I'm a proper student; I only take nine kinds of potions every day.

As he spoke, Ivan's pupils contracted vertically, and in that instant, golden vertical pupils once again covered the back of his eyes.

His demon hunter form was instantly activated, his black hair turned silver-white, and he exuded a suppressed, tense aura, like a hunting dog smelling blood.

He crouched down and carefully examined the backpack.

Through his demon-hunting vision, he could see a faint trace of red aura belonging to the Bloodthirsty race lingering on the backpack, like a thin thread wrapped around the fibers of the canvas.

"There is a trace of the Bloodthirsty race's aura on it."

Ivan lowered his voice.

"Senior brother, there might be something here..."

He hadn't finished speaking.

Richard had already reached out and pulled the schoolbag over.

He didn't even activate his demon hunter form. He casually unzipped the zipper with his rough, large fingers, took out a white envelope, and tossed it to Evan.

"Don't worry. Priss isn't interested in fighting you anymore. Here, this letter is for you."

Evan was stunned, and his eyes widened the moment he caught the envelope.

"Senior brother, how can you be sure there aren't any traps here?"

Richard leaned back on the sofa cushions and closed his eyes.

"experience."

His voice carried an inexplicable certainty.

"I'll teach you later when I have time. The new potion has some serious side effects, let me sleep for a while..."

Ivan didn't bother him anymore.

He sat down on the wooden chair next to him, turned on the kerosene lamp, and flipped the envelope over.

The envelope was light gray, made of thick paper, and had no postmark, address, or name.

After confirming with his demon-hunting vision that there were no traces of supernatural beings, he used his thumb to pry open the wax seal and pulled out a neatly folded letter.

The font is exquisite and neat, a cursive style with clean and elegant strokes. It perfectly matches the temperament of Price himself.

"To Arkham."

"By the time you read this letter, I should already be part of those capitalists' assets."

"The battle between us is over. You've won. I underestimated your abilities, and I also underestimated the extent of the capitalists' surveillance over me."

"You, an ordinary person, have fooled me, an 'expert,' to the point that you deserve to live more than I do."

"You are my prey. But capitalists are my enemies. Before I die, I don't want my enemies to have an easy time. So I've decided to give you some parting help."

Ivan's fingers tightened slightly on the letter.

"First of all, I want to tell you that the person who cursed you—Bot Alcott, the president of the Phoenix Brotherhood—has his sights on you."

"His true identity is the grandson of Henry Alcott, one of the founders of Theosophical Society, and one of the collaborators of the factory owner Sapp."

"He's a monk's apprentice. You should know what that means."

"Over the past year, he has used his power to control and persecute many women, turning them into slaves of the Sap Club and tools for the sexual gratification of certain church members."

"LeBon and Thomson are just the first step in testing you. He won't use force, but he will try every means to deceive and control you."

"This is the method that the Theosophical Society likes and is most skilled at."

"But he was not of the same mind as Sap, who, like other capitalists, craved immortality."

"What Alcott and the Theosophical Society he represented longed for was ▇▇▇▇▇."

"This is your chance."

"Alcott's real target is the person behind you—your ancestor: ▇▇·▇▇."

Ivan stared at the few blackened words, his brows furrowing slightly.

The ink was so thick it almost seeped through the paper, and no matter how you looked at it against the light, you couldn't make out the original letters.

He knew that Priss wasn't just making things up.

This letter could not exist without being blacked out.

"She is currently the only known person to have reached the ▇▇▇ stage. A true ▇▇▇▇."

"For years, she's needed to suppress her own [feelings/resources]. You're on her menu this year."

"The invitation to return home will arrive on December 31st. I suggest you seek help from someone at the University of Michigan."

"Finally, do not doubt my sincerity. I swear on the honor of Queen Cain that there are no lies or malice in this letter. Good luck."

"There are a few bottles of medicine that I left for you in your schoolbag."

"The extraordinary is not confined to books. Tyson was able to analyze its components, which is the culmination of my research over the past ten years."

"For the sake of this intelligence and the potion, when you kill Sap, stab him a few more times for me."

"Your defeated foe—Pris Kelling Bartluth."

