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

Thank you so much!

The first step to extraordinary success: potions plus steroids.

Chapter 74: Time is running out! Kill all the idiots (1/10, please subscribe)

Inside that broken window, there was Alcott, who had just been beaming with pride and confident that everything was under control.

The expression on that exquisitely crafted face froze instantly.

"The Witcher?!"

There was a hint of shock in his voice.

How did you become a Witcher?

Ivan did not answer him.

He spat the bottle out of his mouth onto the ground and grinned menacingly in the moonlight.

“Priss, didn’t I tell you?”

Alcott's face contorted instantly: "That old bat!"

He started cursing.

Of all the intelligence he obtained from Pris, Ivan's identity was that of someone with a special bloodline.

The family is a branch of the bloodline of that "immortal witch".

It is a sheep.

It is prey.

Instead of a witcher.

The rest, nothing was said.

While pondering, Alcott suddenly raised his right hand and pointed it vaguely in Ivan's direction. That was the signature gesture of a monk casting a spell of desire manipulation.

[Warning! Your fighting spirit is rapidly decreasing!]

[-10%, -30%, -50%...]

A prompt appeared on the panel.

Evan felt as if his entire brain had been ironed flat.

Anger and hatred are receding.

Those thoughts that were meant to tear Alcott apart.

His consciousness was being stripped away at a visible speed and drifted into the night sky.

He had absolutely no interest in the face in front of him. He even started to think that it would be better to go back to the hotel and get some sleep.

He fell into a state of peace akin to that of a sage.

A prompt appears at a critical moment.

[You have consumed the Ironblood Potion. Effects last: 1 hour.]

[Effect: During the duration of the drug's effects, you will lose all emotional fluctuations. Spirit +1.]

You reversed the side effects of the Ironblood Potion.

[Reversal progress: 6 hours.]

The instant the Ironblood Potion took effect, he felt as if all his emotions had been stripped away. Anger, joy, hatred, sorrow—all were completely suppressed.

He became an absolutely calm machine standing in the moonlight.

but!

Machines also have their own goals.

He has only one goal.

Kill them all!

[The Ironblood Potion partially reduces the Battle Desire effect! The effect is reduced by 30%.]

[The snakeskin talisman is effective! It reduces the damage by 20%.]

Your strong mental attributes will naturally offset 10%.

[Fighting spirit: -5%]

The final "fighting spirit" value stabilized at -5%.

This level of feeling simply means a lack of motivation, but it doesn't affect one's initiative.

Ivan did not give Alcott a second chance to cast the spell.

The silver-haired witcher's entire figure shot towards the broken window like a silver arrow released from a bow.

"What's going on!"

Alcott's pupils contracted completely in that instant.

"How can he still have the will to fight?"

"Could it be..."

There was panic in his voice.

"Iron Blood Elixir?!"

As a member of a family with extraordinary abilities, he naturally knew about this kind of magical potion specifically used to suppress the abilities of cultivators.

What he couldn't figure out was where this guy got this potion specifically designed to target him.

How did he find out about my profession and background?

"Could it be the University of Michigan?"

By the time Alcott had figured things out, it was too late.

Ivan's figure appeared in front of Alcott in an instant, like a fully loaded semi-trailer truck rushing down a slope.

Before the other party can complete the next spellcasting gesture.

quack!

The fist, which instantly turned bronze in mid-air, slammed solidly into Alcott's head.

The whole process took less than half a second.

Alcott's exquisitely crafted face looked like a watermelon smashed by a hammer.

The force of the punch forced his eyeball out of its socket, and his skull cracked from his forehead to the back of his head. Fragments of his skull, along with hair and brain matter, splattered onto the mottled red brick wall behind him.

A dark red stain was slapped onto the surface.

The headless body stiffened for a moment, then slowly fell backward like a wooden stake that had been cut down.

Ivan looked down at the corpse, his face expressionless.

"Is that all?"

The Ironblood Potion stripped him of all emotions; he felt no joy or sense of accomplishment.

The whole process went much more smoothly than he had expected.

A monk apprentice who had been solemnly warned by Priss had only lasted 0.1 seconds from the moment he broke through the window until this moment.

To prevent any accidents, Evan made a thought, and his left foot instantly turned to bronze.

He raised his foot and stepped on Alcott's chest.

quack!

The sternum was fractured.

The lungs and heart were trampled into a wet, sticky mass of clay.

Internal organs spilled out from the gaps in his torn chest, accumulating on the ground.

Looking at the pool of blood and organs that gleamed a dark red under the moonlight.

Ivan swallowed hard, almost unconsciously.

The feeling was like someone who had walked in the desert for three days and three nights and suddenly saw a clear spring.

Without hesitation, he bent down, grabbed Alcott's rag doll-like corpse, positioned the severed neck against his mouth, and tilted his head back to gulp down mouthfuls of blood.

The enhanced sense of taste also began to detect the other person's blood.

No drugs. No supernatural abilities. No viruses. No parasites.

It was so clean that Evan felt a little uncomfortable.

It was so clean that not even a single progress indicator appeared for the copper plague.

"It's too clean, like the blood of an ordinary person."

He pondered silently to himself, "Alcott... really didn't modify his body much."

Just as he was drinking blood, a series of hurried and chaotic footsteps came from afar.

Dennis, Thomson, and their gang of thugs who had surrounded them from the street rushed forward one after another.

Clearly, they had more faith in their leader's abilities than in Ivan's robust physique.

Dennis, who was walking at the front, saw Alcott's completely mangled body the moment he stepped inside.

In that instant, Dennis's entire face looked as if a gash had been torn open.

"President!"

He let out a scream that was almost heart-wrenching, a scream that no living person could make.

The sound didn't sound like a guy seeing his boss die; it sounded more like his whole family had died.

"Murderer! Monster!!"