What was happening in the Umbral Depths was completely unknown to Ambrose.

He was far too busy. The components for the mana extraction furnace had finally arrived. Crates of all sizes stacked up, filling half the castle.

"This really is top-tier equipment. Didn't that old man Flynn skim anything off the top?"

After opening several crates to inspect the goods, Ambrose confirmed that every single component was of excellent quality, without any inferior substitutions or corner-cutting.

Gustavo Flynn's already dark complexion seemed to grow even darker as he watched Ambrose check the cargo. He snapped, "Do you think I'm a profiteer like you?"

Ambrose chuckled. "Oh? And who was it that tricked me into leaving my castle and then brought paladins to raid it?"

Flynn snorted. He was used to Ambrose dredging up old grievances and couldn't be bothered to argue anymore. Besides, this lich was obsessed with gold. Winning an argument wouldn't lower his prices by even a single gold coin. Better to save his breath.

Ambrose didn't press further and smoothly changed the subject. "So, Flynn, you finally became Chairman as planned. What's your next move?"

"First, I need to stabilize relations with the Dwarven King. That bastard Dol Beck pulled one last trick on me before losing. The council's relationship with the kingdom isn't exactly great right now."

With Isabel's support, Flynn had secured most of the younger alchemists' votes and narrowly defeated his longtime rival.

During the final count, he had appeared calm on the surface, but his palms had been drenched in sweat.

Fortunately, things went his way. He had claimed the chairman's seat.

He even tried to offer his rival the position of vice-chairman, but the man had refused outright and even withdrew from the Alchemists' Council entirely.

At first, Flynn thought he was just being a sore loser. But later, he realized the deeper implication behind Dol Beck's actions.

Dol Beck was the royal alchemist of the Dwarven King and effectively represented the kingdom's interests.

By withdrawing after his defeat, he had dramatically reduced the kingdom's influence over the council. It was a deliberate move to stir conflict between the council and the crown.

Sure enough, shortly after Flynn took office, officials from various royal departments began swarming in to conduct inspections, audits, and safety checks.

Flynn was run ragged. It was obviously intentional. The council had barely been established: there were no taxes to audit, no operations to regulate.

The Dwarven Kingdom was sending him a message. If Flynn didn't resolve this, the council wouldn't be able to take a single step forward.

"I can write you a letter of recommendation to the Dwarven King," Ambrose said. "It might help."

Flynn scoffed. "You?"

What connection could this lich possibly have with the Dwarf King? After the last peace talks, even the King's Hand had died—and Ambrose had played a key role in those negotiations. The Dwarven King was already being magnanimous by not going after him.

Ambrose smirked. "I have a lot of friends. Just wait, you'll see results soon enough."

He was already planning to have Heki Stone speak with the king. Alchemy couldn't develop without royal support. If the Dwarven Kingdom could be turned into a new Alkhemia, his master's power might recover significantly.

Flynn narrowed his eyes, thinking for a moment, then suddenly snapped, "You bastard, are you planning to wait until I fix things myself, then jump in claiming your ‘letter' helped when you actually did nothing, just to scam me out of gold?!"

Ambrose blinked. "What's wrong with you? Are you really that paranoid? Do I look like that kind of person? If you don't believe me, do nothing for a few days. If the king's attitude changes, then pay up."

"Pay you? I never said I'd pay you!"

"Fine, fine. Consider it free. Given the quality of this furnace, I'll help you once at no charge."

"Heh."

Flynn neither agreed nor refused. Free, was it? Then he'd just pretend he hadn't heard anything.

Though the meeting ended on an unpleasant note, their cooperation continued.

Ambrose handed over the production of the Potion of Youth to Flynn, including its formula. He wasn't worried about being cheated. The key ingredient was the special slime produced within his castle. Without that, the formula was useless. He held a material monopoly.

Flynn, on the other hand, already had access to a full alchemical production line and could begin large-scale manufacturing immediately.

Isabel only needed to supply raw materials at regular intervals.

