I don’t necessarily want to use the same herbs I did first time. That antidote I made involved too many ingredients, and it took too long to make. This time, I want to keep it simple. Create something quick and dirty that does a good enough job to revive our friend over there for questioning. It’s a bit callous, but I don’t need him to stay alive. I just need him to wake up and talk.

Of course, I’d prefer to keep him alive, but at the end of the day, he’s an assassin who poisoned me, then tried to kill himself. I’m not going to kill myself keeping him alive.

He scanned through five books’ glossaries without finding any promising leads. On the sixth book, his eyes finally lit up. Dark Silky Ivy. Helps with circulation of blood and qi, and bolsters the heart. Oz spun and snatched up handful of heart-shaped leaves, throwing them directly into the pot. Another few books quickly blurred by before another herb caught his eye. Vanilla Floral Seed. Strong herb that detoxifies and purifies tainted blood. Use sparingly. Plunging his hand into the bags again, he found a small vial of black, bumpy seeds. He put a hand on the side of the pot, checking the status of the leaves, then added three seeds. Six leaves to three seeds. A two-one ratio. Dark Silky Ivy is less concentrated than Vanilla Floral Seeds, so it should be good.

We’ll find out, anyways!

He pursed his lips. Quickly, he flipped through the remaining books he’d scanned. One more herb. Keep it simple. Three herbs. Just enough to detoxify and wake him up.

Oz paused. He squinted at the glossary, then flipped back to the page the glossary referenced. …White Heart Sticks both detoxify and excite the body. Those unconscious from their poison may wake up with a jolt with the application of White Heart Sticks to…

He shrugged. It’s not like I’m against using herbs I used before. He snatched out two White Heart Sticks from the bag of herbs. Holding them in his palm, he circulated his qi through his palm to quickly shed the sticks’ outer coating, then dropped the sticks into the furnace with the rest.

Linnea cocked a brow. “You’re just throwing it in, huh?”

“What am I supposed to do? Look at it hard first?” Oz asked, confused.

She shook her head. “There’s a rhythm to pillmaking.”

“I’m sure that’s true for the high-end stuff, but I’m just making a sloppy antidote as fast as I can,” Oz muttered back. We aren’t going for perfection right now. Success is enough for me.

“Your pills will have a high percentage of impurities. Impurities pile up in the body, and they’ll affect his cultivation in the future if he isn’t careful,” Linnea warned him.

“Oh no, I’m going to give the suicidal assassin an impure pill,” Oz said, rolling his eyes. I’m saving his life. Is he going to throw a fit because I didn’t make the best possible pill? I don’t have time to make a better pill! He’s dying right now, not in three hours.

Aisling narrowed her eyes at Linnea. “He’s doing his best. I don’t see you doing anything to help him.”

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Linnea put her hands up. “I’m not wrong.”

“Have you studied pill-making? You can take over,” Oz suggested.

“Poison-making only,” Linnea said, shrugging.

He glanced at Aisling. Come to think of it, is she able to make pills? She’s higher realm than me, too.

“You’re working hard, Oz. That’s what counts. Don’t pay attention to the words of people who aren’t contributing,” Aisling said firmly.

Oz gave her a thumbs-up, more focused on the furnace. Already had that under control, but got it.

Yeah… she’s a martial mage. In other words, a jock. If she isn’t offering to help, I think it’s pretty safe to assume she’s not well-versed in pill making.

Linnea rolled her eyes and propped her chin on her hand, settling in to watch.

In the pot, the ingredients mixed together. The leaves wilted, becoming a soft mush, and the seeds melted into them, but the sticks remained frustratingly solid. Oz pursed his lips, a little regretful. Maybe I should have listened to Linnea. The sticks are taking way longer to process than the rest of it. I should have put them in first.

The leaves began to burn a little. Oz startled. There’s no time for regrets. Quickly, before it all turns to ash!

He pressed his hands against the side of the pot and grabbed onto the seed-leaf combination with his qi. Pushing upward, he dragged that part to the top of the pot, while he pushed the sticks down toward the bottom. With more heat applied, the outer edges of the stick crisped, burning up, but the heart of the stick reduced to powder in a few moments.

I salvaged it. Let’s go!

Oz grabbed the powder, leaving as much of the burned outer part of the stick behind as he could. He dragged the powder up and mixed it in with the rest of the pill ingredients, applying a spin to the ingredients as he did. They swirled together, gathering into an orb. Unlike his first pill, this one had an uneven surface and only a thin gleam, not the perfect smooth surface and mirror sheen. He gritted his teeth and glanced at the boy. Wan skin and sunken eyes, his brows furrowed in pain, his chest barely moving, he barely clung to life.

Oz shook his head. He gestured, calling the pill into his hand and extinguishing the fuel with a little push of qi. It’ll have to do. Hopefully it’s good enough.

Linnea gave the pill a look. She opened her mouth.

Aisling whirled to face her, eyes narrowed.

Without saying anything, Linnea put her hands up and closed her mouth.

“It’s not a perfect pill, but it’ll have to do,” Oz declared. “Aisling, check him for poison?”

Aisling stood, but Linnea lifted a hand to bar her way. “Let me.”

They looked at Linnea, who shrugged. “I’m a spider. I know a lot about poisons.”

“Fair enough.” Oz stepped back, gesturing for Linnea to go ahead.

She crossed the boy and lifted him up to a sitting position. Moving quickly, she checked his back, his chest, his pockets, running her hands over the seams of his clothing and turning his belt inside out. Tilting his head back, she peered into his mouth, checked behind his ears, and ran her hands through his hair.

I could’ve done that. I’ve been checked at the airport enough times, Oz thought, crossing his arms.

Linnea stepped back, holding up a small paper packet, no bigger than a coin. “Here. His backup.”

Oz nodded, taking it. “Thanks.”

He walked over to the assassin and grabbed his jaw, forcibly opening his mouth. Putting the pill in the assassin’s mouth, Oz pressed the boy’s pressure points again, opening them this time, then pinched his nose and lips until he swallowed.

The boy’s face twisted in disgust. He struggled, trying to spit, but Oz didn’t let him. He snorted. “Come on. You’re waking up.”

“Is it working?” Aisling asked.

The assassin struggled harder, his face turning red. Oz released his nose. The assassin gasped a breath and opened his eyes. Startled, he looked around.

Oz smiled. “Welcome back to the land of the living. What do you think? Want to talk now?”

The assassin stiffened. He made the same strange motion with his jaw, but nothing happened. His hands went to his belt, and he stiffened again.

Sitting down beside him, Oz gave him a friendly look. “Yep. It’s gone. You’re here with me, with no way out but through. So… we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. What do you think?”

He beamed, waiting.