Unable to repay my student loans, I had no choice but to work part-time as a demon hunter.

The next day, June 15th, Wycliffe Street, Gray's Demon Hunter Agency.

Gray wearily pushed open the door and went in, wiping his shoes on the carpet before stepping further in. Years of experience had taught him that the carpet had to be dark red.

He had planned to attend Gordon's presentation yesterday.

But then an urgent mission came in: Enfieldshire had been attacked by a large Crowman.

When Gray arrived, the only capable hunter in the area was an old man who hadn't even eaten breakfast. He was fighting the monster with a wingspan of twenty meters, armed with a hunting rifle.

Ultimately, the combat strength of a Source Hunter depends on whether the Source abilities they unleash undergo a qualitative change.

This is a significant hurdle.

If it's impossible to expand the domain, then small source material, poor compatibility, small quantity, low fusion... there's always a suitable excuse.

Gray can expand his domain, changing the face of the entire battlefield.

The old hunter could only deploy a force field, affecting a small patch of soil beneath his feet.

Finally, the old hunter was pecked through the chest. The old man held the monster's head, buying Gray a few seconds. Gray used his pistol, "Emotion Killer," to kill the Crowman.

After the victory, the chimneys of thousands of houses throughout the county continued to smoke as usual, but the brave old man was unable to go back for his breakfast.

Gray stood in front of the mirror.

If there's another battle, should I try harder? If someone asks for his help next time, will I be able to act faster?

These questions have no answers.

Gray is somewhat superstitious. Because his source is related to death, those who travel with him often die, unless someone is lucky enough to survive.

Gray tidied himself up in front of the mirror, changed into a new shirt, and tightened his red tie.

A professional hunter must appear organized so that clients won't feel that the 20 gold pound consultation fee is robbery.

After getting dressed, he placed the two source materials on the table and examined them carefully.

A small Arakkoa from a leader-level monster. Occasionally, faint scratching sounds emanate from its interior, like a fledgling bird patiently digging a path to the mortal world.

Based on experience, any source material related to birds, death, omens, or leaps is compatible with Gray. That's why he's been searching for similar raven monsters.

I was lucky today; I actually managed to extract one from the body of that dead leader-level Arakkoa demon. In the past ten years, I've killed so many Arakkoa, Corpse Birds, and Graveyard Monsters, and this is only the fourth one.

  

The other one came from the retired hunter, like a shrunken, dark heart, occasionally throbbing.

Due to the influence of the Law of Death and Birth, hunters occasionally release Source Matter after death, a mixture of their manner of death, dying thoughts, and personal temperament. This is a bizarre legacy.

Gray didn't take the sheriff's reward; instead, he took it in exchange.

but……

He wasn't sure if these two source substances were suitable for his own system. He also didn't know if their potency would be diminished when they were refined into a magic potion.

Not to mention one of them came from the Law of Death and Birth. The old hunter was a brave man, but whether that thing was power, obsession, or the last dirty word left to the world, no one could say for sure.

There are many people who can do the identification, but the fees are high and the results are uncertain.

There are many people who can brew potions, but they charge more and the results are more uncertain.

Does this city have any experts who can reliably identify and refine source materials, and preferably also be friendly and not overcharge?

Gray pressed his head, which was dizzy from running around.

He snapped his fingers, and a white crow materialized from nothingness, flew out the window, and carried the newspaper in from outside.

Today's newspapers are reporting almost the same thing.

"Academic Elite Admits: Everyone Can Be a Water Monkey!"

"Maybe it's just a particularly large fish: A Royal Academy of Sciences student's scathing critique of the former ruler of Lundnim"

The Strange Disease Has a Name: Blackwater Syndrome

"I Want to Be the First to Go Down into the River: A College Student's First Date with an Ancient God"

Gray was silent for a moment.

Ah, Lundnium.

He continued flipping through the pages.

The daguerreotype photograph shows an exceptionally large rat striking an absurdly solemn dance pose.

The lecture he had originally planned to attend was clearly much more lively than he had imagined.

The name Gordon Vick appeared repeatedly in all the reports.

Gordon...

Gray used the "Failure Blast Bottle" during the battle in Enfield County.

The enormous crow wings shrank instantly into a pair of ridiculous, deformed chicken wings, which was a great help.

He still remembered that guy looking poor, but he never expected that he would make the front page with just one sentence.

Gray had saved many towns, but the newspapers only gave him a brief mention: "The hunter arrived in time and the incident was brought under control." He was also near a lost and found on his left and a denture repairman on his right.

I have to admit it.

That being said...

Gray toyed with the two source materials.

