Chapter 375 - 366: Blood Cough Potion

Chapter 375: Chapter 366: Blood Cough Potion

Velin named the new grafted plant "Shadow Graveyard Grass."

It could kill the plague. That was a fact.

But another fact lay before them.

"Using the blood of a Transcendent as a ’primer’ to catalyze the mutation of the Blood-sucking Vine, which is then grafted." Velin’s voice echoed in the laboratory. "The creation of this mother plant consumed the entire blood supply of sample G-31. And sample G-31 was a Level 4 Ranger."

He paused, a wry smile on his face. "But we can’t just drain every Transcendent in the domain dry to achieve so-called ’mass production’."

The joyful atmosphere that had just filled the air began to cool.

Yes, they had found a weapon, but they couldn’t produce enough ammunition.

"So, our next objective," Velin said, turning to the research team, "is to find an ’adjuvant’ that can boost the effect. I need a material that can amplify the properties of the ’Hand of Shadow’ bloodline in the potion, to solve the problem of excessive core material consumption."

The research lab once again burst into a flurry of activity.

They diluted the mother stock of the "Shadow Graveyard Grass" into hundreds of samples, then began testing them one by one with every recorded mineral powder and plant juice they could find in the domain.

Failure.

Failure.

More failures.

Separation, recombination, testing. Beakers stood in forests on the lab benches, their colorful liquids boiling and cooling over Rune-powered heaters. Exhaustion was written on every face, but no one stopped.

At dawn on the fifth day, an alchemy assistant from Group C was recording data from the 381st experiment. Overcome by fatigue, his hand trembled, and he spilled a nearby container of ground Obsidian powder—labeled "Waste - High Reactivity"—into a petri dish containing maidenhair fern juice.

"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, about to discard the contaminated sample.

But just then, he froze.

After mixing with the maidenhair fern juice, the Obsidian powder didn’t cause the violent reaction he expected. Instead, it formed a strange, ink-green suspension. On a whim, instead of cleaning it up, he followed the procedure and added a drop of the "Shadow Graveyard Grass" mother stock, diluted to its absolute limit.

The next second, he clapped a hand tightly over his mouth to keep from crying out. ℯℯ𝑙.

In the petri dish, the ink-green area was breaking down the plague pathogens at a rate that was worlds faster than the control group! It was like a pack of starving wolves bursting into a sheep pen!

"I found it... I... I found it!"

His cry of surprise echoed through the entire research institute.

After repeated verifications, the conclusion was exhilarating: while this mixture of mineral and plant couldn’t replace the core function of the mother stock, it could reliably increase the efficiency of "curse absorption" by more than tenfold.

This meant that every drop of the original antibiotic solution could now produce ten times the number of treatment doses.

As if by design, good news began to pour in.

At the very same moment the special inhibitor was discovered, the team led by Valerius and Elvin, tasked with conquering the "inflammation storm" problem, also had their breakthrough.

Two paths of exploration, both heading toward the same goal, had crossed their respective finish lines and now converged in victory.

Now, with the two teams gathered, Valerius held a crystal vial of pale blue potion up for all to see. "A masterpiece! Powdered Deepsea Serenity Coral, mixed with three inert metals, and decocted at a low temperature for seventy-two hours! It can controllably suppress a target’s life force activity, forcing them into a weakened state akin to ’pseudo-hibernation.’ I’ve named it—Silent Slumber!"

Elvin, meanwhile, opened the wooden box in his hands, revealing several dried white petals that reflected the light with a soft sheen.

"Moon Petal Flowers," he said. "I found them in a corner of the Lord’s Mansion’s back garden. Their pollen, when specially processed, has a gentle and long-lasting sedative effect. It’s excellent for soothing mental tension and physical stress, making it ideal as a long-term supplementary medicine."

The "spear" and the "shield" had been forged at the same time.

A specific antidote to inhibit the plague, and a regulator to suppress the autoimmune storm.

All eyes turned to Velin.

Velin said nothing, personally walking up to the main workstation.

As his gaze fell upon the three potions, a professional intuition, one born from being an alchemist, rose within him. He felt a subtle, unconventional resonance between the three substances, as if they weren’t mere materials, but were waiting for the right "ritual" to be awakened.

Moved by this feeling, he gestured for an assistant to bring the three samples forward.

The enhanced "Shadow Graveyard Grass" mother stock, Valerius’s "Silent Slumber," and Elvin’s "Moon Petal Flower" powder.

"My lord, according to standard alchemical procedure, the most stable component, ’Silent Slumber,’ should be used first as the solvent base," an assistant reminded him reflexively.

But Velin paid him no mind.

He chose to follow the call from the depths of his soul, picking up the dropper filled with the dark brown mother stock and, in violation of conventional alchemical order, dripped it directly into an empty crystal beaker.

