What Witch? This Alchemist is Breaking Bad!

South Harbor County, Caster Town, the residence of Baron Turner.

The elderly Baron Turner sat in his own living room, both hands resting on his cane, his face displeased as he looked at Bishop Beckett seated opposite him.

“Your Lordship, since matters have already come to this, you might as well tell me directly,” Bishop Beckett said calmly.

“You did indeed make regular purchases of certain medicines from ‘Mr. Griffin,’ did you not?”

“Bishop Beckett, I am receiving you here only because you once presided over my son’s investiture ceremony,” Baron Turner replied irritably.

“And now you come to interrogate me? I have already said it—I do not know any Mr. Griffin, nor have I purchased any medicines! What, do you not believe me?”

“Your Lordship, I truly did not wish to trouble you over such a matter, but we have heard some rather unfavorable information concerning you…” Bishop Beckett said.

“What information? Bring the person spreading it here and have them confront me face to face!” Baron Turner’s face revealed clear anger.

Baron Turner was indeed one of Mr. Griffin Potter’s core clients.

Bishop Beckett had once served as an instructor when his son became an apprentice knight, so the two had some acquaintance, though it was not particularly deep.

Today, Bishop Beckett had suddenly come calling, and the moment he arrived, he began asking about Turner’s dealings with Potter.

Discovering that Bishop Beckett had been reassigned to investigate Potter’s business—and that the investigation had even reached him—Baron Turner was genuinely surprised.

Even so, the baron was not flustered.

Merely purchasing Magical Potions without reselling them was not a serious offense at all, at most warranting a fine.

Nevertheless, the baron had no intention of giving Potter up.

His own industries had business ties with Potter, and he truly needed the Magical Potions Potter supplied—very much so.

Although Bishop Beckett had finally tracked the matter to him, he had no conclusive evidence, only intelligence provided by informants or undercover agents, whose identities could not be exposed and who naturally could not come forward to testify against him.

He also had his own connections in South Harbor County.

Ordinary accusations could not touch him, and he could even, in turn, offer Potter some protection.

Potter maintained extremely solid利益 relationships with his core clients; this was precisely why he was able to establish himself as a local power in South Harbor County.

“Please calm yourself. I did not come today to investigate, merely to have a brief chat and understand the situation,” Bishop Beckett said with a placating smile.

“I have already answered everything I should,” Baron Turner said firmly.

“If you came today to reminisce, you are welcome. But if you are here to suspect me based on mere hearsay, then please leave.”

“All right…” Bishop Beckett appeared somewhat helpless.

His gaze shifted to a portrait hanging on the wall, depicting a gentle-looking young man whose features bore some resemblance to Baron Turner.

“About young Master Tirio, I am very sorry.”

Baron Turner’s son had once been an apprentice knight.

During the war ten years ago, he had enlisted and ultimately died in battle.

“He died for the country. I am proud of him,” the baron replied with a formal tone.

“Have you made a decision regarding an heir?” Bishop Beckett asked.

“Not yet,” the baron said.

“It seems you have no intention of adopting a nephew. After all, one’s own child is preferable. You and your wife…” Bishop Beckett probed cautiously.

“Bishop Beckett, isn’t that question a bit presumptuous?” Baron Turner frowned warily.

Baron Turner’s wife had passed away early, leaving behind only one son.

While his son was alive, the baron had not remarried.

After his son’s death in battle, Baron Turner lost his only heir.

Only then did he take a second wife, hoping to have another child.

But he was already advanced in years, his health gradually declining, and after several years, his second wife still had not conceived.

To this end, he had tried every possible method.

Finally, through introductions within certain circles, he began attempting to purchase longevity potions through underground channels.

According to friends in those circles, longevity potions were not merely capable of delaying aging; they were also miraculously effective against infertility.

The potions were extremely expensive and required long-term consumption, but for Baron Turner, money was not an issue.

After the couple continuously consumed the potions for conditioning, the effects were obvious.

His wife grew increasingly radiant, while he himself began to recover youthful vigor and passion.

Having another child no longer seemed like an unattainable dream.

