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

Chapter 122 The Terror of a Lord-Level Factory Owner (Bonus Chapter for Alliance Leader Qiu Ge)

Vic showed no impatience; in fact, a hint of approval even flashed in his silver eyes.

"Quite meticulous thinking."

He leaned back in his chair, crossed his fingers, and said.

"We're not just making empty promises; I know you have several fellow disciples."

His tone became calm, as if he were stating a plan that had been repeatedly analyzed.

"What if Alcott fails to avenge you, realizes he can't take you down head-on, and then attacks someone else instead?"

"You should know that Richard has already been attacked by the factory owners."

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Ivan frowned slightly: "So what do you mean?"

Vic said, "I can't guarantee they won't be attacked, but I can monitor them."

"If they are attacked, we can protect them and notify you immediately."

"In addition, we can provide you with additional assistance."

He took a flat wooden box from under the table, placed it on the table, and opened it.

The box was lined with dark blue velvet, and five glass medicine bottles were neatly set in grooves.

Vic pointed to each bottle in turn and said, "Lion, Shark, Ironblood, you should already know these three."

His finger stopped on the fourth bottle, the liquid inside of which was a chaotic filth, like a large amount of garbage boiled down.

"Intermediate Blasphemous Potion, greatly increases resistance to silverware, which can further compensate for your weaknesses."

The last one has a transparent liquid inside, but it refracts a pale purple halo under the light.

"Insight Potion, Intermediate, Potion. Increases your Insight by eight points within 30 minutes of consumption."

He raised his eyes and said, "This is enough for you to see all of their methods."

Ivan stared at the box containing five bottles of potions, three of which were intermediate-grade.

He wasn't sure about the market price of a bottle of temporary intermediate-level potion, but from the few words Furem and Armitage had mentioned, he could infer that a bottle would cost at least several tens of dollars.

Five bottles together are not a small amount, and a set can quickly boost combat power.

"Free?"

Vic nodded and said, "It's free for you, but you must fully cooperate with us to capture Alcott, and he must be alive."

He emphasized the word "alive" in his tone.

"We need his statement."

Ivan thought for half a minute.

The Ironblood Potion allowed him to think clearly and without any impurities, weighing every pros and cons before he nodded.

"What do you need me to do?"

Vic said, "Just live a normal life, go to school normally, you don't need to do anything special."

He stood up and walked to the curtains, prying them open a crack with one finger. Outside, the night was pitch black.

"The cultivator couldn't control his desires. He suffered such a great loss this time. He won't be able to wait much longer."

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Ivan hummed in agreement, closed the wooden box, and tucked it under his arm. "Alright!"

He stood up and walked towards the door.

As I reached the door, Vic's voice came from behind me.

"Arkham".

Ivan turned his head.

Vic was still standing by the curtains, his pale face half-hidden in the shadows.

"From now on, when you take potions, you should perform some kind of concealment ritual."

Ivan's lips twitched.

"OK."

the other side.

In the night sky, two monsters, each nearly a meter in diameter, are flying at high speed.

Their bodies are shaped like spiders, with eight slender legs that move through the air as if swimming.

But their heads have human faces, with distorted features and expressions frozen in a state between pain and ecstasy, and an unnatural smile always hanging on the corners of their mouths.

Desire sprite.

Between the two spirits of desire, a broken human body is suspended by a strong, transparent thread.

This is Jack Alcott's body.

The hole in his chest was filled with a slightly smaller sprite of desire, which curled up in his chest cavity with its face facing outward, serving as a temporary heart.

Another creature crouches where the head should be, its eight legs hugging the broken cervical vertebrae, its face facing forward, serving as a temporary brain.

He gives off the feeling that he might fall apart at any moment.

The Desire Spirit carried the mutilated body over Bolton City and landed at top speed in the backyard of Sap Manor.

Inside the manor, in the windowless reception room.

Sap remained seated in the high-backed leather chair, dressed in dark, long-pile pajamas.

His thin body leaned against the large chair, like an old and weak dragon curled up in its lair.

