After drinking the magical nectar from two Blood Orchids in a row, Odin could clearly feel that his gradually withering and deteriorating body was beginning to show subtle signs of recovery. Although the increase in vitality was minimal by Aesir standards, as long as his body didn't continue to deteriorate, his divine power would remain stable.
And stable divine power meant a longer life. Realizing this, Odin didn't hesitate any longer and proceeded to drink the nectar from eight of the Blood Orchids.
William, seeing that only three flowers' nectar remained, quickly stepped forward and said, "Whoa, whoa—hold on."
Standing in front of the 1.5-meter-tall Blood Orchid, William stopped Odin and said, "Seriously, Your Majesty? I get that it tastes good, but you can't just silently hog it all to yourself."
Odin, consumed by his focus on the magical nectar, frowned in annoyance, but William didn't budge. "Look, I get that you need it, and I'm not being unreasonable—you've already had eight out of eleven. Don't push it."
Only then did Odin come to his senses, looking both regretful and slightly embarrassed. "They say nothing is more refreshing than sweet rain after a long drought. I suppose I'm living proof. Still, you're right—it's selfish of me."
Clicking his tongue wistfully, Odin chuckled. "At this rate, I should be able to live another year or so. The real question is—how often do these Blood Orchids bloom?"
"What? Just one year?" William asked, surprised. Odin had looked so content, William had assumed the effect would be far more dramatic. "If that's all, what good are they? There's barely enough to split between us."
"No, that's where you're mistaken." Odin shook his head. "You think I'd just sit around waiting to die, knowing my time's running out?"
That made William pause. Right—Odin must have scoured the entire universe for anything that could prolong his life. The fact that he still pinned his hopes on the Tree of Life said a lot about the true value of the Blood Orchid.
Sure enough, Odin explained, "Many powerful artifacts become less effective the stronger you are. The magical nectar worked on me—that means for ordinary humans, it could be ten, twenty, or even a hundred times more potent. If you plan to give some to your mother, you should limit her to one drop per year. Any more, and her body won't be able to handle the excess energy—it'll just dissipate."
"Just energy loss? It won't hurt her physically?"
"If you don't want dark witches or corrupted creatures targeting your mother, then don't do anything reckless." Odin's expression grew serious. "To dark beings, anything that enhances power or prolongs life is a heaven-defying treasure. For those nearing death or stuck at a bottleneck for decades—maybe centuries—they won't care how powerful you are. They'd risk everything for just a shot at staying alive. Even if they can't beat you, they'd hide in places like the underworld to escape your retaliation."
That part hit home. William immediately understood—there was no need to rush into giving his mother immortality.
One drop a year would keep her looking middle-aged, and that was fine. Anything more would be overkill—and attract trouble.
As for ancient dark sorcerers and monsters close to death? William had no intention of drawing their attention.
Sure, he had the confidence to kill them if they appeared. But as Odin had said, those people had nothing to lose. They'd trade a week of life for a year—ten days for ten years. That kind of gamble? No one would refuse.
After thanking Odin, William turned to the Tree of Life and asked, "Celia, how often do the Blood Orchids bloom?"
"If they remain rooted within my system, then every month—when I receive an infusion of natural energy—the magical nectar will form as well," Celia replied. "If you move them elsewhere, as long as the magical density is sufficient, once a year is feasible.
Also, Christine can help replant the Blood Orchid seeds. In just a few years, this whole valley could become a sea of Blood Orchids. But I must warn you about something, William."
"What?"
As he asked, William recalled the giant pythons on Earth—and it clicked. "You mean, planting too many will consume a huge amount of natural magic—and draw the attention of animals?"
"Exactly." Celia was pleasantly surprised that William figured it out on his own and quietly let out a sigh of relief.
As the Tree of Life, it wasn't her place to hinder the evolution of flora and fauna. In fact, she welcomed it. Most animals and plants, once they developed basic intelligence, would instinctively feel gratitude toward the Tree of Life.
So to Celia, the Blood Orchid was undoubtedly a precious treasure.
But it wasn't hers. She was still technically a guest in someone else's territory—and the host happened to be William, a man whose suspicious nature gave her headaches. If she wasn't careful, he might evict her—or worse, chop her down and turn her into a wand.
Fortunately, time was on her side. Eventually, William would forget about the Blood Orchids—or about her.
And who knows? One day William might simply die. In the end, wouldn't the Blood Orchids belong to her anyway?
Plus, with the orchids growing in her roots, both Odin and William now had a vested interest in her survival.
Sure enough, after a quick moment of thought, William said, "Then let's keep things as they are. And start stockpiling Blood Orchid seeds—just in case."
He glanced at Odin, who smiled and nodded. "Don't worry about me. If we split them evenly each month, that gives me a year of life. Twelve months, twelve years."
Then he gave William a meaningful look. "We won't need the Water of Life anymore. However long Celia lives—so do we."
The message was obvious. But William hardly needed Odin to say it aloud.
His good relationship with Celia was purely transactional: benefits in, no threats out.
If one day Celia or the newly-born elves grew bold and developed dangerous ambitions, William would show them what it meant to know their place.
Reaching into his storage space, William pulled out a piece of jade used for crafting healing sigils. He planned to make a small jade bottle to hold the magical nectar.
But before he could do so, Celia offered, "Use a branch from me. That way, the nectar won't lose any of its magical potency."
As she finished speaking, one of her branches shook gently. It shortened slightly as a small bottle-like shape formed at the end of the branch.
Seeing the shape, William immediately said, "If possible, change the design to a gourd."
A virtual image of a gourd appeared in the air, followed by a description provided by Sunday for everyone to hear.
Celia shook her branch again, and the small bottle transformed into a palm-sized green gourd.
Once fully formed, the gourd detached and floated into William's hand.
He beckoned toward the three remaining Blood Orchids and drew the three drops of magical nectar into the gourd. Then he turned the small vessel over in his palm, studying it carefully.
The material was excellent—crafted from the Tree of Life's own branch. But the plain green color lacked flair. After staring at it for a while, William found it rather dull.
He made a mental note: once back on Earth, he'd look up traditional Chinese designs and add some engraving or embellishment. That would make it more pleasing to the eye.
It never even occurred to him that this gourd, besides storing magical nectar, might have other functions.
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