Chapter 355: A Potion for the Witch’s Bloodline

The system’s auxiliary function was undeniably powerful. It could produce 【Perfect-Grade】 potions—results that far surpassed what ordinary potion-makers could achieve. Every finished product reached the theoretical ceiling of purity and potency.

But the initial mastery of a formula, along with any subsequent optimization, still had to be built upon the foundation of her own skill and knowledge.

What the system assisted was the process of brewing, not her knowledge base.

If she couldn’t even manage the fundamental preparation, 【Assisted Alchemy】 could not be activated in the first place.

The system would not think for her. It would only assist in execution. Naturally, it couldn’t conjure perfect potions out of thin air.

So, even if she had no grand ambition to personally craft a perfect potion, she still had to maintain her alchemical skills above a certain threshold.

This was not some optional embellishment, some icing on the cake. It was an indispensable foundation.

Moreover, exploring the properties of anomalous materials served purposes of her own as well...

Pandora’s thoughts drifted, fragments of past memories surfacing in her mind.

It was during a previous anomaly incident at a food street.

At the time, her body—or rather, the witch’s bloodline within her—had shown interest in the ashes of anomalies.

Like a starving person catching the scent of food. Like a parched traveler spotting water.

The witch’s bloodline had, of its own accord, actively consumed some of those anomalous ashes.

The process had exceeded her control. All she had been able to perceive was a certain sense of satiation emanating from deep within her bloodline.

Though in the three months of testing that followed, the stimulating effect of anomalous ashes on her witch’s bloodline had proven far less pronounced than she initially anticipated.

That “satiation” felt more like eating a meal that didn’t quite suit the palate—filling the stomach, but never truly satisfying.

Yet this, too, fell within Pandora’s expectations.

Raw, unprocessed materials inherently carried all manner of unforeseen effects.

Adverse reactions. Side effects. All of them interfered with and drastically reduced the ceiling of any positive outcome.

Such effects often limited the full potential of the raw material.

A chunk of iron ore, without smelting, remains nothing more than a rock.

No matter how rich in iron it may be, you cannot forge a blade from raw ore.

That was precisely why materials typically needed to be refined into potions.

The process of potion-making was, at its core, the process of neutralizing these secondary effects and adverse reactions—amplifying the positive while discarding the dross.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

To put it in common terms: eliminating the waste and retaining the essence.

And exploring the properties of anomalous materials would help Pandora, from yet another angle, understand the substance known as anomalous ash. This, in turn, would allow her to further design a potion genuinely capable of effectively stimulating her witch’s bloodline.

That said, however—

Using anomalous ash as a core ingredient to formulate a potion was, in truth, far more troublesome than Pandora had initially imagined.

The foremost complication was this:

Anomalous ash was not a single, uniform material.

It was actually a category. A blanket term for a class of substances.

Just like the word “metal”—copper is a metal, iron is a metal, gold is a metal, yet the properties of all three are utterly distinct.

So it was with anomalous ashes.

Ashes left behind by different types of anomalies, beyond their shared commonalities, often possessed subtle yet crucial differences.

For an ordinary demon hunter apprentice, knowing such a general classification was more than sufficient.

Most of them simply turned anomalous ash over to the Academy in exchange for contribution points at a fixed ratio, then used those points to acquire whatever they needed.

For third-rank trainees, that generally meant the targeted mutation potions refined from anomalous ashes.

They didn’t need to know which anomaly the ash came from. They didn’t need to understand the compositional differences. They only needed to know how many contribution points it was worth. That was enough.

But a potion-maker was different.

Especially a potion-maker who genuinely needed to use anomalous ash as a material.

They needed to understand the commonalities of anomalous ash—how to extract that common component.

They also needed to grasp the subtle distinctions between different types of ash—which differences could be ignored, and which were significant enough to turn an entire cauldron of potion from perfection into worthless waste.

And for Pandora, the problem grew even more complex still.

She needed to figure out: Was her witch’s bloodline craving the common component found in these anomalous ashes? Or some other, unique constituent? Or perhaps both?

If it was the common component, that meant anomalous ash of any origin could serve as material—abundant in source, easy to acquire.

But if it was some unique constituent, then she would have to identify which specific type of anomalous ash contained what she needed.

And that wasn’t even the end of it.

After solving those problems, as a professional potion-maker, she would still need to find the most suitable formula to amplify its positive stimulatory effects while minimizing its negative adverse reactions—and then optimize it.

That alone was a long, iterative process.

Hypothesize. Verify. Revise. Verify again.

Beyond that, there were also issues concerning material acquisition.

After all, a living anomaly could provide materials repeatedly.

A dead anomaly only provided ashes once.

The former was sustainable. The latter was one-time-use.

In the long run, the efficiency gap between the two could not even be compared.

And on these thorny questions, there were no relevant books that held the answers.

A considerable number of them would have to be worked out by Pandora herself, through trial and error.

No prior experience to reference. No ready-made formulas to borrow from.

Of course, the problems were many. But when it came to solving problems, Pandora was quite the professional herself.

And Pandora also understood:

Some of these questions might not be answerable at the current stage.

Forcing progress when the conditions weren’t yet ripe would only waste time and resources.

So, she also needed to prioritize—separating the urgent from the deferrable, conducting differentiated explorations accordingly.

For now, Pandora’s focus remained on what she excelled at: potion-making.

Start with the direction she was most confident in, gradually accumulate an understanding of anomalous materials, and then use that to work backward and tackle the more complex problems.

That was the surest path.

Her thoughts turned in her mind. In reality, barely an instant had passed.

Pandora and Elsa moved swiftly, quickly processing the remnants left behind by the anomalous materials, one by one.

Failed products were carefully poured into waste-liquid collection tanks. Used disposable equipment—pipettes, stirring rods, filter paper—were deposited into specialized containers, awaiting unified destruction later.

Contaminated vessels requiring cleaning were neatly stacked on the washing station.

While Elsa washed the sullied containers, Pandora completed her experimental records.

Her handwriting was neat and concise. Every observation was faithfully documented, including that unexpected rejection reaction.

But this round of brewing did not end there.

Pandora composed herself once more, refocusing her concentration.

Next came the trial for the “Anomalous Ash Potion Project for the Witch’s Bloodline.”