Chapter 14 Letting off Steam

Front yard of the small villa in West City.

Mrs. Harayer swayed gracefully as she escorted Mr. Ivan to the door. A faint smile graced her face, hinting that she was in a pleasant mood.

"Mr. Ivan, you are the most linguistically gifted young man I have ever met."

Her voice was always soft and warm, carrying a genuine sincerity that could be heard clearly.

Ivan smiled faintly and said, "Thank you for your compliment, though I'll pretend it's not mere flattery."

At this, Mrs. Harayer pressed her lips together and chuckled lightly, "Hehe, of course, it's the truth. Your talent for languages is beyond question; I'll see you tomorrow then."

She had ample reason to praise him. This young man, with his keen perception and remarkable spirituality, amazed her greatly. In less than twenty days, he had progressed as much as others might in two or three months, already grasping the basics of the ancient Golgandar language.

Of course, his diligence and determination played no small role; who wouldn't enjoy teaching such a student?

"You've worked hard, Mrs. Harayer. See you tomorrow."

Leaving the villa, Ivan noted the time was still early. He strolled leisurely toward East City.

Compared to South City and East City, West City carried an air of solemnity. Patrol teams roamed frequently, making it the safest area in Flying Fish Port.

As the saying goes, "bad luck meets a tight corner." Ivan was greeted by the sight of someone approaching head-on, and he muttered inwardly about his bad luck.

Just like last time, Rosyth hurried to block his way, "Hey, Ivan, my friend, finally we meet again." Seeing his enthusiastic demeanor, someone unaware might actually think they were the best of friends.

Ivan clenched his fists, suppressing the urge to throw a punch when he recalled that this was West City.

"Don't block the way."

"Smart move avoiding a scene; otherwise, we would've shown you what real methods look like."

Rosyth unconsciously lowered his voice, his words carrying an implicit threat. Ivan said nothing, his gaze cold and sharp as he stared at him.

Rosyth hardly cared about his stare. His own financial difficulties weighed heavily, and scanning the surroundings, he gestured toward a nearby alley. "I think we need to talk further. Don't play dumb, or I'll beat you up every time I see you."

"Don't act recklessly; this is the city's central area."

A flicker of panic briefly crossed Ivan's face. Reluctantly, he followed Rosyth into a secluded alley.

Once alone, Rosyth couldn't wait to say, "Brother, I'm a bit tight on cash lately. Could you—"

"Bang!"

What greeted him was a handful of gray powder—numbing stone powder—smacking him right in the face, delivering an altogether different kind of fiery enthusiasm.

"Cough, cough, cough—You tricked me!"

"Damn it, I was just looking for you."

Ivan paid no attention to his accusations, adopting an unyielding stance that showed no mercy.

A heavy kick landed square on Rosyth's stomach, sending him crashing into the wall behind, where he curled up on the ground instinctively.

Remembering the poisoning he suffered before, Ivan swung a sharp kick straight at his enemy's neck, followed by a flurry of relentless blows, his foot stomping on Rosyth over and over.

In mere seconds, Rosyth lost all his earlier arrogance, resembling a cowering stray dog, not daring to utter a single whimper lest it invite an even harsher beating.

"Phew—That's exhausting."

Finally, Ivan planted his foot firmly on Rosyth's big head, letting out a long breath as if expelling the pent-up frustration in his chest.

Numbing stone powder was a highly irritant substance with mild toxicity. Old Orio hadn't taught him this, but Ivan had figured it out himself based on the properties of the material. It served as a simple aid he kept on hand.

Who could've guessed it would come in handy so quickly—and against an old adversary? This preparation could not be called anything but astute.

"You're really broke. Looking forward to you coming back for another beating next time."

Ivan rummaged through Rosyth's pockets, retrieving a few silver coins with a look of disdain before walking out of the alley, leaving behind Rosyth faintly moaning on the ground.

Aware that West City was the location, Ivan may have seemed ruthless in his actions but was careful not to inflict substantial harm to Rosyth's muscles or bones. Knight's pages were notoriously tough-skinned; his kicks delivered more humiliation than actual injury.

