"Give it a try."
A glass containing a pale green liquid was pushed in front of a middle-aged man wearing old blue overalls.
The man's face was dull, his lips were chapped, and he even had cold sweat on his forehead; his entire being exuded a sickly, unhealthy aura.
"Mr. Scott, cough cough, I—I—" He looked at the glass of liquid in his hand, which emitted a strange smell, and was at a loss for a moment.
"What, you don't believe me?" Lorne narrowed his eyes slightly. "Think I'm going to harm you?"
He had personally tasted this potion and used pendulum divination; he could be 100% certain it was completely non-toxic. But the specific therapeutic effect still required further clinical verification.
The person in front of him was a "volunteer" he had personally invited. He was a worker in the assembly workshop who had been caught in the rain a few days ago and had been suffering from a persistent low-grade fever for several days.
"No! No! Mr. Scott, I believe you!" Hearing this, the worker hurriedly waved his hands, fearing his boss would misunderstand.
To speak of belief, who else could he believe in now besides the Gentleman in front of him?
He was seriously ill and could no longer go to work at the factory. In the past, he would have been heartlessly fired, left to curl up at home and silently wait for death to arrive.
But the boss in front of him not only didn't fire him but also privately gave him a sum of money to let him rest well. He even personally promised that once he recovered, he could return to work at any time.
After two days of rest, although his condition had improved slightly, it was still not ideal. He had thought about going to the hospital, but he simply couldn't afford the high medical fees of private hospitals, and those welfare hospitals were always overcrowded, with queues stretching to next month; it would never be his turn in the short term.
Just as he returned home today with a heart full of disappointment and pain, he never dreamed that his boss, the famous "east end hero," would actually come to his dirty, damp apartment in person, claiming to want to help him.
If he didn't even believe the other party, who could he believe?
Could it be that he should believe those noble lords living in Empress Borough?
Now, the boss had specially come to find him, brought a glass of medicine, and wanted to treat him; how could he refuse?
It was just that—the color and smell of this medicine were truly a bit strange, making it difficult for him to accept for a moment.
"This is a special potion brewed from herbs. It's a formula I bought from an old friend abroad," Lorne said without changing his expression.
"Don't worry, I guarantee on my reputation as the 'east end hero' that this medicine is absolutely non-toxic."
"And, as agreed before, after trying this glass of medicine, I will pay you another 5 suile as compensation."
"5 suile—" The worker subconsciously swallowed. He originally wanted to say it wasn't necessary and that he couldn't let the boss spend more money, but—5 suile, that was his entire previous week's salary.
"I believe you!" He suddenly raised the glass and downed the pale green potion in one gulp!
"Ugh—"
The moment the potion entered his mouth, an indescribable, strange taste mixed with bitterness and spiciness exploded in his mouth! The man's expression instantly became extremely distorted. He forced back the urge to gag so as not to spit out the potion.
After a dozen seconds, he suddenly felt an unspeakable heat coming from inside his body. A feeling of extreme thirst surged from the depths of his throat. After gulping down a few mouthfuls of cold water, he suddenly felt dizzy and slumped onto the table in a daze, falling into a deep sleep.
"Mr. Scott—"
He opened his eyes in a daze and the first thing he saw was his boss quietly keeping watch in front of him.
"I—I fell asleep? How long did I sleep?"
"Probably less than two hours," Lorne said, looking at him. "How do you feel?"
"I—" The worker subconsciously touched his forehead.
It wasn't hot anymore!
The burning temperature had completely receded! Moreover, he felt his body was particularly refreshed and full of strength, not at all like someone who had just been seriously ill!
"Mr. Scott! I—I'm cured!" He stood up excitedly, his voice trembling slightly with excitement.
"I'm cured!"
"I can go back to work!"
"Well, congratulations on regaining your health." Lorne activated Spirit Vision and confirmed that the other party's astral light had returned to a healthy white. Except for being a bit weak from being sick for a few days, there were no major problems.
"This is the agreed-upon payment." Lorne took a few banknotes out of his pocket and placed them on the table.
"No! There's no need, sir!" The man hurriedly shook his head. He had been cured by the other party's medicine; how could he have the heart to take his money—
"Take what I give you." Lorne curled his lips, his tone carrying a hint of unquestionable authority.
"If you don't take it, you're not giving me, your boss, face."
Once these words were spoken, the man naturally couldn't refuse again.
"Then—then okay. Thank you, Mr. Scott! You are a true Gentleman."
Such a scene was repeated several more times over the next few hours. Lorne visited several workers with different symptoms one after another.
Ultimately, he was completely certain that his medicine worked.
Moreover, the most ideal drug ratio had also been roughly figured out by him.
allicin, holy water, and the herbal potion from the Church of the Earth Mother—the ratio between them was roughly six to three to one.
Then, after adding an equal mass of pure water for dilution, a compound therapeutic agent with significant effects was completed. This ratio had a quite good effect on most common illnesses caused by bacteria or viruses.
To conduct experiments, he extracted another large batch of allicin. Since this extract could not be stored for a long time, he asked Old Kohler to quietly deliver the first batch of finished potions to the most seriously ill workers as soon as possible.
"Uncle Kohler, will Daddy really get better if he drinks this medicine?" In a dim room, a little girl with braids held the bottle of potion, whose color and smell were both a bit bad, her voice full of worry.
"Of course," Old Kohler knelt down and gently stroked the little girl's head with his rough hand. "This is the potion that the 'east end hero', the kind Mr. Scott, personally found. It will definitely cure your father."
"Mm!" The little girl nodded vigorously, then, imitating an adult, prayed piously: "Storm above, the Lord will surely protect kind people like Mr. Scott."
"Uh—" Hearing this, Old Kohler's expression became a bit strange.
He actually really wanted to tell this little girl that his boss actually believed in the Evernight Goddess. But seeing the little girl's incredibly serious look, he ultimately said nothing, just rubbing her head as a sign of encouragement.
Because of these green potions, urban legends about a panacea began to shroud the skies of Backlund from then on.