Chapter 448 - 414: Golden Frenzy (Part 2)

Chapter 448: Chapter 414: Golden Frenzy (Part 2)

The top-secret Alchemy laboratory, three levels beneath the Lord’s Mansion.

The air was filled with the faint smell of blood and disinfectant.

Kael sat on an operating table, his broken left arm set and wrapped in thick bandages. His face was still pale, but he seemed to be in good spirits.

Mia sat on the edge of a high stool, her slender legs dangling and swinging restlessly. Cupping a frost-covered bottle of happy water in both hands, she tilted her head back, her throat bobbing as she rapidly chugged it down. GULP, GULP.

The sharp fizz of carbonation bursting in her mouth made her purple eyes narrow in a blissful haze. A drunken flush spread across her cheeks, and a trickle of the sweet, dark brown liquid even escaped the corner of her mouth, sliding down her pale chin to her collarbone.

"Ngh..."

Behind her, Xiaolan gently lifted Mia’s slender, black, heart-tipped tail. She dabbed her fingertips in some ointment and gently rubbed it into the red, swollen scrape at the base.

The contrast between the cool ointment and the exploding happy water inside her was a jolt of ice and fire, sending a shudder through the succubus’s entire body. Mia bit down on the bottle’s rim, a sweet, suppressed hum escaping her nose. Her sensitive tail instinctively coiled around Xiaolan’s wrist, tightening and relaxing its grip in restless waves.

"So this is the ’souvenir’ you brought back?"

Velin stood before the lab bench, pointing at a palm-sized hexagonal crystal disk.

"We almost died for it," Mia muttered from the side.

"Worth it," Kael stated concisely.

With his uninjured right hand, he pushed a black-covered manual in front of Velin.

Experimental Records on the Purification and Mutation of the Plague Liquid.

And the crystal disk—the [Fourth-Generation Portable Magic Power Core, Prototype].

"It’s practically a work of art..."

The words came out as something close to a moan.

Master Valerius was practically draped over the crystal disk. He held a magnifying glass, and the eye behind the lens was bloodshot yet shone with a frightening intensity.

"Look at this circuit design! Look at this energy-folding technology! To compress the logic of such a massive Array into such a tiny vessel, and they even included an idiot-proof user interface!"

The old alchemist gesticulated wildly in his excitement.

"What does it do?" Velin got to the heart of the matter.

"What does it do?" Valerius shot his head up. "My Lord, don’t you understand? This isn’t just a power core. It’s a universal ’Alchemical Brain’!"

He pointed to several ports on the edge of the crystal disk.

"Just feed it Magic Power, input the formula, and it will automatically regulate the flow of Magic Power, control the temperature, pressure, stirring speed... You just pour in the raw materials, and it’ll spit out Alchemy Potions like a hen laying eggs!"

"You don’t need a High Tier Alchemist to watch over it. Even an apprentice could run it, as long as they know how to flip a switch!"

Velin finally understood. ’So, it’s an automated production line.’

"By how much would it increase efficiency?" Velin asked.

"At least twenty times." Valerius held up two fingers for emphasis. "And the failure rate is practically zero."

Velin drummed his fingers lightly on the tabletop.

’Twenty times.’

’What did this mean?’

’It meant that Alchemy Potions, once expensive and rare, would become mass-produced industrial goods.’

"Very good."

Velin turned his head to look at a dissection table on the other side of the room.

A pair of disassembled metal legs lay on it. They had belonged to Adam.

Ryo, wearing thick protective gloves, was carefully probing the intricate gears and hydraulic rods.

"What have you found?" Velin asked.

Ryo jumped, startled, and nearly dropped the probe.

"My Lord," Ryo said excitedly, his face flushing red. "This... this design is very strange. It’s not a pure necromantic construct; it doesn’t use a soul-flame."

"Get to the point."

"Right! It’s a mechanical structure driven by compressed Magic Power!" Ryo pointed to a complex set of gears at the knee joint. "If we lower the power output and don’t aim for that kind of explosive force, this drive system could absolutely be used for other things."

