What witch? The Deadly Pharmacist!

"Two small bottles a month, applied about once every five days. The first three days are fine, but it starts to itch on the fourth day, like being bitten by mosquitoes, but overall it's okay," Leon replied.

"It should be a compound poison, containing not only some common poisons but also chicken and snake venom. Fortunately, it is not activated and its toxicity is not strong..." Weiss concluded.

"Not very toxic? I've never been able to get rid of this arm properly," Leon said casually.

"The venom of the chicken snake can cause necrosis throughout the body, resulting in petrification. If the extracted venom is activated by magic essence, even a tiny amount can cause necrosis in your arm. If it hits directly, it's certain death, with no chance of saving you," Weiss replied calmly.

"So I guess I'm pretty lucky?" Leon said with a self-deprecating laugh.

“The mechanism of this poison is quite complex, and the effect of Holy Water No. 7 alone will not be enough. You should use Holy Water No. 2 in combination, and apply it once every three days according to the recommended dosage,” Weiss said.

Hearing the expert's more professional treatment plan, Leon felt a glimmer of hope: "In that case, when will I be fully recovered?"

Weiss listened in silence for a moment before replying, "This will help control your symptoms better. If left unchecked, your joint stiffness will worsen year by year. In about ten to twenty years, your joints will become completely hardened, and your arms and fingers will become unable to bend. If necrosis occurs, amputation may be necessary. In addition, your location is relatively close to the heart, and there are some cases where this condition can trigger angina, which can be fatal..."

Leon felt as if he had been doused with cold water: "Is there no way to cure it completely?"

He always thought that even if the aftereffects were lifelong, he could just spend some money to apply some medicine and get through it. He never expected it to become so serious.

“This should be the best treatment option at present. Continued medication will at least ensure your normal life,” Bishop Weiss said in a completely indifferent tone.

Leon thought to himself, "You make it sound so easy. The holy water provided by the Holy Healing Society is never cheap. If you use two kinds of holy water together, and you have to follow the recommended dosage of once every three days, even if I don't eat or drink, my salary might not be enough to cover the cost of the medicine. How am I supposed to live a normal life?"

"What about the future? If the church continues its research, it should be able to find a cure, right?" Leon asked, unwilling to give up.

“Of course, we can’t rule out that possibility, but…” Weiss paused here.

"But?" Leon sensed that the change in tone was a bit ominous.

"It's best not to have too high hopes. The healing effects that the holy water has achieved so far are already acceptable in the Church's opinion. I'm afraid the Church won't have any research plans in this direction for a long time," Weiss replied.

Leon's heart sank upon hearing this. After a moment, he asked, "Your Excellency, if I may ask, are you perhaps working for the Order of Healing?"

“No, I work as a pharmacist at the St. Rosalia Institute. The holy water formulas used by the Holy Healing Order are basically our creations,” Weiss said.

The St. Rosalia Institute is the church's research and development institution. In addition to developing holy water for healing, they also design various weapons and tools for the church.

At the same time, there is also a Saint Rosalia Prison below the research institute, which is the largest church prison in the empire and is used to detain witches who have been blessed by Moirai.

The rumor that St. Rosalia Prison experimented on witches, which Leon mentioned when he scared Leah Foster today, was widely circulated in the Empire, but Leon himself didn't know if it was true or not, after all, he was just a low-ranking Inquisitor.

Regardless, if Weiss really is the alchemist who developed the holy water, her statement would be quite authoritative.

“Thank you for telling me this, Your Excellency.” Leon bowed to Weiss again.

When Weiss diagnosed and explained things to him, her expression and tone were very indifferent, as if she was only studying his case and had little interest in his situation.

However, the other party's professional diagnosis undoubtedly made him understand his condition more clearly, and the help was self-evident. Otherwise, if his condition worsened in the future, he might not even understand why he died.

Weiss nodded silently, watching Leon turn away with a gloomy expression, when suddenly, as if possessed, she blurted out, "If you really want to be cured no matter what..."

Leon turned his head, looking surprised.

He had just been declared "incurable" by Weiss, but now her words sounded as if there was a way.

“If you ever have the chance to catch a real witch in the future, maybe you can try interrogating her,” Weiss said.

"You mean, those witches... have an antidote?" Leon asked tentatively.

"It's just a possibility. The power of demons and witches comes from the same source. As for dealing with the poison of demons, some witches do indeed possess secret formulas that the church doesn't have," Weiss replied.

