Chapter 411

Chapter 411: Alchemy Workshop

The enormous cavern housing the Wolfspider tribe contained many stone pillars dangling from the ceiling. These pillars held hollowed-out spaces forming structures – the tribe’s core facilities. The Alchemy Workshop stood among them.

A select few dark elves possessed levitation abilities allowing slow ascension into these pillars. City elites like Zaknavan and Mason could do this, though slave warriors were forbidden from flying. Alexis and Galantis also shared this talent.

Such slow floating merely served as status symbols and pillar access, useless in combat. Compared to Midi’s Awakened Secret Technique "Sky Sword Dance", it seemed childish. Yet precisely because "Sky Sword Dance" wasn’t trivial, Midi couldn’t reveal it.

Forced to climb using iron chains, Midi spent half an hour reaching the workshop. The dark elf alchemists’ eyes glittered with mockery as he arrived.

"Human, you don’t belong here," rasped an aged voice.

The speaker looked older than the Wolfspider chieftain – wrinkles mapping his face, though cunning still burned in his eyes. His ornate magic robe and ancient staff topped with a magic-pulsing black diamond outshone even the chieftain’s and Black Dragon Priestess’s attire.

The word "nouveau riche" flashed through Midi’s mind.

This was Sherlock, the tribe’s Alchemy Elder.

"I became a Tribe Warrior…" Midi began.

"Obviously!" Sherlock sneered. "Your racket during the challenge quaked through the cavern, ruining my experiments. We watched everything from above."

"Then what’s the issue?"

"Tribe Warriors only get exchange privileges here if they have wealth – black diamonds, rare materials, Mososbury’s secret silver coins." The elder leaned on his staff. "Boy, got any?"

Midi didn’t. His Dark Mushroom Forest gains had become contribution points. The territory challenge brought freedom but no treasures. His sole valuables were Galantis’ returned dual swords "Kill" and "Eliminate". The bracelet-shaped dagger "Golden Forgiveness" stayed hidden, its value too dangerous to reveal.

Tribe Warrior status granted workshop access, but empty hands meant nothing to claim.

“Human, I suggest you do more missions assigned by the Elder Council first, or borrow money from that Galantis girl. Otherwise, don’t come here again. The Alchemy Workshop isn’t for sightseeing!” Sherlock finally said, laughing at his own joke.

Midi clearly didn’t find it amusing.

Do more Elder Council missions?

Did that mean starting over after escaping slavery?

By the time he saved enough money—assuming the bonfire gathering hadn’t already begun—what use would those coins be?

Midi refused to retreat just because of one dismissive remark.

Though the gaudily dressed old alchemist radiated impatience, Midi stood firm. He wouldn’t let petty provocation rattle him. If anything, he suspected Sherlock wanted to anger him into making a mistake. Keeping his tone neutral, he replied,

“Master Sherlock, since I’ve come this far, could I at least look around? I won’t disturb your work or enter restricted areas. I just need basic information—like the price of raw materials here versus finished potions. Even missions require clear goals.”

Sherlock scowled. He hated wasting time on this penniless human. Yet Midi’s polite, logical request left no opening for refusal. Besides, the man’s Personal Power ranked high in the Wolfspider tribe. Stories of Midi climbing from the Black Rock Cave by slaughtering countless experts had spread widely. Worse, his ambiguous ties to Galantis, the rising Black Dragon Priestess, made him troublesome to antagonize.

Having already asserted dominance, Sherlock grudgingly relented. “Thirty minutes. Touch nothing, or not even Galantis will save you.”

Midi ignored the man’s sneer and entered.

The Alchemy Workshop’s interior resembled an inverted tower, its stone pillars widening toward the ceiling. Multiple floors housed storage, processing zones, and specialized alchemy laboratories. To Midi—who’d built factories from the Hawk Brigade’s magic research department—this place seemed rudimentary.

He scanned for useful materials or potions, though newfound awareness of his poverty made him check prices too. A pattern emerged: every finished product cost exactly triple its materials. Unlike Arad’s merchants hiding costs, the Shaded Realm’s trades were brutally transparent. Threefold pricing, no exceptions.

Midi almost heard Sherlock’s sneer: *Two hundred percent profit—what will you do about it?*

This markup exposed a truth: alchemists here were rare. Cheap blood coagulation potions might tolerate such greed, but tripling prices for level-up aids like Insight Potions? Only monopoly enabled this. No wonder Sherlock dismissed even a Tribe Warrior like Midi—why respect risk-takers when you mint gold at home?

Yet this revelation offered hope. If Midi bypassed this profit trap, his bottlenecks might vanish.

*Could I craft potions myself?*

The idea struck him. Self-made alchemy would solve both resource and coin shortages. Though inexperienced, he’d observed masters like Master Norton and Emil the White Snake. More crucially, Eighth Apostle Rot’s recent guidance had let him refine materials using sword light alone—tool-free high-tier alchemy.

*Let’s try,* Midi thought to Rot.

The answer came instantly. *Yes.*