Reincarnated as a blue dragon, he collided head-on with a wizarding civilization.

Chapter 89 Gray

Barracks stone house.

Motu arranged the blackleaf grass and moonlight grass provided by Una, along with some low-grade potion ingredients of decent quality from Matthew's relics, on the stone table, categorizing them accordingly.

Next to him lay the basic meditation potion recipe he had exchanged from the supply depot, the steps on the animal hide clearly laid out.

He calmed his mind and used the magical flames to evenly preheat the special stone bowl.

According to the formula drawings, the temperature needs to be precise, ideally so that when you place your palm against the bowl wall, you feel a slight burning sensation but it won't damage the scales.

Then, take some black moss and spread it on the bottom of the bowl, pour a little water on it, and wait for it to soften completely before patiently pounding it into a fine paste with a stone pestle.

Next, sprinkle in the pre-ground moonflower powder and stir clockwise at a constant speed until combined.

Finally, add the chopped blackleaf grass, and place the stone bowl once again over the constantly outputting magical flame to begin simmering.

Motu was highly focused, with the invisible hand of the mage skillfully assisting him from the side.

Fine-tune the heat, stir the liquid in a timely manner to prevent scorching, and filter out fine residue at key points.

His movements were not hurried, and were much more steady and fluid than when he first refined the magic potion "Moon Mark," with each step clearly understood.

Despite this, the overall speed was still not slow, because Motu had a deeper understanding of each step.

He knew why the black moss had to be softened first, why the moonflower had to be added later, and what the color change of the black leaf grass fragments in the medicinal solution meant.

The knowledge of LV1 Potions is at work.

The medicinal liquid swirls slowly in the stone bowl, its color changing from a murky grayish-green to a clear light blue, with a layer of fine bubbles on the surface.

Motu reduced the flame in time and waited for the bubbles to dissipate naturally, and the liquid surface returned to a calm, mirror-like state.

The first batch yielded three bottles.

He held it up to the light and examined it.

The color is uniform, there are no impurities, and there is no sediment at the bottom of the bottle.

Its quality is above average, better than ordinary goods on the market, but not as good as the finest products made by experienced craftsmen.

The second batch yielded two bottles.

One of the bottles was slightly darker in color, which was due to the heat being too high for a moment, resulting in a slightly stronger medicinal effect, but the efficacy was not compromised.

The third batch yielded three bottles.

This one is in the best condition; the light blue liquid looks like diluted ink under the light, clear and transparent.

Three pots, eight bottles.

The yield rate is slightly higher than the 60% indicated on the formula.

Deep within my consciousness, the panel quietly updated:

[Potion Apprentice] Successfully crafted two hundred bottles of any Tier 1 potion reagent. Reward: LV2 Potions. (Current Progress: 8)

/200)

Motu poured the eight bottles of liquid medicine into standard empty medicine bottles purchased from the military supply department and sealed them tightly with corks.

He then packed the finished products into a small cloth bag, stood up, and walked towards the direction where Una was.

The scattered stalls area of ​​Kuroki Market is located in the southeast corner of the entire market, in the most remote location and with the fewest people.

There are no fixed rental stalls here; the most basic rules are followed.

First come, first served, as long as you don't block the way.

Most of the stall owners here are ordinary people with limited means and a difficult livelihood.

A frustrated, low-level wizard apprentice; a down-on-his-luck alchemist with rudimentary skills; an adventurer who stumbled upon some scraps from the borderlands —

The items for sale are incredibly diverse, ranging from good to bad.

Unprocessed potion ingredients, damaged secondhand rune tools, and unresolved alchemical experimental residues emitting a strange odor—

Una chose an inconspicuous corner, almost against the wall, and quietly spread out a coarse cloth next to a crooked old wooden pillar.

The cloth was small, just enough to hold seven or eight bottles of medicine side by side.

She carefully took out eight bottles of basic meditation potions, placing them neatly on a coarse cloth with the bottles facing outwards and the label side up.

The words "Basic Meditation Potion" on the label were handwritten by Una herself. The handwriting was slightly immature, but it was still neat and clear.

There was no eye-catching sign, no shouts to attract customers, and not even prices were listed.

She squatted quietly behind the coarse cloth, head down, hands neatly placed on her knees.

He seemed to shrink into his dark gray scales, like a silent stone.

It blends into the dark gray wall behind it, making no sense of its presence.

The owner of the adjacent stall was an elderly pharmacist with gray hair, wearing a clean gray robe, who called himself Gray.

His stall was filled with several thousand bottles of magical potions, each labeled with a different effect and displayed in a neat and orderly fashion.

Gray glanced casually at the new, pitifully shabby stall next to him.

His gaze swept over the eight bare bottles of potions and the dragon girl huddled up in a ball, and he let out a very soft but smug laugh filled with superiority.

They set up stalls without pricing or hawking their wares, just waiting for customers to come to them on their own.

Gray's sneer was soft, but Una heard it.

The tiny scales behind her ears turned a barely perceptible red, and her fingers, resting on her knees, unconsciously clenched slightly.

But the dragon girl did not get up, nor did she put away the potion; she simply lowered her head even further.

The sparse crowd at the market passed by her indifferently.

Some people hurried along, while others lingered at stalls with more goods that looked more reliable, picking and choosing.

No one stopped at her pitifully simple stall.

Eight bottles of medicine, without any packaging, brand, or reputation, were mixed in with the colorful and appealing goods around them.

Like a few gray pebbles forgotten in a corner, they are ignored by everyone.

Una lowered her head, staring at the loose thread protruding from the edge of the coarse cloth.