His gaze was now cold as he looked ahead, where Jack Alcott was kneeling on the ground.

The hastily repaired body was as weak as a set of building blocks about to fall apart.

The spirit of desire was still writhing in his chest and head, barely maintaining the most basic functions of life.

"Alcott," Sap's condescending voice rang out.

I really overestimated you.

Jack struggled to lift his head and said in a hoarse, pleading voice.

"My lord! My lord! That little fellow was definitely suspicious! He killed Elton!"

"I have crucial information for you! If you can save me this time, I promise I'll succeed next time!"

Sap didn't speak; he simply raised his right hand.

Immediately, the entire reception room underwent a dramatic transformation.

A strange phantom emerged from behind Sap. This phantom had no physical form and its shape was composed of countless money symbols.

The dollar sign "$", the eagle emblem, strings of numbers, and the letters in contract terms —

Immediately afterwards, these symbols began to expand and churn rapidly, forming a semi-transparent spherical space that enveloped the two people within it.

Capital sector.

Sap opened his palm, which was covered with age spots.

A stack of cash appeared out of thin air in his palm, and the bills spontaneously burst into flames one by one.

With each banknote that burned out, Jack's injuries healed a little more.

Three hundred dollars: The spirit of desire in my chest retreated, and a new heart slowly grew back from my flesh and blood.

$600: The skull closes again, and brain tissue refills the cranial cavity.

Nine hundred dollars: Facial muscles and skin covered the exposed bones.

One thousand dollars: Jack's body was completely restored.

He gasped for breath, feeling the reassuring sense of having a complete body again.

Then his body suddenly went out of control and he knelt down, his knees hitting the floor with a dull but loud sound.

He looked up, somewhat bewildered: "Sir?"

A contract appeared out of thin air in front of them.

The parchment material, the gold lettering, each clause was being written on its own at a slow pace.

Sap's voice came down from above, as cold as ice.

"If you sign it, you'll owe me a thousand dollars for my life."

"You will not be free until you have paid off your debts."

Jack's face turned deathly pale in an instant.

He remembered someone.

Pris!

That night, right in this room, the three-hundred-year-old British nobleman, a bloodthirsty race, was cursing and struggling madly.

And he, Jack Alcott, was sitting on the sofa next to him, holding a cup of coffee, legs crossed, watching the performance with a relaxed and cheerful demeanor.

Watching Pris's vitality being converted into cash year after year, watching his flesh and blood being priced pound by pound.

Watching his knowledge, characteristics, and memory being written into the asset list one by one.

Three hundred years of accumulation, worth a total of five hundred thousand US dollars.

Six years ago, a bloodthirsty nobleman who traveled across the ocean from Britain signed a contract with the factory owner in order to find hope of saving the Queen and to gain a respectable foothold in this new continent.

Subsequently, after violating the terms of the contract, he became Sap's asset.

This is one of the ways that lord-level factory owners make money.

And now, in less than a month, I have ended up in the same situation.

Jack's hands trembled uncontrollably. The contract hovered half a meter in front of him, the golden lettering reflected in his pupils.

He hesitated to put pen to paper.

Sap's icy voice rang out again: "Do you need my help, Mr. Alcott?"

As the words fell, in the space of the capital market, one after another, human-shaped phantoms composed of dollar signs rose from the floor.

Their bodies are composed of flowing golden numbers, their faces blurred, yet each exudes an unquestionable, almost sacred majesty.

The judge's reflection!

The most terrifying force in the realm of capital.

As long as they remain in the city, those below the rank of lord have no way to resist these law enforcers who are formed from money.

At the same moment those judges' reflections appeared, Jack felt his soul being slowly peeled away from his body.

It was as if an invisible hand had reached into his body, grasped the core of his being, and was slowly pulling him out.

"If you don't pay back your debts, you'll go to jail."

A judge's reflection rang out in a cold voice, and at the same time a hand made of golden symbols gripped his neck.

"I'll sign!! I'll sign!!"

Jack roared.

