"I Became a Witch, but Now Everyone's in Love with Me!"

Chapter 39: Jiang Cha’s First Bottle of Magic Potion
 

As a master, Myrtle didn’t set a specific path or detailed study plan for Jiang Cha.
It wasn’t because she was irresponsible—this was simply the way the master-disciple relationship worked among witches. It was considered a good thing for disciples to have their own ideas. After all, omniscience and omnipotence weren’t achieved by following rigid steps. Witches didn’t waste time repeating what others had already said; even the venerable Council of Sages were still groping their way forward.
Because of the unique nature of inherent magic, no two witches could ever walk exactly the same path. That’s why traditional inheritance didn’t matter much in witchcraft.

So Myrtle merely handed Jiang Cha a reading list and made sure she had all the necessary resources. How Jiang Cha progressed from there was entirely up to her. If this disciple didn’t work out, she could always find another.
For ordinary witches who lived around 500 years, elder witches who lived at least a thousand, and those who extended their lives for tens of thousands of years using all kinds of magical resources—or who dabbled in necromancy and transformed themselves into death-aligned immortals—a few decades of a young witch’s growth was nothing more than the time it took to study a complex topic.
Just a splash of water in a long river.

The so-called “problem” Jiang Cha now faced wasn’t really a problem. She simply didn’t have enough time—or more precisely, her mental energy didn’t recover fast enough, slowing down her reading speed.
There was a simple solution to that.
Spend money.

“So... that’s why you’re making potions in the Alchemy Club?”
Shi Lan had rushed in after the system alarm in the alchemy room went off. She’d thought Jiang Cha was performing some dangerous experiment that had gone wrong—but when she arrived and looked around…
It turned out Jiang Cha had simply triggered the alarm by forcibly using alchemy equipment to brew a magic potion.

“I can’t help it. I’m not a member of the Potions Club.”
The girl lowered her head and pouted, her aggrieved look softening even the hardest heart.
“…Fine, whatever.”

Shi Lan let out a long sigh. She knew Jiang Cha had done it on purpose to get her attention—but honestly, who could stay mad at such a cute face?
So be it. The Alchemy Club was already full of troublemakers. One more wouldn’t make a difference.
She walked over to the corner and picked up a silver box-like device. A faint glow of magic spread from her fingertips, and the flashing red light on the alarm box faded instantly.

“This is just the alarm—it’s used to detect potential risks in the alchemy room,” she explained, tossing the device to Jiang Cha. “The only tricky part is the detection system. The actual alarm circuit is so basic even a child could dismantle it.”
“…”
“Senior, you’re way too indulgent, you know that?”
But I like it!

Jiang Cha kept her head down, but the moment Shi Lan left the room, she locked the door behind her.
Without hesitation, she dismantled the alarm box and removed the logical loop that triggered it from incorrect usage.
Now she could focus on making her potion.

At first glance, alchemy and potions seemed similar—sometimes even sharing the same material handling methods. But in truth, there was one major difference:
Potions had to work with a witch’s body.
They were meant to be consumed.

In alchemy, as long as something didn’t explode or collapse, it could be considered a usable magical product, regardless of its strength. But potions were different.
Even though witches were far more mysterious and powerful than humans, some biological rules still applied. Just like human medicine required deep understanding of anatomy and metabolism, potion-making involved meticulous research—and typically, a long trial period—before anything could be used safely.
So unlike alchemy, where even a novice could stumble into a clever invention, potions were another matter entirely. Only trained potion masters could realistically develop new formulas.

If one day, a half-baked alchemist-witch pulled out a bottle from her pocket, smiled, and claimed, “I made this amazing potion myself! Drink it and you’ll be able to go three days and nights without getting tired in bed!”
Don’t hesitate. Run.
The farther, the better.

Because that black-hearted witch was almost certainly looking for a guinea pig.
The potion might not do what she said it would. You might enter a heightened state of magical clarity... or you might end up in the bathroom with your insides falling like a waterfall, or exploding like the Yellow River rushing upstream.
Still, what Jiang Cha was doing wasn’t all that risky.

In fact, following the textbook step by step, she was learning potions much faster than alchemy.
Right now, all she needed was a mental recovery potion. After learning the basics of pharmacology and treatment, all she had to do was follow the recipe exactly.
Back in the day, vague instructions like “a pinch” or “an appropriate amount” would stump new students. But now, in the 22nd century, potion tutorials were integrated with virtual reality recordings. ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) Through mental magic, learners could directly experience the potion-making process through the body of the original developer.

If you failed the first time, you could just try again. Each attempt cost money—but with enough cash, even a witch who knew nothing about potions could eventually learn.
Of course, this only worked for low-tier potions.
Intermediate ones were a different story.

They were meant for senior witches and required personalized customization based on magical traits and energy profiles. Otherwise, magical conflicts could arise—best case scenario, the potion just wouldn’t work. Worst case? Well, imagine your potion sending a dozen battlefield witches to the bathroom all at once, and you’ll understand why potion masters have a saying:
“If your alchemy isn’t up to standard, either learn to fight, or stop calling yourself an alchemist.”
So in truth, potion-making was deceptively simple—and terrifyingly complex.

“I can only sigh,” Jiang Cha muttered, “that Potions is a subject both extremely complicated... and ridiculously simple.”
Ten minutes later, she had completed her first bottle of potion.
The liquid was clear and pure, no visible impurities.

Sky-blue in color, magically stable.
All signs of a successful brew.
Jiang Cha held the bottle in her hand, uncertain of the mechanisms behind it. Mental magic was notoriously complicated.

She understood the purpose of each ingredient. But when combined, they created something beyond her current understanding.
Why was it sky blue? Was it due to the aquamarine color-fading reaction, or the magical pigmentation of the guardian bat’s brain?
Why was it a liquid? Was it the solvent base, or a result of the extraction method?

She had no idea.
The inner workings of a mental recovery potion weren’t something a beginner needed to grasp. Thankfully, this was just a low-tier potion.
But Jiang Cha knew two things for sure.

It was safe to drink.
And it worked.