Chapter 130: Golden Fertilizer

The elven elder looked up at the piping overhead. Some magical plants required specific concentrations of ambient mana, and the fact that separate pipelines had been installed to enhance these conditions impressed him. It was a clever approach. He nodded to himself, acknowledging that both the design and the layout were nearly impeccable.

It reminded him of his mentors back in the towers of Yemeli. If Bourne had lived during the height of that era, his talent would surely have rivaled that of the archmages' own disciples.

"I hope this alchemical workshop meets your standards, Elder Hill. If you don't mind, you are welcome to stay here for a while and provide some guidance to these children," Bourne said, seizing the opportunity to extend an invitation. "As you know, caring for magical plants carries certain risks. There is no one more familiar with this field than you, and we would greatly value your instruction."

In truth, even if Bourne hadn't asked, the old elf had already planned to stay for a while. He found the young man remarkably tactful—the way Bourne had paved the way for him to stay was exceptionally smooth. As for that other blockhead behind them, the elder truly wanted to slap him into silence.

Seeing the elven elder agree, a smile spread across Bourne's face. He immediately instructed Lehman to arrange the best room available, secretly signaling him to ensure the elder was well-attended. Having an elder in the house was like having a treasure, and this man was more than a treasure—he was a rare relic.

Bourne guessed the elder had lived for at least a thousand years. Through his perception of "Qi," he could sense the elder’s vitality was incredibly robust, surpassing everyone else present. Even if the current occupants of the workshop were to pass away from old age, the elven elder would likely still be going strong. Normal elves, non-professionals, did not reach adulthood until 110 and lived, on average, to 700 years.

When the mana surge erupted in the storage room moments ago, others might not have felt it, but Bourne, with his mastery of "Qi," had instantly perceived the bottomless depth of the elder’s natural energy—a sensation he had only ever experienced from his grandfather.

If he remembered correctly, Druids gained a special ability at level fifteen: [Timeless Body]. This meant the Druid would no longer suffer age-related attribute penalties, nor would they age due to magical effects. In essence, they remained in their prime until death, and if they continued to grow in power, they could become even stronger. Druids were already master potion-makers, and as long-lived elves, Bourne had yet to hear of a single elven Druid dying of old age.

Once the elder settled in, Bourne had plenty of ways to ensure he wouldn't leave. With him in the workshop, they could rest easy. As for little Iggy, that would be even easier to resolve.

Iggy was human, but having been taken in by the elven elder among so many other children, he undoubtedly possessed a special talent. Bourne was already cultivating two other youngsters, so one more wouldn't hurt; who knew what surprises might emerge later?

The "human, god, demon" dynamic he had imagined hadn't quite manifested as expected. Black and Lilith were not much older than Iggy, but since awakening their bloodlines, they had shot up in height. Even with their "disguise amulets," they couldn't hide the peculiar charisma they radiated. Bourne and Lehman were accustomed to them, but others in the Lehman Chamber of Commerce would instinctively step aside or lower their voices when the two appeared. Iggy, in particular, became exceptionally well-behaved whenever he saw Black and Lilith.

The elven elder had seen through the disguise amulets instantly, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. It wasn't that he hadn't seen demigods or demon-bloods before, but their childhoods were notoriously short, and after being hardened by society, they often developed cynical, vengeful hearts. These two, however, were peaceful. Most remarkably, they were a scion of gods and a scion of demons, and they were nearly the same age—the luck involved was simply heaven-defying.

"Accelerated growth control is not without its price," the elven elder said solemnly. "Even in the High Forest, using such power results in the plants withering and dying the following year. The land itself becomes barren, turning into a desert within a few years!" He added with gravity, "This is the curse of nature!"

"Turning into a desert? A curse of nature?" Bourne’s expression turned peculiar.

The elder continued, "It does not affect living beings, only the soil. You could renovate the soil or cover it with a thick new layer to grow plants again, but due to the lingering curse, the growth will be poor. Magical plants rely even more heavily on the soil; beyond consuming vast amounts of mana, they ravage the earth. A great Druid once attempted to catalyze magical plants in a mana node area, and as a result, that area could not support magical vegetation for years. Even replacing the soil didn't help; without the long-term nourishment of natural mana, the plants simply could not survive."

"Are you certain you still want to catalyze the growth of your magical plants?" The elder looked at Bourne quietly.

Bourne was momentarily stunned, followed by a sense of amusement. This was a problem that even a primary school student from his past life could solve. It was hard to believe that even a race as magically sophisticated as the elves had failed to address such a simple issue.

Just as Bourne was about to speak, the elder added, "However, the curse is not unsolvable, though the cost is steep."

"Oh? What is the solution?" Bourne asked, curious.

"Sacrifice," the elven elder said coldly.

"Sacrifice?" Bourne exclaimed, surprised. It was just a matter of the soil lacking nutrients; was sacrificing to the gods really necessary?

"Not to the gods, but to the great Nature itself. Ancient sages discovered that burning the same amount of vegetation on the cursed land could lift the curse. In mana node areas, drenching the soil with the blood of magical creatures can also accelerate recovery." The elder narrowed his eyes, watching Bourne to see how he would choose.

*Is that all? It seems that an extreme magical civilization has hindered the exploration of the essence of things,* Bourne mused. *Especially in a world where gods manifest, when they encounter problems they cannot explain, they simply attribute them to the gods. Once the gods are involved, even later researchers are too intimidated to investigate further.*

This was the limitation of the entire world. If Bourne didn't have the memories of his past life, he would have likely retreated at the mention of a god-level curse. But how to explain soil fertility to the old man?

Bourne pondered for a moment and hit upon a brilliant idea. "Elder Hill, are you familiar with alchemy?" He realized his mistake as soon as he said it—Druids were master potion-makers, and potion-making was a branch of alchemy.

"You need not worry about the curse on the land. I have a way to solve it without using the blood of magical creatures, and the land will recover all the same."

Hearing this, the elven elder became instantly intrigued. If Bourne could overcome this hurdle, then mass-producing magical potions was truly a viable prospect.

"Tell me, Elder, have you ever heard of an alchemical reagent called... Jin Ke La?"