The Super Potion Maker

"God, come on! Why is this happening to me? It's like a fiery death from the freaking lightning isn't horrible enough! Why am I going to die again soon after I finally got a chance to travel to another world? And why must I suffer from the venomous attack from a swarm of insects before that! I didn't do anything wicked in my past life. I merely peeked at my middle-aged lady neighbor when she showered for three years. Even if that is a crime, don't you think the punishment is way over the top?"

Gordon Gibson stood in the street, his grief being beyond tears.

Initially, he was a medical student in Grand Land. On the way to get his assigned computer fixed, he was struck by lightning and perished on the spot. However, then he found himself in a foreign world called Holy Martial Continent.

He had thought his avatar would be a dashing hero popular with women, but the harsh reality was he was currently occupying the body of a hateful charlatan. To make matters worse, the lowlife had harmed his patient as he assumed the identity of a potion maker. A few days ago, he was caught and beaten up, poisoned with the extremely noxious Pest of Seven.

The Pest of Seven was developed from seven different kinds of poisonous insects, the victims of which would die an excruciating death after the toxin slowly ran its course in the internal organs and brains for 49 days.

Noticing the blood vessels on his arms were popping out, Gordon knew the Pest of Seven was about to attack.

"Damn it, it's starting. I should better kill myself somewhere private. If I wait and let the poison gain its force, I wouldn't even be able to do that," he thought to himself.

He looked around for a place to end his own life, his face long.

According to the memories of the body's former owner, Pest of Seven tended to put its poor prey in demonic anguish. It would consume the brain and make itself the sole master of the body. If Gordon didn't act now, he would have to suffer 49 days trapped in hell, and a suicide would appear to him as an impossible dream.

Therefore, it would be wise to end it all now.

Unfortunately, it was no easy task. He kept racking his brain to find the least painful way to execute this daunting plan, only to discover there was no such thing.

'Why am I so miserable? Shouldn't I be rewarded with a titillating adventure filled with attractive women? Where are my trophy coins and diamonds for traveling all the way into another dimension!'

Joy and hope had eluded him.

"Supercomputer Astraeus. Host confirmed. Host Name—Gordon Gibson. Strength—first level of Qi Refinement. Profession—charlatan...."

Along with the computer's synthesized voice, Gordon saw a virtual display full of words right in front of him.

"What's this?"

Gordon was dumbfounded. What on earth was this?

After a long while, he burst out laughing like a madman.

The pedestrians were alarmed and quickly walked away from him, assuming he was deranged.

It only took him ten-odd minutes to stop laughing.

"Holy crap, I've finally got my reward. This is the dandy gear a super hero should possess. Ladies, you don't have to wait for long."

Gordon was exuding confidence, as if he had been the ruler of this world.

But reality hit him fast. The jutting emerald veins on his arms were crying for attention, and he gave up his cheerful look.

He had to detoxify himself, or the fancy weapon he just acquired might go to waste.

"Well, Astraeus, what are you?"

Gordon asked the machine.

"I'm a supercomputer named Astraeus. I accidentally fused with you while exploring Earth, and we traveled together to this world, the Holy Martial Continent."

Astraeus replied.

"Supercomputer?"

Gordon was taken aback and then asked, "Right, what can you do?"

"I can process everything!"

It answered.

"Processing everything?"

Gordon was stupefied again. He pondered for a moment before pursuing the matter, "Okay, here's the thing. I have been poisoned, and the nasty part is about to happen. Can you whip up an antidote for me?"

"I can try!"

Then it began to do the math. Gordon saw a bunch of odd characters pop up on the screen.

Not long after, Astraeus came up with a list and said, "Here are the formula of the antidote and the instruction to cook it!"

"You pulled it off?"

Gordon cracked up. It looked like he was not going to die after all.

However, soon he put on his miserable look again.

He took a look at the formula and realized none of the ingredients was cheap. How could a penniless wretch like him afford them?

"I'm officially out of tricks. I guess I have to pick up my old craft."

It occurred to him that his predecessor's occupation was an option. Professional fraud it was.

Although it was an awful career, given the trouble he was in, he had to rely on it to survive.

Gordon made up his mind and started searching for the right targets on the streets.

With the help of his newly found memory, he got a hang of seeking out the gullible.

Soon, he got eye on a sturdy young man rushing towards him with a broadsword on his back. Gordon took a step forward right off the bat.

"Darn it...."

Gordon pretended to bump into the robust man.

"Sorry! Are you alright?"

The young man was nice and apologized first.

"Watch where you are going! If I can't make it in time for Miss Lee's potions, you will not live to see another day."

Gordon cocked his head like some grand master.

Deception 101. One must present himself as admirable to inspire awe.

"You are on your way to brew up potions for Miss Lee? So, you are a potion maker!"

Reverence crossed the young man's eyes. He took two steps back and kept bowing to Gordon.

Every potion maker should be treated with respect. A nobody as himself could in no way afford to have one on his opposite side.

The profession was deemed noble in the Holy Martial Continent.

It was a world ruled by martial arts. Powerful martial artists possessed immense power and could soar above the sky. They had absolute privileges.

Other than talent, the assistance of a potion maker was needed in the making of a great martial artist.

It was not as easy as it sounded. To be a competent potion maker, one had to possess a wealth of knowledge, coupled with the acuity to identify a martial artist's talents, spiritual bones, constitution, element, and martial skills as well as characteristics. The list went on. The goal was to make the potion best suited to each individual artist for the enhancement of his or her strength.

Therefore, potion makers were of high status and loaded.

That was why it fell victim to a con man's fancy.

"That's right. I'm a potion maker from Star City. As a traveler in this town, I only help those who share my vision. To me, money is of lesser importance. So, even ten thousand liang of gold from a dilettante wouldn't impress me!"

Gordon started his show of magical duplicity.

"You are a potion maker from Star City searching for like-minded companions? Master, you must have reached the fourth level, right?"

The young man was blown away, his eyes shining with admiration.

To a powerful master as Gordon claimed to be, money no longer held its appeal. His sole interest would be the satisfaction brought by taking his beneficiaries to the next level. In this way, the master of elixir could make his name louder and his connections wider.

In other words, the martial artists would be in the favor of the potion makers, and that was how the latter increase their influence and remain untouchable.

"That's about it!"

Gordon summed it up briefly.

Then, he surveyed the young man and let out a surprised sigh. "I couldn't help but notice your talent is unique and extraordinary. With the right help, you just might achieve greatness!"

Sensing his prey was in the trap, Gordon decided to collect his spoils.

"Really? Master, you ... genuinely think I deserve the honor of your help?"

The young lad was astonished.

"Well, you are not the best, but there is definitely something to work with. I can make a fighter out of you!"

Gordon wanted to smooth his beard like those old bones on TV, only to realize he didn't have one.

He was too far gone in character.

"Thank you, Master!"

The young fella knelt on the ground and said, "I've been stuck at the fourth level of Qi Refinement for a long time. Everyone said I could never get any further. Thank you, Master. I really appreciate it...."

The poor man broke into crying.

Gordon was touched and wondered if he would be punished for his loathsome actions, guilt welling up within him.

Nonetheless, he needed money to get out of this mess. He didn't want to suffer 49 days in the hands of venomous insects before meeting his inevitable end.

"I would make amends to him after this."

Gordon thought to himself.

"Don't be like this. People would talk. I've always kept a low profile."

Gordon pulled his money bag to a small alley nearby.

"Yes, yes, Master. Please tell me how ... can I make a breakthrough?"

He treated Gordon like a god now.

"Let me think. In your case... I'll simply diagnose you and then give you a prescription. I promise that in three days you will..."