Raymond Brooks, standing to the side, was startled when he heard the words “side effects”: Could it be the effect of that “automatic intelligence”? Absorbing substances with side effects and leaving only the beneficial components? Although it was just a guess, this hypothesis seemed highly plausible—otherwise, if all the beneficial substances were absorbed, how could one survive? No matter how much food you ate, you’d starve to death.

Albert Harris went on to test several more enhancement potions, and finally came to an almost maddening conclusion: poisons were completely useless against this human, but the more tonics, the better.

In front of such a person, a poison master—whom ordinary people would fear at the mere mention—was nothing more than a benevolent nutritionist!

“There must be some potion that can restrain him!” Albert Harris roared, disregarding his loss of composure in front of the little princess, and began to obsess again: “In just a few hundred years, have humans become this terrifying? And this is just a weak, ordinary person! If that’s the case, what future does our demon race have?”

Alice, seeing things more clearly as a bystander, shook her head: “I don’t think all humans are like this. There’s something wrong with this guy. Master, why not make a magical device to test it?”

“I can’t make that kind of device. Alchemy is vast and profound; I only have some expertise in potions.”

Albert Harris was quite rigorous academically. Suddenly, something occurred to him, and a bloodthirsty look flashed in his eyes: “I once had Stanley Reed drink his blood, but there was no such immunity effect. This time, I’ll just cut open his body and study it!”

Raymond Brooks shivered, realizing that the thing he’d been dreading was finally about to happen.

“Wait, Master!” Alice voiced what Raymond Brooks was thinking, “Don’t kill him. This guy is pretty interesting—let me keep him to play with.”

At that moment, Raymond Brooks felt as if an angel’s halo had descended once again upon Alice’s head. He was even ready to accept being a plaything, and quickly said, “Don’t kill me! Master, I’ll obediently test your potions until you’re satisfied.”

This was actually a pretty good idea—not only could he stay alive, but he could also stall for time until the super system reached one hundred percent. Maybe by then, he’d become a superhuman, able to punch little demons and stomp on dark elves.

If he’d said this a few hours earlier, it would have been fine, but now, to Albert Harris’s pointed ears, it sounded like the greatest mockery, and his already gloomy face grew even darker.

Chapter Four: George Washington the Grandmaster and the Hua Rong Dao

Seeing that Alice was still so interested in Raymond Brooks, Albert Harris patiently explained, “Little princess, if we can unravel the mysteries of this human, the power of the demon race will make a great leap forward. For our Darkmoon City, the benefits would be immeasurable—at the very least, the situation of the eldest princess would greatly improve.”

At the mention of her elder sister, Alice hesitated and finally didn’t insist further. Raymond Brooks watched as Albert Harris approached him with a sinister grin, and his hair stood on end.

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill you right away. I’ll just dissect you selectively,” Albert Harris said coldly. “I’ll keep you alive for more experiments.”

Damn it, I’d rather die than be a lab rat!

Raymond Brooks, thinking quickly, shouted, “Wait! As long as you don’t touch me, I’ll tell you all my secrets!”

This made Albert Harris stop in his tracks, his eyes shining as he stared at Raymond Brooks: “Speak!”

“It all starts with a place called Huaguo Mountain. While I was out traveling, I accidentally fell into a waterfall,” Raymond Brooks’s mind raced as he tried to weave the story into something familiar, “Inside the waterfall was a Water Curtain Cave, and in that cave, I inherited the legacy of a grandmaster. This grandmaster’s name was George Washington!”

In this world, many things were similar to Earth—like time, units, and common terms—so Raymond Brooks had little to worry about and spoke more and more smoothly: This George Washington was a top grandmaster of alchemy, who once forged a divine artifact weighing thirteen thousand five hundred jin, called the Golden Cudgel. It feared no magic and could freely change its size—large enough to pierce the heavens and earth, small enough to become a needle. He also created a divine elixir, the “Peach of Immortality,” which could grant an ordinary person thousands of years of life, even immortality.

Now was a matter of life and death—if he could bluff his way through, he would. Even if, after death, he was strangled again by Wu Cheng’en and Journey to the West fans, he’d just have to accept it.

A divine artifact to rival the gods! An elixir of immortality! A grandmaster of both forging and potions! The dark elves were stunned.

“If it’s true, this grandmaster must have reached the level of a god!” Albert Harris was shaken to his core, but immediately showed suspicion: “If this grandmaster achieved such astonishing feats, why has his name never appeared in the historical records?”

Raymond Brooks’s tall tale was almost exposed, and he was startled, but fortunately, his extensive reading of web novels quickly provided him with a way to patch the story.