A student at the Royal Society of Natural Sciences, and a student of Professor Winslow. The professor is an expert in primordial natural history, so Gordon must have been exposed to it from a young age.

Could you help him analyze the effects of the source substance? Do you know how to use the triple separation method to refine magic potions?

If he's willing to help...

If the refining is successful...

Gray might be able to touch the threshold of a fourth-tier hunter and explore areas beyond the realm of exploration.

Just then, a white crow brought in another letter from outside, as if someone across the street had been waiting and was only now handing it over.

He opened the letter, which contained only ten days, ten times, and ten places.

"...this station...that warehouse...the intersection of Old Mill Road and Saints Road..."

Gordon instructed him to arrive at a specific location at a specific time each day for the next ten days, and to stay for approximately 3 to 10 minutes each time.

Why is that?

Below the note was the business card he had given to Gordon.

Gordon...

Gray touched his gun, "Emotion Killer," and his longsword, "Steel Core." These deadly weapons weren't for strolling around town.

The commission was left blank, and it didn't matter whether he was available or not. As long as he fulfilled this opportunity to make a move, it was spread out over ten days, with him going out of town every day.

"Caw?" White Raven stood on the table, looking at Gray.

"Playing mysterious." Gray scoffed.

"Caw caw." The white crow caught a corner of the letter in its beak, preparing to take it away, but Gray reached out and covered it with his hand.

"I didn't say I wouldn't go."

The white crow tilted its head.

Gray put the letter in his pocket.

Since Gordon made such meticulous arrangements, it meant it was a planned operation. Gray always respected those who were prepared.

Moreover, he did have questions to ask.

For example, can you offer a discount for acquaintances?

……

……

On the other side, Golden Oak Estate.

Gordon and Vera were extremely careful to get in.

First, they took a horse-drawn carriage around half the city, then hid in a milk truck and swayed around for two hours in the smell of yogurt. After arriving in the suburbs, they picked up supplies at a government supply depot and spent the night in the police station duty room.

When receiving the supplies, Gordon left a note for record-keeping.

"Investigate unusual spiritual reactions."

This is very suitable.

Unusual spiritual reactions are happening all over the world.

If the enemy doesn't come, Gordon can smoothly complete the ritual, refine the source essence, and leave quietly, saying that the spiritual reaction doesn't exist.

If the enemy comes, say that the unusual spiritual reaction was set up by them to lure Gao Deng into a trap. Fortunately, they fought bravely and saw through this evil plot.

At two o'clock in the morning, they hiked across the wilderness, climbed the rather rugged cliff from the back, and arrived at the manor.

The manor was still in ruins, so they went into the main building.

Gordon set up many traps, using furniture to create roadblocks and snares. Vera was incredibly strong, her arm strength undoubtedly exceeding several hundred kilograms, and a wardrobe two people tall felt as light as an empty wooden box in her hands.

It was hung above the main entrance, with a tripwire underneath. If someone barged in without warning, they would be immediately hit by a wardrobe.

A mahogany wardrobe. It could easily smash someone's head in.

[A bear trap. It doesn't recognize fish, but it's willing to learn.]

[Flour everywhere. The baking industry's contribution to anti-stealth efforts.]

Gordon looked at the hall, which had become a trap, and nodded.

It's really tiring.

The water needed for cooking, washing, and drinking all came from several copper jars, which Vera had delivered in batches over the previous month.

The copper containers were sealed and locked to prevent the enemy from using any water-based abilities to turn their bathwater into a lethal weapon.

The room was coated with holy oil, which, like garlic, could easily be pungent to the enemies of Tantric Buddhism, causing them to turn away.

He wasn't sure how the Blackwater Hermitage found people, so he could only treat them with the utmost respect and accept that they were capable of any unscrupulous means.

"Let's go." Gordon led Vera through the oak trapdoor of the kitchen and down into the wine cellar.

The barrels have all been moved out, and only brand-new machinery remains in the room. The "cradle of life" is inside, which Sinclair made a reality three days ago.

Viewed from the front, its main body is uterus-shaped, with the core cavity made of silver-plated copper plates riveted together and covered with cork and lead sheets. There is an observation window on the front. In the era before borosilicate glass was invented, heat-resistant and pressure-resistant mica was already good enough.

He walked to the side to observe. On both sides were pairs of smaller chambers, with sampling holes, pressure gauges, and emergency drain valves installed in sequence on the sides.

Behind it is a vertical steam engine that provides power. The boiler is not large, but it has enough horsepower to drive the machine to contract and relax, mimicking the slow peristalsis of a biological womb.

perfect.

"Sinclair's cooking is impeccable," Gordon remarked.

"17 gold pounds and 10 silver pounds, that's fair."

