Chapter 57: Development Successful

With a fresh direction in mind, the earlier frustration vanished from Lan Qingyou's demeanor.

Her eye circles were still pitch-black — clearly exhausted. But somehow she looked even more energized than before.

This time, she skipped the enamel mugs entirely and went straight for the Meteoric Iron Crucible.

She only had one crucible, but equipment like this boosted success rates — that couldn't be ignored.

Even though her mindset at this point was essentially "succeed or die trying."

Materials were limited, and the Mana Tide was almost over anyway.

If this didn't work, she'd figure something out later. No point banging her head against the wall.

Of course.

The main issue was that she was aware something was wrong with her own condition.

Yet she'd somehow powered through on attribute potions and Gu Xiaobei's food — which was, frankly, a little eerie.

So she told herself that once this batch was done, she absolutely had to force herself to sleep. Otherwise, there was a real chance of sudden death.

Clutching the emerald-green Stirring Rod, Lan Qingyou's mind drifted aimlessly.

From wondering why she was still so alert, to needing to force herself to sleep, to being forcibly teleported to this magical world, and then somehow circling back to the comedy of errors that was her very first potion attempt.

Honestly, she was immensely grateful she'd used this success-boosting crucible that first time.

Without Albert's crucible, there was no way she would've succeeded on her first ever brew.

The crucible had given her a tremendous confidence boost.

Come to think of it, that first potion she'd made had been roasted pretty hard by the Small Screen.

And the roasting had never stopped since.

The memory made Lan Qingyou crack a faint smile — just a little piece of her own embarrassing history.

But the more she thought about it, the more something nagged at her.

Not about the Small Screen itself, but about those snarky appraisal comments on her potions.

Especially the one about her first formally brewed Apprentice-Level Magic Power Potion.

What had it said again?

Something about her dosage being excessive, her technique being too rigid, lacking any flair, and being boring.

At the time, Lan Qingyou had been annoyed — getting her first proper potion dissed like that had felt entirely unnecessary.

But thinking back now... hadn't that been the only formal potion that received such criticism?

Why had the Small Screen made that comment?

Just a whim?

Or was it suggesting that in alchemy — or specifically in drug development — you were supposed to be more creative, more unorthodox?

Lan Qingyou wasn't sure. The potioneering textbooks certainly never mentioned anything like that.

Maybe she was overthinking it. Maybe there was something to it.

But... it sounded rather intriguing, didn't it?

Having already given up hope on the current batch, Lan Qingyou suddenly felt her mind hadn't been open enough before.

Maybe going off-script really was a valid approach?

So she began thinking about what exactly "going off-script" would look like.

After all, even if creativity was the goal, you couldn't just dump anything into a cauldron of potion.

Rocks, tables — obviously not appropriate.

So what else could be added?

Looking down at her own hands, it hit her — wasn't she herself a material?

What had Albert said?

'Stake everything on alchemy, and alchemy will answer your devotion.'

Well, if the point was to get creative, then using herself as an ingredient made a certain kind of sense, didn't it?

Besides, in the process of brewing potions or elixirs, anything goes.

So Lan Qingyou picked up the medicine pounding mortar, trimmed some of her fingernails into it, plucked a few strands of hair, and ground everything into powder.

After that, another thought struck her: if she was going to get creative, why not go big?

She glanced at the glass instruments on the adjacent table — the ones she'd just used for distillation.

If a monster's blood could go in, then why not her own?

After all, this was a potion meant to enhance her own talent. Using her own blood was only natural.

Besides, the legendary master swordsmiths of ancient times were fond of adding such things to their forge fires. She didn't entirely understand the principle, but Lan Qingyou figured it was worth a shot.

A single drop of blood was approximately 0.05 milliliters.

A 20-liter cauldron producing 200 vials would need at least 200 drops — that was roughly 10 milliliters. Not much at all.

So Lan Qingyou grabbed a measuring cup and a scale, drew the Moonbright Stone Dagger, and with perfect composure sliced her own wrist, collecting 15 milliliters of blood.

"Hss— that stings a bit."

Wincing and sucking in a sharp breath, Lan Qingyou immediately poured healing potion on the wound, then drank a second vial internally. Only then did she pour the still-liquid blood into the crucible.

At that moment, she felt like she was running some kind of DNA test on herself.

Drip-drip, drip-drip...

As her blood entered the crucible drop by drop, Lan Qingyou could clearly see the potion changing color.

From its initial rust-brown, it gradually shifted to reddish-brown, then faded to purple, before blue, yellow, green, and every other color began to intertwine.

The kaleidoscope of color shifts hadn't stopped since that first moment.

Never having encountered anything like this, a bewildered Lan Qingyou didn't dare stop — she just kept stirring.

As she stirred, the once monochrome potion exploded into a dazzling prismatic swirl, every color weaving together into something brilliantly resplendent.

"All these colors mixed together and it somehow doesn't look garish or muddy. That's actually kind of amaz—"

Both hands gripping the stirring rod, Lan Qingyou was mid-commentary when a burst of golden light erupted from the cauldron.

"Oww—"

Ambushed by the sudden flash, Lan Qingyou yelped and clamped her eyes shut, tears glistening at the corners — testament to just how devastating that blast of light had been.

But even through all of that, she never let go of the stirring rod.

Only after the hazy glow beyond her eyelids faded did she dare crack open a narrow slit to assess the situation.

The light was gone.

The potion in the crucible, which should still have been a swirl of prismatic colors, appeared unchanged at first glance.

No...

"Unchanged" wasn't the right word. It was strange.

The earlier prismatic effect had looked soft, almost harmonious. But now the same colors felt... eerie?

More like the oily iridescence floating on gutter water — the kind of color that only revealed itself when you stepped right into it.

Whatever. It didn't matter.

If it had produced the golden flash, that meant it was at least a success, right?

Without wasting another second on analysis, Lan Qingyou threw on her Appraisal Glasses to see exactly what she was looking at.