Overlord: Start from the Goblin Lair.

Lavinia did not live up to her lofty words. Even though she had learned everything and even helped Ron a lot when he prepared the potion, three hours was still too much time for her.

But the good news was that five hours later, Gillianis brought her back to the temple. In her hand, the halfling held a potion that was almost identical to the one made by Ron. Without waiting for anyone to ask questions, she quickly walked to the last person who had not recovered, opened his mouth, and poured the potion down his throat.

In less than a moment, the horse's trembling gradually stopped, and in confusion, he opened his eyes like the other tribesmen.

"It actually works?" Polly looked at the awakened man in surprise, judging his recovery. "It's really interesting, little guy, are you saying that anyone can make Ron's potion?"

The witch is interested in this kind of thing but not very much. After all, her power is completely contrary to this model. The witch's spells and props are weird and strange, and even those she made herself may have differences.

But Ron's potion revealed another possibility to her: a lower threshold, the same effect, or in other words, repeatability.

"Oh my God, I apologize for my rudeness before, Miss Lavinia!" The centaur who had made the noise looked at his nephew with complicated eyes, then looked at the halfling, and finally bowed to her and lowered his head. "I never thought that you could actually -"

"This is not my credit. I just copied Ron's work," the halfling shrugged. "The process from zero to one is extremely difficult, but from one to two is much easier."

Reproducing the work of predecessors or adding some changes of one's own is not a particularly commendable achievement, whether in alchemy, pharmacy or other fields. In comparison, only those who can truly walk their own path are more likely to be remembered.

However, this path is not so easy to take. Considering factors such as cost and benefits, most organizations prefer to take the easy path. As a result, individuals affiliated with the organization have no choice but to make the same choice - after all, the power of one person is not enough to accomplish anything in most cases.

As for the consequences, they are also very simple: no matter how capable or strong one is, if the organization he belongs to is not strong enough and its leader is not far-sighted enough, the fate of most people will be to waste their lives in a job that only requires hands.

Fortunately, Ron did not suffer such a fate. Under his research, the people with the most serious illnesses successfully survived, and so far, they have not shown any signs of recurrence. Although their bodies are still very weak, after a little conditioning, the work pressure of Boone and others has been reduced a lot.

As for the other patients, Lavinia and the others did not choose to risk their lives to treat them. This was Ron's request after he fell asleep, and they would certainly comply. Moreover, in terms of the severity of their illness, the conditions of these patients were much better than those of the people who were worried about their future, and they could wait until Ron had enough rest.

Perhaps because he was aware of the current situation, Ron slept particularly soundly. After Lavinia rescued the last person, he slept for another ten hours before waking up slowly. The moment Ron opened his eyes, the whole world seemed so beautiful and clear in his eyes.

That is, provided that the extremely oppressive Centaur leader does not stand in his way.

"My Lord!" Seeing Ron wake up, Zandia was obviously relieved, "Did you rest well? Do you need to sleep a little longer?"

Ron looked around and found that this was his bedroom. It seemed that everyone was worried that he didn't get enough rest, so they moved him here.

"No, no thanks," Ron covered his head. After a brief moment of refreshment, a dull headache came up quietly. Continuing to sleep would only make the situation worse. Besides, Ron did not forget that he had more important things to do. "How long did I sleep? How did you feel during this time?" "It couldn't be better," Zandia smiled from the bottom of her heart. "My lord, your potion is simply the most magical thing in the world! None of us have relapsed! They can already help Master Bunny and the others take care of other patients."

"That's good," Ron nodded, "Thank you for your efforts, but it's better to take some protective measures to avoid unexpected situations."

"By the way, you..."

Ron turned over and sat up, looking at the centaur. She didn't seem to have any intention of leaving. Instead, she hesitated to speak: "Do you have anything to say to me?"

"Yes, sir." Zandia's expression immediately became serious when he heard Ron's question. "There are some things I think I must report to you about the dream I had when I was unconscious."

"Dream?" Ron was stunned for a moment. "In the case of a high fever, it is indeed possible to have a dream..."

"No, that's definitely not an illusion," Zandia said quickly, "Please listen to me, in my dream, I saw..."

Centaurs are, after all, elven creatures, and their dreams may not be completely useless fantasies. Ron did not interrupt the beautiful dream she had briefly described earlier. He guessed that the highlight was probably yet to come.

"...The voice told me, 'The centaur's fey bloodline is connected to nature, which gives you an intuitive connection with the natural world.'" Finally, Zandia sighed softly and ended her recollection. "After waking up from recovery, I feel uneasy every time I think about this. My lord, you said..."

"Giant mouth, snow, dark clouds?" Ron pondered. In his opinion, the strangest images were nothing more than these. The rest, such as the black dragon and the space channel, were probably the result of the effects of his potion. After all, the dragon blood of Aikthuri also played a big role in it. It was no big deal that Zandia dreamed of a black dragon.

But snow?

"Did the voice introduce itself to you?" Ron looked up. "Did it not? Or did you forget?"

"It should be, no," Zandia recalled again, and said with certainty, "but it should be a female voice, and when I tried to embark on that glorious path, she said..."

"'Under the light of Tyr...'"

"My Lord, do our priests have such power? Or are the angels under Tyr's command... coming to save me?"

"After all, I once saved a priest of Tyr." (End of this chapter)