Chapter 182: Chapter 180: Wariness
「Two days later.」
A rumor about a "horrific battlefield discovered on the edge of the Dark Hills" began to spread.
It started circulating on a small scale among the mid to high-level Wizards of the High Tower.
At first, no one paid it any mind. Battles in the wilderness were all too common.
But as more details emerged—"a suspected eruption of Level One Peak Death Witchcraft," "some unknown Annihilation-type Energy," "a perfect, glazed hemisphere wiped clean from the ground"...
This, combined with the inquiry from the Withered Council a few days prior about the mysterious deaths of its members...
...as well as the sudden closure and reopening of Ian Marcus’s Magic Pharmacy.
Those with a keen sense for such things began to connect the dots.
In the cafeteria, a few Level One Wizards huddled together, their voices hushed to a whisper.
"Did you hear? The Withered Council lost three Stewards, right outside our High Tower!"
"Heard? I went to see the site myself! My gods... that place looks like it was hit by a meteor, the kind that ’annihilates’!"
"Death Energy... That’s the trademark of those lunatics from the Withered Council. How strong must their opponent have been to force them to use a move of mutual destruction?"
"You guys think... it might be related to that guy from the Magic Potion Department? He was in a bit of trouble a while back, and now his Magic Pharmacy suddenly reopens?"
"Ian Marcus? Are you kidding me? How long has it been since he was promoted? The ones who died were Core Stewards of the Withered Council, one of whom was at the Peak of Liquefaction!"
"But... the timing is too perfect. Right after he reopened his shop, the battlefield was discovered... Besides, don’t forget the Demon Hunting battle."
At the mention of the Demon Hunting battle, the group fell silent.
His performance that time was almost unnervingly good, though most people attributed it to luck and tactics given the special circumstances.
But if this time...
"Impossible... Absolutely impossible..."
someone muttered, but their tone was no longer so certain.
Another emotion began to spread through the hearts of those privy to this information.
It wasn’t simple surprise, but a mixture of disbelief, re-evaluation, and a thread of unspeakable... wariness.
If he really did it... as a newly promoted Level One, to kill three (and possibly more) experienced Core Stewards from the Withered Council, known for their bizarre methods.
One of whom was at the Peak of Liquefaction...
This could no longer be described as merely having outstanding Talent.
This was a monster.
The way the other Wizards looked at him changed.
Ian walked down the corridor leading to the Magic Potion Department.
He could feel that the gazes falling upon him were different than before.
Before, those gazes held curiosity, inquiry, and admiration for the Magic Potion Genius.
Perhaps there was also a hint of hidden jealousy or disapproval.
But now, deep within those gazes, there was something else.
It was respect—the kind of subconscious respect one gives to an equal, or more specifically, to a powerhouse who could pose a lethal threat.
It was also wariness—a deep-seated wariness.
When they looked at him, their eyes would unconsciously drift downward, avoiding direct eye contact.
Their steps would slow slightly, or they would simply wait for him to pass first.
Even some veteran Level One Wizards, who were usually cold-faced at seminars, would now give him a slight nod upon encountering him.
Some even took the initiative to offer a slightly stiff smile.
No one came up to ask him, "What happened?"
Nor did anyone mention the "Withered Council" or the "Dark Hills."
Everyone had an unspoken understanding.
But this silent, ubiquitous, and subtle change spoke volumes more than any direct inquiry or compliment could.
Ian’s expression remained calm as he nodded in response, just as he always did, without breaking his stride.
’He knew in his heart that the effects of that battle were beginning to show.’
’It was faster than he had anticipated, and... better, more direct.’
Returning to his Alchemy Room, he closed the door and activated the Isolation Array.
Ian leaned against the door and slowly exhaled.
He raised his left hand, looking at the wound on his arm corroded by the Death Chains.
Thanks to the Strong Healing Potion and his own formidable regenerative abilities, it had already scabbed over, but the new skin was still pale.
’That battle had not been easy.’
Gaga was still recovering, curled up in the shadows digesting the Blood Essence. Its aura, however, was growing stronger.
"Curse Bearer... [Eye of the Gazer]?"
