Mia Mi wasn't what one would call stunningly beautiful, but she exuded a warm, approachable aura that put people at ease. As soon as Ethan Moore took his seat, she darted ahead of the waiter from Chengling Jidan Workshop—before the man could even move—grabbed the teapot, and poured Ethan a cup of steaming tea.
"I truly envy Danhan Alchemy for having a master apothecary like you, Master Moore," she said, her tone sincere. "To develop something as groundbreaking as the Nine-Life Healing Elixir… I'm certain you know why I'm here today. Whether my mission succeeds or not, I must toast you—with tea in place of wine. This elixir will save countless lives, and that is all thanks to your great merit." With that, she tilted her head back and drained the tea in one gulp, the cup clinking softly when she set it down.
Ethan couldn't help but admire her way with words—this woman knew exactly how to make someone feel valued.
Since she'd already drunk from the same pot, he figured the tea was safe. His throat had been parched for a while, so he lifted his cup and downed the warm liquid in a single swallow.
Setting the empty cup aside, Ethan adopted a modest tone. "You flatter me, Mistress Mi. What I've created is just a simple healing elixir, nothing more. Any cultivator with awakened spiritual roots could pull out a remedy far more powerful than my Nine-Life Elixir."
Mia stifled a quiet laugh to herself. She'd researched Ethan thoroughly beforehand—she knew he had no spiritual roots, yet craved cultivation more than anything. His words gave him away; he was subtly fishing for information about cultivators.
"Master Moore, you sell your elixir short," she insisted, her expression turning serious. "It's true that cultivators have stronger healing potions, but those are so expensive that ordinary people could never afford them. Even if they *could*, none of those potions can be mass-produced like your Nine-Life Elixir. That's why I say it's groundbreaking—no exaggeration. I'm here to propose a collaboration: let Chengling Jidan Workshop help Danhan Alchemy scale up production of the elixir."
Lucas Lu, seated nearby, stiffened. This elixir was a veritable money printer—he'd never let Chengling Jidan Workshop share it, no matter the cost. He kept shooting Ethan urgent glances, silently begging him to refuse. But Ethan pretended not to see. He'd already made up his mind to leave Danhan Alchemy behind; his original plan was to share the penicillin formula, take a sum of money, and disappear. Now that Chengling Jidan Workshop was offering to be the "easy mark," he wasn't about to turn them down.
"Haha, Mistress Mi is absolutely right!" A voice boomed from beside Mia—it was Elder Wuhetai, who'd been quiet until now. "The Nine-Life Elixir *is* groundbreaking. Master Moore, your contribution to our entire Chengyu Lorddom with this elixir is beyond words."
Even Lucas Lu, despite his anxiety, nodded in proud agreement.
Ethan had come here planning to make a quick profit and run—but Elder Wuhetai's words hit him like a cold splash of water. His heart skipped a beat, and suddenly, the vague unease he'd been feeling for days clicked into place. The real threat wasn't the someone who'd tried to poison him in secret—it was the Chengyu Lorddom itself.
Once penicillin became known, the state would inevitably seize control of it. The only reason they hadn't come for him yet was that the elixir had been on the market for too short a time, and supplies were still limited. Most people saw it as just an effective but pricey medicine—not a national asset.
But if the military ever started using it on a large scale? He'd lose his freedom forever. He'd either be forced to develop potions exclusively for the state, or hand over the penicillin formula… and then be silenced for good. No ruler would let a weapon as powerful as this fall into random hands.
The thought made Ethan leap to his feet. "Thank you for your kind words, Mistress Mi," he said, his voice tight with urgency. "When I first promoted the Nine-Life Elixir, I wanted to do what I could for ordinary people—but I wasn't entirely clear on how. Your words, and Elder Wuhetai's, have opened my eyes. Here's my promise: give me one day. In one day, Chengling Jidan Workshop will get exactly what it wants. I need to make some preparations now—excuse me."