Evan read the letter three times, word for word, for fear of misunderstanding or missing any hidden meanings or puns.

Then he looked up and gazed at Richard, who was resting with his eyes closed on the sofa.

My senior brother seems to have fallen asleep.

His chest rose and fell slowly and steadily, and a faint smile played on his face, as if he were having a sweet dream.

Ivan looked down and pulled out five glass bottles sealed with black wax from deep inside his backpack.

Each bottle, about the size of a thumb, contains a different colored liquid.

Red, green, blue, gold, black.

It's like a set of codes waiting to be deciphered.

Ivan held the five medicine bottles and lined them up on the table.

He recognized the red color. Blood Potion.

He was familiar with black as well. Night Demon Potion.

He had never seen the remaining three bottles before—green, blue, and gold.

The green liquid contained filamentous substances, the blue bottle had tiny crystals at the bottom, and the golden bottle looked like melted maltose, slowly and heavily clinging to the glass wall.

As he stared intently at the three bottles, a low sigh came from the sofa.

"Finished watching?"

Richard opened his eyes, stretched, and his shoulder joint made a loud click.

I fall asleep quickly and wake up quickly too.

Ivan walked over and handed him the letter.

"Senior brother, can you take a look? Is this old bastard deliberately trying to seduce me?"

"Are you pretending to be a dying man, speaking only good words, to trick me into going against his enemy?"

Richard took the letter and read it by the light of the kerosene lamp.

His chestnut eyes scanned the text quickly, reading ten lines at a time, much like Evan used to read online novels.

After reading it once, he placed the letter on his lap and began to speak.

"His statement about the incident is correct."

"Sap, the factory owner. Chairman of Sap United Mining. A graduate of the University of Wise Men, a distinguished figure in the alumni directory."

He tapped Sap's name on the letter with his thumb knuckle.

"For many years, there have never been any work-related accidents in the mines under his name, yet the mining efficiency is unbelievably high."

"You can tell there's something fishy about this without even looking at it."

"He certainly has the ability to get Priscilla into the University of the Wise."

"I've heard of the Theosophical Society. It's an organization that pursues mystical knowledge and spiritual awakening."

"On the surface, it is a salon for intellectuals, mainly composed of the middle class, with more than 10,000 members, but it contains a strong element of cult worship."

"Henry Alcott was one of the founders. But whether he himself was a superhuman, I don't know."

He paused for a moment, then turned his gaze back to the letter.

"As for your ancestors... that's a big question. I'll try to find out about it at the University of Michigan when I have time."

He then scanned the letter from beginning to end to make sure no details were missed.

"There are basically no problems."

He folded the letter and handed it back to Evan.

"I know Pris. He's an old-fashioned aristocrat. Arrogant, stubborn, reserved, and concerned with his image, he considers himself to be of noble character."

"Such a person, when dying at the hands of an enemy, will not lie to us about such things."

"Just as he said, you are the prey, and Sap is the enemy."

Upon hearing this, Ivan's tense shoulders finally relaxed a little.

He deactivated his demon hunter form, his golden vertical pupils faded back to their normal black, and his silver-white hair quietly returned to jet black.

He handed over the potion that Pris had left behind.

"Senior brother. I've drunk from these two bottles, one of fresh blood and the other of night demon, but they're different from the usual ones, they're thicker. I haven't tried the rest."

Richard took the three bottles, picked out the gold one, unscrewed the wax seal, and sniffed it.

He was quite shocked and said:

"It seems to be a new drug, and it's actually the original drug!?"

Ivan was taken aback: "The mother medicine?"

Richard nodded: "Yes, the successful development and testing of the parent sample allows us to easily identify all the ingredients and preparation methods within the drug."

"Normal potions cannot be reverse engineered, but this one can."

"It seems that Pris is indeed going to fight to the death, leaving such a precious thing to you."

"If you trust me, I'll take it back and analyze the ingredients, then we can mass-produce it in the future."

He laughed happily, "Haha, junior brother, you really are our lucky star!"

"It will help you awaken your powers, and you'll also get to know the recipes for several new potions!"

"This is the most profitable operation I've had in my nine years as a Witcher."

Ivan smiled rather nonchalantly.

"You saved my life, it's all my duty."