Morning sunlight filtered through gaps in the Black Mist Forest, casting golden rays along the winding path. After dressing neatly, Robb set off toward the herbal shop.
The memory of Madam Elena's stunning appearance from last night still lingered vividly in his mind.
Though logic reminded him it was only a temporary transformation, some part of him still quietly hoped he might glimpse the beautiful, pink-haired witch again.
He pushed open the herbal shop's door, and the familiar mixed scent of herbs rushed to greet him.
Robb's eyes immediately locked onto the hunched figure behind the counter.
As expected, Madam Elena had returned to her usual aged form.
Her wrinkled face looked like a dried-up riverbed, her large hooked nose loomed over a tightly pursed mouth, and her pale hair was messily tied up at the back. Her age-spotted hands were carefully examining a vial of potion.
Despite having mentally prepared himself, the drastic contrast still triggered a noticeable flash of disappointment on Robb's face.
He tried to compose himself, but judging from Madam Elena's next words, it was already too late.
"What's wrong? You look rather disappointed seeing me like this," the old witch said without looking up, her voice laced with amusement as her hands continued their work.
"Of course not, Madam," Robb answered quickly, but his tone betrayed a hint of sheepish guilt.
Finally setting down the vial, Madam Elena lifted her head and fixed her eyes on the young apprentice. "You rascal, your thoughts are written all over your face. Who are you trying to fool?"
Robb awkwardly looked away. "My apologies, Madam. I meant no disrespect."
"Don't be so tense. I'm not the type to get upset over something that minor."
She waved her hand, though her tone softened slightly—a rare gentleness from the old crone.
"Yesterday's appearance was indeed more pleasant. I liked it better myself. But alas… time shows no mercy to anyone."
She stood up, leaning on a wooden staff engraved with peculiar patterns, and slowly approached Robb.
Her emerald-green eyes studied him closely. "Still, you'll learn in time—true strength and appearance rarely match. Never judge a book by its cover."
Robb nodded in agreement.
"Well then, since you've got all this youthful energy, I just so happen to have a batch of work for you."
She chuckled lightly and pointed to a dark corner at the back of the shop.
"Those newly arrived Thornspike Vines need processing. Every single thorn and knot has to be removed—not a trace left behind."
Robb followed her gesture and saw a large pile of thick, silver-gray vines. They were densely covered in sharp spikes and irregular lumps.
Even under the dim light, the spikes gleamed ominously.
"This…" He swallowed instinctively. It was clear this wasn't going to be a routine task.
Even with his current skills, handling that entire batch of Thornspike Vines would take him most of the day.
The old witch caught the hesitation in his expression instantly. A sly glint flashed in her eyes.
"What, too much for you? Well, let me sweeten the deal—those thorns contain a mild toxin. Extended contact will numb your fingers. With enough exposure, it might even dull your senses."
Her lips curled into a subtle, wicked smile.
"Of course, if this seems too harsh for you, you're welcome to just sit here and admire my 'lovely' face for the whole day. I don't mind."
Robb gave a sheepish scratch to his head. He understood perfectly—this was a small punishment.
Though a bit unwilling, he knew that as his employer, Madam Elena had every right.
Besides, he'd always felt grateful for the job at the herbal shop.
It gave him access to rare materials and knowledge, not to mention the invaluable personal guidance from Madam Elena. He wouldn't reject her request so easily.
"I'll get started on the vines right away, Madam," Robb replied earnestly, and headed toward the daunting pile of malicious-looking plants.
Behind him, he heard the old witch chuckle faintly.
Just as she had warned, processing Thornspike Vines was painstaking and demanding.
Robb quickly realized why this task qualified as "punishment." It required intense focus, patience, and skilled precision.
Each vine had to be scraped clean of thorns and lumps using a special silver knife—slowly, carefully.
A single slip could damage the vine, reducing its medicinal value—or worse, leave him with a hand full of puncture wounds.
Within the first half hour alone, he already had seven or eight tiny cuts on his hands, and had barely made a dent in the pile.
"Your technique's too rough," Madam Elena suddenly appeared at his side, her tone a mix of scolding and guidance.
"Keep the blade at a 30-degree angle. Follow the grain of the vine, never against it."
She took the tool from his hand and demonstrated with shocking finesse—cleanly stripping thorns and lumps without harming the vine's body.
Robb observed her carefully and quickly adjusted his technique.
He had always been a fast learner, and her demonstration was eye-opening.
[Herbalism Insight +1]
As time passed, Robb's movements grew more fluid.
He began to notice patterns in the thorn placements, allowing him to find the most efficient order of removal—and even predict particularly tricky growths ahead of time.
Then, he made a strange discovery: the Thornspike Vines weren't randomly covered in spikes. There seemed to be a hidden order to their growth.
Even more curious, when he was fully focused on the task, he could sense a faint yet steady energy rhythm within the vines.
It was completely different from breathing techniques or meditation—more like a natural heartbeat of life.
"Interesting…" Robb murmured, absorbed in the sensation.
He began aligning his actions with the vine's internal rhythm—and found his efficiency rising dramatically.
It felt as though the vines, on some level, were "understanding" and "responding" to his movements.
Just as Robb was completely immersed, Madam Elena once again appeared beside him—this time holding a steaming cup of dark green liquid.
"Drink this—it'll counteract the toxin buildup." Her tone was calm, but there was a flicker of hidden approval in her eyes.
"Seems like you're better suited for this than I expected."
Gratefully, Robb accepted the cup. After a quick scan to ensure nothing was off, he took a sip.
To his surprise, despite the liquid's odd color, it tasted pleasantly sweet—like mint tea with honey. In moments, the numbness in his fingers faded.
"Thank you, Madam," he said sincerely, then returned to work.
Faster than expected, Robb finished processing all the Thornspike Vines before dusk.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he gazed at the neatly stacked silver-gray vines with quiet satisfaction.
"Well done," Madam Elena said, inspecting the pile. There was no hiding the surprise in her voice.
"Far better than I expected. Looks like you figured out the trick to handling them?"
Robb didn't hide what he'd discovered. "I noticed the vines seemed to grow in a certain pattern. When I matched my movements to it, the work became much easier."
"Growth pattern?" A glint of curiosity flashed in her eyes.
"Interesting… Few people ever perceive the rhythm of magical plants. Your sense perception is indeed... unique."
Saying this, she reached under the counter and pulled out a small pouch she had clearly prepared in advance. It clinked with the sound of hard objects.
"Let's settle your payment for today. It's a bit more than usual—you earned it."
Robb took the pouch and weighed it lightly. It felt like there were about five magic stone shards—definitely more than his usual two.
"Thank you for your generosity, Madam," he said, tucking the pouch away and preparing to leave. "See you tomorrow."
"Hold on, not so fast," the old witch called after him, her tone subtly warmer than usual.
"You're planning to handle your Elementary Apprentice qualification later, aren't you?"