Snapping back to attention, Pandora hardened her focus. She worked to keep her expression neutral, forcing a mask of innocent confusion as she looked at the ghostly girl. As if she’d never heard the word “Witch” before...

  The ghost’s once-ethereal eyes now seemed bottomless, sedimented with years and cold wisdom. Her tone had shifted. Gone was the shy girl. Her voice was mature now, edged with frost.

  “You woke my memories,” she said slowly, each word deliberate. “But I... do not thank you. These memories should have stayed buried. That process... was agony. You cannot imagine every shred of my flesh being torn apart by two opposing forces...”

  As she spoke, her semi-transparent form trembled faintly, as if reliving the nightmare that destroyed her.

  “I died in agony. Slowly. That pain… was bone-deep. Maybe that’s why I can still ‘exist’ like this.”

  As she finished speaking, a startling transformation unfolded before Pandora’s eyes. The shy girl’s form melted and faded like a phantom under a hot sun.

  In her place stood a stooped, yet still discernibly once-beautiful figure—an old woman.

  Her face was etched with the furrows of hard-won wisdom, each wrinkle telling a story of knowledge and madness. Her gaze was deep, calm. If not for the earlier delirium, Pandora might have missed the raw despair of aging in her eyes.

  “However… regarding your question. The formula you want…” The ghostly old woman’s voice was a hoarse, steady rasp. “I do have a need. If you could bring me another drop of ‘Witch’s Blood,’ or… help me refine the potion. Or… find me a ’volunteer’ for the experiment I intend to run… Then, perhaps I could give you the formula.”

  Pandora frowned. Aside from the “Witch’s Blood”—which her own blood could half-fulfill—the other demands were tough. And honestly, she now wanted the ghost’s knowledge about “Witches” more than the formula…

  “Your requests are challenging… May I ask what exactly these ‘Witches’ are?” Pandora tried to play the curious apprentice, keeping her tone casual.

  But not raising suspicion was one thing; getting answers was another. The Ghost Master’s stance mirrored the librarian’s warning.

  “You should not know who ‘they’ are. In fact, you shouldn’t even know the word,” the old woman said, her tone low. “Knowledge related to ’them’… is ’tainted.’ Dangerous. Horrifying. It’s not like ordinary study. Even if you must know, wait until you’re a fourth-rank Demon Hunter. Before that… know nothing. Forget everything I said today.”

  Her haunting tone made Pandora’s mood turn grave. Tainted knowledge. A fourth-rank threshold. Just how terrifying were “Witches”? Why was this knowledge so dangerous? Did it relate to why they went extinct? Had she, with the Witch’s Bloodline inside her, already drawn their attention?

  Questions swarmed her mind, but she pushed them aside for now. She had to be practical.

  “Thank you for the warning. I’ll remember it.” She shifted topics carefully. “But if that knowledge is off-limits… could you tell me about your experiment? It would help us both!”

  “Given my state… telling you isn’t impossible.” A flash of undeniable scholarly pride lit the old woman’s eyes. “You can see I’m not content with my past failure. No—it wasn’t a failure. It should never have happened. My potion was perfect!”

  Her voice rose, filled with unshakable confidence. “The problem was me! The ‘Corpse-Plague Acolyte’ power inside me clashed with the potion’s power! So I want to run an experiment! I want to prove my potion was not wrong!”

  Pandora’s heart jumped. “If I understand… the ‘volunteer’ you need is someone without any power? A complete ordinary person?”

  “Correct.” The ghostly woman nodded in approval. “A Witch’s power is too potent, too proud. It won’t share a vessel with any other Transcendent force! So I need a pure, uncontaminated body. Free from any plague. To prove—as long as there’s no other ‘power’ interfering—my potion can perfectly implant a Witch’s bloodline into a human’s very essence! That… is a true masterpiece.”

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  She fixed Pandora with a burning stare. “So… do you see now? Help me complete this experiment, and I give you the formula. Otherwise…” She paused, delivering her ultimatum. “You will never get it.”

  Her current demeanor was a hundred times tougher than the shy girl’s. Her inner self was nowhere near as placid as her aged appearance suggested.

  Yet… Pandora wasn’t fazed. Setting aside the “Witch” thoughts, she’d regained her usual calm. She saw the situation clearly.

  In short: of all the apprentices coming and going in this library, only she could see this ghost. Others who might see her simply ignored her. Her demands could only be met by Pandora.

  It wasn’t that Pandora needed her formula. It was that she needed Pandora to fulfill her lifelong obsession.