"Such as?"

"Like... an automated excavator? Or... a horseless carriage?" Ryo’s voice trailed off, as if he thought he sounded like a lunatic with fanciful ideas.

But Velin smiled.

He walked over to Ryo and clapped the socially awkward young man on the shoulder.

"Do it. Whatever you need—money, manpower—it’s yours."

Ryo was stunned.

"One more thing." Velin turned to Valerius, who was still drooling over the crystal disk. "Master, using that Plague Manual, there’s something I need you to do."

"Name it," Valerius said without looking up.

"Reverse-engineer it. Now that we know how the plague is made, creating an antidote shouldn’t be difficult, correct?"

"As easy as drinking water," Valerius scoffed. "With this automated core and the mutation logic from the manual, I can cut the production cost of the Blood Cough Potion to a tenth of the current price. What’s more, it will take effect in just half an hour."

"Excellent."

Tristan, who had been standing to the side, stepped forward.

The young Civil Servant adjusted his monocle, a cold glint flashing across the lens.

"My Lord, if the cost is this low, perhaps we could try a different tactic?"

"I’m listening."

"Don’t sell it," Tristan said, his voice laced with a politician’s cunning. "We give it away for free."

"For free?"

"Have the True Origin Sect give it away." Tristan pointed to the red dots marking churches on a map. "The church sells Holy Water, don’t they? And they claim the plague is Divine Punishment? Well, we’ll have the monks of the True Origin Sect go out and save people with this ’True Source Holy Water.’"

"’Free’ is always a more tempting offer than ’for sale.’"

"When the faithful discover that Divine Punishment is powerless against the ’True Source,’ the very foundations of the church will rot."

Velin looked at Tristan and nodded, satisfied.

’This was exactly the effect he was after.’

To crush not just the body, but the will.

...

「Late at night.」

The candlelight in the study flickered.

Velin sat alone in a high-backed chair, holding a letter whose wax seal had already been broken.

It was a letter Mia had swiped from Hector’s safe.

The stationery was thick and exuded a faint, fragrant scent.

The handwriting was elegant, the choice of words meticulous.

But the contents were nauseating.

It was correspondence between Hector and a cardinal bishop.

In the cardinal’s own words, the plague was a "miracle" that killed two birds with one stone: not only were they raking in Golden Suns, but they could also sift out the most devout believers and, using death’s hand as a convenient excuse, legitimately eliminate the "faithless" who were unwilling to make offerings.

Even the profit margin on every bottle of "Holy Water" was calculated down to the last Copper Coin.

"This is the ’Light’ you serve."

Velin tossed the letter onto the table.

Across the table stood a man in a gray robe.

Fabian.

The former church deacon, now little more than a prisoner, was staring at the letter.

His hands were trembling.

He recognized the handwriting. It was the personal script of the cardinal he had once revered so deeply.

"No... It can’t be..." Fabian muttered, as if trying to convince himself. "His Eminence is merciful... He is the voice of God..."

"Read it," Velin’s voice was cold.

Fabian picked up the letter with a trembling hand.

His eyes scanned the familiar script.

"...The plan for cleansing the slums is showing remarkable results. Fear is the best sheepdog. To save their own skins, those wretches will kneel and beg for Holy Water even if it means giving up their last morsel of food. Profits for the next month are expected to double..."

The letter slipped from his fingers, fluttering to the floor.

Fabian fell to his knees, clutching his head in his hands.

Faith.

The one thing that had sustained him for thirty years had just collapsed.

He thought he was atoning for his sins. He thought he was spreading the gospel.

But all along, he had just been handing the devil a weapon.

"I’m not here to listen to your confession."

Velin stood up and walked to the window.

Outside the window, the lights of Minas Tirith burned bright.

"I have no need for a zealot who can’t tell right from wrong, nor a coward who does nothing but wallow in self-pity."

Velin turned and looked down at Fabian.

"Fabian, after tonight, you either die in a sewer or find a new way to live."