Those three words exploded in Elias's mind like a sharp slap to the face.
He sat in the armchair, his eyes wide with shock and confusion.
Was this some kind of sick joke?
But... but the potion he had drunk was brewed using that exact recipe!
If the recipe was useless, then what on earth was the person currently sitting in front of the fireplace—whose body was practically bursting with an overnight fortune of spirituality—supposed to be?
By the dancing firelight, Elias carefully examined all the ingredients listed on the recipe once again.
Dried moonlight grass, eyeless eye, murmurs of the fallen, pure water.
That was it.
The entire sheet of paper was yellowed and brittle, without even a single tear or fray along its edges.
The so-called “Resurrectionist Soul” was nowhere to be found.
The entire recipe was completely intact, with no missing pieces.
The illustrations for each ingredient were so meticulously drawn that they looked like diagrams from a medical textbook.
Besides, from what he could tell, he hadn't suffered any side effects from drinking it.
His kidneys hadn't mutated, no extra eye had sprouted from his forehead, and even his hair was perfectly intact.
And of course, he hadn't turned into a girl because of it.
He had even successfully undergone the Audience back then.
If there was any major issue, it was only that he had run into that mysterious, unidentified little girl during his Audience.
But Elias was certain that this wasn't an issue with the recipe itself.
Because back then, the little girl had told him: “The offering is wrong.”
The recipe was innocent.
His subsequent promotion to Scale Two had also gone very smoothly.
A bit too smoothly, in fact.
Yet, in the absence of a proper ritual, he had seen those three doors and was nearly killed through one of them by the entity residing within.
That pale, gigantic hand reaching through the crack of the door had almost crushed him into organic fertilizer on the spot.
This, too, was clearly not the recipe's fault.
Could it be that this was highly likely related to him being a transmigrator...
An illegal resident from the twenty-first century whose soul had been forcibly stuffed into Elias Rockland's body.
Probably. At least, that was his guess.
Or had Old Ed lied to Ryan back then?
No matter how he looked at it, there was nothing bizarre about this recipe!
Had the old man's mental state back then been the same as it was now?
Crazed, confused, unable to even remember who he was.
The thing was, it made no sense!
If the original ingredients of this recipe could indeed produce the spirit vision potion, why would he hide it from Ryan?
No matter how he thought about it, it was illogical.
“Resurrectionist Soul?!”
Elias murmured to himself, his fingertips brushing against the rough paper.
The term carried a chilling, otherworldly vibe.
Naturally, he associated it with the Resurrection Society.
But everyone knew the context between the two was entirely different.
Although he didn't know the naming principle behind the Resurrection Society...
...it likely had nothing to do with this.
This so-called “Resurrectionist Soul” felt more like a ritual material belonging to the realm of mysticism.
It wasn't as if once a transcendent joined the Resurrection Society, their soul would magically transform into a supernatural material, right?
Why did that sound so absurdly hilarious?
Returning to the literal meaning of the words.
Did he—or rather, Jiang Huan—count as a Resurrectionist?
Dying in a wild lake, only to wake up beneath the white lighthouse.
A textbook case of a dead body but a reconstituted soul.
Could it be that he had accidentally met the conditions that this recipe originally required?
Because he was a transmigrator, his soul itself fit the underlying definition of a “Resurrectionist Soul.”
Which was why he had so smoothly relied on this recipe to promote to a Scale One transcendent?
If that was the case, an even more terrifying conclusion loomed in his mind.
This was no stroke of good luck or favor of destiny.
It meant that some entity had long known that a transmigrator like him existed in this world.
Perhaps they even knew that this transmigrator was none other than Jiang Huan himself!
The other party had even mapped out his coordinates and career path.
That was why this recipe just so happened to appear in the cellar of a Moon Lord believer!
And in all of this, how much of a role did Old Ed play?
What part had he acted out in this grand play?
The mastermind or a pawn?
It was impossible to know.
“Damn it...”
The chill running down his spine raised a layer of goosebumps.
At this moment, Elias felt as if he were being watched.
But he couldn't tell if this was just psychological or a sign of being targeted by some entity.
However, given his current situation, it was best not to scare himself for now.
Elias took a deep breath, pushing those stray, horrifying thoughts back into the depths of his mind.
He continued with his logical deduction for the next step to eliminate the influence of this psychological effect.
If he temporarily bypassed the suspicious points in this recipe and analyzed it from a behavioral perspective...
...it meant the reason Ryan went to collect another recipe—the one recorded in the log—
...was simply because he subjectively believed the Scale One recipe in his hands was useless.
So, following Old Ed's warning, he hadn't consumed this potion.
Where on earth was Ryan supposed to find a “Resurrectionist Soul”?
This was also why the recipe hadn't been placed on top of the stone table in the cellar initially.
That yellowed paper had been pressed beneath 《The Moon Bay Chronicle》.
This showed that once Ryan realized it was a useless draft, he had simply treated it as scrap paper to prop up the table.
No wonder...
Elias let out a heavy sigh.
All the clues had finally pieced together into a picture that, while bizarre, was at least somewhat coherent.
Having gone through everything today, he was left with only one single thought.
To lift the curse as quickly as possible and get the hell out of this place.
In any case, he hadn't experienced any issues because of this recipe so far.
He was perfectly healthy, his spirituality was abundant, and his skill tree was more filled out than anyone else's.
He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, feeling deeply grateful in his heart for his relatively good luck.
And speaking of curses, his mind began to race again.
That old sea dog Crowley still owed him an explanation.
He pulled out and unfolded the half of the recipe Crowley had given him before boarding the ship.
It was a piece of parchment that had been roughly torn in half, its edges jagged and uneven.
On it, he read:
Spiritual slice, glow-amber powder, moonlight salt, and one drop of phosphor whale oil.
The names of the ingredients were written in a crooked scrawl.
These all seemed like fairly normal ingredients.
Aside from the “spiritual slice” at the very beginning, which sounded a bit like mystical dissection, he had almost all the rest.
Thinking of this, he couldn't help but curse inwardly.
That old codger, keeping the other, more important half for himself!
Feeling somewhat troubled, Elias stuffed the half-sheet of paper back into his pocket.
Just then, the heavy thud of boots echoed from outside.
Jack walked in from outside, a layer of glistening sea spray clinging to his leather trench coat.
The young man tiredly removed his hat and wiped his face.
“Everything is normal,”
Jack said, his voice a little hoarse.
Evidently, the cold wind at the top of the tower had cleared his head significantly.
“That's perfect then.”
Elias leaned back against the sofa, looking at him.
The firelight cast over his face, lending him an indescribably solemn expression.
“We need to talk.”
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