The werewolf specimens were swiftly snatched up by wealthy collectors for astronomical prices, netting Richard a substantial amount of money. Over two million dollars might seem like a fortune, but in practice, it vanished quickly.
Just one set of high-end laboratory equipment could cost several million. Add to that all the other miscellaneous expenses, and his funds were nearly gone in the blink of an eye.
The lab gear wasn't the best available, but after Richard modified it using arcane techniques from the world of Mothrella, merging the technology and magic of both Earth and Mothrella, the performance of these devices now rivaled those in his former floating city laboratory.
Although Mothrella boasted a powerful arcane civilization capable of building miracle-tier floating cities, executing large-scale interstellar voyages, even terraforming entire planes — essentially reaching the level of a galactic civilization — its overall productivity still lagged behind that of Earth.
Most of Mothrella remained in a feudal state. Only a few places, such as magical metropolises and the Sugrelan Trade Federation, possessed highly advanced civilization.
This wasn't because the Grand Arcanists were unwilling to spread knowledge or elevate the world's civilization level — quite the opposite. But the Gods of Faith deliberately suppressed technological progress, capping the world's development at a feudal level. Why? Because faith power was most abundant and stable when societies remained in feudal systems.
In fact, long ago, Grand Arcanists and the gods had clashed violently over this very issue — the spread of knowledge and the advancement of civilization. The resulting conflict spanned multiple planes and pantheons, causing several gods to fall, multiple massive floating cities to be destroyed, and the death of over one-third of an entire plane's population.
Ultimately, however, both sides were forced to reconcile under the external threat of Abyssal Demons, Hell Devils, and Astral Raiders.
Neither side held an overwhelming advantage. Had the war continued, Mothrella might have been consumed by the Abyss.
Thus emerged Mothrella's strange dichotomy: one half a spacefaring civilization, the other half stuck in feudal agriculture.
Under the truce, Grand Arcanists were allowed to freely develop magic and civilization in their own cities — as long as they didn't interfere with the material plane's balance or spread their advancements to other nations. The gods, in turn, were forbidden from preventing Arcanists from recruiting apprentices from any kingdom.
In essence, while Mothrella's industrial tech was far inferior to Earth's, its arcane enhancement methods allowed certain technologies to exceed Earth's performance — though never at mass-production scale. Only Grand Arcanists and Master Mages could manually produce such marvels.
Take microscopes for instance — Earth could produce models capable of magnifying tens of millions of times. In Mothrella, even the best crafted by master artisans could only magnify about 100,000 times. To go beyond that required arcane augmentation.
The result? Each Arcanist's magical enhancements yielded different results. But if you started with an Earth-made microscope and applied arcane enchantments on top, the outcome would easily surpass any native Mothrella microscope.
The same principle applied to other tools — like precision rune engraving, forging enchanted metals, etc.
In the past, Richard's floating city was constructed with obsidian, steel, and high-grade alloys, reinforced with Hardening Spells and rune enchantments. Its durability and toughness were unmatched. Now, in this life, if he rebuilt the city using Earth's highest-tier alloys, layered with arcane hardening and runes, it would surely surpass his former floating fortress, Star of Wisdom.
Some of these materials could even withstand 9th-tier spells without so much as a scratch.
Of course, the cost of such construction would be staggering. Richard estimated the materials alone would run into the hundreds of billions — far beyond what he currently had.
Floating City Progress: 0.0002%
"The problem isn't how expensive it is. The problem is that you're poor."
Richard now had to heal from his injuries while working toward rebuilding his floating city. The fastest route to money lay in the werewolf bloodline he recently acquired.
Once again, thanks to those werewolves — thank you, mother nature, for your generous sacrifice. Like candles burning bright, they lit Richard's path, giving their all in death just as they did in life. Even turned into specimens, they still funded his future. I'm moved to tears.
Werewolf bloodlines also existed in Mothrella. They were a subset of Beastkin, biologically evolved to transform between human and werewolf forms. These evolved werewolves possessed human-level intelligence, enhanced strength and agility, high regeneration, and vulnerabilities to silver and aconite.
But what Richard acquired was a more primal strain — original werewolves who couldn't take human form. Though intelligent, they still behaved like wild beasts — brains present, but unused. Their regeneration was even stronger. Like the others, they feared silver and aconite.
These original werewolves were also infectious, with a 30% transmission rate. Infected humans had a chance to become werewolves themselves — or to go mad, or die outright.
Richard planned to refine this bloodline. Despite its flaws, it could be used to improve human physique, disease resistance, healing speed, and most importantly — slow aging and extend lifespan.
Typical werewolves lived 120–150 years. Richard intended to filter out the negative traits and create a bloodline elixir that sacrificed strength and physique for longevity. The result? A serum that could extend the human lifespan to 150 years.
Naturally, this bloodline elixir would offer minimal boosts to strength, agility, or vitality — barely more than an ordinary human. It wouldn't grant shapeshifting, wasn't infectious, and no longer feared silver. The only remaining vulnerability was aconite — but since even ordinary people could die from ingesting it, this wasn't considered a true flaw.
This elixir was only effective on ordinary humans. For professionals above Level 10 (superhumans), its effects were negligible — limited to wound healing and energy restoration.
One important limitation: only one bloodline should be fused at a time. Mixing more than three different bloodlines risked bloodline chaos, leading to genetic collapse. Choosing to fuse this werewolf bloodline meant sacrificing potential — it was a one-way ticket.
Of course, Richard wasn't crafting this bloodline elixir for himself — it was meant for rich clients.
Billionaires spent billions every year trying to extend their lives. If Richard could offer a safe, low-side-effect serum that guaranteed a 150-year lifespan, they would absolutely pay any price.
The catch? Each elixir had to be custom-tailored to the recipient's genetics and blood type, making it non-standardized and dependent on rare materials. Mass production was impossible.
Only desperate billionaires staring death in the face would risk such an experimental treatment.
Richard now had to screen potential clients — selecting only those willing to gamble their lives on a chance at immortality.