Sorcerer: I want to be an Academic Prodigy

West City’s small villa front yard.

Mrs. Harayer, swaying her figure, escorted Ivan to the door. A faint smile on her face indicated she was in a good mood.

"Mr. Ivan, you are the most linguistically talented young man I have ever seen."

Her voice was always soft and warm, exuding sincerity.

Ivan smiled and said, "Thank you for your praise, I’ll take it as something more than just flattery."

At his words, Mrs. Harayer’s lips curved into a light chuckle, "Hehe, of course it’s the truth. There’s no doubt about your talent for languages. See you tomorrow."

She had good reason to praise him. The young man in front of her, both in comprehension and spirituality, had amazed her. Having learned for less than twenty days, he had made progress equivalent to others’ two or three months, already gaining entry to the ancient Golgandar language.

Of course, not to mention the young man’s diligence and hard work—who wouldn’t like such a student?

"You’ve worked hard, Mrs. Harayer, see you tomorrow."

Leaving the small villa, Ivan saw that the sky was still light and thus walked unhurriedly towards East City.

Compared to South City and East City, West City was more solemn, often patrolled, hence the best security in Flying Fish Port.

As they say, ’Misfortune never comes singly,’ a man approached from the opposite direction—seeing him, Ivan inwardly cursed his bad luck.

Just like last time, Rosyth quickly stepped in front, "Hey, my friend Ivan, finally we meet again." Judging by his enthusiastic manner, one could mistake them for the best of friends.

Ivan’s fists itched with the urge to fight, but remembering this was West City, he suppressed the impulse.

"Don’t block the way."

"Smart of you not to make a big deal of it, otherwise we’d have shown you what means we’ve got."

Rosyth unconsciously lowered his voice, the words tinged with threat. Ivan didn’t say anything further, his gaze stern as he looked at him.

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Rosyth was not the least bit concerned by his stare. Thinking of his financial straits, he glanced around and pointing at an alley to the side, said, "I think we need to talk further. Don’t be foolish, or I’ll beat you every time I see you."

"Don’t mess around, this is the central district of the city."

A trace of panic on his face, Ivan reluctantly followed Rosyth into a secluded alley.

Finding no one around, Rosyth could hardly wait to say, "Brother, I’ve been a bit short recently, so get me some—"

"Bang!"

What awaited him was a handful of gray powder—numbing stone powder hitting his face, introducing him to a different kind of spicy enthusiasm.

"Cough, cough, cough—You’re deceitful!"

"Damn, I’ve been looking for you."

Ivan turned a deaf ear to his accusations, displaying an attitude of not letting go when he was on top.

He kicked Rosyth’s stomach hard, sending him crashing against the wall behind, causing him to curl up and squat down involuntarily.

Remembering his predecessor’s poisoning, Ivan delivered another kick straight to the enemy’s neck, followed by a flurry of kicks, his foot landing on Rosyth time after time.

Within a matter of seconds, Rosyth had lost all his previous arrogance, looking just like a beaten wild dog with his tail tucked, not daring to whimper for fear of provoking more vicious beatings.

"Whew—I’m tired."

At last, Ivan stepped heavily on the big skull and took a long sigh, as if venting the anger from within.

Numbing stone powder was a strong irritant with mild toxicity; Old Orio hadn’t taught him this, he made it himself based on the properties of the ingredients, a simple aid to keep on hand.

Unexpectedly, it came in handy so quickly, and even on an old enemy—his preparedness could be nothing but wise.

"You’re really broke, feel free to come looking for another beating next time."

Ivan searched and took a few silver coins from Rosyth’s body, walked out of the alley with a look of disgust, leaving only the faintly whimpering Rosyth behind.

Given their location in West City, Ivan seemed to beat him severely, but in reality, he hadn’t done much harm to Rosyth’s limbs. The knight’s page was tough, and it was more about humiliation.

He wasn’t worried about Rosyth complaining to the Patrol Team; they weren’t nobles, so don’t expect the Patrol Team to worry about such trivial matters. If Rosyth went to them, chances were he’d be extorted first.

