I'm a proper student; I only take nine kinds of potions every day.

Upon hearing this, Evan quickly processed the information in his mind.

"Since oral absorption is so inefficient..."

He looked up and asked the most natural question.

"What about direct injection?"

Armitage's smile froze on his face, and he then shouted at her.

"A crazy idea!"

At that moment, the gaze behind those reading glasses was so sharp it could cut through the wooden planks of a carriage.

The original warm, caring feeling, like looking at one's own grandson, completely vanished. In its place was an incomparably sharp, piercing, and oppressive aura belonging to an old warrior.

The brass lamps in the carriage swayed slightly from the shout.

Ivan even saw Armitage's shadow under the light, which was distorted with excitement, as if it were alive.

"Arkham, remember this!"

The old man leaned forward, stretched out his hands, and tightly grasped Evan's hands, which were resting on his knees.

The skin on those hands was loose, but the grip was surprisingly strong.

"What makes us human is our rationality."

"It's because we have self-discipline."

With each word he spoke, the hand he was holding tightened its grip.

"Without reason, one will succumb to animalistic instincts."

"You'll turn into a monster!"

"Humans are born with only spirituality, not any other characteristics!"

He spoke those two sentences almost word by word.

"All of these characteristics were taken from monsters."

"The reason for choosing oral administration is that it allows us to expend some energy on adaptation during the digestion process, giving ourselves enough buffer and adaptation space."

"If injected directly..."

The old man's voice suddenly lowered, as if he were recalling painful memories.

"You will be instantly devoured by the bestial nature of the monster in the potion."

"Turn into a monster!"

His gaze fell directly into Evan's eyes.

"child."

"You have a bright future."

"Ten million!!!"

"Never let your arrogance and pride defeat you."

Evan began to ponder, the Ironblood Potion stripping away all his emotions.

But he could still clearly feel the weight and significance of the old man's words, a warning from someone who had been through it all.

He reached out his other hand and grasped Mr. Armitage's calloused hands in return.

"Don't worry, Doctor."

"I was just asking."

"This is the first time I've ever heard of these things."

Armitage stared at him for three seconds, then gently patted the back of his hand and leaned back in his chair.

"it is good."

The old man breathed a sigh of relief.

"it is good."

The two then rode in a carriage, one after the other, back to downtown New Haven.

Our first stop was the police station with its red brick facade in the south of the city.

After going through a fairly standardized process of taking notes, signing, and pressing fingerprints, the staff member indicated that Evan had no problems.

Throughout the process, Ivan subtly glanced around the police station, observing the numerous staff members rapidly handling various post-incident matters in the corridors, offices, and at the entrance to the underground morgue.

The documents were arranged in stacks. The evidence was packed into black wooden boxes and sealed.

Two men in long gray coats were carrying a stretcher wrapped in a white cloth out the back door.

The ordinary police officers standing guard in the corridor looked bewildered. Their whispers drifted into Evan's ears.

"What kind of psychopathic killer..."

"...The methods were too cruel."

"...They still ran away? What bad luck!"

Ivan lowered his eyes and remained silent.

He knew how things would unfold; tomorrow's front page would surely feature a brief and restrained crime notice.

A vaguely defined, unphotographed "twisted psychopath" would be written into the background of this massacre.

Then this news will be replaced by a new headline within three days.

After completing the formalities, Armitage first took Ivan to a rather ordinary-looking restaurant located two blocks away from the police station.

"Eat."

The old gentleman sat down across the table, smiling as he pushed the menu towards him; his smile held the gentle warmth typical of a grandfather.

You used up a lot of energy tonight.

The effects of the Ironblood Potion had worn off, and Evan returned to his usual cheerful demeanor.

"Then I won't be polite!"

The moment he took the menu, he began ordering.

The next half hour was one of the most unforgettable half hours of Dr. Armitage's life.

That stomach. Like a bottomless pit.

As soon as each dish was served, he put it into his mouth with a rather civilized, but definitely not slow, pace.

Seven pounds of whole wheat bread were torn into slices, dipped in rich meat broth, and then put into mouths.

Four pounds of pan-fried, crispy smoked pork chops were cut into cubes, the forks and knives clinking rhythmically on the tin plate.

Five roasted carrots, crispy on the outside and sweet on the inside.

Four raw, sliced ​​tomatoes, glistening red.

Two large bowls of tightly packed mashed potatoes, each spoonful piled up like a small mountain.

Two large glasses of whole milk, almost poured directly from the milk jug, filled the table with a warm, milky aroma.

Finally, it was pot after pot...

Ivan drank nearly three pints of water (about 1.5 liters) in a row.

Armitage sat across the table, and the old man wiped his reading glasses three times.

After each wipe, his eye would twitch involuntarily, and he spoke several times during the process.

Arkham

"That's about it."

"Don't overeat and upset your stomach..."

Each time, Ivan would nod politely while chewing.

Then continue stuffing it into your mouth.

At 10:30 p.m., Evan patted his stomach and let out a long, satisfied sigh.

"PhD."

He looked up, a genuine smile on his face that belonged to a young man who had just finished eating.

"You don't understand food."

Even after swallowing the equivalent of four average adult men's food, Evan's stomach only bulged slightly.

An extremely enhanced digestive system is like a high-powered boiler.

He is breaking down, absorbing, and converting these foods into nutrients needed by his bones and muscles with an efficiency that is unimaginable to ordinary people.

The excess energy, in a form similar to blood sugar, directly entered his bloodstream and became part of his blood mass, which accounted for a staggering 242.5%.

His blood at this moment is like a camel's hump, capable of storing a large amount of nutrients.

Chapter 79: Is this still a Witcher? (6/10)

Armitage looked at the young man opposite him, whose face was ruddy and whose belly was barely protruding, and sighed.

"As expected of a young person."

Then he suddenly remembered that Ivan was still under the side effects of the potion, so he asked, "How's your sense of taste?"

Evan smacked his lips and naturally told part of the truth: "A little, but not much."

Armitage exclaimed, "Your drug resistance exceeds my expectations."

With a sigh, he paid the bill and the two left the restaurant.

A meal costs $1.6.

In late November, the cold wind swept through New Haven at night, and the streetlights cast an orange glow on the damp cobblestone pavement.

Armitage adjusted his coat collar and said, "I can help you with the matter of the supernatural."