashing his skull with a heavy hammer.

A long time passed, and night had fallen outside before Ace finally began to recover. Marina came in then. She was startled by the shattered mess all over the floor and could not understand what had happened to her always mature and steady son. "Did someone wrong you? Don't bottle it up. Tell your mother."

Stepping over the debris, Marina grabbed her son, who was clutching his head, and held him close with aching tenderness.

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