Warhammer: Rebuilding the Golden Age Starting with Farming.

A dull roar tore through the poisonous fog.

The fleshy puppet at the very front suddenly had a large hole explode in its chest.

Blood and flesh flew everywhere, and purplish-red internal organs sprayed out like rain.

But this monster felt no pain; even with its chest pierced, it continued to charge forward.

"Boom! Boom!"

Two more shots were fired.

This time it was a shot to the knee.

The flesh puppet's thick thigh broke off, and its massive body lost its balance, crashing heavily to the ground and sliding several meters before coming to a stop.

Before the second flesh golem could even get close, its head was blasted off.

Andy emerged from the yellow, poisonous fog.

His yellow hazmat suit was hissing and smoking as toxic gas corroded the rubber layer.

But Andy was completely unharmed.

This weapon, which is designed to kill carbon-based life forms, does nothing to harm him, a silicon-based life form, except for slightly damaging his paint.

"That's it?"

Andy fired as he walked.

His arm, which held the heavy logging gun, was as steady as a rock.

The third and fourth flesh puppets turned into a pile of rotten flesh within seconds.

The doctors who were throwing gas canisters were dumbfounded.

This plot isn't right!

Why doesn't he collapse? Why doesn't he cough?

Why did his movements not slow down at all?!

"Fire! Shoot him!"

The surgeon screamed, his voice finally filled with fear.

The doctors frantically pulled out their handguns and short-barreled shotguns.

But under the suppression of heavy logging guns, such resistance seemed utterly ridiculous.

Andy didn't even bother to dodge.

When the bullets hit him, most of their kinetic energy was absorbed, and the rest hit the metal armor inside, leaving only a few white spots.

He approached step by step, like a yellow ghost that disregarded death.

Andy did not kill everyone.

He used precise shots to break the legs of the doctors who were trying to escape, and then rushed to the surgeon.

The surgeon even tried to pull out a polymer dagger to fight back.

Andy slapped him across the face.

"Snapped!"

The terrifying force struck, shattering the exquisite bird-beak mask in half, along with several teeth flying out.

The surgeon was thrown two meters away, crashed into an ambulance, and slid down.

Before he could get up, a foot stepped on his chest.

"Click".

The sound of the ribs breaking was clearly audible.

Andy bent down, his icy hands gripping the doctor's neck, lifting him into the air like a dead chicken.

"Cough cough... Let... let go..."

The surgeon's face turned a purplish-red, and his legs kicked wildly.

Andy looked into those fear-filled eyes, his tone eerily calm.

"Now, can we renegotiate our business?"

"Regarding the antibiotic production line."

The surgeon nodded frantically, tears and snot mixed with blood streaming down his face.

"Here...it's all yours..."

"very good."

Andy released his grip, causing the doctor to fall to the ground.

"lead the way."

"Go to your lab."

"Don't try anything funny. You've seen it yourself, I'm allergic to poison gas. If I smell poison gas, I can't help but tear people to pieces."

The surgeon shakily got up, clutching his chest, and pointed to the faintly visible spire deep in the swamp.

"There... there."

“All our equipment is there.”

Andy was very satisfied; this physical negotiation method was indeed the most efficient.

This eliminated the need for empty pleasantries and haggling, directly achieving a genuine win-win situation.

Long live efficiency!

Chapter 21 The Dirty Medicine (Please continue reading)

Andy followed the surgeon into the black spire.

Although it's called a laboratory, it's actually a chemical cooling tower, with a thick layer of sheet metal welded to the outside to isolate it from the toxic gases in the swamp.

Upon entering the room, Andy suffered a tremendous shock.

If the acidic swamp outside is a chemical stench, then this place is a biological rot.

The air humidity was extremely high, and the walls were covered with condensation droplets, each of which could contain thousands of deadly germs.

"This...this is our sanctuary."

The surgeon clutched his chest, his voice slightly slurred, because Andy's slap had knocked out several of his teeth.

He pointed to the huge glass jars in the center of the hall, his tone still carrying a trace of lingering pride.

Those glass jars, which were at least two meters tall, were filled with a yellowish, turbid liquid.

