This Lich is a Better Landlord Chapter 11

Reason told Ambrose there was no way the City of Alchemy would sell him the real deal for five hundred gold coins, but he couldn't resist seeing just how convincing the fake was.

The saleswoman conspiratorially pressed a small vial of silver liquid into his hand.

It was heavy, the weight feeling about right.

But as Ambrose took a closer look, a disappointed expression crossed his face.

"Your mercury is separating. No, wait, this is just regular mercury."

Ambrose wasn't an alchemy specialist, but he was no amateur. He knew what this was at a glance.

A small amount of genuine Living Quicksilver Solution had been diluted with ordinary mercury. The appearance was nearly identical, but an expert could see the immiscible layers of color.

Living Quicksilver could dissolve most metals, which could then be easily extracted, but it couldn't dissolve real mercury.

For five hundred gold coins, this was a shoddy fake.

The saleswoman looked a bit sheepish. "I knew you were an expert," she said. "Don't worry, this is just a sample. It's to show discerning customers like you what's what, so we can talk business."

With that, she quickly swapped it for another vial.

This new bottle of Living Quicksilver made Ambrose click his tongue in appreciation.

At least from the outside, it looked flawless. He'd probably have to open it and run a test to tell if it was genuine or a forgery.

"Two completely different levels of forgery, both for five hundred gold?" Ambrose asked.

"Of course not. That last one was five hundred. This one will cost you at least three thousand."

Ambrose was about to ask to inspect it when a flash of inspiration struck him. "This isn't Living Quicksilver," he praised. "This is Dead Quicksilver Solution. No wonder you can't tell the difference from the outside. Clever."

The saleswoman's eyes widened in shock. She lowered her voice. "Not so loud! Are you buying it or not?"

She was panicking. She'd just been trying to make a little commission, but who would've thought this young alchemist would see through the fake's principle with a single glance? This was a high-grade counterfeit processed by the Alchemists' Council itself, one they claimed was impossible to detect.

And this kid had figured it out just by looking at it, without even opening the vial?

How was that possible? She must have run into one of those old coots who got their kicks pretending to be harmless. What was a centuries-old geezer doing acting like a young pup?!

Seeing her expression, Ambrose knew he'd guessed right. Once you knew the trick, it wasn't complicated at all.

Living Quicksilver was a failed experiment by the City of Alchemy. They had originally intended to create a new type of slime, but what they got was a quicksilver slime in a "vegetative state."

It was alive, but it had no consciousness, not even the ability to move. All that remained was the instinct to devour metal.

If it weren't for that moderately useful metal-devouring instinct, it probably would have been tossed out as waste.

But even a "vegetative" slime was a living thing, and all living things eventually die.

A dead quicksilver slime didn't rot. It looked identical to a living one, so much so that even the alchemists in the City of Alchemy couldn't tell the difference. The only way to distinguish them was to drop in a piece of metal.

A living quicksilver slime would devour it; a dead one couldn't.

Some genius had come up with the idea of mixing a tiny piece of a living quicksilver slime with the corpse of a dead one, creating a half-dead concoction.

It still had the metal-devouring effect, but it was greatly diminished.

An outsider, however, probably wouldn't know if the quality of the Living Quicksilver had declined or if it had just been "weakened" during transport. They might even think they could nurse it back to health.

As for the shoddier fake, that was likely a crude imitation made by someone lower down the chain who'd seen the real thing and tried to replicate it. It might have even been this saleswoman's own handiwork, a little side hustle for some extra cash.

She only brought out the high-end counterfeit when she realized she couldn't fool an expert like Ambrose.

The City of Alchemy knew the genuine product was too expensive to sell. Without money for upkeep, the Living Quicksilver would just keep dying off. They were losing money every day, which was why they'd resorted to such a dirty trick.

Ambrose figured more than a few suckers had already paid full price for this high-end fake.

A clever but utterly despicable method.

Truly worthy of the City of Alchemy. The city had held the title of the continent's wealthiest for years, but it had never once appeared on any morality rankings.

Ambrose was originally going to refuse.

After all, this was for a business deal with his friend from the Elegy Society.

He was desperate for money, but money earned through scams and deceit would be lost just as quickly. That Headless Knight fellow was married into a bone dragon's clan. The moment the knight's wife discovered his poorly hidden private stash, the old boy certainly wouldn't cover for him.

Ambrose would then face the wrath of a Legendary bone dragon and a Legendary headless knight.

A tag-team beatdown from that happy couple would probably smash the phylactery of even a watered-down Legendary like himself. It was a deal guaranteed to end in a net loss.

But just as he was about to hand the vial back, a thought occurred to him.

Does a dead quicksilver slime count as a corpse?

Ambrose only dabbled in alchemy, but when it came to necromancy, he was a true expert.

He almost asked if the Alchemists' Council had ever tried using necromancy on these dead quicksilver slimes, but he swallowed the words.

It was just a sudden whim, a random idea that had popped into his head. What if the council had a blind spot and had never considered it? If he opened his mouth, he'd be tipping them off.

If it worked, he would be handing the Alchemists' Council a golden opportunity to turn their fortunes around, and those capitalists would never pay him royalties.

With that in mind, Ambrose turned to the saleswoman. "Three thousand gold is too expensive. Can you go any lower?"

"The price is fixed."

"The price is fixed for the genuine article. This is a fake!"

"I really can't go any lower."

"Then throw in two vials of the shoddy stuff."

...

After a round of haggling, Ambrose spent three thousand gold coins and walked away with one vial of the high-end counterfeit, one of the low-grade version, and two packets of enchanted seeds as a bonus.

It was clear the Living Quicksilver really wasn't selling.

Ambrose had planned to browse a bit more. Keeping humans alive in a lich's domain required a lot of preparation. But now, his mind was completely consumed by the Living Quicksilver Solution. His intuition screamed that there was a huge business opportunity here.

Leaving the City of Alchemy, Ambrose raced back to his old castle at top speed, even turning into a plume of smoke to slip in through the roof.

He dropped the transformation spell, reverting to his sinister, fearsome lich form, and rushed straight to his laboratory with the two bottles of fake goods.

Isabel was still diligently concocting Basilisk Oil, several finished products already lining the shelves. With Ambrose's guidance, she had finally mastered the potion's formula. The girl's fundamentals were solid; she'd successfully brewed ten vials of Basilisk Oil with only a single failure, an impressive result.

But when Ambrose's gaze swept over the wasted ingredients, Isabel felt her heart leap into her throat.

Would this lich become enraged because she'd wasted these materials? Would he turn her into an experiment for his necromancy?

No expression could be read on the lich's skeletal face; it was perpetually狰狞. As this lich walked toward her without a word, she felt the pressure of survival wash over her and couldn't help but look for someone to help.

Where was that little alchemist boy from before? He was an undead too, right?

Even though he'd only given her a few pointers, she could still consider him her teacher.

Teacher, please, come save your student!