Chapter 120: Three Rooms

Stepping out of the secret chamber alone, the pale-haired young man stretched and walked leisurely through the hidden base secretly constructed by the Demon-Suppressing Sect.

To guard against the retaliation from Cangyun Mountain, this place would probably be relocated soon. Many members of the Demon-Suppressing Sect were busy, yet he seemed indifferent.

As the blue-clad people came and went, they hurriedly bowed respectfully or cautiously averted their eyes, fearful that this esteemed Pharmacist would glance their way, as if his gaze held some terrifying poison.

Even though the Pharmacist smiled back politely at everyone greeting him, appearing harmless like a good-natured elder.

“Well… Speaking of which, I’ve lost quite a bit recently, so I should restock. Let’s see how the preparations are going.”

As if recalling something, he murmured in a voice barely audible, and his footsteps turned toward a certain direction.

Soon, the Pharmacist arrived at a beautifully decorated room, seemingly his own space within the base. After closing the door, he went to a wall, pushed aside a bookshelf, and rhythmically pressed against the stone wall several times.

The sealed stone wall then rotated, revealing an even more secretive space with a slight mechanical sound.

As a Pharmacist, one naturally needs a potion lab.

Before him stood numerous jars and vials neatly arranged on shelves, each adorned with precisely written labels. A few bundles of herbs placed in a vent had already dried, and the Pharmacist skillfully gathered and sorted them into a prepared wooden box.

Everything was just the usual tasks a Pharmacist should perform, giving off the appearance of being harmless.

Then, he moved to a secluded corner of the lab and lifted the veil that concealed certain items.

Behind it were small, completely sealed compartments.

The Pharmacist opened the first compartment door and stepped inside.

A faint smell of blood immediately greeted him.

It wasn’t that anything extremely horrifying or body parts were hidden here—just a corpse.

The corpse of a Pharmacist.

The body lay flat on a stark, undecorated metal table, stripped of all clothing, like a medical lab mouse awaiting dissection.

At the center of its chest, a clear, straight-through wound could be seen, precisely penetrating and incinerating the heart, even scorching the surrounding muscle and bone, including the skin, to a charred black.

Not lingering long on the lifeless body that bore his likeness, the Pharmacist’s attention quickly shifted to the golden spear resting beside it, over two meters long and seemingly made of transparent crystal, his face alight with admiration.

“Ah… what an outstanding work of art.”

Like a lecherous fool caressing the smooth skin of a girl, the man known as the Pharmacist reached out to touch the spear, even as the innate power radiating from it scorched his palm, yet he remained oblivious, lost in the sensations of its pure light.

“True Immortal… True Immortal… it’s truly a True Immortal, hahaha ~ no wonder such exquisite and breathtaking creations can be made. I wonder if I left a good impression on that Immortal during our meeting. I’m so nervous and excited…”

“True Immortal, the ultimate mystery that transcends the limits of the world, to think it could be so close one day… Haha… Hahaha!”

Muttering to himself in a frenzy, the Pharmacist’s expressions shifted between ecstasy and contemplation, at times tinged with anxiety and conflict, yet his palm continued to emit sizzling sounds as it was burned by the spear’s high temperature.

“Enough.”

Suddenly, he lifted his hand and placed the spear back, nonchalantly retrieving a porcelain vial from his chest, sprinkling powder onto his charred palm, which soon flaked away, revealing fresh, delicate skin beneath, as tender as a child’s.

The Pharmacist wore a thoughtful expression.

“Well… the time isn’t right. The True Immortal is not an ordinary existence. With my current means, I’d be lucky to even touch a one-in-ten-thousand chance. I need to plan for the long term and think of more targeted approaches.”

Quickly, he exited the compartment containing the body and moved to the second adjoining space.

Here, there was also another Pharmacist.

This one wore a white robe, lacking any inner linings, sitting cross-legged on an empty platform, seemingly in meditation.

Surrounded by numerous thin shells that resembled those left behind by shedding snakes, their hair had also turned mostly white, yet they showed no response to the external world, like an ancient monk deep in concentration.

The Pharmacist circled around them, unsure if he was observing or evaluating something.

After a while, he nodded, remaining silent in the completely soundproof, sealed space. Instead, he scooped a bowl of clean water from a barrel in the corner, added some powder, and stirred it thoroughly.

Finally, he sliced his finger with a short knife, letting a few drops of his own blood mingle in the now murky potion.

The faint crimson spread through the white liquid, quickly dissolving and disappearing.

Once finished, he placed the bowl containing the potion beside the other Pharmacist but didn’t feed it to them; he simply turned around and left.

Next, the Pharmacist approached the third compartment.

This one was different from the previous two—it was locked and bore a sigil marking of a magic formation.

Upon opening the door and stepping inside, faint pleading and mournful cries echoed in the Pharmacist’s ears.

“Spare me… please spare me, esteemed Pharmacist… I really can’t take it anymore; or if you could, grant me a quick death…”

Inside, there was a frightened young man in his twenties, looking pale and exhausted, wearing the distinctive blue garb of the Demon-Suppressing Sect. Though he had decent looks, the fatigue and lifelessness in his eyes could not be concealed.

He seemed utterly drained, so weary that he couldn’t muster the energy to resent the man who had inexplicably tormented him in this cramped, sealed space for weeks.

The man was the Pharmacist—a terrifying presence he could neither defy nor retaliate against, leaving him powerless to do anything but beg pitifully for mercy, clinging to a slim hope for the Pharmacist’s change of heart.

Yet, as always, the Pharmacist remained unresponsive, merely observing this young man with the same uninhibited gaze one might give during the drug preparation process, devoid of malice or compassion.

With a smile, he stated, “Hmm, seems about time.”

“What… what’s about time, esteemed Pharmacist…”

Shaking his head with a smile, the Pharmacist turned around, scooping a bowl of clean water from the corner barrel, adding the powder as before, thoroughly mixing it, and once more slicing his already healed finger to drip a few drops of dark, murky blood into the concoction.

“Drink this, and you can leave soon. I guarantee it in the name of the Pharmacist~”

   

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