849: Chapter 844 Refusing a toast means having to drink a forfeit

Chen Guangke looked at the structure and made a professional judgment.

Shen Yan reached out, his fingertips gently touching the cold metal panel.

In his mind, the system provided the final step of guidance.

[The password is the Fibonacci sequence from the 14th term to the 2nd term, in reverse order.]

Shen Yan's fingers danced quickly across the keypad.

Drip.

A soft click.

The metal cabinet door slowly sprang open, releasing a puff of white cold air.

Amidst the layers of dry ice mist, a silver injection gun lay quietly.

The gun body was transparent, and a pale golden liquid flowed within it.

It wasn't like water; it resembled some living organism, slowly wriggling under the light, emitting a captivating luster.

[Item confirmed: Telomerase Reverse Transcriptase Repair Solution (Codename: Samp).]

[Efficacy: Capable of repairing damaged telomeres in the human body, delaying cell aging, theoretically extending lifespan by 2 years, and significantly enhancing the immune system.]

[Side Effects: Not fully clinically tested, may cause gene rejection reactions.]

Shen Yan looked at this small vial of medicine.

This was the 'elixir of immortality' that top billionaires would trade all their wealth for.

In this world, money can buy many things, but not time.

But this medicine, it was time.

"Brother Yan, what is this? It looks quite advanced."

Guangke leaned over, curiously examining it.

"This is our next trump card."

Shen Yan carefully placed the injection gun into a specially made lead box.

"With it, we will no longer be just internet upstarts."

"We will control the pricing of life."

Shen Yan closed the box and held it in his hand.

That heavy feeling reminded him of how he felt when he brought the black box back from the Gobi Desert.

"Let's go."

"This place smells terrible."

When the two walked out of the basement, the rain outside had stopped.

A rainbow arched over the slums of Saint Lotu, connecting to the distant skyscrapers.

Shen Yan took out his phone and sent a message to Kevin.

"Got the item, arrange the return trip."

Just as he was about to put away his phone, a new news notification suddenly popped up on the screen.

It was a breaking news alert from an international biotechnology summit.

The title was striking:

"International Biotech Giant Pfizer Jointly Announces 'Everlife Project,' to Showcase Latest Anti-Aging Discoveries Next Month."

Shen Yan looked at the title, his finger gently stroking the screen.

Everlife Project?

He glanced back at the dilapidated basement, a slight smile playing on his lips.

It felt like a gambler with a full house watching his opponent proudly flaunt a pair of kings.

The real trump card is never in the spotlight, but in these forgotten ruins.

The 'Samp' stock solution, enough to drive the world mad, was casually thrown by Shen Yan into the deepest part of the Xishan Villa's underground vault.

He didn't plan to use it immediately.

Biomedicine and coding are two different things; the latter only requires a computer and a few cans of Red Bull, while the former needs endless dollars, top-tier P3 laboratories, and a group of crazy scientists bound by death contracts.

Although his company was dominating the internet world, in the field of biomedicine, it wasn't even an embryo.

You have to eat your food one bite at a time.

Moreover, the massive computing power of asking heaven had recently encountered a hardware bottleneck; ordinary silicon-based chips were practically burning out.

Shen Yan sat on the villa's terrace, looking at the latest intelligence brief in his hand.

This time it wasn't an S-class intelligence that could trigger war, but a seemingly somewhat retro, intermediate intelligence.

[Intermediate Wealth Intelligence refreshed.]

[Coordinates: Xiangcheng, Furong Old Street, Xing Family Silver Shop.]

[Target Item: Discarded 'Practice Piece' — Black Silver Clump.]

[Intelligence Rating: B-class (involving lost metal proportioning techniques).]

[Expected Revenue: Eighty million to one hundred fifty million.]

This amount of money wasn't a huge sum for Shen Yan now, but the 'metal proportioning' mentioned in the intelligence piqued his interest.

High-precision hardware conductive materials are often hidden in seemingly outdated ancient craftsmanship.

The next afternoon.

The air in Xiangcheng always carried a damp, spicy scent.

Furong Old Street was an alley forgotten by time; the bluestone slab road was worn smooth and shiny, flanked by uniform stilt houses.

The clanging sounds, like the heartbeat of the street, rose and fell.

Guangke wore a floral shirt, holding a palm-leaf fan, fanning himself while complaining.

"Brother Yan, are we here for tourism or poverty alleviation? This place doesn't even have a decent toilet."

He really couldn't understand why they had to come to this godforsaken place to find a silversmith instead of staying in an air-conditioned room in Jinghai.

Shen Yan ignored his complaints, his gaze sweeping over the mottled signboards.

The 'Xing Family Silver Shop' sign hung at the end of the alley; the wood was cracked, making it unrecognizable without a close look.

The shop was small, with a few not-so-delicate silver bracelets displayed at the entrance.

It was dark inside, with only an old man in a white vest sitting on a low stool, holding a small hammer, tapping away at a silver sheet.

The old man had white hair, wore a pair of reading glasses with only one temple, and his hands were covered in calluses.

Besides the hammering, there was also a sharp quarrel in the shop.

"Old Xing Tou, don't be ungrateful!"

The speaker was a middle-aged fat man in a suit, with slicked-back hair and a green Submariner watch on his wrist, pointing at the old man, spitting as he spoke.

"I'm only willing to pay 50,000 yuan for your set of molds because your shop has some history. Go ask around, who still uses such outdated stuff now?"

Next to the fat man stood a young woman holding a selfie stick, sweetly explaining to her phone camera.

"Folks, this is the stubborn silversmith I told you about. Our CEO Zhao kindly wants to help him preserve intangible cultural heritage, but he's unwilling."

She was a popular 'store-exploring' internet celebrity, specifically collaborating with these middlemen to drive down prices.

The old man didn't even lift his head, his hammer still steadily falling on the silver sheet.

"Not selling."

His voice was dry and hard, like sandpaper.

"This is how I make a living. If I sell it, what will I eat?"

CEO Zhao was choked up, the fat on his face trembling.

"Your shoddy craftsmanship, who would want anything you make besides tricking out-of-town tourists? Modern silver jewelry is 3D printed, a hundred times more precise than yours!"

"50,000 yuan is a lot; it's enough for an old coffin like you to retire on."

Guangke frowned upon hearing this, about to step forward to argue, but Shen Yan stopped him with a hand.

Shen Yan watched the scene with interest, or rather, he was looking at the dark lump by the old man's feet that was used to prop up the bellows.

That was the 'Black Silver Clump' the system mentioned.

It looked like an overly oxidized scrap or slag left over from silver refining, covered in a lot of coal ash.

Seeing that the old man was unyielding, CEO Zhao became somewhat furious.

He kicked the bellows, and the black lump used as a footrest rolled a few times, stopping at Shen Yan's feet.

"Fine, you refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit. Let's see how many more days your lousy shop can stay open!"