He had followed Sap for ten years, and he knew all too well what happened to those who were imprisoned in the Soul Prison.

The soul is stripped from the body and imprisoned in a cage built of money.

There is no sleep, no death, only endless and eternal imprisonment in wakefulness.

Then it proceeds with endless calculations.

Prepare reports, keep accounts, calculate payroll —

You can't stop for a moment; making a mistake is like having your soul torn apart!

Finally, until your value is completely squeezed dry.

Everything he had witnessed others go through in the past years was now being replayed in his own life.

With trembling fingers, he grabbed the golden quill that appeared out of nowhere and hastily signed his name at the end of the contract.

After the contract was signed, the entire parchment transformed into a chain-like phantom and entered Jack's body. At the same time, Jack's expression changed; his eyes became somewhat dull, and his expression took on a mechanical quality.

With a casual wave of his hand, Sap vanished from the capital realm.

The judges' reflections disappeared, and the reception room returned to its previous dimness and tranquility.

"Vic must know everything that happened today, and he must have already reached an agreement with Arkham."

"Let's go to Guding Street now and strike when he's just gotten home and thinks it's safe tonight. That way we can catch them off guard."

"Besides, that guy can't take potions continuously. Go."

"Also, bring the Sun Holy Water and silverware that can suppress the Bloodthirsty race."

Jack respectfully stood up from the ground and couldn't help but ask a question out of curiosity.

"Why are you so sure they've reached an agreement?"

Sap raised his hand, and a small bird folded from a dollar bill landed on the back of his hand.

Its beak, made of coins, opened and closed repeatedly, uttering things that others couldn't understand.

Sap sneered: "Don't underestimate the power of money."

Meanwhile, Evan returned to his apartment on Guding Street with his first-aid kit.

The first thing I do when I get home is go to the toilet.

Sitting on the toilet, accompanied by a splashing sound, he clearly heard the sound of shards of glass hitting the toilet bowl.

"Oh no! A dollar is gone just like that."

He sighed and washed away the expensive wreckage.

After returning to his room, Ivan glanced at his attribute panel.

The reverse effect of the Anti-Moon Potion has been achieved.

You reversed the side effects of the Phase Two Anti-Moon Potion.

Your silver resistance is permanently increased by 2%.

You seem to like the moon more now! Your Moon Affinity has been permanently increased by 3%.

[Warning! The Sun opposes living with the Moon!]

Your 3% lunar affinity has been converted to 3% solar affinity.

"Good heavens!" Evan exclaimed, looking at the final hint.

"It seems the sun and the moon can only choose one path."

"I now have more of the sun's energy in my body, so I swallowed the moon directly."

"Interesting! I'll remember this rule. I can still drink moon-type potions from now on, and the increased moon affinity will be converted into sun affinity."

"Good heavens, there are cows here!"

Lost in thought, Evan plopped down on the bed.

"Chicken you~"

The trampoline let out its first scream of the night.

Ivan took the five medicine bottles out of the wooden box and carefully placed them beside his pillow.

"To be honest, it's really unpleasant to feel like you're being watched by an enemy hiding in the shadows."

After a brief silence, he rolled his eyes.

"Should we pack a few more bottles as spares?"

"Yes! It's necessary!"

"What if this cultivator can't control his desires? What if he goes mad and attacks me tonight in the dark?"

"When it comes to matters of life and death, one cannot be careless."

Thinking of this, he got up from the bed and went into the bathroom.

Five minutes later, he moved his body and felt the positions of the bottles inside his body.

"Yeah, it's so nice to be at home. It's much more convenient to bend over than to be sitting on the tram."

Three bottles!

One bottle of Ironblood, one bottle of Intermediate Blasphemy, and one bottle of Insight.

These three are all key drugs that can quickly compensate for weaknesses and deal with Jack Alcott.

He twisted his waist: "Luckily, my body's flexibility has increased, otherwise the size of that intermediate-level potion bottle would have been really difficult to handle."

The crucial life-saving contingency plan is ready.

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