Souls are typically able to pass through objects, but Mr. F held them in his hand like two writhing worms, twisting and turning in a desperate attempt to escape his grasp. He could feel their fear and desperation, their futile attempts to break free only amusing him further.

The system, as it called itself, had provided Mr. F with information about reagents that could be substituted. To Mr. F's luck, among the valuables taken from the Scorpion Brothers were some alchemical reagents, including rare herbs and minerals he could use.

Mr. F decided he would thank them in their next life for delivering everything he needed for the new recipe right to his doorstep. That is, if there even was a next life for them after he converted their souls into a magical potion to restore his dwindling vitality. With a dark chuckle, he placed the souls into a containment vial designed to hold spiritual essence.

He meticulously prepared the alchemical workspace, ensuring that every tool and reagent was in place. The room was filled with the faint hum of magical energy as he activated the cauldron. The ingredients were laid out before him: dried bloodroot, powdered moonstone, and the ethereal glow of the souls swirling in their vial.

Mr. F directly added the dried bloodroot and powdered moonstone to the cauldron. The dried bloodroot had the property of stimulating the body to regenerate new blood and filter the old more efficiently, while powdered moonstone ensured that the blood vessels were strengthened, preventing them from bursting or the blood from seeping through the pores due to the strain the body might otherwise endure.

He waited until the two ingredients had melded into a thick, viscous mass, then added a measured amount of distilled water, watching as the mixture thinned out and began to bubble gently. With a steady hand, he tossed the vial containing the two souls directly into the cauldron. The souls emitted a faint, eerie glow as they merged with the concoction.

Immediately afterward, he cast a protective spell that enveloped the cauldron from the outside, preventing any escape. The souls couldn't break free. Muffled, high-pitched screams resonated from the cauldron, one after another. Over time, these screams grew fainter and fainter until they completely died away.

Mr. F knew he had to act swiftly now. The essence of the souls was at its most potent but also most volatile state. He intensified the heat beneath the cauldron, carefully controlling the temperature to ensure that the ingredients were perfectly balanced. The liquid inside began to shimmer with a deep, iridescent hue, indicating that the transformation was nearly complete.

With practiced precision, he invoked the final spell, his hands moving in complex patterns as he channeled his magical energy into the cauldron. The mixture started to stabilize, the cauldron hissing and spitting as the last remnants of the souls' energy were absorbed into the concoction.

The liquid in the cauldron glowed with a dark, gleaming surface that seemed to pulse with latent power. It was a risky procedure, but he had successfully transformed the souls of the Scorpion Brothers into a potent elixir that would restore his vitality.

He took a deep breath and, without hesitation, dipped a ladle into the cauldron and drank the potion. A rush of warmth spread through his body, invigorating him and stabilizing his magical core. He could feel his magical powers rising to the peak of Tier 6. He waited hopefully for another surge to Tier 7, but the warm sensation gradually faded, and he sensed the potion's effect diminishing.

Soon after, symbols appeared before his eyes.

[System calculating]

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...

[Calculation complete. The prepared potion achieved 40% of its effectiveness]

[Performance: Subpar]

[Effect: Restored the user's vitality to the peak of Tier 6 for the next week. After one week, the user will slowly lose vitality and approach the end of their lifespan. The host is advised to take appropriate measures]

Mr. F was astonished. One week? Previously, the recipe could only restore vitality for a day! That was a 700% increase! Well, considering he used two souls, it was more like 300-400%, but still a significant improvement. Just as Mr. F was contemplating how to obtain more souls without breaking his moral code, new words appeared before his eyes.

[Further calculation performed]

[To regain the original powers of Tier 9, it has been calculated that the host must create a potion from the souls of 3 Tier 8 mages or one Tier 9 mage. Please note that the alchemical reagents will vary for souls of higher levels]

Mr. F's mind raced. He had managed a remarkable feat with this potion, but the system's new calculations revealed the immense challenge ahead. He needed to find powerful souls to reach the heights of his former glory. The prospect of capturing souls from Tier 8 or Tier 9 mages was daunting, but the system's information had proven invaluable thus far.

His first step would be to strengthen his current position and secure a reliable source of Tier 8 or Tier 9 souls. This meant investigating powerful individuals and their vulnerabilities, all while maintaining his guise and avoiding detection.

As he pondered his next moves, he couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. The system had given him a path to reclaiming his lost power, and though it was fraught with peril, Mr. F was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Just as Mr. F was about to leave the room, the door opened. In walked an elderly man. By the standards of an ordinary man, Mr. F would estimate him to be between 60 and 70 years old.

The man was about to speak but closed his mouth again as he surveyed the room. His gaze wandered around until it reached the cauldron.

He walked over to it and looked inside, only to find an empty cauldron. The faint aroma of chemical substances still lingered in the air, and the man could sense that something extraordinary had happened.

He turned to Mr. F and spoke. "Good day, my name is Peterson. Most people call me Grandpa Peterson, though given your seniority, that might not be appropriate," he said with a slight chuckle. "I wanted to check on you since Matilda is currently out, but I see you're doing well."

"I can sense that you've brewed something remarkable, but don't worry, you don't have to show it to me if you don't want to."

This man gave Mr. F a familiar feeling. He was one of those people with whom you could immediately tell you would get along well.

Since it would be detectable by anyone who examined him closely, Mr. F decided to gain his trust and spoke.

"I brewed a potion to restore some of my vitality. But, unfortunately, I can't show it to you because I was so eager that I drank it right away, ha ha."

Peterson's eyes twinkled with understanding and curiosity. "Ah, vitality restoration, could it be that you still have enough reagents to produce more of these elixirs?" he asked with an expectant look.

Mr. F responded, "It took quite a bit of effort to gather all the ingredients. But if I ever find myself with an extra potion, I'll be sure to come to you first."

Mr. F could sense that Peterson was disappointed, but the old man did not show it. After all, it was evident that, judging by Peterson's age, he had already lived through 90% of his lifespan.

Mr. F could feel that Peterson only had the magical power of a Tier 4 wizard. Even if he had once been a Tier 5 wizard, the likelihood of reaching Tier 6 was slim, and it was very likely that his family had already resigned themselves to his fate.

Peterson smiled at him. "Thank you. We old men have to stick together. Do come by my lab in the next few days. It's at the end of the hall on the left. I've managed to procure a bottle of spirit wine from a traveling merchant. I'm sure it will taste better with company."

He paused for a moment, his expression turning slightly more serious. "Oh, and just so you know... I understand that creating a vitality elixir was important, but don't forget the reason you're currently in this lab. This is just a friendly reminder, not a threat," he said.

Mr. F nodded, appreciating the subtle warning. "I understand, Peterson. I won't lose sight of my primary objectives."

Peterson's face brightened once more. "Good to hear. Until then, take care of yourself."

As Peterson left, Mr. F felt a renewed sense of urgency. He knew he had to balance his personal quests with the responsibilities that brought him to this place. Returning to his cauldron, he began planning his next steps, mindful of the delicate balance he had to maintain.