In a short while, Ivan returned to the Marichadon family with an uplifted mood, heading straight for the apothecary lab at the back. As he neared, he heard the sound of quarreling from the backyard.

"Shameful, it’s truly shameful. You bear the same face as me and yet, you do such things."

"He is nobility, we are commoners, flattering him is not shameful."

"That’s not flattery, it’s fawning. He’s just a country baron, and you’re not even planning to ask for payment. Today, you’ve really opened my eyes."

"A country baron is still nobility, and the reward can be offset with the hunt."

"You----are hopeless!"

Beaman was complaining to his older brother Paul, likely over some task that hadn’t been negotiated properly. Paul was defending his position with sound reasoning, rendering Beaman speechless with frustration before he stormed off.

Ivan did not want to stumble upon such an awkward scene, so he hurriedly hid himself in the apothary lab to avoid further embarrassment should the brothers meet.

It wasn’t half a minute before Beaman’s voice could be heard outside the door: "Ivan, you’re back."

"Beaman."

Ivan had no choice but to open the door and welcome Beaman inside.

There was a heavy look on Beaman’s face. He first glanced around the apothecary lab, which was actually quite simple, composed of only a basic set of apothecary equipment and a few small boxes of medicinal herbs.

"Did you hear everything?"

After a pause, Ivan nodded: "I heard a few sentences."

As Beaman seemed about to say something, Ivan quickly added, "Don’t ask me to judge who’s right and who’s wrong. You know, when it comes to nobility issues, our family has always had its complications, making it hard to discern right from wrong."

At these words, Beaman fell silent.

The Marichadon family had always had a sore point, which was their nobility title. From grandfather to father Leider, and then to Paul, there was a distinct bias concerning this matter. The underlying reason was dissatisfaction and a longing for nobility, harboring a wild ambition to restore the family’s former glory.

People are always like this: the more they care about something, the harder it is to maintain their usual standards of conduct.

"Ah."

Beaman heaved a light sigh.

Then he changed the subject: "Studying apothecary must have cost a decent amount," he said, looking at the equipment and medicinal herbs in front of him, estimating that the expenses were significant given that his younger brother had no other substantial sources of income.

Ivan replied, "It’s a bit, but I’m not short of money, really."

Seeing Beaman’s disbelief, Ivan laid out the details of his finances and talked about his study of the ancient Golgandar language in the West City, proving that he could sustain all his expenses on his own.

Beaman was visibly taken aback, caught off guard by his younger brother’s growth.

After a while, Beaman patted him on the shoulder and praised, "Good lad, I truly didn’t see this coming. You’re stronger than your brother."

Beaman truly didn’t know his brother’s skills in apothecary had progressed so quickly, already generating a significant income.

After a moment of thought, Ivan took a small glass bottle out of his pocket and handed it to him: "This is glorybower powder, which I’ve concocted."

Beaman unceremoniously accepted it, then he said, "If you can make glorybower powder, you should be able to produce other things like detoxification water, insect repelling powder, and deodorizing powder, right? Do you need me to help you sell them?"

Having traveled through the south and north with the Giant Shield Mercenary Group, he had been to many places and could easily find sales channels, bringing more wealth to his brother.

Ivan shook his head: "Working with Old Orio is quite good, I’m not considering alternatives for now." The market was only so big, and he couldn’t possibly betray Old Orio just because he had learned a bit, especially when there was still so much more for him to learn.

"Alright then, as long as you’ve decided," Beaman said.

Beaman did not insist further, nor did he continue to inquire about the potions. When he left, his expression had lightened considerably.

Ivan continued his research on the properties of various medicinal herbs.

[Apothecary Skill: lv2 (18/200)]

[Knight Breathing Skill: lv1 (16/100)]

[Linguistics Skill: lv1 (2/100)]

Not long ago, Linguistics Skill had reached level 1. After being organized and consolidated by the Small Light of Wisdom, it appeared to Mrs. Harayer as a natural talent.

By now, he had accumulated two level 1 Light of Wisdom and one level 2 Light of Wisdom. This was the foundation of his confidence in exploring the Whirlpool Potion, but he needed to research the properties of various medicinal herbs first.