"But the potions concocted by witches aren't..." Leon asked instinctively.

According to the church's rules, it is a sin to buy and use monster materials, not to mention knowing that they are magic potions made by witches. Even if the quantity is small, it is only a minor offense.

However, Leon quickly realized that if he could truly cure the illness that might plague him for the rest of his life, even if the church found out and he lost his job, being locked up for ten days or half a month would be worth it. There was no point in weighing the pros and cons.

Ultimately, if potions can truly cure diseases, what justification does the church have for banning them?

"That's all I can say. Just pretend you didn't hear what I just said, understand?" After saying this, Weiss didn't say anything more.

Leon looked at Weiss and bowed deeply again: "I understand, Your Excellency. My gratitude to you is beyond words!"

Bishop Weiss ultimately showed him some extra kindness; if someone with ulterior motives had overheard her earlier remarks, they could have caused her trouble.

Weiss nodded and turned to leave.

“The inquisitors here are dealing in stolen goods,” Weiss thought to herself.

In fact, she had already vaguely sensed that the bag the lower-ranking judge was holding contained the aura of magic, but she simply didn't expose it on the spot.

She was only interested in research; she didn't care about the petty tricks of the local heresy trials.

She felt a little guilty towards the junior judge she had just met, because she actually had the ability to concoct an antidote for the chicken snake's venom, but she couldn't say so, much less give it to him.

After all, sensing the aura of magic essence and concocting antidotes using monster materials are things only witches can do.

However, she quickly put the matter out of her mind. Given the difference in status between her and this lower-ranking judge whose name she didn't even know, they would probably never cross paths again in their lives.

……

Meanwhile, Leon, who had left the Inquisition, was also pondering what Weiss had said.

In his personal judgment, what the saintess told him was quite credible.

Selling holy water is a major source of income for the church. Compared to directly curing the disease with medicine, having people take medicine continuously to alleviate the symptoms is the most profitable approach for them. No important figures have this need, and there are no other competitors, so the church really has no need to continue investing in research and development to cure this disease.

The power of both monsters and witches originates from the primordial witch Moirai. It is said that witches can tame monsters and even transform into them. Their understanding of monsters far surpasses that of the church. Since Weiss works at the St. Rosalia Research Institute, she should have also come into contact with witches in the prison.

Perhaps... there really is a witch who possesses an antidote that can cure him.

However, this suggestion is not very useful. In a small place like Hamel, it is probably difficult to encounter a real witch. The last time the Inquisition here arrested someone on suspicion of heresy was more than 30 years ago, and they were eventually released because they could not prove it.

Given his status, it would be impossible for him to go to the Saint Rosalia prison to contact the witch, as that is one of the church's top secret institutions.

It's already so difficult to even come into contact with a witch, let alone to be sure whether the witch you encounter has the antidote.

Getting the antidote from the witch is something that can only be hoped for by chance.

In comparison, finding ways to earn more money and ensure receiving the best treatment might be more realistic.

Thinking of this, Leon's gaze unconsciously fell on the black bag in his hand. Suddenly, he recalled the boxes of gold and silver coins he had seized from smuggling gangs in the underworld. If he hadn't been searched every time he handled these cases, he would definitely have been tempted to steal some.

The sale of magic essence and other monster materials is forbidden by the church, but the huge profits involved still attract many people.

How much can these stolen goods actually fetch?

Chapter 4 Why don't I do it myself?

In Hamel, on Bourbon Street in Shekou Lane, Leon finally found the secondhand recycling shop. It had no sign or name, only a large "Recycling" sign on the outer wall of the wooden shed, which looked extremely rudimentary.

The only decent-looking thing here is the shop door, a reddish-brown solid wood door with a small window. As the captain said, there is an owl relief carved on the top of the door panel. It seems that this door is probably an old item that this shop has recycled. Maybe someone just dug it off from an empty house in town.

This neighborhood is the largest slum in Hamel. It's not so bad that you'd get stabbed in the back just by walking in, but it's definitely a den of iniquity.

The shops here are for pickpockets to sell stolen goods, and passing vendors often try to sell you suspicious items. In the underground casinos, seasoned thugs skilled at cheating are always looking for easy targets. In the taverns, women who strike up conversations with others are always being watched by burly men who are part of a honey trap scheme.

To avoid being spotted while carrying a large black bag, Leon simply placed his sidearm in a conspicuous position upon entering Shekou Alley.

He pushed open the exquisite solid wood door, and a bell rang crisply behind it.

