After a long while, Mr. Wangley had finished concocting his polson, which appeared to be a bottle of viscous, black liquid. One could even smell a faint scent of dead fish watting out of it.

“I’m done with my poisons, Mr. Boy Toy. Dare to put it down the hatch?” Quentin taunted as he placed the bottle on the table and provocatively glared at him.

Anyone with a discerning eye could definitely see that the black potion in front of them was highly poisonous.