My inventory is full of monster materials.

Chapter 128 The Test of the Potion

"The intelligence of an owl!!"

Poppy gasped, her eyes widening, her mouth agape as if she could fit an egg in it, her face filled with shock.

Several seconds passed before Popeye snapped back to reality, her voice trembling.

"M-My lord, are you referring to the intelligence of the owl?!"

The "Owl's Intelligence" attribute potion is extremely famous among the guild's mage apprentices.

As is well known, the basic intelligence threshold for a mage apprentice is 10 points, while the hard standard for being promoted to a formal mage is at least 15 points of intelligence.

These five gaps require apprentices to persistently study magic, hone their skills, and develop their mental abilities; even with smooth progress, it will still take seven or eight years.

"Owl's Intelligence" can directly nourish the brain and permanently increase intelligence attribute by 1-3 points. This means that a bottle of potion can save apprentices half of their hard training.

In Popeye's opinion, if you were to rank the most popular magical items for a mage apprentice from the most popular to the least popular, "Owl's Intelligence" would definitely be the most popular.

Popeye's cheeks flushed red, and she gripped the hem of her clothes tightly with both hands, but her excitement lasted only a moment before she became embarrassed and murmured with her head down.

"My lord, I...I don't have this potion here. I've only heard that a bottle costs at least 180 gold coins, and it's priceless; it's simply beyond my reach."

At this moment, Dylan stepped forward, tugged at Lamarck's sleeve, and earnestly advised him.

"Mark, what are you doing? Didn't we agree to pick out a gift for Osborne today? Why are you dragging me into this?"

Although Dylan is not the core heir of the family, he has a considerable amount of money at his disposal and is fully capable of purchasing a bottle of "Owl's Wisdom" for himself.

However, Dylan has always been devoted to academic research, and most of his daily expenses are spent on purchasing experimental materials.

Borrowing rare and ancient books, etc.

As a result, he neglected to invest in himself, which is why he has been unable to advance to the rank of a formal mage for so long.

Now that Mark has offered him the attribute potion, Dylan is very grateful, but he also has his own pride and doesn't like to accept gifts from others for no reason, even if the other party is his best friend.

Mark smiled and patted Dylan on the shoulder, his tone not harsh, but rather gentle and tactful in his admonition.

"My dear deputy team leader, do you know what the biggest challenge of our project is right now?"

Dylan blurted it out without hesitation.

"Of course it's an increase in the concentration of neuro-hallucinogenic toxins."

"wrong!"

Mark's smile vanished instantly, his expression turned serious, and he spoke with conviction.

"The biggest problem is you."

Dylan froze, his finger instinctively pointing at himself, his eyes filled with confusion.

"I?"

Mark took a deep breath and explained patiently.

"You are still a magic apprentice, and your vision and abilities are limited. You simply cannot see through the deeper issues in many topics."

"But if you can advance to the level of a formal mage, you will have a broader perspective, and those problems that seem unsolvable now will naturally be solved."

Mark patted Dylan on the shoulder again, offering a meaningful suggestion.

"I think we can put the research project aside for now."

"You should focus all your attention on becoming a full-fledged mage, and then go back to work on the project; that will be much more efficient."

Dylan lowered his head and pondered for a moment, his brows gradually relaxing. When he looked up again, his eyes were filled with determination as he looked at Mark and spoke earnestly.

"I understand, thank you, Mark."

Mark then secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

Why did he feel like he was coaxing a child to take medicine?

In fact, what Mark just said was not unfounded.

Sharpening knives does not miss woodcutters.

If Dylan can be promoted to a formal mage, his abilities will undoubtedly be greatly enhanced, providing greater assistance in overcoming the challenges.

But there was another reason behind it.

Mark was going to visit Osborne to give gifts and get things done. Dylan acted as a go-between, sending a bottle of "Owl's Wisdom" as a gesture of goodwill.

Because the two have a good relationship, they need to maintain it carefully, rather than just taking from each other.

On the other hand, Dylan is indeed exceptionally talented, reliable, and has great potential.

Mark also wanted to "invest" in advance to get closer to each other, which might become a huge help to him in the future.

As his thoughts wandered, Mark ignored Popeye's embarrassed expression, tossed a bulging money bag out of his dimensional bag, and calmly gave her instructions.

"Here are 200 gold coins. I don't care what method you use, get me a bottle of Owl's Intelligence within three days. Any questions?"

Popeye instinctively caught the money pouch; it felt surprisingly heavy, making her even more flattered.

She was about to politely decline again, saying that she couldn't find a way, but the words were swallowed back by the longing in her heart.

