The economic crisis in the City of Alchemy was even more severe than Ambrose had imagined. Even the minor lords under its rule were beginning to prepare for the city's eventual collapse.
But whether the City of Alchemy fell or not, Ambrose had no time to worry about it now. He was completely immersed in his experiments to create an Effigy.
Master Morgan had pointed him in the right direction. By optimizing the process with Fabricated Soul techniques, Ambrose quickly created a "Biomimetic Soul" at a cost of about two hundred gold coins.
Considering the value of a soul, two hundred gold coins was undoubtedly extravagant; after all, the soul of a human slave wasn't worth even a single gold piece. But the magic ritual created by Master Morgan cost fifty thousand gold coins. For Ambrose to do it for only two hundred was a massive reduction in cost.
Moreover, there was still room to cut costs further.
The first step in creating the Effigy was complete. However, after solving the soul issue, he encountered a small problem with the Effigy's physical design.
Living Quicksilver was the most compatible vessel for a soul, but the problem was that when it was created, it lacked many internal organs.
Who knew what those madmen in the City of Alchemy had originally planned. Other than exhibiting extremely high magic resistance, the Living Quicksilver was a malformed life form.
The lack of necessary organs made it incredibly fragile, and aside from its instinct to consume metal, it had no ability to move. Forcing a soul into it under these conditions would be a waste of materials. Therefore, Ambrose needed to help the Living Quicksilver complete its missing organs.
The best way to do this was to model it after the body structure of a Slime, since Living Quicksilver was, in essence, a modified Quicksilver Slime.
"Ah, you never know what you're missing until you need it. I know absolutely nothing about Slimes."
Even for a lich with eternal life, the vast ocean of magical knowledge could make one feel small. Every year, new magical theories were published in *Legendary Incantations*, and the number of unpublished discoveries was countless.
Even a diligent scholar like Ambrose couldn't be an expert in every field.
At times like this, one needed to seek help from an expert.
But when Ambrose asked around in the Elegy Society's chat group, the legendary undead all said they had never researched Slimes.
That was to be expected. Slimes were low-level monsters—not only were they weak and ugly, but they also had almost no practical value, making them an extremely niche area of study. The undead had plenty of time, but none of them were interested in such creatures.
Ambrose had no choice but to pull out his back issues of *Legendary Incantations* and start searching for any content related to Slimes, one volume at a time.
The result was disappointing. Even in a prestigious magic journal like *Legendary Incantations*, there was very little information about Slimes.
It just went to show how utterly pathetic Slimes really were.
After much thought, the only place left to find a Slime expert was the City of Alchemy, the very place that had created Living Quicksilver.
But the City of Alchemy was in the midst of a financial crisis, and prices for everything were skyrocketing like mad. If he went to inquire about relevant data now, he would surely be ripped off.
Extorting others was one thing, but when it happened to Ambrose, it was a torment comparable to being bathed in holy water.
After racking his brain, Ambrose couldn't find a shortcut. He had to resort to the most traditional lich method: capture a few Slimes and experiment on them. If he dissected a hundred or two, he could become a Slime research expert himself.
Ambrose once again cast a transformation spell, returning to his human form.
This was a world rife with racial discrimination. A lich moving about openly always faced inconveniences. Only by taking on a human appearance could he avoid a great deal of unnecessary trouble.
In the guise of a black-haired youth, Ambrose once again left his laboratory and headed out of the castle.
Passing by Isabel's workshop, Ambrose, like a true capitalist, peeked inside.
Good. The girl was behaving herself, not secretly eating his experimental materials.
Previously, Ambrose had created an intelligent ghoul to be his lab assistant. A few days later, it had devoured a third of his inventory. He'd been so angry his soulfire had practically billowed smoke. He'd had no choice but to dismantle the ghoul, which had grown two sizes fatter, just to recover some of his losses.
The perceptive Isabel noticed Ambrose's presence. A look of surprise crossed her face, and she quickly walked over to greet him. "Teacher, it's good to see you again."
"Teacher?"
Ambrose paused for a moment. "You're calling me teacher?"
Isabel nodded. "Thanks to your guidance on alchemy last time, I've found that I've improved a lot. Perhaps this is a bit presumptuous, but I'm truly grateful for your instruction, Teacher."
Ambrose didn't object to the title. He was certainly qualified to be called a teacher.
And since he was a teacher, he ought to show some concern for his student's progress. "Do you have any questions recently?" Ambrose asked her.
Isabel's eyes lit up. "Yes, I do! Teacher, please wait a moment."
She took out her notebook and flipped to a page. "When extracting Belladonna, I'm having trouble controlling the heat..."
"Pay attention to when the bubbles appear. Once the first bubble forms, you have no more than thirty seconds to stop heating."
"I followed the recipe for the Potion of Animal Speaking from the book, but the quality is very low."
"It's affected by temperature. The ambient temperature in the castle is low, so you need to increase the proportion of the suspension by about five percent."
...
No matter what question Isabel asked, Ambrose could provide an answer almost without thinking.
The more Isabel asked, the more she felt that the black-haired youth before her was unfathomably knowledgeable. Many of these were questions her previous master couldn't, or wouldn't, answer. Yet this young man gave her the answers so casually.
These were basic principles of alchemy, laughably simple for a research scholar like him, but for Isabel, they were precious gems of experience that would have taken her years to discover on her own without guidance.
Isabel understood the value of knowledge, and her respect for this young teacher grew, bordering on admiration.
She quickly flipped to the last few pages of her notebook and continued, "Also, the Potion of Hill Giant Strength..."
"Wait. Is that a potion you should be attempting to make right now?"
"Well... I saw the formula, and we have the ingredients here..."
"You're overreaching. That will only waste materials. I could teach you that advanced potion step-by-step and you still wouldn't understand it."
Ambrose's tone turned stern. Basic potions were one thing; they were in high demand, and it was Isabel's job to brew them diligently every day. But a Potion of Hill Giant Strength was different. It was a valuable, high-grade potion. A single failure would mean a loss of materials so great it would make Ambrose's bones ache.
After nearly half an hour had passed like this, Ambrose abruptly stopped her. "Alchemy is a profound subject. You don't expect to become a master alchemist in a single day, do you? Master everything I've taught you before asking about anything else!"
Despite the scolding, Isabel felt not a hint of displeasure.
Compared to her previous master, Ambrose was an angel of mercy. He hadn't even used insulting words like "idiot" or "moron" to curse her, nor did he hoard his alchemical knowledge. Many of the questions in her little notebook had troubled Isabel for a long time, but whenever she asked her former teacher, she received only the most perfunctory of answers.
Ambrose carefully instructed Isabel not to waste materials. Just as he was about to leave, she called out to him again.
"Teacher, please wait. I have one last question."
Ambrose turned around, puzzled. "What is it?"
Isabel asked cautiously, "Teacher... you're one of the undead, aren't you? The ghost of this castle? Right?"
Ambrose: ...