The more Arya thought about the possibility of extracting kerosene from crude oil, the more feasible the idea became in her mind.
After all, she was an Alchemist.
In the past, she had successfully extracted minerals with purities exceeding ninety percent from raw ores. Whether it was refining metal crystals or isolating rare components, she already possessed a great deal of hands-on experience. From her perspective, crude oil was simply another raw material—albeit a complicated one.
The true problem was not feasibility, but knowledge.
Unlike ores, whose internal structures could be intuitively sensed and manipulated through alchemy, crude oil was a complex mixture of substances. Without understanding the relationship between its components and kerosene, blindly attempting to extract it would be nothing more than reckless trial and error.
After pondering for a long time, Arya finally made up her mind.
She opened her communication interface and sent a message.
"Arya: Roy, can you find me a chemistry professor?"
The reply came almost instantly.
"Roy: A chemistry professor? You're planning to use alchemy to extract kerosene, aren't you?"
Arya paused for a moment, then smiled faintly.
He really did understand her well.
"Arya: Yes. I want to try."
"Roy: That won't be a problem. Give me some time."
This was the villains' base camp—an underground hub where talents from countless worlds gathered. Scholars, scientists, researchers, lunatics, and geniuses of every imaginable field were hidden here. Finding a chemistry professor was hardly a challenge.
Roy was confident.
After ending the conversation, Arya shifted her focus back to her surroundings.
She retrieved the kerosene stove and fuel she had obtained earlier. The stove itself was milky white and stood about a meter tall. At its base was a rotary valve used to control the flame intensity, while above it rested a ring-shaped grate designed to support cookware.
The main body of the stove featured a small glass window that allowed one to observe the flame inside, and the top had a flat platform where a kettle or pot could be placed.
In short, it looked exactly like the kind of kerosene stove often seen in old television dramas.
Arya carried the stove up to the third floor without hesitation. After that, she dragged her bed upstairs as well.
The reason was simple.
The stove was only capable of heating an area of around seventeen square meters. The second floor was far too spacious; even with the stove running at full capacity, it would never be warm enough.
The third floor, however, was only about twenty square meters. A smaller room meant better heat retention.
Fortunately, the windows on the third floor were neither the tiny circular ones from medieval towers nor the massive floor-to-ceiling glass walls found on the second floor. They were ordinary windows, just large enough to pass furniture through. That alone saved Arya from unnecessary suffering.
Still, the process of moving everything inevitably required her to go outside multiple times.
For Arya—who was not particularly tolerant of the cold—it was an unpleasant experience.
What puzzled her most was the weather itself.
There was no snowfall during the day, and the sun even appeared in the sky. Yet despite standing under direct sunlight, Arya felt no warmth whatsoever. The cold seemed to seep directly into her bones, ignoring the sun entirely.
"Is this what they call winter sunlight in the north?" she muttered.
As someone who had grown up in the south, Arya had never experienced such a phenomenon. Naturally, she attributed it to regional differences, unaware that the abnormal cold was closely tied to magical turbulence rather than ordinary climate.
After finally finishing the move, Arya opened the fuel port at the bottom of the kerosene stove.
She had noticed earlier that there was still some fuel left inside, but she was the type who felt uneasy unless everything was properly prepared. Without hesitation, she topped it up until it was nearly full.
Only then did she allow herself to relax.
She took a hot shower, wrapped herself in clean clothes, and lay down on the bed.
To her surprise, the effect was immediate.
Despite being only a meter-tall heater, the difference it made was enormous. For the first time since the cold snap began, Arya no longer felt as though the blanket itself was made of ice.
The warmth enveloped her gently.
That night, she slept exceptionally well.
She did not toss and turn. She did not overthink. She did not lie awake planning experiments or calculating formulas in her head.
She simply slept.
When Arya finally opened her eyes again, she felt refreshed in a way she hadn't experienced in a long time.
Outside, the sky was still dark, but that did nothing to dampen her enthusiasm.
She immediately threw herself into potion research.
Although the antifreeze potion she had developed earlier was effective, it only lasted about ten minutes at most. That duration was far from satisfactory. From Arya's perspective, such a potion was barely usable.
The kerosene stove solved her immediate problem, but it was not a permanent solution.
Without a method to extract kerosene, the limited supply she had would only allow her to sleep comfortably for four or five nights at best.
And while the current cold wave was likely caused by magical turbulence, there was no guarantee that a similar temperature drop wouldn't happen again in the future.
Preparing in advance was always the wiser choice.
More importantly, Arya genuinely wanted to conduct the research.
Once an alchemist had an idea, resisting the urge to experiment was nearly impossible.
She couldn't resist it.
Absolutely couldn't.
After a full day of preliminary research yesterday, she already had a vague direction in mind. With systematic experimentation today, she believed she could obtain tangible results.
However, before she could begin, there was one thing she needed to handle.
She glanced at her messages.
A new notification caught her attention.
"Roy: The person you asked me to find yesterday is here. He's a professor from Harvard University named Saimer Gill. He should have already sent you a friend request. Accept it when you wake up."
Arya raised an eyebrow.
She opened her friend request list.
Among the overwhelming flood of unread messages—well over ninety-nine—it took her nearly half an hour to locate the correct one.
The profile picture showed a man with silver hair and sharp eyes. Judging from his appearance alone, he was at least in his fifties.
After carefully checking his name and credentials, Arya finally accepted the request.
"Arya: Hello, Professor Saimer. Regarding knowledge about kerosene, what would you like in exchange?"
The reply came almost instantly.
"Saimer: Greetings, Witch of the Tower. I have a proposal regarding this matter. May we discuss it?"
Arya had originally planned to start preparing her experimental setup immediately after sending the message. She hadn't expected such a quick response—nor a "proposal."
Curiosity got the better of her.
She sat back down.
"Arya: Go on."
She deliberately ignored the title "Witch of the Tower."
At this point, nearly everyone addressed her that way. She wasn't particularly fond of it, but she wasn't offended either.
"Saimer: I will teach you the kerosene extraction technology of Blue Star. In exchange, you teach me the alchemy of this world."
Arya frowned.
"Arya: I refuse."
Her reply was immediate and unambiguous.
"Arya: Your contribution is not proportional to mine. I only require knowledge about a specific substance, while you are asking for my entire alchemical system. If this is the extent of your sincerity, then there is nothing left to discuss. You are not the only person who understands chemistry."
What a joke.
She needed targeted information—nothing more. And yet he wanted access to a complete magical knowledge framework?
Only a fool would agree to such a deal.
On the other end, Saimer stared at the screen in silence.
He had initially assumed that Arya was merely a talented young girl—someone brilliant, perhaps, but inexperienced in negotiation.
He had been wrong.
Not only did she see through his intentions immediately, but she also had no hesitation in rejecting him outright.
If not for the fact that this Witch was acknowledged by the will of the world itself, he wouldn't have bothered negotiating at all.
After a long pause, he typed again.
"Saimer: Then how about this? I teach you Blue Star chemistry, starting from the basics. And you teach me alchemy, also starting from the basics. That should be fair."
It was a compromise.
Since she demanded equality, then both sides would begin at the same starting line.
But was this the equality Arya wanted?
She smiled faintly.
"Arya: That's still impossible."
"Arya: Whether your chemistry is even applicable in this world remains uncertain. But my alchemy is something that will undoubtedly benefit you."
Her message was calm.
Confident.
And utterly unwavering.
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