Ian recalled the fragments of the secret letter he had found in the Ashen Ring, and his eyes turned cold.
’So Hector had a trick up his sleeve before his mission after all.’
’That strange eyeball from the Underground Cave, the one that could slowly enhance Spiritual Power, seemed to have a far greater origin and much wider implications than he’d imagined.’
’The Withered Council won’t let this go. The real trouble, I’m afraid, is yet to come.’
However... he walked to the Alchemy Platform and looked at the azure [Starlight Potions] on its surface.
He then recalled the gazes in the corridor, filled with both wariness and reverence.
’At least for now, within Shadow Moon Tower, there should be a lot less petty trouble from those who don’t know any better.’
’He needed time, and even more, he needed resources.’
Ian picked up an Abyssal Rune Stone, his fingertips tracing the lines on its surface, which were icy cold and filled with Chaotic Energy.
"Bring it on," he muttered to himself, his eyes showing not a trace of fear, only a deep calm.
"Let’s see who has the last laugh."
...
A slight chill still lingered in the early morning air.
Ian walked into the Starlight Magic Pharmacy. Kenna was already there, standing on his tiptoes to wipe the topmost shelf.
Hearing the noise, he turned around and squeezed out a smile. "Sir."
"Mm."
Ian went behind the counter and ran a finger across the tabletop. It was clean, no dust.
He was just here for a routine check and would be heading back to his residence soon.
Robert came in from the backyard carrying a wooden bucket, its rim still beaded with water droplets.
"The disposal basin has been cleaned again, and all the potion dregs have been burned."
"What about the external resource channels?" Ian asked.
"They’re open," Robert said, putting down the bucket and pulling a list from his coat.
"The shipment arrived a few nights ago. Thirty Abyssal Rune Stones, five pounds of Erosion Demon Iron Powder, and two small jars of Abyssal Crystal Fragments... all at the old price, no increase."
Ian took the list, glanced at it, and nodded.
’The goods are back, and the prices are the same. It means the hands pulling the strings have temporarily backed off.’
’At least on the surface.’
"What about the Purple Iris Flower Commerce Association..."
"No movement," Robert said, also finding it a bit strange.
"The Nightingale Bar is open as usual. Red Sparrow sent word saying, ’business as usual.’"
Ian folded the list and stuck it in a drawer.
"Then it’s business as usual."
The bell on the shop door rang.
Wade came in, shouldering two large crates of materials. The weight made his shoulders sag, and his forehead was beaded with sweat.
"Where... where should I put these?"
"The backyard," Kenna said, walking over to lend a hand.
The two of them carried the crates inside. Monica followed behind, ledger and pen in hand, taking inventory as she walked.
Ian watched their retreating figures.
’Kenna is reliable. Wade is strong and has a sturdy build. Robert is meticulous in his work, and Monica never makes a mistake with the accounts.’
’They’d been with him for a long time, seeing him go from Apprentice to Official Wizard, while they themselves grew from running errands to managing things independently.’
"Sir." Monica finished her inventory and walked over.
"In the past half-month, we’ve taken in an extra one hundred High Level Magic Stones. It’s from the back-orders that piled up when we were out of stock. We’ve filled them all in the last few days."
"Mm."
"Also..." She hesitated for a moment.
"A few days ago, some unfamiliar faces came by asking questions. They wanted to know when you’re usually in the shop, what you like, and whether the area around the shop needed ’enhanced patrols.’"
Ian lifted his gaze. "Whose people were they?"
"I’m not sure, but their tone didn’t sound like they were from the Black Market. It was more like... they were subordinates of some big shots in the High Tower."
Ian tapped his fingers on the desktop.
’A gesture of goodwill, or a probe.’
’The fact that he had killed three Core Stewards of the Withered Council... though no one said it outright, everyone who should know, knew.’
’Strength is the best way to open doors.’
"If they come again, refuse them directly," Ian said.
"Yes, sir."
Monica withdrew and went back to organizing the shelves.
Ian didn’t stay in the shop for long. After giving instructions on a few important matters, he left.
He could leave the daily operations to Kenna and the others; he had more important things to do.
