Chapter 762 - 638: Collaboration (3)
Chapter 762: Chapter 638: Collaboration (3)
The man’s eyes lit up the moment he saw those test tubes.
His Adam’s apple moved up and down as he swallowed, then cautiously approached, his gaze never leaving those test tubes.
"Mr. Jeming, these are..."
"Already processed." Jeming’s tone was very flat, as if stating a fact unrelated to himself, "The initial foundation of your provided product was too poor, at most I optimized the formula structure. The success rate after ingestion should increase by about five percent."
"Five percent..." The man’s voice trembled slightly.
He reached out his hand, his fingers hovering for a moment above the test tubes, as if hesitating to touch them.
Eventually, he withdrew his hand, took out a pair of thin gloves from his pocket, and carefully put them on.
Only then did he cautiously pick up a test tube, holding it up to the light for a closer examination.
The blue liquid flowed slowly within the glass tube, its surface fluorescence reflecting a delicate, silk-like sheen under the light.
The man’s eyes were fixed on the tube of liquid, his pupils dilating slightly.
"You know, Mr. Jeming?" His voice became somewhat ethereal, as if talking to himself, "This drug, the original version had a success rate of less than five percent. Ten injected, nine would die. But the one who survives could bend iron rods with bare hands, could run fast enough to catch a speeding carriage."
He set down the first one and picked up the second.
"On the black market, an original tube sells for this much." He held up three fingers, "Three hundred Bright Silver Coins. And there’s no market for it; even if you have money you might not be able to buy it. Those big Spiritualist families control the supply, everything that flows out is defective."
He examined each test tube gently, as if caressing a baby’s skin.
"You gave me these ten tubes, and the success rate increased by five percent." He turned to Jeming, his ingratiating smile deepening, "Do you know what this means? It means these ten tubes in my hand are worth as much as twenty, thirty original tubes. Those with money, connections, who want power but don’t dare to take too much risk... they’ll be scrambling to buy them."
Jeming leaned against the medicine cabinet, arms crossed, staring at him expressionlessly.
"The money?"
"Oh, right, right, the money." The man snapped back to reality, quickly set down the test tubes and bent over to pick up the suitcase he had brought.
The suitcase clasps sprung open, revealing stacks of banknotes and rolls of coins neatly arranged inside.
The banknotes were of various denominations and colors, bundled with rubber bands.
The coins were packed in several small cloth bags, their mouths tied with strings.
The man pushed the suitcase in front of Jeming: "This is the full payment this time. Please check it. According to your instructions, both the coins and banknotes are old money and loose change, absolutely no risk involved!"
Jeming glanced down without counting.
"The materials?"
"Brought them, brought them." The man pulled out a small cloth bag from the inside pocket of his trench coat and respectfully handed it over, "The few materials you mentioned last time, I managed to get them. They’re not easy to find, I had to go through several channels to acquire them."
Jeming accepted the cloth bag and took a look inside.
It contained several irregularly shaped fragments, gray-white in color, with a subtle sheen on their surfaces.
He turned one of the fragments over in the light, confirmed the material, and nodded.
"How’s the situation outside the city?"
The man’s expression turned more serious: "Not peaceful. There have been reports of new disturbances in several eastern towns, and the official Spirit Communicator Association has already sent people to handle it. It’s unclear what level it is, reportedly Hazard Level, but some say it may be Disaster Level because the losses have been quite severe."
"Any other news?"
"Also, lately some people have seen black-robed figures outside the city, acting suspiciously, doing unknown things. The authorities are investigating, but so far haven’t found much."
Jeming noted this information mentally and nodded.
The man, seeing no further questions, reverted to his cautious and attentive expression.
He placed the ten test tubes back one by one into a metal box, closed the lid, then unbuttoned his trench coat and tucked the box against his body.
The box was not large, but when tucked inside the coat it formed a noticeable bulge.
Covering it with the coat lapel, he checked once more, confirming there were no obvious signs before being satisfied and exhaling.
"Then Mr. Jeming, I’ll take my leave."
With an exceptionally respectful demeanor, he bowed deeply to Jeming: "I’ll deliver the next batch in a few days."
Jeming did not see him off, just nodded.
The man’s footsteps ascended the stairs, followed by the sound of the bookstore’s wooden door opening and closing, then footsteps gradually distancing on the cobblestone road.
The basement returned to silence.
Jeming glanced down at the suitcase by his feet.
The banknotes and coins were neatly arranged inside, with denominations ranging from Gold Coins to Silver Coins, along with some darker colored small denomination bills.
Honestly, Jeming didn’t really need this money.
If he wanted, he could use Alchemy to conjure various currencies out of thin air.
The currency of this Plane, despite having various anti-counterfeit technologies, with his level in Alchemy, producing money indistinguishable in authenticity is an easy task.
Even Gold Coins and Silver Coins made of precious metal are effortlessly created by Jeming.
But a doctor with such skills and power, having nothing, is too conspicuous.
Therefore, he made deals with this intermediary.
He helps them optimize illegal genetic drugs, enhance success rates; they pay him handsomely, help him procure various research materials, and gather information from inside and outside the city.
Mutually beneficial.