Next, the "Moon Petal Flower" powder.

And finally, "Silent Slumber," the regulator.

The ratios, the timing, the mixing method—all were guided by intuition.

The instant the last drop merged with the mixture.

The three liquids inside the beaker seemed to come alive, transforming into three fine threads of differently colored energy that chased, collided, and intertwined with one another!

A blinding light flared up within the beaker, as if a miniature elemental storm were brewing inside.

Valerius’s heart leaped into his throat, and he subconsciously took half a step back.

But the storm came as quickly as it went.

The light faded, and the beaker fell still.

A pale blue potion, the color of the newborn sky, swirled gently in the crystal vial.

Velin held it up, admiring his masterpiece against the alchemical lamp.

"Blood Cough Potion."

He gave a name to this hope.

...

The first batch of twelve doses of the "Blood Cough Potion" was sealed and sent to Quarantine Camp Three in Sector A half an hour later.

Inside the quarantine camp, the air was thick with despair.

The young soldier, John, lay on a cot, his breath scorching hot.

He could feel his life slowly slipping away.

A quarantine officer entered the ward, followed by two guards carrying a metal box.

"Blood Cough Potion. An experimental drug." The officer’s voice was distorted as it came through a beak-like mask. "It might cure you. It might also kill you instantly, or make you suffer even more. Now, we need volunteers."

Only coarse, heavy breathing filled the ward.

"I’ll... do it."

A weak voice spoke up.

It was John.

He struggled to sit up but was cut off by a violent coughing fit that splattered black clots of blood onto the bedsheets.

Gasping for air, he used the last of his strength to force out the rest of his sentence, "My... my sister is still at home... waiting for me."

In the end, ten moderately infected patients with the strongest will to live, John among them, took the potion with trembling hands.

The sky-blue potion was injected into their bodies.

Almost the instant the injections were finished, the ten patients fell into a deep slumber. Their breathing became steady and long, and their bodies stopped convulsing from the high fever.

For everyone at the research institute, the next seven days felt as long as a century.

Every observation report from the quarantine camp pulled at their heartstrings.

"Day three: The black pustules on all subjects’ bodies have stopped spreading. Some show signs of shrinking."

"Day five: High fevers have completely subsided. Symptoms of coughing up blood have significantly lessened."

"Day seven: Eight test subjects have awoken..."

When the assistant in charge of communications read this far, his voice choked with extreme emotion, and he could read no further.

He lifted his head, his reddened eyes looking at everyone, and using all his strength, he practically roared.

"Eight confirmed... plague... completely purged!"

Of the other two, one showed little effect, while the other passed away in their sleep.

Eighty percent.

In the face of the plague, a cure rate that was nothing short of a miracle.

The laboratory was drowned in thunderous cheers.

This wasn’t just the joy of a successful experiment; it was the ecstatic relief of clawing their way back from the brink of the abyss!

In this race against death, every one of them had faced the risk of being infected and dying, fighting the plague without rest.

Now, they had won! This meant that they themselves, their families, their friends, and the tens of thousands of lives in the domain would be saved!

The fruit of this victory was too heavy, and yet too sweet. It was enough to make even the strongest will crumble in this moment.

Assistants embraced, weeping with joy. Elvin leaned against a wall and slowly slid to the floor, burying his face in his arms as his shoulders shook violently.

Tears streamed down Valerius’s old face. He rushed over heedlessly, grabbed Velin by the shoulders, and shook him wildly, shouting incoherently, "We did it! Velin! We did it! This is Alchemy’s greatest victory!"

Velin, dizzy from the shaking, simply watched the joyful heroes before him with a calm expression.

Velin didn’t disturb the hard-won celebration. They had earned it with sleepless nights, and they had every right to enjoy this moment.

He gently freed his arm from Valerius’s lingering grip and, against the backdrop of ecstatic celebration, silently slipped out of the laboratory.

Outside the door, a young guard was leaning against the wall, his back to the entrance, secretly wiping away tears. His younger brother was in the quarantine camp. When the news of their victory arrived, the tension that had gripped him for half a month finally snapped.

Velin walked up to him. The guard, startled, hastily dried his tears, snapped to attention, and saluted. "My Lord Count!"

"Go and relay my orders," Velin’s voice was not loud, but it pulled the guard from his emotional state back to reality. "Have Regent Tristan summon all mid-level and senior personnel from the Development Department, the Security Department, and the Technology Department for a meeting in the castle conference room in one hour."

"Yes, sir!" He puffed out his chest and responded with all his might.

As the guard ran, he recalled the lord’s calm profile and suddenly understood something.

The celebration was already over.

Or rather, for the Lord Count, the celebration had never even begun.