Are You Undead?

The economic crisis in the City of Alchemy was far grimmer than Anbaixiu had imagined. Even the minor lords below were beginning to prepare for a rainy day, bracing for the city's collapse. Yet Anbaixiu had no time to care whether the City of Alchemy collapsed or not; he was throwing his entire being into the experiments to create soul puppets. Master Morgan had pointed him in the right direction. By refining the technique using Simulated Soul, Anbaixiu quickly created a "bionic" soul at a cost of roughly two hundred gold coins. By the standard value of a soul, two hundred gold coins was undoubtedly extravagant—after all, a human slave's soul was not even worth a single gold coin. But the magical ritual Master Morgan had created cost fifty thousand gold coins; Anbaixiu's was a mere two hundred, which was undeniably a massive reduction. And there was still room to squeeze the costs down further. The first step of manufacturing soul puppets could be considered complete. Yet once the soul problem was solved, the design of the soul puppet's body ran into a slight hitch. Living mercury was the vessel best suited to host a soul. The trouble was that living mercury lacked many internal organs from the moment it was created. Who knew what those lunatics in the City of Alchemy had originally planned, but aside from exhibiting extraordinary magic resistance, living mercury was entirely a deformed lifeform. Lacking essential organs made living mercury extremely fragile; save for its instinct to devour metal, it possessed no capacity for action whatsoever. Under such circumstances, even forcibly stuffing a soul inside would merely squander materials. Thus, Anbaixiu needed to help the living mercury replenish its missing internal organs. And the best way to do so was to reference the anatomy of a slime. After all, living mercury was nothing more than a modified mercury slime. "Alas, you never know what you're missing until you need it. I really don't know a thing about slimes." Even a lich blessed with eternal life would appear utterly minuscule before the boundless ocean of magical knowledge. Every year, new magical theories were published in Legendary Spells, while the achievements that went unpublished were simply countless. Even as diligent a scholar as Anbaixiu could not possibly master every single field. At times like this, one had to seek the help of experts. However, when Anbaixiu asked around in the Elegy Poetry Society's chat group, all those legendary undead stated they had never conducted any research on slimes. That was only natural. Slimes, as low-level monsters, were not only weak but also hideous, and held virtually no practical value, making them an exceptionally obscure subject of study. The undead had plenty of time, but none of them had any interest in such things. Anbaixiu had no choice but to haul out back issues of Legendary Spells and begin searching through them volume by volume for anything related to slimes. The results were disappointing. Even in a renowned magical journal like Legendary Spells, mentions of slimes were few and far between. One could only say that slimes were truly pathetically weak. After turning it over in his mind, the only remaining place to find an expert on slimes was the City of Alchemy, which had developed living mercury in the first place. But the City of Alchemy was currently in the midst of a fiscal crisis. From top to bottom, prices were skyrocketing like mad. Going to consult them for relevant materials at a time like this would surely mean getting ruthlessly fleeced. Demanding more money was something only Anbaixiu was allowed to do to others; when turned upon himself, it became a harrowing torment akin to bathing in holy water. Mulling it over, Anbaixiu found no shortcuts. He could only resort to the most traditional method of a lich—capture a few slimes and bring them back for experiments. As long as he dissected one or two hundred slimes, he would become a slime research expert himself. Anbaixiu cast Polymorph once more, reverting to his human form. This was a world rife with severe racial prejudice. Walking around as a lich always brought immense inconvenience; only by donning human guise could he spare himself endless unnecessary trouble. Clad in the appearance of a dark-haired youth, Anbaixiu stepped out of his laboratory once again and headed outside the ancient castle. Passing by Isabel's workshop, Anbaixiu cast a very capitalist glance inside. Fortunately, the girl was quite honest and hadn't been sneaking bites of his experimental materials. Earlier, Anbaixiu had created an intelligent ghoul to serve as his lab assistant, only for it to gobble up a third of his stockpile within a few days. The incident had infuriated him to the point that his soul fire smoked, and he'd had to dismantle the ghoul—which had swollen two sizes larger—just to recoup a fraction of the losses. Perceptive Isabel noticed Anbaixiu's presence. A surprised look crossed her face, and she hurried over to greet him. "Teacher, I've finally seen you again." "Teacher?" Anbaixiu paused, taken aback. "You're calling me Teacher?" Isabel nodded. "Thanks to your guidance in alchemy last time, I've noticed I've improved a lot. It might be presumptuous to address you like this, but I'm truly grateful for your instruction, Teacher." Anbaixiu did not reject the title; he was certainly worthy of the word "teacher." Since he was now a teacher, he ought to show some concern for his student's progress. Anbaixiu asked her, "Have you run into any questions lately?" Isabel's eyes lit up. "Yes! Wait a moment, Teacher." She pulled out her notebook, flipped to a page, and said, "When extracting belladonna, I can't seem to get the heat right..." "Pay attention to when the bubbles appear. Once the first bubble surfaces, stop heating within thirty seconds at most." "When I brew the Potion of Animal Speaking according to the proportions in the book, the quality turns out very poor." "It's affected by temperature. The castle's room temperature is on the lower side, so you need to increase the proportion of the suspension appropriately—by about five percent." ... No matter what question Isabel raised, Anbaixiu answered almost without hesitation. The more Isabel asked, the more bottomless the dark-haired youth before her seemed. Many of these were questions her previous teacher had been unable or unwilling to answer, yet the person before her tossed out the solutions effortlessly. These were all very basic alchemical principles, child's play for a research scholar like him, but for Isabel, they were precious pearls of experience that would have taken years of fumbling to figure out without someone pointing the way. Deeply aware of how valuable knowledge was, Isabel felt an ever-growing respect—even worship—toward this young teacher. Hastily flipping to the back pages of her notebook, Isabel continued, "Also, the Hill Giant Strength Potion..." "Wait. Is that a potion you can make right now?" "Well... I saw the formula, and the materials are right here..." "Aiming too high will only waste materials. Even if I taught you step by step, you wouldn't understand an advanced potion like that." Anbaixiu's tone turned stern. Basic potions were one thing—they were consumed in large quantities and were supposed to be concocted through Isabel's daily hard labor. But a Hill Giant Strength Potion was another matter entirely. That stuff was precious, an advanced potion; wasting the materials from a single failure would make Anbaixiu's bones ache with heartbreak. After being held up like this for more than half an hour, Anbaixiu quickly called a halt, telling Isabel, "Alchemy is profound scholarship. You didn't think you could become an alchemy master in a single day, did you? Master everything I've taught you before asking about anything else!" Despite being scolded, Isabel didn't feel the slightest resentment. Compared to her previous teacher, Anbaixiu was as merciful as an angel. He hadn't even hurled insulting words like 'fool' or 'idiot' at her, nor had he been secretive about his alchemical knowledge. Many of the questions in this little notebook had troubled her for a long time, but every time she asked her previous teacher, she had received only the most perfunctory dismissals. Anbaixiu strictly instructed Isabel not to waste materials. Just as he was about to leave, she suddenly called out to him again. "Teacher, please wait. I have one last question." Anbaixiu turned back in confusion. "What is it?" Isabel asked timidly, "Teacher, you... must be an undead, right? An undead of this castle... aren't you?" Anbaixiu: "..."