"What about medium-sized ones?"

Lance unconsciously asked, and Paracelsus glanced over with his calm gaze, reiterating in a cold tone.

"There is no medium, only small, large, and giant."

"Alright, continue." Lance didn’t dwell on it any longer.

"During my research, I discovered a very interesting phenomenon, which is that the secretions of small-sized Devourers do not have the effect of stimulating the immune system.

However, I found that when diluted, the secretions of small ones have a paralyzing effect, which decreases with lower concentrations, and at sufficiently low levels, test subjects exhibit a relaxed and pleasant effect.

And the giant Devourers have no direct secretions, but their bodily fluids can also have a magical effect, which is to remove corrosion.

I tested with several corrosive materials, and they were all neutralized. I don’t know the composition, it’s very magical, like you said, it has a special power."

"Enough about that, what about my healing potion?"

Paracelsus was still immersed in the discoveries brought by those interesting materials, but Lance seemed a bit impatient.

Where’s my red bottle?

"I’ve already cracked the secret!" Paracelsus smirked, adjusting his glasses, the lenses reflecting a cold tint that hid his eyes.

"In numerous repeated control experiments, only the secretions of large Flesh Devourers displayed the effects we observed earlier.

And simple secretions do not have that self-healing effect; they need to be mixed with bodily fluids, and the ratio between them still influences the effect and is under study.

About that congealed crystal, we also have..."

Paracelsus spoke at length about the experiments to the caged rats, detailing the situation.

Lance listened and seemed to realize why no one had discovered this effect for so many years.

The Sect of the Mother Worm’s situation back then was unknown to Lance, and the ancestor probably didn’t realize because the effect was insignificant to one controlling the Power of Flesh and Blood.

Moreover, his goal in creating Flesh Devourers was to control Formless Flesh, so his research direction didn’t focus here.

Even discovering this now was a delightful mistake for Lance.

If what Lance brought back then wasn’t the remnant of a giant Devourer with just a broken skull, offered directly as a sacrifice, or even a complete carcass, or a small one.

In any case, many interfering conditions, missing that opportunity might mean never extracting the mixture of large Flesh Devourer’s secretions and bodily fluids.

Then there was also Paracelsus’s experimental mishap.

Multiple factors combined to uncover this interesting effect, a wondrous feeling, perhaps this is reality, inherently illogical.

Lance didn’t care about these; he’s concerned about what to do next after determining the potion’s components.

The red bottle should also have levels of manufacture, different concentrations yielding different effects, naturally varying prices to heartily reap patients as chives.

And...

Lance had many thoughts, but this thing’s research wasn’t over yet.

"First, cure those lepers, we should fulfill our commitment."

"Are you sure you’re not using them for drug testing?" Paracelsus looked at Lance with an odd expression.

These things, though effective, no one knows what impact they’ll have on the human body.

The last time was direct human testing, here we go again?

"Don’t mess around, I’m serious." Lance was speechless; was he such a person?

Those lepers are no threat to him, and they haven’t committed any wrongdoing; he’s doing this to save lives.

Baldwin has already connected with Hamlet, he won’t leave until those matters are settled, so it’s not suitable to watch the rest continue to suffer.

See, I’m clearly a good person!

"You’ve been in contact with those patients, don’t you understand their desire to be free from leprosy?

Even if you told them it’s highly toxic, if there’s a slight chance, they would drink it without hesitation, who cares what happens afterward.

Because for them, nothing can be worse than now."

Paracelsus didn’t say anything to this, even seemed a bit in a trance.

Ending patients’ suffering seemed like a wish of his... just been a long, long time...

"Come, come, I’ll show you something interesting."

Lance’s voice brought Paracelsus’s attention back, seeing the fist-sized pearl in his hand.

It appeared to be white, but the surface seemed to carry a brilliant sheen.

"What is this?"

"A very interesting item, containing a power that can turn ordinary water into a potion with magical power."

"Extraordinary item?" Paracelsus didn’t seem surprised, even prepared to add for Lance, "There must be a price."

"Correct, the price is flesh, no need to call me to handle your experimental waste."

When Lance said this, he seemed a bit dazed, as if he suddenly realized something.

Did the ancestor back then also start research this way?

Paracelsus was about to take the pearl, but suddenly Lance grabbed it tightly, issuing a warning.

"Remember why we’re doing this, don’t lose control, don’t!"

Paracelsus found Lance’s sudden warning somewhat baffling, but only nodded slightly to indicate understanding.

The remark was for her, but wasn’t it also for himself?

Seeing this, Lance let go, handing over the pearl to her...

His thoughts were in disarray for unknown reasons, and Lance had no intention of staying, directly leaving the sanatorium.

The cold night wind blew, clearing his mind in an instant, wiping away the chaotic thoughts from earlier.

"Still too tired, go back to sleep."

Lance walked back, only to find an unexpected figure outside the Lord’s Mansion.

His gaze swept over, seeing a long white gauze-like dress outlining a graceful silhouette, dense black hair as silky as smooth silk draping down her waist, revealing a voluptuous figure.

On an autumn night like this, it’s not like summer, there’s a bit of a chill, her attire made her hug herself involuntarily, adding a touch of vulnerability, further stirring a protective instinct in others.

Clearly an indication of bad intentions!

Lance’s expression subtly changed, but he didn’t stop, instead actively approaching.

"What’s the matter?" As soon as Lance got close, he seemed to smell something, noticing her slightly inebriated face, he blurted out, "You’ve been drinking?"

"Hmm..." Sofia seemed still tipsy, her unsteady movement with the basket hinted at her intoxication, "I concocted a new brew... wanted the Lord to taste and give feedback."

"You’re quite capable, achieving results in just a few days. No wonder Grendel highly recommended you, good job, I have high hopes for you."

Lance habitually encouraged, though not intending to take the drink, he reminded her.

"But you should familiarize yourself with the workflow. I’m off duty now, and I’m not in charge of the distillery matters. Even if you have something, report it first before coming to me."

He’s the Lord, not someone ordinary on the street, not just anyone can meet him, work matters should be discussed during working hours.

Sofia was dumbfounded by Lance’s lengthy rhetoric; this interaction wasn’t in line with her expectations?

Talking about alcohol, painting hyperboles was one thing, but why talk about rules?

"Alright, go back early, it’s quite cold wearing so little, and now it’s night. Although there is a sheriff patrolling the town, those outsiders don’t care about this, remember to take the main road home."

Lance continued to urge, reviving Sofia’s attention.

"This wine..."

Sofia, as if intoxicated, stumbled yet still tried to pass the basket, and Lance instinctively declined by reaching out, but didn’t expect her to fall over.

Can I pamper you?

Lance frowned, silently stepping back...