Chapter 55: Chapter 54: Spot On

David’s words struck like lightning, awakening the dreamers, especially the impoverished High Elf conscript prisoners of war.

For a moment, it seemed as if a sparkling mountain of gold had been piled before their eyes.

However, some of them, discovering for the first time that the Healing Potions they routinely stocked as military supplies were actually extracted from dragon dung, immediately turned pale.

But, constrained by the fact that their slave master was a dragon, they could only suppress their disgust as their stomachs gurgled.

“Is the Anger Potion similar?”

“Yes, most of the Anger Potions currently circulating in the market are derived from Crimson Ash stolen nine years ago in the Crimson Calamity’s territory. Moreover, the Crimson Calamity’s bloody massacre back then, coupled with the Elves’ subsequent embargo policy, has affected the supply. Consequently, these two types of potions are only moderately sufficient for military use now, and their market prices are, to put it mildly, quite substantial.”

Hiatt’s answer still managed to cause David’s mentally prepared brain to freeze.

So it truly was, damned feces that sustains the people of the entire continent…

Seeing that David was evidently tempted, Hiatt worried he might impulsively suggest some wild idea she couldn’t possibly achieve, even if she risked her life, so she quickly added, “But if you want to produce these two desperately needed potions, everything else isn’t a problem. I even have the formula for the most basic Anger Potion. However, there’s a critical issue that is very troublesome and unavoidable.”

David narrowed his eyes slightly, signaling her to speak quickly.

Hiatt hurried to continue, “That is, we cannot complete the potion creation in this camp or even on the Old Continent.”

Before David could ask why, she hurriedly explained the reason, “Both of these potions, or rather most potions that directly affect Magic Power and vitality, cannot be made without the pollen of a plant called Century Aroma as a raw material.

“At least in the formulas that Yevgeny and I possess, Century Aroma is irreplaceable.

“But the catch is, this flower only blooms in the warmer, rain-abundant climes of the New Continent. True to its name, Century Aroma, it only blossoms after nearly a hundred years of propagation. Furthermore, once its roots are uprooted, it wilts quickly.

“Most crucially, its flowering period is very short—only half a month. The pollen must also be collected within three hours, as its most important mediating substance begins to slowly bind with the Magic Power in the air, gradually losing its most valuable quality.

“Therefore, when making these potions, both we Drow and the High Elves build our Alchemy Workshops right near the Century Aroma fields. We then immediately create the potions after collecting the pollen.

“Furthermore, these Alchemy Workshops are mostly controlled by the military. Only a few are in the hands of Elf Nobles, and these individuals are typically leading Nobles and Lords of the New Continent. Ordinary people can hardly access such a lucrative industry.”

Having spoken so much in one breath, as if it were a tongue twister, Hiatt felt as if her brain was nearly suffocating. She saw her master musing for a moment before continuing to inquire, “Who can produce these two potions?”

Hiatt replied, “The Mage under my command can manufacture the most basic Anger Potion, while Yevgeny has the recipe and production method for the latter.”

“This one?”

David looked incredulously at the Drow Mage, who, upon being mentioned by Hiatt, immediately raised her head and puffed out her chest, looking as if she wanted to press her nostrils against his talons.

He could understand the latter, but for the former, he found it quite fantastical.

“Yes, although her skills can only be considered amateurish, with a proper Potion-maker like Yevgeny around, she’ll likely master it quickly,” Hiatt said.

The Drow Mage, misinterpreting her superior’s assessment as high praise for her intelligence, and imagining she could quickly transform from a mere apprentice Potion-maker into a fully-fledged one by working with the High Elf, excitedly spoke up to David, “Right, right, I learn very fast! Plus, Master, my name is…”

“Very well. Do you have access to any Elf territory that cultivates Century Aroma?” David asked, cutting her off.

“I don’t, but you do, Master,” Hiatt said with a flattery-laced riddle.

But David, being a Red Dragon, was immune to such flattery. “…Spit it out.”

“…What I mean is, among the High Elves you previously captured, there is one.”

“Oh? Which one?” David asked.

Yevgeny, the High Elf standing by, clearly began to struggle internally.

But that didn’t stop Hiatt from trying to push a certain Elf into the fire pit. “That Elf commander. He comes from a distinguished lineage, a blood relative of the Lord of the Silver Wheel within Dewensen territory. His name is Ahmed.”

“Where is he? Bring him here,” David ordered.

A few minutes later, Ahmed, his head so thoroughly wrapped in bandages it resembled a large, white turban, was brought forward.

David was immediately shocked by the man’s appearance and asked Hiatt, “Are you sure this isn’t one of your Drow? But a High Elf? And a bloody Noble at that?”

“Uh… he angered you, Master, before he surrendered, so this is the punishment he deserves,” Hiatt cautioned carefully.

David then vaguely remembered the reason. It seemed to be because Ahmed had frankly stated that his family couldn’t spare a single copper coin for him under those circumstances. This had resulted in David, in his Wrath, accidentally scorching him bald with a whiff of Dragon Breath from his nostrils.

With such a coal-black appearance, it would be a miracle if his family didn’t suspect something was amiss.

“Is it fixable?”

“We must use the 7th-level spell Regeneration. I know a Priest in a church somewhere on the New Continent who can cast it, but he’s quite greedy. He might require a Mana Crystal worth at least a thousand Gold Coins.”

That meant Hiatt’s profits from this deal might be slashed significantly.

After all, it was a dead egg; fetching a few hundred Gold Coins for it would be considered good for dragon dealings. It wasn’t like a live Dragon Egg, which was worth at least one to sixty thousand. And a True Dragon like David could make Hiatt a wealthy woman overnight. However, trafficking his own kind was a bottom line, a red line; even if he truly lost his mind one day, he would knock himself out first.

Listening to this, David immediately felt a bit of a stomachache, but for more Gold Coins, he had no choice but to wag his tail. “If it’s a problem that can be solved with Gold Coins, then it’s not a problem. By the way, after the matter is resolved, remember to get double from this guy. Giving him a makeover and charging a little broker’s fee isn’t too much, right?”

As he said this, he turned to Ahmed. The High Elf was already beginning to fidget excitedly yet was trying to maintain a sage-like demeanor. “So, here comes the question, Mr. Ahmed. Would you be willing to lead us to your family’s Alchemy Workshop to borrow some Century Aroma for, let’s say, some artistic creations?”

Ahmed immediately took a deep breath, raised his head, and declared, “Hmph! If you think Ahmed will wallow in filth with you evil Dragons, then you’ve picked the wrong Elf!”

David, who had taken a Sobering Potion, smacked his lips. He wasn’t angry, just bored. He raised his paw. “Drag him down and feed him to the White Dragon.”

Mofei, crouching in the corner, hadn’t even had time to rejoice over the extra meal granted by his master. Before him, the High Elf, who had previously seemed ready to follow his ancestors to the grave, immediately knelt. His face bloomed like a black daisy with a smile as he said, “You’re an excellent judge of Elves, my respected Master! As long as you permit me to return to my family, Ahmed will do anything you ask!”

David couldn’t be bothered to look at this spineless creature and turned to ask Hiatt, “How long until the Century Aroma flowers?”

“One and a half months.”

“Hmm, then get ready. We’ll go capture a couple more dragons.”

“…” Everyone present fell silent.

Indeed, typical of a Red Dragon Lord’s thoughts. They really do change every moment, never repeating the same thing twice… But who could argue? He was strong, and he was their master. They just had to suck it up.

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