That's right — an alchemist's own method of classification was simply to look at the ingredients.
If anything other than plant matter went into the crucible during the brewing process — be it insects, other living creatures, or even monster blood—
Make no mistake, my friend. That was a magic potion, one hundred percent.
These earthworms were ones Lan Qingyou had collected during her herb-gathering excursions over the past several days.
Besides centipedes, she'd also collected quite a few useful specimens: Green-Eyed Frogs, Megaphone Bats, centipedes, Red Stone Rats, Deadwood Snakes, Stone Saltpetre Leeches, Fire Red Ants, Grass Saw Insects, and more.
Honestly, Lan Qingyou had found them revolting at first.
But as a fledgling alchemist starved for materials, she was in no position to be picky. Every encounter was fate, and every specimen had to be collected.
To pass them up would be an insult to the great teacher Albert — a desecration of alchemy itself.
They were all drying on the second-floor terrace. In another two days or so, they'd be ready to grind into powder for storage.
Because of the "supreme rule," she'd kept her collection a secret the entire time.
But now that she needed to make magic potions, there was no avoiding bringing them out into the open.
Centipedes had two applications in alchemy: one was tossing them in whole, as she was doing now, and the other was grinding them into powder after death.
The two methods produced different effects, served different purposes, and yielded different magic potions.
This time, Lan Qingyou's priority was reducing her opponent's stats.
Pay attention, everyone — underline it, star it — Professor Albert would absolutely put this on the exam.
She stayed busy right through the afternoon before finally completing the day's batch of potions.
Without the enamel mugs to deal with, the workload was much lighter than yesterday.
After cooling and settling, Lan Qingyou started bottling.
"Apprentice-Level Magic Potion: Sluggishness (E)"
"Effect: Upon hitting an enemy, the potion shatters into a mist that adheres to the target's skin, reducing Agility by 3 for 10 seconds."
"Description: 3 Agility is nothing to scoff at. 6 Agility is nothing to boast about. Let your enemies taste the joy of slamming the brakes!"
Looking at the Sluggishness Potion's stats, Lan Qingyou nodded in satisfaction.
With this magic potion, she finally had at least a chance of escaping a hostile situation.
Three points of Agility reduction from a proper apprentice-level Sluggishness Potion might not sound like much at first glance.
But consider: the peak Agility for a Blue Star Earthling was only 10.
Even if she were unlucky enough to run into a maxed-out superhuman, those 3 lost Agility points would be enough to make them faceplant mid-sprint.
Think about it.
A person accustomed to high-speed movement, suddenly and involuntarily slowed down — they'd need a few seconds to adjust, at minimum.
Even if it was only a handful of seconds.
And those precious seconds of adjustment were the perfect window for escape — or counterattack.
Of course, all of this assumed Lan Qingyou could actually hit her target.
But she wasn't worried about that either.
One crucible batch produced 200 potions. Throw every last one and at least one would connect — and she wouldn't even feel bad about it.
This was about survival. No room for regret. By the time you're worrying about waste, you're already dead, folks.
As for whether using these magic potions would pose any danger to the user—
She couldn't speak for others, but Lan Qingyou knew for certain that she herself would be perfectly fine.
Honestly, she felt her material reserves were still too thin.
The snakes, bugs, rats, and ants she'd mentioned earlier could each produce magic potions far more useful to her than the earthworm-based Sluggishness Potion.
But unfortunately, she didn't have enough of any one type to fill a full crucible batch.
Brewing them individually in small batches wasn't an option either — no tools for that, and wasteful besides.
That's why she'd chosen the Sluggishness Potion — something she could mass-produce in a single large batch.
All of this was the product of careful deliberation.
She knew herself well. Her combat ability was what it was — she couldn't hope for more — so she had to win through volume.
After bottling all the life-saving potions, Lan Qingyou washed her tools clean.
Once that was done, she moved on to filtering and bottling the Healing Potion.
"Crude Healing Potion (E-)"
"Effect: Restores 3 Health Points per second for 10 seconds."
"Description: A barely passable healing potion. Does anyone actually need something like this?"
'Yes! Need it! Plenty of people do!'
Seeing the snarky appraisal, Lan Qingyou fired right back.
Sure, ten seconds for just 30-odd Health Points was a far cry from the 50-plus an apprentice-level version would provide.
But Lan Qingyou was certain there'd be no shortage of customers.
After all, when the +50 mana potions had come out, people had complained about the excess being wasted. The same logic applied here — +50 Health Points would see the same pushback, while +30 potions would be more popular. Someone like her, with a grand total of 20 Health Points, would find even +30 slightly wasteful.
So even a soup-pot-brewed +30 Crude Healing Potion wouldn't have trouble selling.
Two hundred +30 Crude Healing Potions. Two hundred +30 Crude Mana Potions. Lan Qingyou kept ten Healing Potions for herself and contacted Shang Chuan with the rest.
A little past five in the afternoon — roughly the time when the hunters and gatherers returned en masse to their shelters. Also Shang Chuan's busiest hour.
Some people trickled back during the midday break, sure.
But most chose to fight all day, or at most, drop off materials and head right back out. Very few actually stopped to browse the exchange.
Unless they'd scored something good.
She couldn't speak for other districts, but in District 666, Lan Qingyou's decision to peg base material prices to mana potions had kept the market remarkably stable — even the black market.
For a merchant, that was a dream come true. Stable prices meant more accurate predictions, lower risk.
Today, however, Shang Chuan was a little restless.
He sat at his Magic Desk, hands working the exchange panel as usual. Everything looked normal on the surface, but the way his eyes kept darting to the friends list — and the leg bouncing under the table — betrayed his true state of mind.
It was nearly six o'clock, and there was still no word from Lan Qingyou.
He didn't think she'd skip out, but several thousand units of materials were on the line, plus a hundred potions of commission. As time ticked by, his anxiety steadily climbed.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The friends list suddenly pinged.
Shang Chuan's facial muscles twitched. His right hand swiped with practiced precision, opening the notification.
Lan Qingyou: "[Crude Healing Potion (E-)]"
Thump — thump — thump — thump — thump—
The moment he saw the Healing Potion's effects, Shang Chuan's heart began hammering uncontrollably.
'One hundred percent! An absolute one hundred percent profit margin!'
Throat dry, he grabbed the bottle of jasmine honey tea beside him and took two long gulps.
Lan Qingyou: "How many do you want?"
'All of them!'