Chapter 13 - Chapter 13: Ethan Moore’s Worries

Life in Raozhou City didn't pause for the absence of Ethan Moore. Even his former landlord, Ivy Lu, though concerned, could do nothing more than wonder where he had gone. Since the day he started penicillin production, Ethan Moore had stayed almost entirely within the walls of Danhan Alchemy. For him, making penicillin was child's play—there were even undergrads back on Earth who managed such projects for term assignments. Chenyu's technology wasn't backward either; most of the equipment he needed could be sourced with just a few tweaks here or there. His only real challenge lay in transforming injectable and intravenous penicillin into an effective oral form. Injections would never be practical for mass use, and universal access to safe injections was out of the question. Creating a pill form—amoxicillin, ampicillin, potassium penicillin V—was possible, but turning that from blueprint to product, in just a couple of months, was another matter entirely. Regular penicillin, taken orally, is almost entirely destroyed by stomach acid—losing ninety-nine percent of its effectiveness. Some might find this daunting, but Ethan merely found it slightly annoying. Back on Earth, he'd stood at the summit of pharmaceutical science. He couldn't preserve all of the drug's activity orally, but retaining thirty or forty percent efficacy was within reach. And in a world untouched by antibiotics, even a fraction of its potency would produce miraculous results. As for penicillin allergies and antibiotic reactions? Ethan barely bothered to mention them. Compared to penicillin's power, those rare side effects were trivial—he'd just add a warning to the instructions, and leave it at that. … To the citizens of Raozhou, the biggest recent change was Danhan Alchemy. Once reduced to a single shop and a lone workshop, even that one shop had shut down a month before, no products for sale. Anyone would think Danhan was finished, about to sell off the remnants for good. But there had been no liquidation. On the contrary, Danhan had been plastering the city with a bold new campaign. Nine Lives Healing Elixir—a "miracle drug" developed by Danhan at immense cost. The ads promised a revolution: no more fear of wound infection; the effectiveness outclassed all their previous formulas by a factor of several times. "If there's still breath in you, Nine Lives will bring you back"—that was the slogan. Of course, "immense cost" was left vague; no one said what currency those millions spoke of. Danhan's previous wound ointments weren't really inferior to their rivals. But these new advertisements implied not just an improvement, but a total redefinition: Nine Lives wasn't just better than Danhan's old products—it was better than anything on the market, by a wide margin. One wave of advertising stirred up a thousand ripples—suddenly, all eyes in Raozhou were glued to Danhan Alchemy. Being the national capital, this meant it wasn't just Raozhou. All of Chenyu was watching. Waves of people poured toward Danhan's shop, eager to buy a bottle of Nine Lives, relentless to see if the hype was real. War was never-ending in Chenyu. Every day, countless soldiers and civilians died from infected wounds. Not just soldiers—even mercenaries, hunters, herbalists, and miners lived in fear of infection after an injury. If a "Nine Lives" elixir truly worked—who wouldn't want it? … On the workshop's second floor, Lucas Lu burst in, beaming. "Brother Moore—the results are incredible! If Nine Lives Elixir even manages a third of its promise, Danhan is saved…" He cut himself off abruptly, noticing Ethan's lack of excitement, even the shadow of a frown. Doubt gnawed at Lucas's nerves. Had the new drug failed? But surely not—he'd seen the massive iron drums and even the boilers running day and night. That couldn't be fake, right? He had no idea if the drug actually worked. All this bold advertising—Ethan's idea. Ethan had insisted it would succeed. And yet, now… Ethan stood and clapped Lucas on the shoulder. "No need to worry, Lucas. The drug is fine." "Then why do you look so troubled?" Relief poured into Lucas's face—if the medicine worked, all other problems could be solved. Ethan sighed. "Lucas, have you stopped to think what happens if Nine Lives Elixir makes us rich? Sooner or later, powerful people will want a piece—and we don't have any way to protect ourselves." Truthfully, Ethan never expected such a sensation just from a clever campaign. Nor did he realize just how desperate people here were for a cure to infection. Now he doubted whether they'd even keep their first profits; penicillin was easy to copy, after all. Others might not know it, but he did. If danger came before they secured their nest egg, they'd be in serious trouble. Lucas froze—then broke into hearty laughter. "Brother Moore, you're from a noble family; it's natural you don't know Chenyu's laws. All workshops, as long as their taxes are paid, are under legal protection—even in Hanstar, that's a given. When Danhan's old fame was at its peak, did anyone dare try anything? We crumbled because of my own mistakes, not outside threats." Ethan remained unconvinced. All that supposed "strength"—what did it matter? Without a unique product, no one was jealous. Just like those assembly plants for "fruit-shaped" phones back on Earth—huge, but fragile. The day a customer didn't need them, collapse was only a phone call away. As for government protection? Please. When profits rose high enough, rules bent. If even a lover could stab him in the back, why would Ethan trust the rule of law? But strength was needed, and for now, that meant money—there's no hiding from the spotlight. If anyone did come after Danhan's profits, they'd come with polite negotiation first, then force if necessary. As long as Ethan held the core secret, he could sell for a fortune and escape with his life. At least, that's how he saw it. So he said, "Lucas, for the record—if someone wants a share, you can give away my equity, but don't you dare short me on cash." "Of course—not a problem," Lucas agreed instantly, without a trace of hesitation. Ethan only sighed inwardly—no point in contracts when you're weak. When you're alone in a city like Raozhou, you're on your own. … With the arrangements made, Ethan threw himself into penicillin production—personally handling all critical steps except collecting the penicillium—for months. He slept in the lab, barely took breaks, and only left for brief, critical errands. Two months later, he finally produced a full batch of penicillin solution. …