Originally, Lann felt that it shouldn't be difficult, but now he was facing unexpected setbacks.
Vesemir seemed unwilling to open up the most complete and profound knowledge of Alchemy within the Demon Hunter community to him.
And it's clear that his actions had nothing to do with interests.
"Be patient, Lann. You've scared Vesemir a bit."
Lann deliberately slowed his pace, walking alongside Geralt and discussing. They had resolved a tricky Curse together and mutually acknowledged each other's character.
A good person always finds good friends, especially during their struggles against wrongdoers.
The Demon Hunter with milky white hair understood the current situation well.
"If you had previously described to me your Alchemy talents reached this point, I would surely have advised you to approach Vesemir differently."
Lann felt somewhat puzzled.
"What do you mean by that?"
Geralt didn't immediately respond to the young man's confusion but instead looked at Lann's face with a hint of a smile.
"Young... you're too young."
"You're so young that you haven't had the chance to see another Demon Hunter Apprentice undergoing the Trial of Grasses, right?"
"Vesemir has presided over several generations of Demon Hunter's Trial of Grasses; the scene for him... is akin to witnessing Hell!"
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the tree canopy, grazing Geralt's calm face.
The light spots did not feel warm; on the contrary, they only deepened the coldness.
"On the third day, apart from a boy just ten years old, all other children died. He was restless due to sudden madness and then instantly fell into a deep coma. His eyes were vacant, continuously grasping at his clothes or waving in the air as if trying to grab a quill. His breathing grew heavier; cold sweat broke out, his skin became wet and sticky, emitting a vile smell. Then a type of medication was injected into the boy's veins, triggering his seizures. These were accompanied by nosebleeds, severe coughing turning into vomiting until the boy was completely exhausted and immobile."
Geralt spoke the above in a tone as cold as an experimental report.
"Have you heard of it? This is the eyewitness account of the Trial of Grasses."
"Though it's hard to admit, the initial batch of Demon Hunters was indeed born upholding the naive ideals of saving humanity and destroying monsters. For such individuals to personally inject poison into a child's body and meticulously observe them suffer to avoid missing the moment of reaction. And even then, seven out of ten children would still turn into piles of rotten flesh... It must be said, as a punishment, it's highly creative."
At that moment, Geralt laughed sarcastically.
"Guilt can drive a person mad, even with a noble mission to rely on."
"The Wolf School has now agreed as remaining Demon Hunters not to conduct the Trial of Grasses unless absolutely necessary."
"Moreover, we know about Wizards' desire for research achievements related to Demon Hunters' body mutations, so Vesemir has been keeping an eye on research data in this area."
Having said this, Geralt looked at Lann, who seemed to have understood something, and shook his head.
"Your Alchemy talents and the projects you participate in make Vesemir afraid. He fears that, one day, lying on your laboratory table won't be some rabbits, mice, or human corpses, but..."
Geralt didn't continue to say what 'but' was, but Lann could already imagine.
"I won't reach that point."
Suddenly, the young man said straightforwardly to Geralt.
Geralt nodded in an unsurprised manner.
"I know, I believe you. So now, I advise you not to do anything, just follow Vesemir for a while."
"This old fellow is very good at judging people; once he feels you're trustworthy, you'll naturally reach your goals." Thɪs chapter is updated by novel-fire.net
"Anyway, I think you definitely won't have a problem."
Even though they hadn't been together long, Geralt spoke with certainty when he expressed his trust in Lann, as if discussing having eaten some bread at midday.
Because of this, Lann smiled at the White Wolf, successfully making the agile Demon Hunter Master lose his concentration for a moment, stumble over a tree root, and nearly fall.
"Damn it... your hair's reflection dazzled me!"
"Geralt, speak honestly, you were looking at my face just now!"
The conversation full of 'youthful vitality' behind them made Vesemir's steps ahead noticeably light.
He wore a smile due to his aged wrinkles lifting slightly.
The Demon Hunters knew that at this distance, even speaking softly wouldn't hide anything from a fellow hunter's ears.
Thus, when Lann and Geralt were conversing, it was tantamount to expressing themselves to Vesemir.
Lann was confident, and Geralt believed he was a Demon Hunter whom Vesemir would acknowledge.
The 'living fossil' felt the days ahead would be exceedingly interesting.
The path through Brokilon was challenging, and without Bryan's guidance, the Demon Hunters wouldn't be able to maintain direction while keeping pace.
Bryan always managed to find hidden log bridges over ravines and bravely ventured into swamps covered in green duckweed.
If left without a guide, the Demon Hunters would prefer to detour for several hours, even days, rather than risk such paths.
In addition to the barriers of natural environments, the man-made traps within Brokilon had long become legends outside.
Tree stumps and wooden spikes in deep pits were commonplace, and auto-triggered arrows with poison needles were nothing unusual.
There was also something called a 'hedgehog'—a giant ball covered in spikes tied on ropes, rolling down unexpectedly on roads, usually slopes, to destroy everything in its path.
The 'overnights' mentioned by Geralt were experiences the four had endured several times already.
Bryan consistently found terrain that could retain warmth, most likely covered with dry ferns. During sleep, she indeed snuggled close to the Demon Hunters, but only for warmth and nothing beyond.
At the slow arrival of dawn in winter, they set out again.
During this day's journey, Bryan stopped once more, scanning the surroundings.
The Demon Hunters had figured out by now that she was identifying internal markers of the tree spirits.
Thus, Geralt found a dead tree stump to sit and rest, while Vesemir taught Lann some practical tips.
For instance, how to repack a full bottle of sword oil into quick-applied doses to adapt to sudden combat scenarios, and other such skills.
Despite his complex feelings about Lann's alchemy talent, Vesemir didn't hold back passing on some useful tricks to the younger generation.
In this quiet and profound scene, there suddenly came a scream.
A short, shrill, desperate scream.
The three Demon Hunters, along with the tree spirit, immediately reflexively went into alert mode, looking towards the direction of the scream.
The four exchanged glances for just a moment before synchronously beginning to move towards it.
Beyond a dense evergreen thicket lay a ten-meter or so elevation change of earth.
Below the four, a small figure in a gray-blue jacket was in crisis.
His (or her) mouse-gray hair was a mess from panicked movements.