Wizard: Starting from the Skill Tree

But his eyes were nothing like those of an elderly man. The deep brown pupils beneath slightly relaxed eyelids flickered with a sharpness belonging to the young.

Not a deliberate sharpness, but the kind of unyielding focus that comes from years of intense mental labor.

When he shifted his gaze from the flask to Duke, Duke felt as if he was being analyzed, not merely observed.

Those eyes seemed like a precise alchemy analyzer, scanning the fluctuations of his spiritual power and magic state layer by layer.

"Are you Duke, the one who researched the Automatic Meditation Potion?"

Wilkinson turned around, still holding the silver-white dropper, with a glowing blue liquid suspended at its tip, about to drip but not yet dripping.

He simply placed the dropper back on the stand, wiped his hands with a cloth, and sized Duke up from head to toe, with unabashed scrutiny in those deep brown eyes.

It wasn’t scrutiny of strength but of a junior he had heard of but never met.

"Your article ’The Complete Realization Plan for the Automatic Meditation Traits of the White Mist Forest Potion’, I read it, I read it three times." Wilkinson walked to the workbench, moved the flask aside to make room, then leaned against the table edge, arms crossed, "Honestly, when I first received the Arcane Mage Monthly, flipping to that page, my first reaction was disbelief.

Automatic meditation, allowing the user to continuously increase spiritual power during the potion’s effect without actively operating the meditation technique.

Do you know how many years this concept has been proposed in the realm of magic potion studies? People have been talking about it since I was an apprentice, for hundreds of years, and no one has ever succeeded."

He pointed a finger at his temple.

"The core issue lies in energy guidance techniques. The effect release path of meditation-aiding potions is fixed. Once the potion power enters the body, it diffuses along the magic circulation and waits for the wizard to guide it through active meditation to function. Making this process operate automatically is tantamount to overlaying an energy cycle on the power release path that can interact without spiritual power’s active guidance.

Theoretically, this requires an extremely precise spiritual power manipulation technique to embed this cycle into the potion structure in the final stage of magic potion refining. We old folks have tried many times, but every attempt ended in failure, with either the power cycle embedded too shallowly, dispersing once the effects faded, or embedded too deeply, destroying the potion’s power structure and ruining the entire batch."

"Your research results are truly exquisite; quite impressive, young man."

"Initially, when you applied for me to refine a third-level potion, I was going to decline. I already have commission lined up until next year. But when I saw your name, I made time." He released his arms and gestured to the chair beside the workbench, "Sit down, what are you asking to be refined, do you have the materials with you, take them out for me to see."

Duke withdrew three magic potion recipes and all materials from the Space Ring one by one, neatly arranging them in the workspace.

Wilkinson stood at the workbench, first picking up the three recipes to review line by line, silently reciting the proportions and steps, occasionally drawing a calculation symbol or two on the table with his finger.

After reading the recipes, he began examining the materials one by one.

His examination method was rigorous to the point of near-perfection. Every material was first inspected visually for color and form, then scrutinized with a silver-white magnifying glass for texture and grain, followed by a spiritual power scan of the internal structure, finally taking a minuscule sample for purity testing on an alchemy analyzer composed of dozens of nested floating crystal rings adjacent to his workbench.

Having encountered numerous rare materials throughout his life, most of these could only be considered decent in his eyes.

"The collection window of the Aurora Plane has passed this year; this must be from private reserves? The quality is remarkably preserved, not ordinary market goods. The master willing to relinquish such treasures, you are indeed fortunate."

Then Wilkinson picked up the small sealed container holding Nightmare Dust.

Upon opening the lid, the grayish-white powder lay quietly at the bottom, emitting extremely faint low-frequency fluctuations under spiritual perception, like residue of certain slumbering rules in slow breath.

"This is... Nightmare Dust?" For the first time, Wilkinson’s tone revealed evident fluctuation, a complex intonation somewhere between incredulity and prudent confirmation, "You actually managed to procure genuine Nightmare Dust?"

Wilkinson lowered his head to recheck the test results, using the spiritual power probe to re-sample for testing again.

After confirming its authenticity, he closed the container, placing it back on the table, pausing a moment in silence before speaking again, "It’s been at least decades since I’ve seen this substance in physical form."

Wilkinson did not inquire how Duke obtained the Nightmare Dust, merely securing the container, gently setting it back on the table, nodding in acknowledgment.

Having accounted for the three potions, Wilkinson set down the pen, turning the ledger to show Duke, his finger pointing at the last row’s total price.

"Three third-level potions, the normal external quote totaling around eighteen million level 1 magic stones. But for you who aren’t an outsider, having all materials thoroughly prepared lowered the refining difficulty; this respect I’ll grant." He crossed out the total price, writing a new figure, "One million level 1 magic stones—this is an internal discount price; for someone else, even if they offered this price, they couldn’t commission me."

"Deal." Duke immediately agreed, taking a magic stone card from the Space Ring to place on the table.

Having secured Wilkinson’s assistance in refining the potion was already quite difficult; bargaining was naturally out of the question.

"The refining cycle will take some time; I’ll refine each potion in turn. During each potion’s refinement, several nodes require standing for aging; I’ll utilize these intervals for the other potions. When they’re ready, I’ll notify you via the Six-Ring Badge." Wilkinson returned the pen to the holder, hands bracing the workbench’s edge, speaking in a professionally detached tone devoid of extra sentiment, "I can’t guarantee success in one go; the refining tolerance for third-level potions is minimal, even for me personally handling, there’s a chance of failure.

But you’ve prepared the materials so thoroughly, high purity with few substitutes, lowering refining difficulty significantly. The success probability should be relatively promising. What I can promise is that I’ll personally handle all refining steps, without delegating any part."

For Duke, having a level 4 alchemy master spare time amidst a tight schedule to personally oversee all aspects without delegation was a guarantee more substantial than any verbal promise.

As he stood from the chair, he sincerely expressed his gratitude.

Wilkinson gestured for him to forgo the formalities and returned to the workbench, resuming the interrupted refining task with the dropper.

After Duke respectfully exited the alchemy room, he quietly closed the door behind him.

...

One month later.

At the end of the corridor on the seventy-first level of the Six-Ring Tower’s Magic and Alchemy Technology Department.

When Duke once again pushed open the thick oak door to Wilkinson’s alchemy room, the air that greeted him was filled with a scent entirely different from before.

The three potions, during their aging and standing phase after completion, continuously released trace amounts of potion vapor. After several days of accumulation and mixing in the enclosed space, this vapor had developed into a unique final aroma.

Wilkinson still stood at that obsidian workbench as if, throughout the month, he had never departed from its side, never set down the dropper, and time had merely transitioned from one dripping cycle to the next.

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