Bishop Beckett’s probing into such private matters was undoubtedly tearing open his old wounds—and more importantly, it was clearly another attempt to test him.

Bishop Beckett already knew his motive for purchasing Magical Potions!

“I merely wished to say that I fully understand your actions…” Bishop Beckett tried to continue.

“You understand nothing. You are outrageously disrespectful!” Baron Turner angrily slammed his cane against the floor and stood up, preparing to see him out.

“Please leave!”

“I had absolutely no intention of offending you. Please do not misunderstand,” Bishop Beckett immediately apologized.

Then he picked up an exquisite gift box placed beside him and set it on the table.

“By the way, I brought a small local specialty this time. I hope you like it.”

He opened the gift box and took out a small glass bottle.

Inside seemed to be an amber-colored fine liquid, yet neither the box nor the bottle bore any label.

“Thank you for your kindness, but I do not drink,” Baron Turner refused coldly.

“This is not alcohol,” Bishop Beckett said as he opened the bottle.

At once, an indescribably sweet fragrance spread out.

Upon smelling it, the baron’s expression changed slightly.

This unique aroma was unlike any spice.

He had only ever encountered it on one thing.

Longevity Potion!

A single bottle of Longevity Potion was worth no less than a million!

More critically, for a bishop to privately possess such a heretical item—and even intend to give it to someone else—was no small crime.

He stared in shock at Bishop Beckett, who wore a faint, knowing smile.

“What do you mean by this?”

“Your Lordship, you should understand that this is not a test. If I tested you in this way, I myself would be in trouble as well,” Bishop Beckett said as he resealed the bottle and pushed it toward him.

“I know your concerns. Please rest assured, I will absolutely not let you suffer any losses. You may verify this item first, and then give me your reply.”

Baron Turner slowly sat back down, his expression grave as he lowered his voice.

“Is the source of this item reliable?”

“Your Lordship, the one who truly has a problem right now is that old friend who has been supplying you,” Bishop Beckett said sincerely.

“You have your needs, but he has already been targeted by the Church. You can, of course, choose to protect him—but if I offer such terms, there is no guarantee others will not give in. ”

“You are, in the end…” Baron Turner examined Bishop Beckett in disbelief.

“Your Lordship,” Bishop Beckett said solemnly with a smile, “might you be interested in befriending the Earl?”

……

Several minutes later, Bishop Beckett emerged from the baron’s residence and boarded his carriage.

He closed his eyes, steadied his breathing, and focused his mind.

After a moment, a floating mark slowly appeared before him.

This was the blessing of the Star-Night Secret God, a divine art capable of transmitting intangible things such as light, shadow, and sound to a coordinate thousands of miles away.

“The matter has been handled, my lord. Baron Turner can report Potter to the Church at any time. Combined with what we have already gathered, Potter is finished,” Bishop Beckett said.

“The matters here must not be known to His Highness Aaron. You understand, do you not?” An elegant, steady male voice sounded from within the mark.

“Of course,” Bishop Beckett replied.

“Have you traced the source of the ‘Fenrir’s goods’ mentioned by the informants—the Mana with purity above eighty percent?” the voice continued.

“My apologies. We still have no leads. We have investigated every smuggling route in South Harbor County and found nothing,” Bishop Beckett answered shamefacedly.

“……No need to investigate further. It was not smuggled in. This item is produced locally,” the other party said after a moment of silence.

“There should not be such a Great Witch present here,” Bishop Beckett said.

To refine Mana to eighty-five percent purity, only a few Great Witches registered with the Church were capable of doing so.

“That level of purity only appeared after Caron Eso went missing,” the voice reminded him.

“Could it be…?” Bishop Beckett’s brows knitted together.

Mana purity was not determined solely by a Witch’s level of magical power.

“I have an idea,” the voice replied after some thought.

“The credit for capturing the principal culprit will be given to His Highness later. For now, do not act rashly. Once Mr. Griffin is dealt with, the Fenrir hiding behind the scenes and supplying him will certainly become alert. We cannot give the other side any opportunity. I will authorize you to first redeploy a legion to South Harbor County. I will give you further instructions at that time.”

“Yes, my lord Earl,” Bishop Beckett responded respectfully.