CHAPTER 106: CHAPTER 98: I CAN RECEIVE "GRACE" TOO? (2)

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A few days ago, Ron had just come out of the alchemist certification examination venue, ready to share the good news with his mentor.

In the late evening, the herb store was sparsely populated, and the wind chimes hanging in front swayed gently in the breeze, emitting a pleasant and crisp sound.

As he pushed open the door, the familiar mixed scent of herbs wafted over him, giving Ron an inexplicable sense of belonging.

Lady Allen was standing behind the counter organizing the ledger, her bony fingers tapping on the yellowed pages.

Hearing the bell ring, she asked without looking up: "What do you need?"

Her hoarse voice was as cold as ever.

"Madam, it’s me, Ron."

He walked up to the counter, his tone filled with joy: "I’ve passed the alchemist certification exam!"

Only then did Lady Allen lift her head, her deep green eyes inspecting him as usual.

Ron had expected to see surprise or approval, but he only saw a kind of almost indifferent calm, as if he were reporting the weather of the day.

"Hmm, as expected."

She commented briefly, then bowed her head and continued with the accounts, the pen tip scratching a rustling sound on the paper:

"What rating did that old Magnus give you?"

Ron’s enthusiasm was doused like cold water, a slight disappointment welling up in his heart.

He cleared his throat and adjusted his tone: "’Excellent’ rating, Madam. Personally signed by Master Magnus."

"Oh? ’Excellent’?"

The old lady’s tone remained calm, but her withered fingers paused slightly, leaving a small ink blot on the paper:

"That old fossil is always stingy with high marks. It seems you did quite well."

Ron keenly noticed this detail, and the sense of disappointment subsided a bit.

She closed the ledger, and those eyes, buried in wrinkles, finally looked straight at Ron:

"You showed rare talent and comprehension from the moment you arrived, so naturally passing the certification is expected. If you couldn’t achieve that, I would doubt my own judgment."

Although not a direct compliment, these words were better than any praise.

Ron smiled slightly, habitually moving to the side to help Lady Allen organize the clutter on the counter, just as he often did when he was an assistant.

Various potion bottles, dried herbs, and small measuring tools were scattered on the counter, and his fingers instinctively began categorizing them.

"Stop." Lady Allen’s voice suddenly raised, carrying an undeniable command:

"You are now a professional alchemist, no longer my assistant. These chores shouldn’t be done by you."

Ron’s movements froze mid-air as he looked at Lady Allen in surprise.

Seeing him standing there stunned, Lady Allen’s face revealed a rare hint of mockery:

"Old Allen can’t afford the salary of a professional alchemist. A talent like you is worth at least a dozen Magic Stone Fragments per hour. My little shop’s entire daily revenue couldn’t pay for half a day of your work."

Ron was amused by her rare sense of humor:

"Madam, you know I don’t mean that. I just wanted to help you tidy up the shop, like before."

"I know." Lady Allen’s expression turned serious once more, her deep green eyes fixed on him as if to see through his soul:

"But I’m serious, Ron. From today on, you need to focus on your research and improvement, not waste time with chores here."

She slowly walked out from behind the counter, her stooped figure casting a long shadow under the dim lights.

The lighting in the herb store was always dim, supposedly to protect the rare materials sensitive to light.

In this light, Lady Allen’s face appeared even older, but her eyes remained as sharp as an eagle’s.

"Every day you delay your progress is reducing my ’gift’."

Her voice turned low, a glimmer of desire flashing deep in her eyes that Ron had never seen before:

"This old lady is still counting on you to help prolong her life."

Despite the joking tone in her words, Ron could feel the seriousness behind them and nodded gently:

"I understand, Madam. I will work harder to meet your expectations."

"Go on then, I heard East District 14 was assigned to you. That’s a nice location."

Lady Allen waved her hand, signaling for him to leave if there was nothing else:

"Make good use of your new workshop. Don’t waste that brilliant mind of yours. If that old Magnus could give you an ’excellent’ rating, it shows your potential far exceeds an ordinary alchemist’s."

Ron solemnly bowed to her:

"Thank you for your guidance all these years, Madam. If you ever need any help, just send a message, and I’ll be at your service."

"Off you go, young man." Lady Allen’s voice carried a hint of barely perceptible gentleness: "Your future doesn’t lie in this cramped herb store."

As Ron’s figure disappeared outside, the wind chime gave one last crisp sound before Lady Allen’s expression began to slowly change.

Her wrinkle-lined face showed a complex expression with both relief and a kind of eager anticipation.

She quickly headed to the back room, moving more agilely than usual, and locked the herb store’s door to ensure no one would suddenly intrude.

Retrieving a small silver mirror from beneath the counter, Lady Allen carefully checked every corner around her before slowly lowering the psychological defenses she had always maintained.

In an instant, the image of the old witch underwent a dramatic transformation.

The wrinkle-covered skin became smooth and delicate, flawless as fine porcelain.

The hunched back straightened, and the frail figure became plump and graceful.

Most strikingly, the scrap of silver hair was restored to a lustrous pink-purple, cascading like a waterfall.

A stunningly beautiful woman replaced the elderly figure, with only the deep green eyes remaining unchanged, now appearing even brighter and more profound.

The transformation lasted only a few seconds, before she returned to the appearance of the old woman.

But unlike usual, this time, the transformation was under her deliberate control, not forced back by a lack of power.

Lady Allen’s hand gently caressed the hideous scar on her waist and abdomen, an indelible mark that had accompanied her for a hundred years, a permanent memorial of past failure.

It was a scar running diagonally from the left flank to the right waist, supposed to be fatal, yet thanks to some mysterious intervention, she survived, at the cost of never fully recovering.

"It’s surprising, this is my first time rejuvenating outside of the magic power surge period."

She murmured to herself, her voice filled with undisguised excitement and tremor: "The ’gift’ from that child is so pure and ample."

She walked to the full-length mirror, observing herself closely.

Even after reverting to her old self, her eyes appeared brighter than usual and the wrinkles on her skin seemed reduced.

"No wonder the old prophecy said my turning point lies with the Black Mist School."

Lady Allen caressed the image in the mirror, her eyes flickering with complex emotions:

"I wonder what the old folks at the Crystal Tower would think if they knew I found such a talented student."

She turned towards the shelves, retrieving an old Magic Potion from the top, designed specifically for detecting the degree of spiritual contamination.

Carefully dripping a drop into her palm, she watched as the liquid gradually shifted from dark blue to light blue.

"The spiritual contamination has reduced by at least thirty percent."

She widened her eyes in astonishment, testing again incredulously, with the same result:

"This is just too exaggerated..."

The once oppressively heavy spiritual contamination, long needing suppression, felt partially alleviated—akin to a weight lifted from her chest, allowing freer breath.

"If this trend continues, perhaps I’ll have a chance to advance further. Who would have thought a Sixth-class Star ordinary boy would become my saving grace?"

Lady Allen sighed softly, sitting back at her workbench, and began handling some special materials, including ashen gray tongue moss, the crystalline spotted lichen...

"Still missing a few ingredients. I wonder when that boy will manage to gather them all. Although, there’s no rush, since they’re intended for him eventually. It’s a shame, I’m unable to leave the shop, otherwise..."