Chapter 205

Time returned to a few weeks ago.

In the Arkham Sanatorium's office, Schiller and Strange sat together drinking coffee.

"I don't believe Jindan and the Hand broke up—this whole affair has your fingerprints all over it," Strange said, sipping his coffee.

"It was a plan between me and Nick, but it failed—because a dark horse appeared: the Life Foundation sabotaged our plan."

"What were you originally planning to do?"

Schiller sighed, sounding regretful: "We originally intended to use Jindan and the Hand to inflate the black-market price of the Immortality Factor serum."

"I previously gave Jindan a batch of Immortality Factor serum to sell to the Hand."

"Jindan is an ever-hungry crocodile—he naturally wanted to sell this batch at a high price, so he'd help us hype it up, spreading buzz like 'rare ingredients' or 'only one source.'"

"Nick and I predicted the Hand would buy it—first, they're never short on money; second, they're deeply interested in anything with similar effects to Dragon Bone, even scouring the world for it."

"The serum I gave them would show clear effects initially; after testing it, they'd likely buy the rest from Jindan."

"At that point, I'd release another batch to Jindan—but this time, I'd charge him cost price. Granted, since the raw materials were genuinely scarce, cost price might be high, but Jindan would still swallow it—he was confident he could sell it to the Hand for even more."

"The Hand would buy the second batch too—because even with the higher price, it was still within their budget, and at the time, only Jindan had access to large quantities of the serum. They wouldn't break ties with him; they'd just buy again."

"And the third time would be the same?" Strange asked.

"No—using this trick a third time might push the Hand past their psychological limit. Too high a price could make them consider murder and theft, and it would flood Jindan with too much liquid capital, fueling his ambitions. That's not what we wanted."

"At that point, we'd need to bring in other factions. Since official channels released too little, those who couldn't get it but had money would naturally turn to the black market."

"By the third round, word would have spread that Jindan had a supply—he'd get requests from many others wanting Immortality Factor serum. Jindan, wanting to make more profit, would raise the price again."

"Once that batch sold, we'd stop supplying Jindan. When the supply dried up, the only Immortality Factor serum left on the black market would become scarce and valuable—real efficacy plus scarcity would drive prices up on their own."

"Once prices rose to a certain level, organizations holding the supply wouldn't want them to drop—because if prices kept climbing, their inventory would grow more valuable, like money falling from the sky while they sat at home."

"They'd join us and start the same hype—same tactics: low volume, limited distribution, prices rising with every sale."

"Then the price gets inflated, right?"

"Exactly. It was a crucial part of Nick's autumn budget plan—he was counting on the inflated price to cash out and replenish funds."

"So the Life Foundation ruined your scheme?"

"Not entirely. Just as we were about to begin the third round, they suddenly unveiled a cheaper Immortality Factor serum—with unlimited supply and unrestricted distribution. Naturally, it crashed the market."

"But there was one upside: the Hand believed Jindan had tricked them with overpriced goods and broke ties with him."

"Nick had always worried their cooperation was too tight and might destabilize regional dynamics. Now that they'd split, a balance emerged, reducing S. . . . . .'s workload. You could say it was a trade-off."

"That's only how you see it. Based on my understanding of Nick Fury, he's probably wishing he could kill that Drake from the Life Foundation right now," Strange said firmly.

"So where did their Immortality Factor serum come from?" Strange asked, puzzled. "Isn't this stuff extracted from vampires? Where did they get vampires? Did they just capture them themselves?"

"It shows there are still smart people in this world—they realized the principle of the Immortality Factor serum can't be falsified, and whether it actually extends lifespan won't be clear for decades."

"So they could do what we did: create a serum with mild healing effects and call it Immortality Factor serum."

Next, shouldn't we argue that their raw materials don't comply with regulations? After all, we previously stated that only S. . . . . . collected materials are legitimate. The Life Foundation has no bat-derived raw materials—so they cannot possibly produce genuine Immortality Factor serum.

