Originally, Lucas thought selling 50,000 bottles of Nine Lives in six months would be an extraordinary success. Instead, more than half disappeared in just five days—despite higher prices and purchase limits. By the twelfth day, all inventory (including luxury editions) was gone.
The net profit alone was close to 250,000 gold coins. The cost of production? Practically nothing; it was all profit.
Yet, with throngs still clamoring outside while there was nothing left to sell, Lucas's anxiety returned.
"Lulu… never mind, I'll talk to Master Mo myself…" For the first time, Lucas was convinced Ethan Moore had surpassed even Theodore Moore's legacy. Who else could have created Nine Lives?
Unlike before—when he'd been desperate for product—Lucas was now in a hurry for Ethan to make the third batch. The second batch was fermenting; the third… well, Ethan hadn't even started, insisting he was busy developing a new drug.
Lucas found the idea unnecessary—Nine Lives alone was more than enough—but Ethan was the real boss now. If he said a new product was needed, there was no argument.
"Boss, Master Mo says no one can disturb him, unless it's an emergency. Even meals are to be left at the window, and cleared away if untouched," Lulu explained anxiously, worried Lucas might burst into Ethan's work and upset him.
Lucas could only slap his forehead in resignation. A few days ago, when the Shengling folks came negotiating, he'd deflected everything onto Ethan. Now, poetic justice—he too risked angering the golden goose.
…
Hair a tangled mess, Ethan Moore surveyed ten jade-green bottles lined up on his worktable—days of effort distilled before him. Drink just one, he could test for spiritual roots, and maybe—finally—open the path to true cultivation.
According to Lan Yu and Lucas, only spiritual "channels" could absorb energy, and only those with roots could open them. Ethan's theory: the channels were just meridians, and his breakthrough formula would clear them out. If he could absorb energy, that meant he, too, could become a cultivator.
"Ha! From now on, this is Opening Meridian Elixir," Ethan laughed, the sound joyous and rare since his betrayal. He was genuinely happy for the first time.
Downstairs, Lucas heard his laughter and ignored Lulu's warnings, hurrying up the stairs.
"Haha! Lucas, counting your gold till your hand's numb these days?" Ethan called as he opened the door, bag in hand.
Lucas should have matched Ethan's joy, but felt uneasy for reasons he couldn't voice. Better to focus on his own hopes for now.
"Brother Mo, we did it—sold out, sold out!" Lucas grinned.
Ethan just waved him off, "Yeah, I know. It's inevitable. Convert my share to gold notes, will you?"
"Of course, and besides that, we're all clear on—"
Ethan cut him off. "Hold that thought. Let me bathe, sleep, then we talk business."
Without waiting for a response, he shouldered past Lucas and hurried to his quarters—more concerned with cultivating than making money.
With his breakthrough elixir in hand, Ethan washed, slept deeply, and woke refreshed. He uncorked a jade bottle and—having tried the formula before—prepared himself.
The bitter liquid burned down his throat, a thread of fire tracing through his body, dissolving any blockages. For the first time, Ethan could feel his meridians stretching and clearing, the unpleasant ache twisting into an odd, liberating pleasure—as if every inch burned was scrubbing the impurities away.
Ethan's heart pounded with hope: if meridians and "spirit channels" were the same, couldn't he open as many as he liked and become a top-level cultivator? Ninety-nine channels? Why not a hundred?
...