It's Already Fucking Dawn!

“You're fucking awake? Would it have killed you to say something?!”

The old man was clearly startled by Elias's sudden jab.

After all, just a second ago, the boy's consciousness had been offline, looking no different from a dead man.

“Besides, wasn't I just worried about you?”

The old man immediately began looking for a legitimate excuse for his back-stabbing gossip.

He even sounded a bit aggrieved.

“Who else do you see me acting like this for?”

The way he said it made him sound like a resentful old man left alone in an empty house.

“Good lord!”

Elias rolled his eyes so hard it hurt.

He felt like if he listened to any more of this, he’d lose his dinner.

“Stop with the act.”

Elias mercilessly tore through the old ghost's facade.

“It's not like you have anyone else to worry about anyway.”

“You're just a lonely wandering soul now. Who else are you going to annoy besides me?”

A direct hit.

True damage.

Old Ed was instantly rendered speechless within the spirit world space.

“If I hadn't woken up to find you rambling on and on...”

Elias rubbed the back of his head, which was still throbbing with a dull pain, as he struggled to sit up from the carpet.

“...I would have already started discussing serious business with you.”

At the mention of “serious business,” the goosebump-inducing sense of resentment in his mind instantly vanished.

“Oh?”

The old man stopped trying to disgust Elias and turned serious.

Elias could feel the shift in mood through the silence in his mind.

The old guy might have a big mouth, but he knew how to prioritize when it mattered.

“First, I can't perform the Dream Prayer Ritual whenever I feel like it anymore.”

“The old horse was absolutely right about that.”

“The Dream Prayer Ritual essentially exposes your consciousness to the underlying rules of the spirit world without any protection.”

“You wouldn't want my consciousness to just fall into the spirit world one day, would you?”

Elias added mischievously, “And leave you all alone to nag yourself in the real world?”

“Can't you just state your business without the attitude? Are you ever going to stop?!”

The old man finally snapped, shouting in exasperated rage.

“I'm this old—what's wrong with a little nagging earlier?!”

“Second.”

Elias ignored him completely.

“For now, the pendulum seems safe enough inside the Gluttonous Stomach.”

“Of course, as long as I don't take it out for no reason.”

Elias rubbed his chin and added, “It should be fine, probably.”

“Probably?”

The old man asked back, a hint of unease in his voice.

“What else do you want?”

Elias threw up his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

“Who knows what this thing's temperament is like?”

“Don't forget its track record. It managed to crawl out of the bag all on its own back in the cemetery.”

“However, it doesn't have a host in the strict sense of the word now, so nothing should happen.”

Elias analyzed the situation calmly.

“John has already been laid to rest by me. It's an ownerless object now.”

“Even though I'm just a spiritual body,” Old Ed sighed in his mind, “I don't want to watch you get killed by a damn hooked mushroom.”

A hooked mushroom.

What the hell, a hooked mushroom?!

The old man's descriptions were truly something else sometimes.

But thinking back carefully, the pendulum really did look a bit like one.

After all, it was the pendulum from inside an ancient bronze bell.

The top was a hook for hanging.

The striker at the bottom, however, had a rather suggestive shape.

It was rounded with a strange ridge around the edge, looking quite a bit like a turtle's head.

The old man's “hooked mushroom” metaphor was actually quite conservative, but it definitely captured the essence.

It was very realistic.

“I know what I'm doing,” Elias responded.

“Also, regarding that Scale Three spirit vision potion recipe.”

“The old horse told me it's a new formula.”

“If it's a new formula, how is it usually handled?”

He asked with a frown.

In his view, a new experimental drug like this should at least pass animal testing before being used clinically.

Lab rats, rhesus monkeys—those should be lined up first.

But this was a potion recipe!

The supernatural materials inside... just taking one out would probably fetch an astronomical price on the black market.

Never mind animal testing—even using a human for experimentation felt like his heart was bleeding.

“How is it handled?”

Old Ed fell into deep thought upon hearing this.

He began to sift through his memory bank for information regarding such new supernatural tonics.

“Generally speaking, for something to be called a new formula,” the old man began slowly, “it means a core supernatural plant or a key material has gone extinct.”

“Which makes the old recipe unusable.”

“That's why the Alchemy Association starts researching new recipes to find substitute materials.”

Elias nodded.

That made sense. Industrial upgrading caused by a supply chain breakdown.

“The reason it's called a new formula,” Old Ed continued, his tone turning cold, “is because it hasn't been verified by many transcendents.”

“It lacks sufficient data support.”

“Generally, the bad recipes don't get passed down.”

Hearing this, Elias couldn't help but sneer.

“Exactly.”

He pointed out the cruel logic behind it.

“Everyone who drinks the bad ones goes to see their god, so of course they can't pass it on.”

Dead men don't write bad reviews in the newspapers.

It was like that old joke from his past life: parachutes usually don't have many negative reviews.

Those experimental subjects who used flawed recipes probably either turned into some indescribable monster or had their brains explode on the spot.

“Correct,” Old Ed confirmed.

“So the risk is there. It's up to you.”

“Whether you dare to take the gamble depends entirely on your own judgment.”

This was the law of survival in the supernatural world.

Power always coexisted with risk.

You either stagnated in safety or fought for a slim chance of survival in danger.

“Or...”

Old Ed's tone shifted as he seemed to think of a slightly safer idea.

“You could also find someone who knows alchemy.”

“Have them break down the recipe.”

“Let them see what kind of reaction might occur when those various alternative materials are mixed together.”

This could be considered a form of theoretical validation.

“That makes sense.”

Elias nodded in agreement.

This seemed like the most reliable method for now.

Professional matters should be left to professionals.

Finding an old scholar to look over the recipe was much better than drinking it blindly with his eyes closed.

As for now, he planned to get some rest.

He had to rush to the train station tomorrow morning.

If that damn dream demon curse acted up again, the journey on the train would be far from peaceful.

“I'm going to sleep.”

Elias pulled the covers over himself, wrapping up tight.

“Don't bother me.”

He issued a final ultimatum to the noisy old man in his head.

He closed his eyes.

Strangely enough, he felt like his physical state was a bit off.

The soul-piercing pain from before seemed to have eased quite a bit after the Dream Prayer Ritual ended.

It was like a rubber band that had been stretched to its limit was suddenly loosened slightly.

Even the exhaustion in his body had lessened significantly.

Could that horse headbutt have some hidden therapeutic massage effect?

He sighed comfortably, ready to welcome a long-overdue sleep.

“Sleep my ass!”

Just then, Old Ed's remark struck like a bolt from the blue.

“It's already fucking dawn!”

Elias snapped his eyes open.

He sat up and yanked the curtains open.

Stinging morning light instantly pierced through the thick clouds, mercilessly splashing across his face.

On the street outside, early-rising newsies had already started their calls.

The sun was truly up.

“What did you think I was nagging you about?!”

“I'll be damned...”