The past was built upon collecting unique characteristics.

Upon returning to his office, Morian did not impulsively set out to seek revenge. Instead, he began preparations to ensure the plan would go perfectly.

He walked to his desk, took out his usual envelopes and pen, and quickly wrote two letters.

The first letter was addressed to Charlotte, asking this well-connected young lady to help him find a suitable weapon, believing that with her intelligence and background, she would understand and provide assistance.

The other letter was much shorter; it was an anonymous tip-off letter, which would be sent out on the day of the operation as a tool to disrupt the situation.

Having done all that, he turned his attention to the materials lying quietly in the pile of junk. He had the theoretical knowledge; it was time to put it into practice for the first time.

Close all the doors and windows that were making noise, and then set out the equipment for making medicine—a few glass test tubes, a furnace, a set of distillation apparatus, and other utensils. At this point, most of the basic conditions were met.

Collecting these materials took a lot of effort and was far more complicated than expected.

Morian originally thought that alchemy existed in this world, so the relevant equipment should not be difficult to find. However, after a preliminary understanding, he found that this world did not have any concept of alchemy at all, and even the furnace could only be replaced by a boiler with similar functions.

In other words, he is likely the only person in this world who knows about and has received the alchemical heritage.

As the first explorer to "take the plunge" and with no prior experience, failure was to be expected, and he was mentally prepared for it.

All the unknowns and details can only be explored by oneself, without any predecessors to provide assistance.

Taking a deep breath, Morian crouched down and took out a specially made silver chalk. He drew a flowing, radiant auxiliary magic circle on the ground, then carefully placed the furnace in the center of the magic circle to increase the success rate.

Add a little water, and the next step is to process the ingredients.

The primary goal of the concoction was to create a potion that would temporarily grant the user "resistance" to fire, a preparation in response to the Joker's ability to manipulate flames.

The recipe requires the following ingredients: "Red Tongue Frog", "Sharp Horned Fruit", and a small piece of tungsten gold.

According to knowledge, the above materials also need to be harmonized and guided by spiritual elements.

If you only have the materials but no spiritual essence to assist you, the process of refining medicine will be very unstable, and even under ideal circumstances, there is a 90% chance of failure.

With preparations complete, Morian lit the furnace, and pure white flames rose steadily.

Once the water used as a base began to boil, Morian quickly grabbed a dagger, gutted a red-tongued frog, removed its internal organs, and cut off its tongue for later use.

Making medicine is not a chaotic mess; it requires not only a specific order, but also skill and timing. Many factors can affect the final result.

He placed the prepared red-tongued frog body into the boiling furnace. Two minutes later, under the influence of the high temperature and the spiritual array, the scales on the surface of the red-tongued frog began to emit a faint golden yellow color.

Upon seeing this, Morian picked up the tongue he had just left behind and added it to the pot, then began to infuse it with a trace of spiritual energy.

"Pfft..."

As the material fell, the clear pure water turned blood red, and a hissing sound came from inside.

When the time was right, Morian picked up the Sharp-Horned Fruit again, which also required processing.

The sharp-horned fruit is bright red and covered with sharp, hard thorns, making it difficult to hold for long. More importantly, apart from the kernel, the rest of the fruit is toxic.

After cutting open the fruit and removing the kernel, Morian repeated the spirit essence infusion process according to the rules, adding the last tungsten material in sequence.

call!call!call!

As all the materials dissolve in the water, a small "vortex" gradually forms in the boiling furnace with a whooshing sound, constantly absorbing everything inside.

Anyone could intuitively sense that the potion was fusing together, but it couldn't stabilize the chaotic and turbulent energy within, causing the shaping process to be delayed.

"How could this happen? I followed the steps perfectly." Morian frowned and muttered to himself.

Does this kind of thing ultimately depend on luck and other uncontrollable factors?

Time passed second by second, and the vortex gradually showed signs of expanding and getting out of control.

Desperate, Morian decided to try adding a "medium," so he decisively cut open his palm with a dagger and let the blood drip into it.

Hey!

A drop of bright red blood fell precisely into the center of the vortex.

In an instant, a great light shone forth, and the elemental energy, which had been like a runaway horse, quickly calmed down. The streams of light merged together and condensed into a more viscous fluid.

done?

Suppressing his excitement, Morian poured the potion from the furnace into three storage test tubes, eagerly examining the information on the three bottles.

[Resistance Potion (Flame)]

[Within two minutes of ingestion, the burning effect from flames is greatly reduced.]

The liquid sloshed gently in the test tube, emitting a unique luster.