Popeye's eyes lit up instantly as she looked at the money pouch in her hand.

It's not just the extra 20 gold coins, but the opportunity to get on the good side of Mark, a formal mage.

This is an assessment, this is an opportunity!

Popeye gripped the purse tightly, her knuckles turning white, and nodded emphatically.

"Rest assured, sir, I will absolutely not let you down!"

"Um."

Mark gave a soft "hmm" and then looked at Lina, who had been standing silently to the side holding the reel, and gave her instructions.

"You stay on the first floor too. Sell these spell scrolls, and you'll get 20% of the proceeds."

Lina was overjoyed upon hearing this and nodded repeatedly.

"Thank you, Mr. Mark!"

Lina's spell scrolls are worth about 80 gold coins. If she sells them all, she can get a commission of more than ten gold coins, which is almost half a year's salary!

Mark looked at the two girls, their eyes full of hope, encouraging each other, and a smile of satisfaction appeared on his face.

Actually, the potion issue didn't need to be so complicated; Mark could have just asked Clyde for a bottle.

However, this medicine is quite rare, and asking for it would inevitably leave one with a small favor to ask for.

Mark never liked bothering his friends with such trivial matters.

Furthermore, Popeye's professional and capable demeanor when introducing the potion caught Mark's eye, so he entrusted the potion to her and took the opportunity to train some talent.

If it succeeds, that's great, we can continue to train it later; if it doesn't, it's okay, we'll still get 200 gold coins anyway.

Then, Mark turned to Dylan and said...

"Let them handle things here. Let's go check the second floor."

"it is good."

1

1

The environment on the second floor trading area is completely different from that on the first floor; there is no noise or commotion, only a clean and quiet atmosphere.

This is also a distributed exhibition area, but each booth is larger, with dark velvet covering the surface, exuding sophistication.

There weren't many people coming and going, only about thirty or forty. Most of them were formal mages wearing blue robes, gathered in twos and threes, talking in hushed tones.

Mark looked around, his gaze sweeping over the magical equipment, props, and materials displayed at each booth. He was a little undecided, so he turned to ask Dylan beside him.

"Do you know what Osborne's hobbies are?"

Dylan adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, pondered for a moment, and then analyzed the situation seriously.

"Actually, I've never had any direct contact with him, but I've heard from people I know that Osborne is straightforward and prefers things that are as simple and direct as possible."

'

'

Mark stroked his chin, lost in thought, pondering what kind of gift would meet the standard of "simple".

"Elite-level Minotaur! 99% rare, freshly hunted, come check it out before it's gone!"

Suddenly, a loud shout interrupted Mark's thoughts. He looked up and saw a large, bustling crowd of onlookers in the distance.

"A Minotaur?!"

Upon hearing the name, a thought flashed through Mark's mind.

Whether they are half-orcs or orcs, they cannot resist a fresh and powerful monster head.

This is a symbol of their glory, simple and direct yet highly symbolic, making it the perfect gift for Osborne.

Mark immediately made up his mind and called to Dylan, who was standing next to him.

"Let's go take a look; maybe we'll find a suitable gift there."

"ha?"

Dylan was stunned for a moment, and before he could react, Mark pulled him along without saying a word and squeezed him to the front of the crowd.

The sight before them both took a slight pause.

A massive, robust minotaur carcass lay horizontally on a specially made giant display stand, dark red blood still slowly seeping from the corner of its mouth. Its eyes were wide open, its body was dark brown, its fur was rough and hard, and its huge head had a pair of spiral horns that were three or four meters long.

Many people confuse the Minotaur with the Minotaur.

In reality, the two are completely different, just like the difference between goblins and gnomes. Minotaur are an intelligent race, while tauren are brutal and only know how to kill.

Looking at the minotaur before him, Mark couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness.

He once envied the minotaur head that his boss Paul hung on the liquor shelf; now, an even more powerful elite minotaur is right in front of him, within easy reach.

At this moment, a chorus of voices rose and fell around them, filled with amazement and curiosity.

Bob from "Delicious in the Maze" has gotten some great stuff again!

"Are there any more petrified lizards? I really regret not getting one last time."

"How did he manage to capture an entire Tier 1 monster all by himself?"

At that moment, a fat man with his sleeves rolled up and wearing a leather apron stained with blood stood next to the Minotaur's corpse.

He was pot-bellied and had a face full of fat. Although he was wearing a blue mage's robe, he had no elegance of a mage. Instead, he exuded the fierce aura of a butcher.

Bob patted the blood off his hands and shouted loudly to the crowd.

"Is everyone here? Same old rules, freshly cut and sold. Just name your price, first come, first served!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than an urgent shout rang out from the crowd.

