"There. You have your cure now, so settle in and focus on your dissection practice in the lab. When you have time, go through the introductory texts on the shelf, and once you've got the basics down, I'll start teaching you the fundamentals of serumcraft experimentation..."
Pisces had no idea what Ryan was actually wrestling with in his head. Having handed over the cure, his main concern now was keeping Ryan from running off.
"Yes, Teacher."
Ryan nodded, not bothering to test the old man's patience any further.
The two of them said little else. The old man went back to studying his newly acquired Golden formula.
Ryan, meanwhile, with his plans thrown into disarray, sank into deep thought.
Something about all this felt off. Now that he knew the truth about the Zombie Serum, Pisces's appearance in the Weasel Bandit Gang suddenly seemed suspiciously well-timed — though he couldn't quite pin down what the man's actual goal might be.
And for that matter, the Weasel Gang's own background was starting to feel curious too. Not just anyone had the nerve to assassinate an imperial noble in a fortified territory like Steelburn Fort. Whoever had hired the hit had to be someone with serious reach.
Could Quinn himself be tied to that shadowy backer somehow?
But clearly, Pisces and Quinn weren't cut from the same cloth either.
Tch. Now this was getting interesting.
Though he couldn't work out exactly what conspiracy lay beneath all this, one thought settled firmly in Ryan's mind: he couldn't stay here any longer.
...
"Since this poison won't trigger for another three years, at least my life isn't in immediate danger for a good while. The Ormar Empire is vast — surely there's no shortage of high-level medical-type Transcendents somewhere who could break a toxin like this..."
With the poison no longer set to trigger within the month, at least the most urgent crisis had been resolved. Weighing his options, Ryan had already made up his mind.
He'd stick to the original plan and escape the Weasel Bandit Gang.
Three years was no short span of time — plenty of room to try every avenue for a cure. And even if he never found one, he now had the cure's formula in hand; refining a few more doses wouldn't be hard. Even if his body developed some resistance to it, it would buy him at least a few more years regardless.
With that settled, Ryan acted as if nothing were wrong, walking over to the dissection table, picking up the scalpel, and calmly returning to his daily practice.
Out of the corner of his eye, Pisces noted Ryan's composed expression returning and raised an eyebrow. This sly little devil — he couldn't afford to let his guard down again.
Suddenly, as if remembering something, the old man turned and spoke. "Oh — nearly forgot."
"What is it, Teacher?"
Seeing Ryan look over, the old man continued, "Stay in the lab for the next two days, don't wander off. Two days from now there's a large black market trade fair over at Storm Lake. Nearly every bandit gang across southern Ormar will be gathering there..."
Ryan blinked, faintly surprised. "A black market trade fair?"
He'd heard the term before, though he had no real concept of what it entailed.
Call it a "trade fair" if you wanted to be polite — plainly put, it was a mass gathering where bandit gangs converged to fence their stolen goods.
At those gatherings, the various gangs would bring out everything they'd looted, stolen, or otherwise couldn't show in polite company, and trade freely among themselves...
Word had it these fairs were lively affairs, with goods sold cheap and plentiful, and often no shortage of genuinely stunning finds — imperially restricted high-power firearms, military-grade steam equipment, rare materials, and the like.
But over this past transmigrated year, Ryan had been stuck training at the base the entire time, never once allowed outside — so naturally, he'd never seen anything like it.
"Mm."
Pisces nodded and continued. "This particular black market gathering is the largest in nearly a decade — the auction house is bound to have some excellent finds. Serum masters from all the major bandit gangs will be there to network as well. I'll bring you along to see it firsthand, and introduce you to some fellow practitioners while we're at it..."
Gatherings like this really were a paradise for freelance serum masters without institutional backing — looted serum materials went for prices so low they practically sold for pocket change. There was even a chance of picking up serum formulas and advanced knowledge texts that, at imperial auction houses, would be entirely monopolized by high-ranking nobility.
For rogue serum masters drifting through bandit gangs, this was one of the few paths left open to advanced knowledge.
"Thank you, Teacher."
Something flickered in Ryan's eyes as he heard this, and he nodded along easily.
Here he'd been racking his brain for an excuse to get off the base — and now, two days from now, a trade fair packed with crowds — wasn't that the perfect opportunity to slip away?
Had the old man's better nature kicked in? Did he really intend to raise Ryan as a proper disciple, showing him the world?
Obviously not.
*Looks like the old bastard's planning to make his move in two days...*
Instinct planted that thought firmly in Ryan's mind, and the more he turned it over, the more likely it seemed.
The old man had, until now, wanted Ryan locked in the lab practically around the clock — and suddenly he was talking about taking him out in public? The intent was obvious enough.
Ryan understood full well: now that Pisces had his hands on the Golden formula, he'd be even less willing to give up on finding Baron Morin's treasure. The only reason he was staying this calm had to be that he already had some plan in place — fully confident he had Ryan cornered.
Something like... bringing in help from a mental-type Transcendent, a Hypnotist perhaps!
And with Quinn present at the Weasel Bandit Gang's base, it would hardly be convenient to make a move there.
Which meant the "black market trade fair" two days from now was exactly the ideal spot to rendezvous with reinforcements!
...
The Weasel Bandit Gang's steam-powered mechanical city rolled across the icy plain at full speed, its destination Storm Lake, several hundred kilometers away.
Clearly, Pisces wasn't worried about Ryan catching on — he'd already guessed the newcomer would want to make a run for it the moment he had the cure in hand. Telling him about the trade fair ahead of time was, in fact, a precaution against Ryan making some rash, noisy escape attempt that might draw Quinn's suspicion.
The crowded trade fair was, by far, the most sensible opportunity to slip away — that was the hint Pisces was dropping.
Ryan had to admit, it really was the best opportunity he had.
...
Two days remained before the trade fair opened. Since advancing to Corpse-Stitcher, Ryan's senses had sharpened considerably.
He'd already tried scouting for opportunities to slip away, only to discover a faint, almost imperceptible presence lingering outside the lab.
A Transcendent thief, well hidden. Had his senses not been so vastly enhanced after his advancement, Ryan would never have detected the man's presence at all.
Clearly, Pisces had backup within the gang.
The Superior Golden-grade serum had given Ryan's body a tremendous boost, granting him physical attributes that rivaled even a veteran Awakened One. That gave him some confidence he could break past the "watcher" and escape.
But the risk was enormous.
Out on the sparsely populated Frostspine Wasteland, with little terrain to provide cover, he'd be easy to track. Even if he killed the watcher and slipped off the mechanical city, the commotion would almost certainly draw the attention of Quinn — a third-stage Demon Hunter.
The Weasel Gang's professional assassins had formidable tracking skills; once alerted, Ryan's odds of a clean escape would be slim.
Far better to wait — two days from now, when Pisces led him openly out of the base, that would be the true opportunity. At that point, the old man would surely arrange to make his move somewhere with fewer eyes around. Dealing with just one old man and one mysterious Transcendent unskilled in close combat would be far, far easier than facing down the entire Weasel Gang's professional assassins.
That would be when things would truly come down to skill against skill.