  And if Pandora didn’t cooperate… who knew how long she’d have to wait for the next suitable candidate.

  Despite the apparent stalemate, Pandora felt no tension. In fact, the ghost’s explanation had cemented the plan forming in her mind. Was it possible… her current condition was precisely what the other sought?

  The union of Wizard and Witch’s Bloodline inside her. Wasn’t that exactly what the ghost described—two different power systems in one body?

  Instead of going through hell to get “Witch’s Blood,” why not use her own as a substitute? It would need finesse, but it was possible.

  As for brewing the potion… she’d considered offering Dulles’s “Red Moon’s Tear” formula, but quickly dismissed it. She wasn’t the clueless novice from two months ago, relying only on the system’s 【Assisted Alchemy】. She understood now: Dulles’s formula was clever, but still just Apprentice-level. It wouldn’t impress a true Master. Its powerful effect on her had mostly been the system’s doing—the “Perfect Rank” quality forcing out results the potion shouldn’t have had.

  As for a “volunteer”… more like a sacrificial offering. She would never procure an innocent person for this ghost.

  She just wanted the formula.

  She glanced at the Ghost Master in her elderly form, who looked utterly convinced she had Pandora cornered—calm, unhurried, even smug.

  Pandora smiled inwardly. Yes… best to rely on yourself.

  She looked up, her gaze fearless, meeting the Ghost Potion Master’s eyes.

  “Senior… is it possible you’re mistaken?”

  “What do you mean?” The ghost’s eyes sharpened, her displeasure almost physical.

  Pandora didn’t flinch. Her expression was unreadable.

  “Your theory—that a Witch’s power won’t coexist with another in the same vessel. Is that truly correct? If so…” She slowed her speech, leading the other into the trap. “...why have I seen someone with both a Witch’s power and another power at the same time?”

  “What?!” The Ghost Master was stunned. Her spectral form rippled, dropping the air temperature several degrees. “Impossible! Absolutely impossible!” she muttered, dazed, as if convincing herself. “How could you have seen… If that were possible, why did I fail…”

  After a brief shock, she hardened again, denying it flatly. “Impossible! You must be mistaken!”

  Pandora stayed calm. “Perhaps…” She didn’t argue. Instead, she offered something more tempting. “...you need me to bring a drop of her blood?”

  The Ghost Master stared, her profound eyes filled with scrutiny and scorn. She searched Pandora’s calm face for any hint of deceit, hoping to prove her a liar and mock her.

  But… all she saw was firm, unwavering confidence.

  “No, no no no…” She began to stammer. “You’re saying… it’s true? You’ve truly seen it? You can truly… bring that blood?”

  “Truly.” Pandora’s reply was a single word, but its weight made the ghost hesitate to dismiss it. “I am certain.”

  “I…” The Ghost Master clenched her spectral teeth. After a long moment, as if making a painful decision, she said: “If you can bring a drop… no, a full vial! If you bring a vial, and I confirm it’s as you described—special blood containing both powers—then I’ll give you the formula!”

  She paused, seeming to feel the offer wasn’t enticing enough. With a wave of her hand, a dust-covered gemstone ring floated out from beneath a bookshelf. The thick dust vanished, wiped clean by an invisible force, revealing its understated, warm luster.

  “This is an ‘Alchemy Apprentice’s Ring.’ It was once mine. I gave it to my best apprentice. Her ring was lost here. Now it’s back with me.”

  “If you bring me that vial… not only do you get the degraded Transmutation Potion formula, I’ll also give you this ring! Multiple basic brewing guidance rituals are inscribed inside. It’ll help you master basic Apprentice-level potions much faster. Cut your learning time significantly. Together, these should be payment enough.”

  The ghostly old woman’s eyes burned with the confidence of a former superior. “What do you think?”

  Pandora looked at the knowledge-etched ring floating silently in the air and gave a slight nod. Faced with this unexpected windfall, she offered an uncharacteristically brilliant smile.

  “Deal.”

  ………………

  Pandora always acted fast, but she believed in being prepared.

  Several days later, on the library’s second floor. In the bathroom, a female apprentice with forgettable features stood on tiptoe, carefully examining a small new pimple on her face in the water-stained mirror.

  She was completely unaware that behind her, another figure was also “gazing” at the mirror. Except the mirror showed no reflection of that figure at all.

  The Ghost Potion Master, still in her elegant elderly form. But her calm, composed expression now looked decidedly anxious.

  Seven days. A full week. And that female apprentice who could see her, who claimed she could bring the “special blood,” hadn’t shown up.