He almost tripped over a stack of old books by the door as soon as he stepped inside. The shop was piled with clutter, old furniture was haphazardly stacked against the walls, and even the windows were blocked, making the room particularly dark.

Faded and wrinkled clothes were piled up in the old wardrobe for people to choose from. Boots, candlesticks, kettles, tableware... all sorts of odds and ends were placed haphazardly on the shelves. There were also some broken pieces of scrap metal piled up in the corner. The air was filled with the musty smell of dust and rotten wood.

Leon could tell at a glance that this kind of place was perfect for hiding illegal things, and conducting searches in such places was the most unpleasant thing to do.

The shop owner the captain had mentioned was behind the counter, intently fiddling with an old pocket watch.

As the captain said, this was a thin old man with a pointed mouth and monkey-like face, who looked to be around sixty years old. When he saw that a customer had arrived, he just looked up at Leon, gestured with his lip toward the small table next to him, indicating that Leon should take out the secondhand goods he wanted to sell and have them appraised.

“Rody introduced me,” Leon said, giving the coded message.

The shopkeeper paused, looked up and carefully examined Leon again, then glanced at the cloth bag in his hand. Suddenly, with an agility unimaginable for his age, he jumped up and darted to the door, opened the small window on the door, looked around, closed the window, locked the door, returned to the small table, and beckoned to Leon with a serious expression, saying, "Come here."

Leon understood and stepped forward, placing the cloth bag on the small table and opening it.

The shop owner glanced at them first, then put on a pair of special gloves. He quickly took out a large string of simply processed rabbit carcasses, untied the ropes binding them, and began to carefully count the number.

At first glance, these are just ordinary rabbits; a skilled hunter with a few hunting dogs could easily catch a whole bunch like this in half a day on the grassland. However, upon closer inspection, one can see that these rabbits have an extra retractable, blade-shaped bony spur on their hind legs, and upon careful observation of their heads and mouths, one can see that they have sharp canine teeth like those of carnivores.

This is a small monster called the Headhunter Rabbit, which is good at attacking prey that is much larger than itself in groups. It leaps with agile movements and uses the blades of its hind legs to slit the carotid artery of its prey. Even a small wound from the Headhunter Rabbit will bleed profusely. It will wait for its prey to bleed to death before it eats it.

Leon had heard that the blades on the headhunter rabbit's hind legs, when attached to a dagger, could also cause wounds to bleed profusely, making them suitable for killing and bloodletting.

Correspondingly, to prevent being pricked by itself or its own kind, the headhunter rabbit's fur is extremely tough. When made into clothing, it can prevent cuts from swords and knives, and when made into gloves, it can directly grip the blade. It looks like the shop owner is wearing such gloves.

After counting the number of headhunting rabbit carcasses, the shopkeeper took out a sealed ceramic jar from the bag, opened it, and found it filled with a light blue semi-fluid gel, which was processed slime gel.

The shopkeeper took a candlestick, lit it, and used the light to observe the color of the pottery jar before placing the entire jar on a balance scale to weigh it.

In a file that Leon had read in a courtroom, this classic low-level monster, resembling slime, was most common in monster smuggling cases. Slimes are basically edible and very easy to raise. The slime that makes up their bodies can be processed into a slippery gel with a wide range of applications. It can be applied to wounds to stop bleeding and promote wound healing, used as a neutralizer for potions, and also as a lubricant. Leon even saw in one case file that someone made this stuff into various shapes of adult toys and sold them quite well.

He watched as the shopkeeper weighed and recorded the monster materials on paper.

Leon intently peered into the contents. If the shopkeeper's recorded unit was pennies, then the carcass of a headhunting rabbit would be worth eight hundred pennies. There were ten of them, which would amount to eight thousand pennies.

A common rabbit sold by hunters in the market costs only seven copper coins.

"Just running a farm that raises headhunting rabbits could make a lot of money," Leon thought casually.

Headhunting rabbits are dangerous, but not insurmountable. The blades that grow on their legs are short, and can be protected by thick wooden boards, let alone armor or shields. Ignoring the dangerous blades, they are not much different in strength from ordinary rabbits. Although they eat meat, they don't eat much, so their price can guarantee a considerable profit.

That jar of slime gel weighed about two kilograms, and the purchase price was eight hundred pfennigs.

Finally, the shop owner took out a sealed test tube, no bigger than a fingertip, from the bag. Inside was a semi-transparent crystal that looked like coarse salt, mixed with faint red and blue hues.