He turned and hurried out the door, not even waiting for Mia or the others to respond. He'd wanted to squeeze a profit out of Chengling Jidan Workshop first, but the risk was too great—he couldn't bear to stay a single minute longer.
Luckily, Mia and the others were all businesspeople; they knew apothecaries (especially genius ones) could be eccentric, so they didn't take his abrupt departure amiss. If anything, Ethan's promise that they'd get their wish in a day left Mia thrilled.
Lucas Lu, however, was beside himself with anxiety. Unlike Ethan, he couldn't just stand up and leave—he was tied to Danhan Alchemy.
…
Sebastian Stuart was the Lord-Regent of Chengyu Lorddom, a rank equivalent to a regional monarch. While Chengyu was a tiny, low-ranking fiefdom within the vast Xinghan Empire, within its own borders, Sebastian was the absolute ruler.
At that moment, he sat on the golden throne in Chengyu's royal hall, his eyes lowered, a look of impatience flickering across his face. The officials lined up along the hall's sides had caught his mood; they stood rigid, their expressions dull and listless.
"Nobles and ministers," called out the eunuch standing beside Sebastian—he knew his lord well enough to sense when he'd had enough. "Speak now if you have business to report. If not, we shall adjourn court."
A burly man stepped forward from the right side of the hall, bowing deeply. "Your Lordship, I, Flying Tiger, have urgent military news to report."
Urgent military news?
Sebastian's head snapped up. His lowered lids lifted, and a sharp glint flashed in his eyes. His pale, listless face hardened into a cold, suppressed authority that made the hall feel smaller.
The officials straightened up, their drowsiness vanishing. Whether it was Sebastian's sudden shift in demeanor or the words "urgent military news," a heavy tension settled over the room.
"General Flying Tiger," Sebastian asked, his voice a touch high-pitched with anticipation. "Has there been a change in the war with Changyan Lorddom?"
Flying Tiger shook his head, his voice grave. "No, Your Lordship. This is a matter that concerns the very fate of Chengyu Lorddom—and it is good news. If we use it well, even defeating Changyan Lorddom and doubling our territory is not impossible."
A collective gasp rippled through the hall. Everyone—including Sebastian—leaned forward, their fatigue replaced by curiosity. No one took the "doubling territory" claim seriously; it sounded like an exaggeration. But they all wanted to hear what could make Flying Tiger speak so boldly.
An elderly official on the left side snorted. "Tiger Zhao, since when have you become so long-winded? Spit it out!"
Tiger Zhao shot the old man a glare but continued, his tone earnest. "Your Lordship, the military has recently discovered a new healing elixir. Its effects are nothing short of miraculous—it can stop all inflammatory infections dead in their tracks. According to reports from the Iron Battalion, a thousand wounded soldiers took this elixir, and only one has died so far. And that death wasn't from infection—it was from severe blood loss. To put it plainly: with this elixir, nearly no wounded soldier dies. Without it? The mortality rate for injured troops is thirty to forty percent. This new elixir is more than ten times more effective than our best healing potions."
"What?!" Sebastian shot to his feet, so distracted that he didn't even notice when his jade scepter slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.
He wasn't the only one stunned. Every official in the hall stared at Tiger Zhao, their breaths quickening.
In every war, millions of soldiers died from their wounds. If there was a potion that could stop those deaths… it would change everything.
What was the most valuable thing in war? Soldiers. Not just any soldiers—veterans with battle experience. A veteran who survived a wound was worth ten untrained recruits.
If this "miracle elixir" was real… then Tiger Zhao's wild claim about defeating Changyan might not be so wild after all. Even if they didn't conquer Changyan, Chengyu's territory could still expand drastically.
"General Flying Tiger," the elderly official who'd snapped at Tiger Zhao earlier asked, his voice trembling with excitement. "Could this elixir be the Nine-Life Healing Elixir?"
…