In the center of the liquid, huge chunks of meat, still wriggling slightly, were suspended.

Upon closer inspection, those chunks of flesh are not naturally grown tissues, but rather a Frankenstein's monster made by stitching together the organs of various organisms—liver, lungs, intestines—with rough surgical sutures.

On the surface of these pieces of meat, there was a thick layer of blackish-green mold.

This is the core pharmaceutical technology of "Bird Beak Doctor".

Andy was somewhat disappointed; he had thought he would finally see some decent technology.

However, in the Warhammer universe's Underhive, science is long dead, leaving only experience, dogma, and endless superstition.

These doctors have absolutely no idea what molecular biology or genetic engineering is.

They were just a group of butchers who had found ancient fragments.

They didn't know that antibiotics are secreted by fungi; all they knew was that if, at a specific temperature, the liver of a mutant human and the intestines of a mouse were sewn together and soaked in acidic water, the green hair that grew on them could be scraped off to make medicine that could cure gunshot wounds and infections.

But in Andy's view, this is just a typical example of the goods worship effect.

When primitive people saw airplanes dropping supplies, they got a taste of the benefits and started making airplane models out of straw, bowing to them every day in hopes that more food would fall from the sky.

These doctors imitated illustrations from ancient medical books, donned hazmat suits and bird-beak masks, and performed complex cutting rituals, but in reality, they had no systematic technique at all.

Andy walked up to a jar.

STC analysis initiated, and a red laser beam swept across the layer of green mold.

[Sample confirmed: Penicillin variant (strain number: P-772).]

[Source: Environmental remediation strain from the "Gaia Project" in the dark technology era (severely degraded/mutated).]

[Active ingredients: Penicillin G, streptomycin residue.]

Impurities: cadaverine, putrescine, and various unknown biotoxins.

Andy looked at the analysis report and felt more confident.

But you know what, this stuff is actually effective.

This mutant strain has extremely strong antibacterial properties and can even kill some superbugs unique to the bottom nest.

However, its toxicity is also alarmingly high.

If an ordinary person takes this medicine, their illness will be cured, but their liver and kidney functions will basically be ruined.

"This is what you give the patients to drink?"

Andy pointed to a bottle of freshly extracted, murky green liquid on the workbench next to him.

The surgeon nodded: "This is the water of life; one bottle can be exchanged for hundreds of slave laborers."

“But this is full of corpse poison,” Andy pointed out bluntly.

“That’s a side effect of the medication,” the surgeon explained. “Only by enduring the test of pain can the body be purified.”

Andy was speechless at his charlatan theories.

He simply plugged the data probe into an old server next to him.

This machine looks at least 500 years old. It was obviously found somewhere. The screen is round and is still flashing green characters.

Andy started downloading the data.

Although these doctors didn't understand the underlying principles, the experimental logs they had accumulated over the years were invaluable.

Which organ-cultured bacterial strains exhibit the strongest activity?

At what temperature does mold grow fastest?

All of this data was obtained by testing on countless living people.

Now, Andy no longer needs to conduct those cruel experiments; he only needs to take the data and then correct it using the correct formulas from the STC database.

By simply replacing the disgusting viscera culture medium with a clean starch and amino acid solution, and then purifying it using a centrifuge, you can obtain industrial-grade antibiotics with a purity of over 98%.

The cost is less than one percent of what it is now, and the effect is a hundred times better.

Andy pulled out the probe, and the data transmission was complete.

He turned around and looked at the surgeon who was still trembling beside him.

"Starting today, this production process is obsolete."

Andy's voice was beyond question.

"I will provide you with new equipment blueprints and new biochemical formulas."

"We don't need to go around capturing people and gutting them anymore. That's too inefficient and disgusting."

“With starch, sugar, and yeast, you can make something much more presentable. You are only responsible for providing me with the raw materials.”

The surgeon was stunned.

Using starch and sugar?

Those things can grow sacred green hair?

This completely overturned his decades-long understanding of medicine.

But he dared not argue, because Andy's gun was still lying next to him.

Andy pointed to the original bacterial cultures in the jars.