Leon knew the main event was about to begin, and he began to observe intently.

This is the most valuable item among these contraband items: the legendary magic element that can slow down aging and create various magical potions with amazing effects.

In this world, ordinary people can hunt the monsters that roam the dungeons, and some people even raise them in secret. However, only witches have the ability to extract the precious magic essence from specific parts of various monsters.

The Church of the Norn Empire considers the Moirai an absolute heretic; anyone who worships them is condemned for blasphemy, and attempting to receive a Moirai's blessing is an even more serious crime. Therefore, witches are extremely rare within the Empire and remain very hidden.

The vast majority of magic essence circulating in the Empire is smuggled in from abroad through various channels, resold multiple times, and finally used to make magic potions as end products for sale. Each layer of this illegal trade chain can earn considerable profits.

Leon watched as the shopkeeper first used a magnifying glass and tweezers to carefully examine the translucency of the magic essence under the firelight. Then, he carefully took out a delicate little balance and poured the magic essence onto a silver tray on one side. He then added carob seeds as weights to the other tray. The final weight was about 23 carats, or 4.6 grams.

The shopkeeper made another entry on the accounting paper. Leon glanced at it, his heart racing. The number was 92,000.

The purchase price of these magic elements is 4,000 pfennigs per carat, and one gram can be sold for 20,000!

The shop owner carefully poured the magic essence back into the test tube and even scraped the silver dish with a tool.

He rewrapped everything, then took the candlestick back behind the counter, squatted down, lifted the carpet on the floor, unlocked a lock, and lifted a floorboard, revealing a dark cellar entrance beneath.

He carried the cloth bag and the candlestick, and squeezed his way through the opening with some difficulty.

Leon stood guard at the entrance, keeping a close watch. If it was a secret passage, he had to be on guard against the other party running away with the items. After all, this was his first time meeting the other party, so he had to be careful.

Fortunately, the fire and noise below did not go far. The shopkeeper simply searched the small space below, hid the cloth bag, counted the money from a box and put it into the bag, and then climbed back up the wooden ladder.

Leon watched as the shopkeeper leisurely closed the lock on the entrance, covered it with a carpet, tore a receipt from the ledger, wrote 504 pfennigs on it, signed his name and the date, and handed it to Leon along with the bag of money, saying, "Check it."

Leon examined the receipt carefully, took the money bag and opened it. It was full of large-denomination gold coins, with only four silver wolves. After carefully counting them, he found that it was exactly five hundred and four Taylors, which was equivalent to one hundred thousand and eight hundred pfennigs.

He quickly understood the trick: the numbers on the receipt were for the director, Caron, to reconcile accounts. It was written as Finney, but the actual unit was Taylor. This way, if someone stole it, it would be discovered immediately. No wonder the captain emphasized that he should not be dishonest.

Leon nodded to the shop owner, whose expression was no longer as serious as before. Instead, the shop owner grinned, revealing yellowed teeth: "Welcome to come again anytime."

……

At 7 p.m. that evening, Leon returned to the Inquisition with the money as promised. After confirming with his colleagues that the two bishops who had come to visit had already left, he went to the duty room and found that the captain was already sitting inside waiting.

"You're finally back." The captain breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing him, locked the door, and asked in a low voice, "Where's the money?"

Leon handed over the money bag and receipt, which the captain counted before turning and leaving.

Leon followed behind him, watching from a distance as the captain carefully carried the money bag up to the director's office, knocked on the door, and went inside after receiving a response.

About ten minutes later, Leon watched as the captain walked out empty-handed. The captain walked over, nodded to Leon, and quietly said, "Thanks."

"You're welcome, Captain. It's just that..." Leon smiled sheepishly.

The captain promised to give him a sum of money, which he couldn't refuse, since he had risked being arrested for dereliction of duty to smuggle the evidence out for resale.

"Oh right, you've worked hard. Here, take this..." The captain immediately understood what Leon meant, rummaged in his pocket, took out a Taylor silver coin, and handed it to Leon.

Leon stared at the silver wolf for a moment, speechless. He looked at the captain in surprise but did not take it.

Risking dismissal and detention to do this job, only to receive two hundred yuan in errand fees in the end, is this a joke?

Seeing Leon's reaction, the captain sighed, then simply took out his money pouch, poured out five copper coins worth ten pfennigs, and handed them over along with the silver coin: "That's all I have on me."