Above the Primeval Era, there was an even older Prehistoric Era, also known as the Age of the Gods. George Washington was a figure from the Prehistoric Era, and because his achievements were so astonishing that he could almost allow ordinary people to rival the gods, he caused panic among the gods. They dispatched an army of a hundred thousand to crusade against George, but were utterly defeated instead. George even fought his way up to the divine realm, striking terror into the gods. That battle became known as the "Twilight of the Gods." In the end, George was suppressed by the most powerful chief god, Tathagata, and the "history" of the Prehistoric Era was deliberately obscured by the gods. Even those ancient tomes might not contain any records of it; only occasionally can one or two related terms be found in some fragmented scrolls.

"The Twilight of the Gods? I think I read about that in some book... but I can't remember." Alice's words startled Raymond Brooks. Could this legend really exist? To avoid being exposed, Raymond Brooks hurriedly continued to make things up, claiming that he had received a trace of the grandmaster George's remnant soul in the Water Curtain Cave, and was thus inexplicably transported to the Demon Realm. The grandmaster's remnant soul was incomparably powerful, containing all the grandmaster's lifetime experience and knowledge. The reason he was immune to all "poisons" was entirely due to the protection of this divine thought.

Raymond Brooks learned many stories of the Prehistoric Era from the remnant soul of Master George, but because his own mental strength was too weak, he was temporarily unable to obtain the true inheritance. Only as his power gradually grew would he be able to gain more knowledge.

The dark elf's expression eased a little; at least Raymond Brooks's words proved that his lifelong research in alchemy was not useless, it was just that someone's protected constitution was too special.

Alice listened, utterly fascinated, clamoring for him to tell more about the Prehistoric Era. Raymond Brooks casually drew on the monsters from the "Classic of Mountains and Seas"—Taowu, Qiongqi, Yingzhao, Huashe—describing each one vividly, making Alice's eyes sparkle with little stars. If Raymond Brooks hadn't suffered at her hands earlier, he would never have guessed the true nature hidden beneath this super-cute loli exterior.

Albert Harris was not fully convinced, and sneered, "Even if there really was a Prehistoric Era, I don't believe any grandmaster could contend with the gods, and I certainly don't believe that an incompetent guy like you could receive such an inheritance! If you can't produce convincing evidence today, then you'll experience firsthand what happens to those who deceive a dark elf!"

The little witch, who had just been a loyal listener, immediately switched sides and seized the opportunity to add fuel to the fire: "And the great Lucifer royal family!"

Raymond Brooks learned from Arthur's fragmented memories that alchemy in this magical world could be divided into two main branches: artifact crafting and potion making. In fact, it encompassed comprehensive knowledge from mathematics, physics, chemistry, metallurgy, medicine, to magic circles. Because of its high level, there were very few who reached the rank of master, and such people were highly valued by the world. This was true in the human world, and the Demon Realm was no exception.

Raymond Brooks's mind raced, and he already had an idea. He asked, "What if I can produce real evidence?"

Albert Harris fell into deep thought. If everything Raymond Brooks said was true, then keeping him alive would mean preserving the life's work of a god-level grandmaster—a value beyond measure for Crescent City, the Demon Realm, and even the entire world of alchemy.

"I swear on the honor of the dark elf race, if everything you say is true, I will not harm you in the slightest," Albert Harris said solemnly.

The "honor" of dark elves?

A barely perceptible smile flashed across Alice's face: in the Demon Realm, the label attached to dark elves was "cunning and treacherous," and they took pride in it. At least half of all assassins and killers in the Demon Realm were members of this race. It seemed that no matter how obsessed this master was with alchemy, he was still a cunning dark elf at heart.

Raymond Brooks had no idea about any of this, and thought Albert Harris had truly made a deadly oath. He nodded and said, "My mental strength is very weak, and I can't bear more consciousness. I can only recall one or two small tools used for calculation from memory. To a grandmaster, they're insignificant trinkets, but to..."

"What are they? Hurry up and say it!" Raymond Brooks hadn't even finished building suspense before the impatient Albert Harris interrupted him. Even the most trivial creation of a god-level grandmaster could be worth a fortune.

"Do you have a pencil and paper?"

"Pencil? What's that?"

"..."

Alice watched Raymond Brooks and Albert Harris busy themselves with great interest, occasionally lending a little unhelpful "help." That poor little imp was still lying on the ground groaning, completely ignored.

After a while, Raymond Brooks's first creation in another world was complete.

Albert Harris looked doubtfully at the square frame in front of him, along with the square and rectangular wooden blocks inside. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn't believe this was a calculation tool created by a grandmaster: "Is it done?"

"So simple?" Alice asked curiously. "What use could these nine ordinary wooden blocks possibly have?"

Raymond Brooks shook his head and said solemnly, "Don't underestimate ordinary wooden blocks. Not every creation requires rare materials. As Master George once said, to turn decay into magic is the mark of a true grandmaster!"

"To turn decay into magic? Worthy of a god-level grandmaster!" Albert Harris seemed to have an epiphany and immediately became excited, his tone turning exceptionally respectful. "Please, tell me, what is the mystery of this tool?"