Ambrose, however, set one condition for all distributors: when promoting the potion, they had to mention, at least briefly, the history of alchemy. It didn't need to be detailed. A few lines woven into the advertising was enough.

On the surface, it sounded like praise for the product. In reality, it was planting the idea that alchemy could change the world.

Human limits had been surpassed since the invention of the first vitality potion. Machinery across the continent had evolved thanks to magitech engineering. All production lines had undergone a qualitative leap with the creation of mana-powered furnaces. Alchemy had always been inseparable from the world, and Ambrose was simply reminding people of that fact.

Isabel's Potions of Youth were only one of the products that Ambrose had in mind to revitalize alchemy. He would need far more. By branding and associating his products with the God of Alchemy, if all those who used his potions praised his former master, the God of Alchemy might rise to even greater heights.

Even simple words of praise and thanks could convey faith, especially en masse.

How many people around the world used potions as part of their daily lives? Even a modicum of faith could grow into a mountain if enough people bought in.

But the Potions of Youth alone wouldn't be enough. Costing thousands of gold, they were "cheap" only for nobles. It didn't target the poor.

What Ambrose needed was a product for everyone: affordable, necessary, and ubiquitous. Something every commoner could use.

For now, he had no idea what such a product might be. It would take time and energy to think of, and then develop, such a product.

With the furnace secured, he could count his trip a complete success. His next step was to return underground and build his own alchemical factory.

After saying farewell to a somewhat reluctant Isabel, Ambrose returned beneath the desert, but not to his own domain. Instead, he headed once more to Heki Stone's dungeon.

The gatekeeper was the same dwarven vampire as before. The moment he saw Ambrose, he scrambled away in terror to report his arrival, no longer daring to joke about tasting his blood.

Soon, Ambrose was escorted inside. Heki's dungeon wasn't as large as his own, but it was just as spacious and just as filled with gold.

Heki had no sense of aesthetics whatsoever. He simply piled gold everywhere. When Ambrose stepped into the glittering hall, he barely resisted the temptation to summon his Golden Throne and absorb it all.

Heki noticed his gaze immediately. "Old friend," he said nervously, "next time, just contact me through the Necromantic Codex. Why do you keep coming here in person?"

He firmly decided that, next time, he'd receive Ambrose in a room without gold. Otherwise, the lich might snap and rob him blind. And honestly, Heki wasn't sure he could stop him.

Ambrose said bluntly, "This place is too tempting. Let's get to the point. I need a favor. One of my friends has fallen under suspicion from the Dwarven King..."

He explained Flynn's situation in detail, but Heki frowned. "It's not that I don't want to help. But my relationship with the king isn't as close as you think."

"Isn't he your thrall?"

Anyone bitten by vampires fell under their influence. Even without a formal contract, the Dwarven King and Heki had exchanged blood, making them true kin, closer than father and son.

Heki gave a dry laugh. "Blood ties exist, sure. But how much ‘familial affection' does a king really have? Even if I were his father, would that stop him from killing me for power? History says otherwise."

Ambrose nodded. That made sense. He didn't push further. After all, this was just a favor. Flynn would find a solution eventually.

Heki casually agreed to try, and was just about to ask for compensation, when Ambrose said, "By the way, when are you planning to speak with Arthur Lyon?"

At that, Heki Stone forgot all about asking for payment.

For dwarves, excavation was a way of life. Perhaps because of that, Heki had always loved history. He once dreamed of becoming a historian.

But dwarves cared more about the gold in tombs than the people buried in them. Reality forced him into a life of grave-robbing.

Only after becoming a vampire did he finally gain the time to pursue his passion. Over the years, he had become a true historian.

Arthur Lyon held special significance for him. Gold no longer mattered. He wanted the truth.

"I've almost finished organizing the relevant materials," Heki said. "We can do it today. I'll come to your place shortly. And regarding your earlier question about the origins of racial discrimination in Lyon, I've compiled quite a bit of research."

He gestured, and a full chest of parchment was brought before Ambrose.

"If my research is correct..." Heki's expression grew serious. "...then the root of it all lies with Arthur Lyon's son."