"Bull penis! Give me a whole one, with the testicles! I want to juice it!"

Everyone looked over at the sound and saw that the one who was speaking was a thin man with dark circles under his eyes, pale-faced, but with an unusually urgent look in his eyes.

Some people couldn't help but sigh with regret.

"Damn it! Sid beat me to it! I wanted to get a piece of the action too!"

Some people even joked about it.

"Sid, your dark circles are practically hanging down to your chin."

Upon hearing this, Sid glared at the man but had no intention of refuting him. His eyes were fixed on Bob, as if afraid that someone would snatch him away.

Bob smiled and answered loudly.

"Alright! One bull penis, with two testicles!"

After shouting, Bob raised a broadsword with a gleaming blade high, aimed it at the minotaur's lower abdomen, and slashed down without hesitation.

Every man present felt a sudden chill run down their groin and instinctively clenched their pants.

Then, Bob reached out and grabbed the cut, slowly pulling out a thick bullwhip, still stained with fresh blood.

The onlookers couldn't help but gasp in surprise.

It hurts! It really hurts!

Bob skillfully arranged the bullwhip and two eggs on a clean linen cloth, handed it to Sid, and said in a familiar tone.

"You're a regular customer, this time it'll be 400 gold coins for you!"

400 gold coins!

This price far exceeds the price of ordinary Tier 1 monster materials.

However, Sid didn't care at all. He reached out and took the burlap bag, deliberately opened it and brought it to his nose to smell it. He immediately covered his nose because of the stench, but he gave a thumbs up with satisfaction and shouted.

"Truly authentic! Excellent value for money!"

After handing over the gold coins, Sid slung the burlap over his shoulder and swaggered out of the crowd, clearly preparing to go back and "nourish" himself for a sleepless night.

All eyes turned back to the Minotaur's corpse.

To be honest, only Sid knows whether bullwhip is effective or not.

But the remaining parts of the Minotaur are where the real value lies.

For example, hardened cowhide can be made into enchanted leather armor that is lighter and tougher than metal armor. It not only provides extremely strong protection, but can also be enchanted.

Those enormous spiral bull horns can be used to craft power-type magic items, and when inlaid on helmets and weapons, they can amplify attack power!

But just then, an angry voice suddenly rang out, breaking the lively atmosphere.

"What a waste! It's an absolute squandering of resources!"

Everyone fell silent instantly, their faces filled with confusion. Bob was also stunned, his butcher knife frozen in mid-air.

All eyes turned to the source of the voice.

This person was Mark.

Mark's face was full of anger, his brows were furrowed, his eyes were sharp, and he even exuded a faint magical chill. Although he looked cold, everyone could feel his burning anger.

"mark..."

Dylan had never seen Mark like this before and wanted to whisper a reminder.

But Mark had already strode forward, pointed at the minotaur's lower abdomen, and started arguing with Bob with a hint of reproach.

"Your technique is terrible! Look here, it's not even cut clean!"

Following the direction of the finger, everyone looked and saw that the minotaur's lower abdomen had an uneven cut with remnants of tissue, clearly caused by a crude and haphazard cutting.

Upon closer inspection, everyone nodded in agreement and whispered their agreement.

"Indeed, the technique was too crude."

"Did you deliberately cut two ounces less meat so you could enjoy it yourself?"

Bob was publicly questioned and became enraged. He gripped the butcher's knife tightly and questioned the man loudly.

"Who are you? What gives you the right to tell my things what to do?"

Mark didn't back down and angrily retorted.

"Fool! Don't you know that because of this terrible knife skills, the integrity of the material has been ruined, and this elite minotaur, which could have been sold for two thousand gold coins, is now only worth one thousand gold coins at most!"

"You're wasting good stuff!"

"Two thousand gold coins?!"

Bob was instantly stunned, his eyes wide open and his chubby face jiggling, clearly shocked.

Each time he hunted a labyrinth monster, the better ones could be sold for a thousand gold coins, while the worse ones only fetched eight hundred.

The tall guy in front of me actually said that this minotaur could be sold for two thousand gold coins, which is equivalent to losing the profit from a monster for nothing!

Thinking of this, Bob felt heartbroken. His anger vanished instantly. He quickly put away his knife, approached Mark with eager anticipation, and asked for his advice in a respectful tone.

"Brother, I was speaking too loudly just now. Is what you said true? How can I sell this minotaur for two thousand gold coins?"

"How do I do it!"

Mark sneered, snatched the broadsword from Bob's hand, and shouted forcefully.

"Get out of my way, let me do it!"