Not bad! On his first attempt, relying entirely on trial and error, he actually succeeded! Morian breathed a sigh of relief, happily capped the bottle, carefully stored the potion, and, while it was still warm to the touch, immediately decided to brew a few more bottles.

Time flew by unnoticed, and it wasn't until sunset that he reluctantly tidied up the messy room and neatly arranged the day's haul on the table.

The experiment yielded the following: three bottles of "resistance potions", dozens of bottles of "recovery potions", one "purifying necklace", and one scroll each of "lightning" and "hurricane".

Recovery potions are particularly plentiful, almost like they're "free." This is because the recipes are simple and the materials are inexpensive, and one batch is enough to yield more than a dozen bottles, unlike resistance potions which are so rare, yielding only three bottles per batch.

In the following days, Morian was not idle either. He went to a gun shop to buy a revolver and some bullets. After obtaining a weapons license, he went to the shooting range for a short training session.

It's better to cram at the last minute than not at all.

Perhaps he really has some talent in this area, and after becoming an "Ascended One" improved the coordination of his five senses, with some training, he can hit the bullseye about seven times out of ten, if not 100%.

The main goal is to have one that's good enough, especially since time is tight and there's no time to slowly train him into a sharpshooter.

Even with the double protection of extraordinary abilities and medicine, "Truth" is still very useful.

Based on the clown's appearance seen during the divination and his habit of frequenting the "Rose Theater," Morian basically figured out the other party's activity pattern.

The man named Quilt would go to the Rose Theatre every night for a secret rendezvous with a woman there; it had become an almost unshakeable routine for him.

If a sneak attack is used, the battle will likely take place in the theater, where there are many different kinds of people, and it will be difficult to avoid harming innocent people. Morian has already taken this into consideration.

So the anonymous tip came in handy. It was sent out on the day of the operation. Whether the police went under the pretext of "anti-prostitution" or "investigating illegal activities," it would at least cause a significant commotion and force the target to leave the theater.

After all, clashing with the police is the most foolish thing to do, as it will only lead to endless trouble.

Morian wasn't worried about the local police not taking action; they were actually concerned about not having enough security records to secure.

After staking out the theater for several nights, no matter how much caution was emphasized, it was almost certain that nothing unexpected would happen to the Joker on the day of the operation.

If he was born with constipation and couldn't leave the house, then Morian would accept it.

At dusk, the setting sun casts long shadows of the buildings in front of the vendors.

"How much is this?"

At a street stall selling holiday props, Morian picked up a mask and asked about it.

The pure white mask was not decorated much, with an exaggerated smile drawn around the mouth, and a pair of closed eyes drawn above the face, with the ends of the eyeliner curving upwards to form two crescent-shaped arcs.

Overall, the mask gives the impression of a smiling face that is silently sneering or mocking something, with an eerie feeling beneath its calm surface.

"You can take it away for just 7 pence," said the stall owner, a kind-looking man.

Morian counted out seven coins from his wallet, took the mask, and headed back towards the agency.

The once pristine blue sky has turned a dusky yellow as the sun sets.

The trees lining the street swayed uneasily, at first only their branches and leaves trembled slightly, but gradually the swaying became larger and larger, making a rustling sound.

Some lighter pieces of waste paper and fallen leaves were even swept up by sudden gusts of wind and flew into the dusky sky.

Everyone walking on the street could clearly feel that the wind seemed to have picked up.

"Urgent! Urgent! Extreme rainstorm! A sudden and severe rainstorm is expected tonight. Stay tuned for the latest news!"

Newspaper boys carrying newspapers jogged around, and upon hearing their calls, many people chose to end their original plans or tasks and hurried home to prepare for the rain.

Morian heard it, of course, but that was all he heard.

Now that the die is cast, there's no reason for him not to act. He submitted that anonymous letter of complaint a long time ago, and if he misses this opportunity, he doesn't know when he'll be able to come up with the same plan.

He returned to his office with a calm expression, made himself a cup of hot coffee, sat on the sofa and savored it, glancing occasionally at the clock on the wall and keeping an eye on the activity outside the window.

The sky grew increasingly gloomy, the wind howled, and the tranquil night completely descended.

Morian put down the now-cold, empty glass and stood up from the sofa.

He walked to the coat rack, picked up the pure white smiling mask, and put it on steadily. Then he checked the items he should carry: the pistol in the holster at his waist, the medicine and scrolls in the inner pocket.

Finally, his gaze pierced through the eye holes of the mask and fell on a specific direction outside the window.

A windy day for setting fires.

Dark night—a night for murder.