“I see. No wonder Pharmacology is scheduled first. Casting Witchcraft requires magic, and condensing magic requires faith and Stigmata.” Dorothy suddenly understood.
Wang Yue had figured this out while previewing the material last night. In her modern terms, a high-dimensional demon was like a massive nuclear power plant, while the witches in the lower dimension were like individual power banks. The demon injected power into the witches via a form of wireless charging, creating a second energy system within them—with cellular ATP being the first.
“Understood, Teacher,” Lilith said, propping her chin on her hand and pinching her fingers. She asked with a chilling aura, “Can I be the one to kill the lamb? I want to hear its cries up close.”
Mrs. Ross frowned. The lamb was indeed meant to provide fresh brains, but they wouldn’t just split its head open and make a bloody mess. They used a Mystic Art called ‘Displacement’ to swap the brain with a piece of bread of similar shape—a painless extraction.
“Student Lilith, we are witches, not butchers. Your perception seems to be flawed. Stay behind after class; we need to talk.”
Mrs. Ross sighed inwardly. Problem students were a headache, but brilliant problem students were worse. As the saying went, the greater the ability, the greater the potential for destruction. She saw incredible talent in Lilith, but she also saw a deep-seated malice.
“No! The lamb is so cute! Why do you have to kill it!” Dorothy couldn’t take it anymore and started shouting recklessly.
“Student Dorothy, have you ever eaten meat?” Mrs. Ross countered.
“I have,” she nodded.
“Does meat not come from animals?”
“But…”
“Another word and you’ll be asked to leave. This is a witch academy, not a convent.”
Dorothy bit her lip, looking utterly miserable. The lamb was just too cute—long ears, fluffy wool, looking just like a toy. Looking into its gentle, moist eyes made her heart melt. She turned her head toward Wang Yue, clasping her hands in a silent plea. Please, please.
Unable to resist the pleading, Wang Yue stood up and cleared her throat.
“Professor Ross.”
“What is it?”
“We’ve all seen the lamb alive; how could we bear to watch it die? Please, Teacher, spare its life!”
These words immediately triggered a wave of agreement. Half the class didn’t want to see a lamb’s head opened up, and the other half were simply her “face fans.”
Mrs. Ross felt the pressure of the crowd. With a stiff expression, she said, “You are the most difficult class I have ever taught.”
She then looked at Wang Yue. “Wang Yue, because you failed to follow classroom discipline and contradicted your teacher, you are sentenced to stand for the remainder of the lecture. However, I will use some pickled ewe brains as a substitute for the fresh ones. As for this lamb, you will be responsible for taking care of it from now on.”
Having said that, she walked away, her high heels clicking on the floor.
The laboratory immediately erupted in cheers. Dorothy lunged forward and hugged Wang Yue, burying her face in the girl’s chest.
“Master, I love you so much!”
“Stop it. Take your hands off me, and don’t touch my tail.”
Meanwhile, the lamb by the podium behaved quite human-like, spitting a glob of saliva onto the floor.
Lilith clicked her tongue, her irritation growing.
Pickled brains were slightly less effective than fresh ones, but the drop in quality wouldn’t affect the results of a basic Witch’s Ointment, as basic reagents were crude by nature anyway.
As the crafting phase began, the laboratory became noisy. Dorothy scooped up a spoonful of the salty, brined brain matter and looked at it closely.
“It’s white and slimy… eww…”
She then reached out and picked up a bunch of lavender, sniffing it. “Lavender smells so good!”
Wang Yue slapped her hand away. “Don’t contaminate the materials!”
She saw a potential in the little maid to mess up absolutely anything.
In the aisles, Mrs. Ross watched the students work, offering reminders. “Engrave the details of the process into your mind and express them through your movements. Precision is key; do not be careless.”
Wang Yue began her work. Her fingers were long and strong, her movements precise and elegant as she ground the dry ingredients, mixed the wet ones, and added them to the crucible in order, stirring gently with a glass rod.
The finished product appeared quickly—a semi-solid paste, pale purple in color and silky in texture.
Mrs. Ross, on her rounds, nodded in approval. “Excellent.”
Wang Yue returned the smile.
She was very satisfied with the result because she had completed the concoction without relying on the power of a Mystic Art. If she had activated her ‘Puppet’ art, her precision would have rivaled a machine tool. She had tested it before by drawing circles freehand with a pencil; they were indistinguishable from those made with a compass, accurate beyond what the naked eye could see.
Using a spatula to scrape the ointment into a small vial, she pushed the crucible toward Dorothy. “Your turn.”
“Eh? Wasn’t that for both of us?”
“Did you spend twenty ounces of gold just to slack off?”
“…”
Hearing those words, Dorothy felt a jolt of reality. That’s right, it’s only the first day of school—how could I have forgotten my purpose? That’s not good.
And so, she began to move clumsily. Her hand shook, and a spoonful of sheep brain fell onto the table. She reached out to grab it, but couldn’t pick it up for the longest time; instead, she just got her fingers sticky. Once she finally managed to scoop it up, she couldn’t find the rosemary.
The first attempt was indeed difficult. Very few students in the class finished, and the quality of those that did was mediocre.
Mrs. Ross circled the room. Only Wang Yue and Medeili had concocted high-quality basic Witch’s Ointment with a fine texture and proper color.
Even the professor herself couldn’t have done better.
