"Well, listen to yourself."
The elderly man spoke just as unhurriedly as before, as though Jeremy's shouting meant nothing at all.
"Who doesn't want to make money? Only a fool refuses profit.
We have the gel. You have the money.
Of course we'll sell."
But it was precisely that careless tone—that complete indifference—that made Dean Jeremy even angrier.
"Don't play games with me!"
Originally, the gel cost thirty silver coins per bottle.
Now you want to sell it to me for three hundred gold coins per bottle.
That's a thousand times the price!
And you call that a willingness to sell?!"
"You don't have to buy it."
The old man casually pulled out a small nail file from a drawer and began trimming his nails with elegance, utterly unconcerned with Jeremy's fury.
"But you should understand something.
Capital… is a terrifying thing.
Once everyone knows an item has value, its price will inevitably rise.
Right now, you can still buy a bottle for three hundred gold coins.
But in a few days…"
He smiled faintly.
"It won't be that price anymore."
"You—!"
Jeremy pointed at him furiously.
His other hand had already reached for his staff, as though he were ready to start a fight at any moment.
But when he saw the old man's calm, breezy expression…he clenched his teeth, inhaled deeply several times, and finally forced himself to put the staff away.
"Fine. Very well.
Resurrection potions concern the future of all Savant.
And you want to seize this chance to make dirty money."
Jeremy's voice trembled with suppressed rage.
"I will report today's events truthfully to Savant's Elders."
"Go ahead."
The old man lifted his hand and pointed toward the door, gesturing for Jeremy not to hesitate.
"Even if resurrection potions bring Savant enormous benefits…what benefit does that give our Mechanical Academy?
You're just using 'for Savant's good' as an excuse to come here and freeload.
The materials we purchased with real gold and silver are meant for researching new machinery.
And you think you can waltz in here with some recipe—real or fake—and take it all without spending a single coin?"
His smile sharpened.
"Do you really think your face is made of gold, that everyone has to show you respect?
And Jeremy, don't forget—you support the Second Prince.
We support the Fourth Princess.
The royal selection isn't over yet.
Do you honestly think I don't know about the agreement you made with those Elders?"
His voice turned cold.
"We sell you the gel…so you can better fulfill your agreement?
Do you take us for fools?"
"How would you know that?"
Jeremy stared at him in disbelief.
He never imagined that his dealings with the Elders had been leaked.
By all logic, he had never told anyone.
So…
Jeremy's expression darkened and shifted.
He realized—one of the Elders had sold him out.
No wonder.
They had only just obtained the formula, and suddenly every bottle of gel on the market had already been bought out.
So this was the trap waiting for him.
Jeremy's gaze toward the old man grew increasingly dangerous.
Now he wasn't just suspicious of the Elders—he was beginning to suspect even the higher-ups within the Potion Academy.
Otherwise, the timing was far too perfect.
And the man in front of him…was very likely the mastermind.
But Jeremy couldn't understand—what was the point of orchestrating something like this?
Their potion formula truly required Softwind Slime Gel, but that didn't mean the gel itself was some rare treasure.
If not for the civil war in the Windmill Kingdom, Savant's supply wouldn't have been cut off in the first place.
So what?
Was the Mechanical Academy doing all this just to make a fortune in the price surge?
But was it really worth such effort for a few thousand coins?
Jeremy couldn't figure it out.
But there was one thing he did know.
They desperately needed a batch of gel.
Even if the price had risen a hundredfold.
Because as long as they could successfully brew the Goblin Resurrection Potion according to the formula…then even if they lacked gel now, the royal family would find a way to acquire it for them later.
So Jeremy knew he was being butchered—but he still had no choice.
He gritted his teeth and prepared to accept.
"Fine."
Jeremy pointed at the old man, voice trembling with fury.
"This time… I'll swallow it."
Softwind Slime Gel in the formula served as a neutralizing agent.
To brew even a single potion, they would need at least an entire barrel's worth—the original quantity before those merchants divided it into bottles.
At this price…it would cost him at least three thousand gold coins just to attempt brewing one Goblin Resurrection Potion.
Three thousand gold coins could buy high-grade materials—even expensive ones.
After weighing it all, Jeremy finally named a conservative number.
"I need one hundred portions of gel.
Prepare them, and I'll trade.
Price will be as you said earlier—three hundred per bottle."
"As I said earlier?"
The old man chuckled softly.
He tapped the tabletop lightly, utterly unconcerned.
"Didn't I just tell you?
Miss the moment, and the price changes.
Five hundred gold coins per bottle.
Not a single coin less."
"You might as well rob me!"
"Robbing people doesn't make money nearly this fast."
The old man smiled pleasantly.
He had Jeremy by the throat.
He knew that no matter how outrageous the price was, Jeremy would accept it today.
But only this once.
Because the Potion Academy's attempt to brew Goblin Resurrection Potions was irreversible.
Even if they bought up every bottle on the market…once the Windmill Kingdom resumed trade with Savant, the gel's price would inevitably crash back down.
So they might as well seize this chance and earn massively.
But clearly…the old man's appetite wasn't satisfied with a mere fifty thousand gold coins.
Because to Sixth Rank powerhouses like him and Jeremy…this wasn't truly "big money."
Jeremy could earn it back with a single bottle of high-grade potion.
So the old man ignored Jeremy's simmering rage and calmly stated a simple truth:
"Do you really think one hundred portions of gel…will be enough to meet your needs?"
"What do you mean?"
Jeremy's heart tightened.
The suspicion of a spy within the Potion Academy surged again, and an even more horrifying possibility emerged.
That among those tasked with deciphering the formula…someone had revealed the truth—that they could not fully replicate Goblin alchemy.
And that guess…only became more certain when Jeremy saw the meaningful smile on the old man's face.