John Wood led Brian Clark to a pill room—a single-person setup on the second floor, equipped with a desk, tea set, landscape paintings, and a window offering a distant view of the beautiful valley scenery.

Spending long hours here refining pills not only greatly improves one’s tea-making skills, but also strengthens one’s yearning for freedom.

Whenever young masters or ladies came by, John Wood would always keep them occupied this way.

“Brian Clark, the art of alchemy is broad and profound, its complexity beyond words. After years of study, I’ve summed it up in four words.”

John Wood raised four fingers and declared confidently, “Nothing in the world is difficult if you’re skilled!”

“Master Wood is absolutely right.”

Brian Clark nodded repeatedly. He thought so too—no need to overcomplicate things; his personal panel would handle everything.

After speaking, he brought over several comprehensive alchemy basics books, along with some cheap herbs and tools, so Brian Clark could practice while reading. If there was anything he didn’t understand, he should write it down, and John Wood would answer all his questions tomorrow morning.

“The pill furnace is here. Try it out first. My own batch is almost done, and the fire’s a bit strong, so I won’t keep you company.” Seeing Brian Clark eagerly weighing the herbs, John Wood slipped away in a flash.

From a personal standpoint, John Wood didn’t like Brian Clark. The reason was simple: taking on a disciple meant losses—wasting time and even losing money.

An alchemist’s monthly salary was pitifully low, both officially and privately.

The official reasons were too complicated, but in the private sector, alchemists had a yield rate: every batch of pills produced could be top-grade, standard, or waste.

With good luck, a batch would be all top-grade; with bad luck, a slight tremor of the hand could ruin the whole batch.

So, every time a batch was started, the raw materials were always in excess, allowing for a certain amount of loss.

But an alchemist’s main income never came from their salary. Skilled alchemists made money from the leftover materials—after producing a batch of top-grade or standard pills, the remaining materials went into their own pockets to be sold for profit.

Because of this uncontrollable, tacit rule, alchemists’ monthly salaries kept dropping. It was a kind of unspoken agreement: as long as they completed their assigned tasks, alchemists could use their skills and experience to earn extra on the side.

As a total newbie, Brian Clark was bound to waste a lot, and some of that loss would be counted against John Wood. Even though Anna Reed had guaranteed he didn’t need to worry about losses, you never know—if the losses were too great and the other side turned hostile, could he really go up against the royal family?

“Forget it, I’m just magnanimous! The pill room is dull and boring—no way a pampered young master like him will last long.”

John Wood stroked his beard. Ten days, at most ten days. If Brian Clark could last ten days, he’d stand on his head and refine a batch of pills.

Chapter 11: The Event That Shocked the Whole Server

Second floor of the pill room—the exclusive slacker alchemy room for young masters and ladies.

Bang!

Black smoke rose.

Brian Clark scraped out the black sludge from the furnace, cleaned it thoroughly, took a deep breath, and began his first truly significant attempt at alchemy.

The previous attempt didn’t count; it was just to test the furnace’s quality.

The result was disappointing. The public-use white-quality furnace ruined what could have been a top-grade Enlightenment Pill.

Opening his personal panel, Brian Clark spent 10 skill points and instantly mastered the recipe and refining steps for the ‘Enlightenment Pill.’

He chose the ‘Enlightenment Pill’ instead of the ‘Healing Pill’ or ‘Qi-Nurturing Pill’ not to save his last 10 skill points for emergencies—10 points weren’t enough to learn anything significant anyway.

He made this choice for cost-effectiveness: the Enlightenment Pill took the least time to make and used the cheapest materials. The longer he worked, the more experience he’d gain.

“All right, time for my real first attempt at alchemy.”

Brian Clark held his breath and operated skillfully. Soon, a faint fragrance wafted from the furnace—the Enlightenment Pill was almost done.

Bang!

The fragrance vanished instantly, black smoke billowed, and the attempt ended in failure.

“Damn, it’s that white-quality furnace again!” Brian Clark grumbled, thoroughly annoyed by anything white-quality.

Failure wasn’t surprising—in fact, it was expected.

He had only learned to make the Enlightenment Pill through skill points, with no alchemy techniques or skills. Each batch had a 10% chance of being top-grade, 40% standard, and 50% waste.

And that was only because the Enlightenment Pill was simple—one of the easiest pills to make.

On the second floor, in the slacker alchemy room next door, there were basic alchemy books written by grandmasters of the Imperial Extreme Sect. Mastering them would greatly increase his success rate.

Brian Clark couldn’t study them yet—they required at least 50 skill points. For now, he could only gain experience by making Enlightenment Pills, and once his overall level increased and he had enough skill points, he’d study them.

Of course, he could also try to raise John Wood’s favorability, help out, and have his master carry him along.

But Brian Clark had no such plans. First, it was a waste of time; second, he was too embarrassed to keep clinging to someone else.

Hugging Senior Sister White and Senior Sister Reed’s thighs was one thing—they were fragrant and soft—but John Wood’s thighs...

A man should stand on his own!

Ten minutes later, the first batch of Enlightenment Pills since the full server wipe was done. Brian Clark scraped out the white pill sludge and set it on the tea table to cool.