"No—competing head-on is the most troublesome approach. We say it's fake, they say it's real—or even if it's fake, it's cheap and works just as well. It'll still capture part of the market. So why not just partner with them?"

"They have abundant supply; our promotional power is strong. We can outsource production to them—they handle manufacturing, we handle sales. Everyone makes money."

"But their product is fake, isn't it?"

"Isn't ours fake too?"

"That makes sense."

The two clinked their coffee cups and exchanged a knowing smile.

That afternoon, Schiller walked into Stark's most frequently used lab carrying a cup of coffee. As soon as he entered, he saw blood all over the lab table—Stark stood before it, grimacing and clutching his chest.

Schiller stood at the doorway, staring at Stark. Stark looked up at him. They locked eyes. Stark asked: "Do you know what profession is least welcome in my lab?"

"Since you asked Strange the same question last time, I'm guessing it's doctor?"

"You know you're a doctor!! Come over and help me!!"

"But I'm a psychiatrist," Schiller said, walking over slowly and setting down his coffee. "Everyone dies eventually. Accept it."

The Marvelous Wood

Stark rolled his eyes, dropped the towel he'd been using to wipe blood, and smeared the blood on the table haphazardly.

Schiller pulled up a chair and sat beside the lab table, pulling a stack of newspapers from his coat. As he unfolded them, he asked: "Why are you messing with that thing in your chest again? Finally planning to replace it?"

"Not yet—but I've thought of a new method."

Stark disinfected the fresh wound, hissing as he sucked in air. "I've been thinking—this current method of replacing the reactor is too primitive."

"What do you mean?"

"Every time I need to upgrade the reactor in my chest, I have to undergo surgery—remove it, then install a new one. It's extremely inconvenient and somewhat dangerous."

"So what's your plan?"

"I want to install a slot inside my body, then develop portable reactors. The slot stays fixed, and I can Suishi pull out the reactor in my chest and swap in a new one."

"I discussed this idea with Dr. Yin Sen—he said he's never met anyone in the world who likes risking death more than you."

"His assessment is fair."

"But it's not just about faster reactor replacement," Stark said, gathering up the bloody cotton balls and towels and tossing them away.

"While modifying my armor, I noticed a major problem: my armor used to be just one type, with similar capabilities—all focused on enhancing my personal combat ability."

"But you created a magical armor set, then we jointly developed the concept of swarm robots. After field testing, we realized we needed a logistics support system, and in the future, we might need enchanted armor. With so many different armor types, I need multiple reactor variants to power them."

"While a standard reactor can provide different output levels, I want it to have more functions—especially in adapting to magic."

"And if I develop different reactor versions, I can't perform surgery every day. If I spent half my time lying on an operating table, I'd be useless."

Schiller put down the newspapers and glanced at Stark's chest. "So you're planning to install a zipper on yourself?"

"Like that joke—no matter what the doctor leaves inside you, you just unzip and pull it out."

"Oh, zipper, lightbulb—that's all the words you've learned," Stark said sarcastically.

"So how far along is your experiment? Why did you call me here?"

"I want you to test whether magical energy can be applied to the Arc Reactor—or rather, I want you to build me a magical version of the Arc Reactor."

"You should go to Strange."

"He said he can't do it—told me to come to you."

Schiller placed the newspapers on the table, stood up, and said to Stark: "First, you should understand my level—in your lab, the most advanced thing I've ever done is change a lightbulb."

"Second, there's no such thing as a 'magical Arc Reactor.' You yourself said your father's Arc Reactor design used a new element—completely unrelated to magic. Magic doesn't work that way."

"So it really isn't possible?"

Schiller walked to the lab table, stared at Stark's chest, then said: "A magical Arc Reactor might not be possible—but what you really need is just a power source mounted on your chest, right?"

"Though I don't understand the Arc Reactor's structure at all, if all you need is a power source, it should be doable. After all, magic can do anything."

Schiller snapped his fingers. The newspapers and coffee on the table flew over to him. "Grant us access to a high-level lab. Myself and Strange will study it. We'll give you results in a week."

————Side Note————

Two hundred chapters! Thank you all!