"This price should be the price of a miracle." Gordon tapped it with his cane, reveling in the perfect fit between the drawings and the actual object.

Then, it was time to witness a miracle.

He took out four boxes of water-phase spiritual crystals, filled with silver-green crystal sand, enough to shape any fluid image.

The mermaid scales change color with the angle of view, from deep sea blue to pearl white, and then to rose gold.

In the center lies a "newborn that has not yet chosen its shape".

The original folded embryonic protoplasm has now changed.

Previously, Gordon could vaguely see a slowly flowing "miniature ocean".

Now, upon closer inspection, he seems to see the silhouettes of stars, all things, and even the outlines of cities in the sea, lifted up by the waves and then erased one by one.

"The sea?" Vera saw mermaid scales.

"That's just what we need to counter our opponents. The Fishing King rules the Blackwater River, but once it flows into the sea, it's nothing more than a stream of fresh water of indistinguishable origin."

"That's true."

"Flat Bean, it's time for you to do your part." Gordon wrapped it with the Thread of God.

The embryo shuddered.

"It wants to break away from its original family."

"I disagree with teenage rebellion." Gordon pressures Bean, "Who brought you into this world? Who painstakingly provided for your food and clothing? Filial piety is the most important virtue!"

Even before it was born, Gordon tried to pour out his hopes, wishing that this sincere wish could also become part of the ceremony.

The embryo trembled one last time; it would rather be cooked than listen to Gordon's admonition.

Gordon opened the core cavity, revealing the silvery-white inner liner, and poured in layers of water-phase spiritual crystals, spreading them evenly on the inner wall.

Then he took out the amniotic fluid from the warm bed, used one drop at the report meeting, and there was about 499.9 ml left.

Considering that the fishman might delay his important business, he took out another drop, put it into a blue glass bottle about the size of his thumb, and sealed the mouth of the bottle with sealing wax.

That's about 499.8 ml.

"One drop remains."

"Using every last bit of strategic material is not in my style," Gordon said, leaving it behind.

He poured the remaining amniotic fluid into the core cavity.

Under its stimulation, the aqueous spiritual crystals dissolve rapidly, forming a high-density blue liquid.

A faint light shone from inside the uterus.

Finally, Gordon used a long-handled clamp to hold the mermaid scales as a tray, gently placing the embryo deep into the uterus before letting go.

It began to stretch as soon as it touched the blue liquid.

In Gordon's vision, the light of the source substance had never been so clear.

Countless possibilities unfolded from that new material.

gills, scales, heart, eggs, ocean currents, blood...

They had just taken shape when they were suddenly overtaken by a larger image.

A colossal nest unfolded within, then sank into a boundless, lightless sea. The metallic shell of the "Cradle of Life" drew forth the shadow of a massive furnace, where heavy forging hammers crashed down, striking the still-existing bones. Higher still, countless golden warp and weft threads seemed to descend, searching for this new life that had yet to choose its shape.

Nests, oceans, furnaces, looms...

After a brief moment of dizziness, Gordon took a deep breath.

He didn't know the answer. From the perspective of resonance theory, it was the lentils that attracted the resonance of countless mythological images.

From the perspective of the gaze theory, it was Gordon's actions that attracted a certain gaze from high above.

Judging from the many eyes watching, they might just be watching the show.

Gordon closed the lid, tightened the 12 bolts in sequence, sent a piece of cut coal into the combustion chamber, lit a match, and ignited it.

A roar came from deep within the boiler, the water temperature rose, and finally boiled, steam surged out, rushed along the copper pipes, pushed the piston, and the crank began to turn.

Frame cutting, frame cutting...

The core cavity begins to contract and expand to operate in a stable rhythm.

The embryo stretches and wriggles within the mermaid's scales, beginning its first growth.

Machines churn, steam billows, and ancient rituals are reenacted by modern industry, no longer requiring hymns and priests.

Gordon stroked the warm equipment.

This is the beginning of everything. If this machine succeeds, it means that he has created something that should not exist in this era.

"If the source material is born, how long will it take you to refine it?" Vera asked with concern.

When Gordon first crafted the "Unbroken String," he hid in the dissection lab and spent two hours grinding it with scrap materials.

Now, measuring cylinders, beakers, and refined precipitated salts are all ready. Spirits, distilled water, vinegar, spring water, seawater, and oil are neatly arranged in separate containers, awaiting the reception of potions of different properties. His skills have also evolved, making him capable of performing the most precise operations.

"Twenty minutes," Gordon promised, "more than I'll take your last name."

"I've got it."

"It sounds like you're waiting for me to fail."

"Gordon Cartrett," she repeated, "I said it doesn't sound bad."