Chapter 824: One Should Learn to Think from a Different Perspective When Doing Things
To ensure enough penicillin could be cultivated in three days, I used the germ control method to screen the Penicillium fungus Older Brother Jayad had found and performed some gene adjustments.
Actually, there wasn’t even three days; it was only two days left when Older Brother Jayad retrieved the suitable moldy orange peel. It had to be Penicillium chrysogenum to produce a suitable antibiotic.
I strengthened the penicillin’s ability to produce antibiotics. I even cultivated bacteriophages as a backup on the same day and successfully used them in actual combat with the Shrieking Shaman.
Gene adjustment is a very complex spell that requires meticulous operation. I often just touched it slightly, and the Penicillium fungus would immediately collapse and die. Fortunately, there were many samples, so I could experiment multiple times and quickly accumulate experience.
Besides, since Beelzebub is the Demon God representing plagues, His Divine Spells are very effective at developing bacteria towards pathogenicity or infectivity. However, turning germs into probiotics is as difficult as climbing to heaven.
This is not without loopholes, however. I soon discovered that this is actually a matter of mindset, and the first thing is to get your mindset right.
Penicillium fungus causes the green mold disease in plants, so it is undoubtedly a germ, and it’s fine for me to control germs.
Then, penicillin specifically kills bacteria, so relative to bacteria, it is a plague. If I strengthen the production efficiency of penicillin, it is equivalent to increasing its transmission efficiency and lethality.
Moreover, penicillin has side effects on the human body. For those who are allergic, large doses can even be life-threatening. Therefore, increasing the output is naturally strengthening the germs and spreading the plague. Everything is perfectly logical.
When I almost convinced myself, the adjustments became smooth and easy. I quickly performed multiple mutations that aligned with my ideas. It was hard to tell if it was the Divine Spell or the Penicillium fungus itself that actively mutated in the direction I needed or filled in the missing gene fragments.
Finally, after multiple adjustments, what I got was the Penicillium fungus in the petri dish, which is completely different from the Penicillium fungus in nature. Its ability to divide and reproduce, the speed of antibiotic production, and its survival ability have been greatly enhanced.
As long as enough nutrients are provided to sustain them, the penicillin yield is extremely fast. The entire layer floating on top is penicillin, and I haven’t even filtered and purified it yet. In fact, purification might not even be necessary.
Amelia still looked at the petri dish with longing, and she couldn’t help but ask, “Can I also have such a magical medicine?”
This is directly asking for handouts. My reply was, “Of course. Before the official publication, I needed you to help me with clinical trials, and you are the one with the purification facilities. Also, I might have to trouble you to write the paper.”
“No problem! Leave it to me!” Amelia was ecstatic, never expecting me to be so generous.
I am self-aware. Although I have a superficial understanding of medical knowledge and can control viruses through various means like crying wolf, and can treat some difficult and complicated diseases, in terms of professional knowledge, I don’t even reach Amelia’s fingertips.
Not to mention the Iberian Royal Medical Society. It’s probably full of big shots in the field of medicine. My professional vocabulary is severely lacking, and I would likely be exposed after writing a few sentences.
Moreover, the reason I sought out penicillin was because I knew in advance that the method of extracting penicillin was utterly sorcery and could not be written down. It would be better to leave the content about purification technology and drug preparation to Amelia, as it would be more substantial.
As for giving it to Amelia for use, the discovery of penicillin was originally for saving people. I didn’t intend to keep it as a family secret or a proof of honor. It’s best to keep a low profile.
In the end, this honor does not belong to me. I plagiarized the achievements of a medical scholar from my previous life. But if penicillin can spread and save more people, then plagiarism is a necessary evil, and I, as the Gluttony Witch, will bear this evil.
“By the way, this thing has side effects. It’s very dangerous for people who are allergic. Also, misuse can lead to bacterial resistance. Please be very careful when using it,” I reminded her. Amelia nodded vigorously, but I wasn’t sure if she was listening.
At this time, we finally pushed the stretcher into the Central Hospital. It truly felt like entering a palace. The hall was spacious and bright, paved with exquisitely patterned marble. White jade pillars supported the building, and tall floor-to-ceiling windows cast light into the hall.
The ceiling was painted with murals depicting healing people with a religious background. Since doctors in this world often obtained medical knowledge from various famous or unknown gods, and many missionaries used healing as a means of evangelism, medicine in this world has a strong religious flavor.
Although many ordinary people believe that doctors obtain their medical knowledge through deals with Demon Gods, doctors themselves do not think so. They all believe they are favored by the gods, chosen ones, sent by the gods to the mortal world to save those suffering from illness.
Therefore, the murals and reliefs everywhere on the ceiling, pillars, and doors all reflect this hidden meaning: the divine and majestic gods are high above, guiding the white-robed doctors to become angels and save patients.
And those patients are mostly ragged, emaciated, confined to the dark and gloomy parts of the painting, with black spots or sores representing diseases on their bodies, and expressions of extreme pain on their faces. They reach out their hands, hoping to receive salvation from the white-clothed angels below the gods, bathed in light, as if they were the only salvation.
These murals have great artistic value. The figures are lifelike, and the patients’ suffering can even evoke empathy. The contrast between light and darkness is particularly brilliant, representing hope and salvation on one side, and despair called disease on the other.
However, I felt a little uncomfortable. El, lying on the hospital bed, could see the murals without looking up. She couldn’t help but frown and ask, “Why do you humans portray your own kind so uglily? Why do you associate them with filth like plagues?”
I didn’t know how to answer for a moment. You must know that the Elves are a race with very, very strict class divisions, even more rigid than the Blood Race.
Theoretically, although the Blood Race also has strict classes, low-level blood creatures can be promoted through their own continuous efforts.
However, the Elves are more akin to a caste system, which is innate. If you are born a Light Elf or a High Elf, you are royalty. Your daily life consists of eating and enjoying, nothing else.
If you are born a Grassland Elf or a Wood Elf, you are low-class. Even if you become a legendary strong individual, you will not be a noble among the Elves.
However, even with such deeply ingrained caste divisions, the Elves do not harbor malice towards their own kind, nor do they deliberately portray their own kind in an ugly manner in murals.
In these murals, I see a condescending disdain. How can I answer her?