She was counting. She was counting how many threads were left, how many times her heart was beating, and how much time had passed since the beginning.

About half an hour later.

A young wizard wearing an old apprentice's robe walked from the direction of the market entrance.

The robe was faded from washing, with several patches on the cuffs, and the belt was loosely tied, with a deflated money pouch hanging from it.

He walked around the market, stopping at each stall to check the prices, feel his pockets, and then walked away.

The prices of those colored labels, often several or even a dozen silver coins, were clearly beyond his means.

Before he knew it, he had wandered over to Una's stall.

Perhaps it was the overly simple, even shabby, furnishings that resonated with his own predicament, causing him to stop in his tracks as if possessed.

He crouched down, hesitantly picked up one of the bottles of medicine, and examined it carefully in the sunlight filtering through the gaps in the roof.

It is light blue, clear and transparent, and the bottom of the bottle is clean with no sediment.

Then, he uncorked the bottle and brought the opening close to his nose.

Following the proper posture of a wizard apprentice testing a potion, he gently fanned the air around the bottle opening with his hand and cautiously sniffed the scent emanating from it.

A pure, gentle aroma with a faint herbal scent entered my nostrils.

It has no pungent chemical additive smell, nor the burnt or rancid odor often found in inferior potions.

"—Basic meditation potion?"

He raised his head and looked at Una, who kept her head down, asking with a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Una nodded very slightly, her hands clenched so tightly on her knees that her knuckles turned white.

"How much is a bottle?"

Una took a deep breath and quoted a price that was 30% lower than that of similar mainstream products on the market.

This was a low-price strategy that she and Motu had agreed upon beforehand, aimed at quickly opening up the market and accumulating initial positive word-of-mouth.

The young wizard's eyes visibly lit up!

The price of seventy copper coins was far below his expectations!

But he then fell into deeper hesitation, repeatedly examining the medicine bottle in his hand, as if assessing whether its "too cheap" price might conceal quality issues.

His gaze lingered for a moment on Una's face, which was covered in scales, tense, yet inexplicably gave off an impression of being "honest and unassuming, not like a cunning merchant."

Finally, he gritted his teeth, carefully counted out two silver coins and a few copper coins from the emptied purse, and gently placed them on the rough cloth.

"Three bottles, please."

Almost reflexively, Una quickly picked up the three bottles of potion and handed them over with trembling hands.

The young wizard took the medicine bottle, carefully tucked it into the wide sleeve of his robe, stood up, and quickly left with his head down.

Both of them were afraid that the other would change their mind.

First time opening.

Only after the young wizard's figure completely disappeared into the crowd did Una slowly loosen her tightly clenched fist.

She didn't immediately put the coins into the leather pouch at her waist, but instead held them tightly in her hand.

It was as if they wanted to see through the coldness of the metal to confirm the authenticity of this first successful transaction.

My knuckles turned slightly white from the effort, but a warm feeling, indescribable in its own right, quietly welled up inside me.

However, the good fortune did not seem to last.

As dusk approached, the market became increasingly sparsely populated, and not a single customer arrived until it was almost time to close up shop.

Gray, the old stall owner next to him, was happily taking out a small, exquisite wooden box and packing the few remaining medicine bottles on his stall into the box one by one.

His business was good today; his main medicines were almost sold out, and he was in a good mood.

Before leaving, he glanced once more casually at the dragon girl's stall next to him.

The five bottles of medicine remained untouched, sitting there all alone.

Sure enough, only a few bottles were sold.

Gray shook his head inwardly, and his lips curled into a habitual smirk.

After tidying up his things, he stood up and dusted off his robe.

Before leaving, he cleared his throat and, with the air of a seasoned veteran, called out in Una's direction in a measured tone, "Hey, newbie! Time to pack up! Nobody's coming anymore! Running a stall is a real art, not as easy as you think!"

The sound startled Una, who was lost in her own world, awake.

She then realized that it was getting late and the market was about to close.

She hurriedly packed up her stall, ran to pay the five copper coins stall fee, and then, carrying the leather bag containing the medicine, walked quickly toward the market exit.

Motu appeared in the open space outside the entrance to the Blackwood Market.

Because dragon bloodlines were forbidden from entering, he did not go in, but simply waited there quietly.

After all, it was Una's first time setting up a stall, so it was only right and proper for him to come and pick her up.

He saw Una walk briskly out of the market, her head down, but clutching the leather bag containing the medicine tightly to her chest, her steps noticeably lighter than when she came.

"Sold?" Motu asked.

Una raised her head.

The afterglow of the setting sun fell into her deep brown vertical pupils, reflecting an unprecedented, faint yet bright radiance.

It's like walking alone through a long, dark night, and finally glimpsing a ray of dawn.

"Three bottles were sold."

Her voice was still soft, but it carried a hint of joy. She extended her clenched fist towards Motu and slowly opened it.

Two silver coins and several copper coins lay quietly in his palm.

Although the waiting time at the stall was long and boring, and only three bottles were sold.

But this time, her earnings were equivalent to what she used to make after a whole day of hard work collecting, processing, and selling most of a basket of blackleaf grass.

Motu looked at the coins but didn't reach out to take them.

"Being able to sell it is the first step to success."

He nodded, his tone certain, "Keep this money for now. After we do it a few more times and accumulate some income, we'll do a unified accounting to see how much we can steadily earn per month."

Una gave a soft "hmm," a relaxed look on her face.

She carefully put the coins into the equally inconspicuous cloth bag at her waist and placed it close to her body.