The next day.
Alan finally crossed that threshold.
As for the details, he wasn't interested in dwelling on them.
He had more important things to worry about.
As his practice deepened, he noticed his personality gradually shifting towards that of an ogre.
He was particularly interested in food, violence, and sex.
During training at the school's martial arts gym, a sudden impulse of violence nearly injured a classmate.
Instructor Carter didn't blame him for hitting too hard.
As a seasoned practitioner, he knew how "Ancestral Meditation" could affect a person's character.
This was especially true for young beginners.
They were mentally immature, their values still unformed.
They were easily influenced by ancestral spirits, occasionally forgetting their moral compass.
This was all understandable.
However, the choices made by those standing at this crossroads varied.
Instructor Carter and Ms. Sora both believed that sorcerers must separate their meditative spiritual world from real life.
In meditation, you can do whatever you want.
Because it won't actually hurt anyone.
However, in real life, please behave like a human being and respect the morals and laws of human society.
This is the "orthodox" view of the sorcerer world.
I put it in quotation marks because this concept, imbued with a sense of moral self-discipline, is not universally practiced in reality.
Many sorcerers say one thing but do another in secret.
Especially when it comes to the common people, they have the power to kill and oppress them, acting like human demons, showing no sign of curbing their true nature.
Alan didn't want to become such a beast.
However, he had to admit that the mindset he'd developed in meditation had already affected his way of thinking in real life.
Always judging others' words and actions from the most selfish and malicious perspective.
Alan didn't want to go to extremes.
To cultivate his mind and character, he went to the "Glass Garden" every day to learn flower cultivation and potion making from the principal, while also collecting poisonous plants.
In the past month, his poison resistance bar had increased significantly.
He was not far from reaching level 3 poison resistance.
The principal was very pleased with his diligent and studious attitude.
She taught him without reservation how to collect various herbs, including the Mind-Concentrating Pollen, and to refine various potions.
This included the "Elementary Meditation Potion."
"The success rate for a novice making potions is very low."
"Go back and practice more. Don't be impatient."
The principal always told Alan this.
At first, Alan thought it was reasonable.
He wasn't some potion genius. How could he succeed right away? However, after trying it at home, he discovered something terrifying!
Sorry.
I'm such a genius!
Common sense in pharmacy simply doesn't apply to him!
In fact, Alan didn't have to worry about the proportions of the ingredients, nor did he have to bother with boiling the medicine or controlling the heat.
All he had to do was gather the ingredients specified in the recipe and stuff them all into his mouth.
After that, the various herbs would react in his stomach.
Under the magical micro-manipulation of the "Gluttony System," they automatically transformed into the desired effects of the finished potion!
In other words, with the Gluttony System's power, his stomach itself was a fully automated, all-purpose alchemy furnace!
Even more amazing was that Alan's own digestive fluids, such as his most readily available saliva, could serve as a universal solvent and blending agent. Adding a drop of saliva to the right mix of raw materials can significantly increase the success rate of a potion!
This meant he had another trump card.
When necessary, he could use this unique skill to make money, establishing himself as a respectable "potion master."
A skilled person like a pharmacist could find a living anywhere.
A skilled pharmacist's social status rivaled even that of a warlock of noble descent.
After all, warlocks can also suffer injuries, poisoning, or illness.
In this world where the church is suppressed and divine magic has all but vanished, a warlock lacking proficiency in healing spells can only rely on the expertise of a pharmacist.
…
Two months of peaceful time passed in the small town.
Summer gave way to autumn, and the weather grew cooler.
No more cicadas chirped outside the window.
The leaves had already turned yellow.
A hint of desolation lingered in the wind.
A small bronze incense burner sat on Allen's desk.
Inside the burner sat a small, dried honeycomb-like object.
It was dark green and exuded a uniquely bitter herbal aroma.
He had prepared this incense using the method taught by the principal: he collected the pollen and leaves of the Mind-Concentrating Flower, combined them with mint, perilla, and rosin, mashed them into a paste, and air-dried them.
He had also added some of his own unique seasonings.
To be precise, it was a mouthful of spit. It was this mouthful of spit that had greatly reduced the difficulty of refining the Mind-Concentrating Incense.
The yield rate had increased from less than 10% to 100%.
Allen opened the tinder box and lit the incense.
A faint green smoke drifted out through the holes in the incense burner's lid.
The room was soon filled with a fresh scent.
Like the fragrance of grass after rain, earth, and dew.
Concentrating incense has two benefits. First, it helps practitioners enter a meditative state more quickly.
Second, it reduces the loss of mental energy during meditation. Normally, Allen could only meditate for an hour and a half at most.
With the help of incense, he easily surpassed two hours.
Closing his eyes, he breathed in the fragrant herbs. Allen entered a meditative state with ease.
A river of blood, ablaze with stars, flowed through his consciousness.
A familiar cluster of starlight drifted from the river's surface and merged into his spiritual world.
What a coincidence!
Allen raised an eyebrow. He had experienced this ancestral memory before.
It was the ogre born in the great forest during the second meditation.
When he first brought this ancestral memory into his life, he was inexperienced.
It only lived for a month. On his first hunting trip with his mother, he was left alone and mauled to death by a pack of hungry wolves.
The agony of being mauled by wolves once gave him nightmares.
Things were different now.
Alan had experienced the lives of many ogres and accumulated a wealth of survival experience.
It was time to change his fate!
The time from birth to weaning was peaceful and boring.
In the blink of an eye, the little ogre Alan had portrayed was already a month old.
The day had come for him to follow his mother out into the world again.
The strong sense of déjà vu filled him with excitement.
Including him, there are a total of five little ogres.
They are all chubby and cute.
Allen is the strongest cub among them.
Because he always gets the milk first.
And he knew how to make his mother happy and get the most favor.
Before he had enough food and drink, the other brothers and sisters could only watch from the side.
The second strongest little ogre in the nest, jealous of Allen's special treatment.
He once bared his teeth at him and launched a provocation.
Allen beat the idiot hard.
He knocked off her breast teeth with a stone, and his mouth was covered in blood.
She was beaten to incontinence.
Since then, no one in the nest dared to bare his teeth at him again.
The beaten little ogre was subdued by him and taken in as his dog.
She would howl and bite anyone Alan told her to hit.
If she lived to adulthood, she would have the honor of becoming one of Alan's mates.