Nor was Ivan worried about Rosyth reporting him to the Patrol Team. Neither of them were nobles, and the Patrol Team was unlikely to get involved in such petty matters. If Rosyth did complain, it would only end with him being extorted for money first.

After some time, Ivan returned to the Marichadon family in high spirits. He headed straight to the apothecary lab in the rear, but as he approached, he could hear heated arguing in the backyard.

"Shameful, truly shameful! You wear the same face as mine, yet you stoop to such behavior."

"He's a noble; we're commoners. Flattering him isn't disgraceful."

"That wasn't flattery—it was sycophancy! He's just a country baron, and you don't even plan on seeking compensation! You really surprised me today."

"Even a country baron is still a noble; compensation can come in the form of game."

"You—utterly hopeless!"

Beaman was chastising Paul, presumably due to some botched negotiation. Paul defended himself with sound arguments, leaving Beaman speechless in rage as he stormed off.

Ivan, not wanting to get caught in such a tense scene, quickly ducked into the apothecary lab to avoid further awkwardness.

Not half a minute later, Beaman's voice sounded outside the door, "Ivan, you're back."

"Beaman."

Ivan had little choice but to open the door and invite Beaman inside.

Beaman's expression was somewhat grim as he glanced around the apothecary lab, which was quite modest, with just a simple set of tools and small boxes containing various herbs.

"Did you hear anything?"

After a pause, Ivan nodded, "Caught bits and pieces."

Seeing Beaman about to say something, Ivan quickly added, "Don't ask me to comment who's right or wrong. You know that when it comes to nobles, our family has always struggled with such debates; it's a hard matter to judge."

Hearing this, Beaman fell silent.

The Marichadon family had long carried a sore spot regarding titles. From grandfather Leider to father Paul, down to Paul himself, there had always been favoritism in this realm. The root cause was their unwillingness to settle—their desire for titles—an ambition to restore the family's former glory buried deep within their hearts.

People are like this: the more they care about something, the harder it is to maintain consistent principles in their actions.

"Sigh."

Beaman sighed lightly.

Shifting the topic, he said, "Studying apothecary must be costly, huh." He looked at the tools and herbs before him, guessing the expenses weren't trivial, given his brother's lack of substantial income.

Ivan replied, "A bit, but I'm not short on money. Really."

Seeing Beaman's skepticism, Ivan broke down the expenses for him and even mentioned his studies in West City learning the ancient Golgandar language to demonstrate he could support himself financially.

Beaman paused, clearly surprised by his brother's growth, caught entirely off guard.

After a while, Beaman clapped him on the shoulder and praised him, "Good kid, I really didn't expect it. You're better than me."

Beaman hadn't realized how much progress Ivan had made in apothecary; he was already generating notable income.

After thinking it over, Ivan pulled out a small glass bottle from his pocket and handed it to him. "This is glorybower powder, something I made."

Beaman took it without hesitation, then added, "If you can already craft glorybower powder, I assume you can make other items like detoxification water, insect repelling powder, and deodorizing powder. Should I help you sell them?"

He traveled far and wide with the Giant Shield Mercenary Group, easily able to find sales channels to bring his brother more wealth.

Ivan shook his head, "I'm working well with Old Orio for now—no plans to expand just yet." The market was only so large; he couldn't turn on Old Orio just because he'd gained some new skills. Besides, he had much more left to learn.

"Alright, your call."

Beaman didn't push further, nor did he inquire more about the apothecary business. When he finally left, his demeanor was visibly lighter.

Ivan returned to studying the properties of various herbs.

[Apothecary Skill: Lv2 (18/200)]

[Knight Breathing Skill: Lv1 (16/100)]

[Linguistics Skill: Lv1 (2/100)]

Not long ago, his linguistic skill had risen to Level 1. With the assistance of a Small Light of Wisdom, he'd consolidated and refined his learning, which appeared as pure talent in Mrs. Harayer's eyes.

By now, he had accumulated two Level 1 Light of Wisdoms and one Level 2 Light of Wisdom. These were the foundation of his confidence in researching the Whirlpool Potion, though he would first need to familiarize himself thoroughly with various herb properties.