Chapter 236: Verdant-Jade Cellular Balm

Evren stood beside the kitchen island with the receiver pressed to his ear as Raymond’s anxious voice came through the line.

"Director Crowe and the Regulation Board published a priority bulletin on the industry network forty minutes ago," Raymond said, his words coming in a hurried rush. "They registered a patent for something called Verdant-Jade Cellular Balm, claiming it’s their proprietary breakthrough after three years of internal research."

"And the problem?"

"They scheduled a major press conference for nine o’clock this morning at the Capital Commerce Hall," Raymond replied. "They sent a formal notice to our factory gates, claiming our Star-Jade Salve infringes on their formula and warning us to halt production."

Evren listened without a trace of panic, his eyes looking out over the dark capital skyline. He knew how the Board operated when their extortion failed.

"Stay calm, Raymond," Evren said smoothly. "Keep our automated lines running under Captain Keller’s guard, and back up all production logs. I will handle Director Crowe in the morning."

"Understood, Chairman," Raymond breathed, sounding visibly relieved by Evren’s voice. "We’ll keep the gates locked and lines rolling."

Evren ended the call and set Calista’s phone back on the marble counter.

He walked down the dimly lit hallway toward her bedroom suite, pausing at the open doorway. Calista was sound asleep beneath the soft duvet, her silver hair spilling across the pillow while her breathing remained deep and peaceful.

Evren decided not to disturb her. She had endured a long, stressful day at the factory and evening at the riverfront; waking her in the middle of the night over a press conference that was hours away served no purpose.

He returned to his study and sat at his desk, watching the slow passage of time as the stars faded into early dawn.

At half past five, the first faint grey light of dawn began to touch the distant horizon. A quiet rustle came from the bedroom suite, followed by the soft sound of footsteps padding across the hardwood floor.

Calista walked into the kitchen wearing a soft cream-colored robe. When she saw Evren sitting at the counter with a glass of water, a warm smile touched her lips.

"You’re awake early," Calista murmured, stepping up beside him. "Did you sleep well?"

"Didn’t sleep at all," Evren replied gently, sliding the glass of water toward her. "I’m sorry for picking up your phone in the middle of the night, but Raymond called around two in the morning."

"You never have to apologize for that, Evren," Calista said softly, placing her hand gently over his. She took a sip of the water, her expression shifting into alert focus. "What happened?"

Evren brought up the Regulation Board’s official press release on his tablet and handed it to her. "Crowe announced a new product at one in the morning. Verdant-Jade Cellular Balm."

Calista scanned the digital bulletin, her gaze darting across the chemical claims and clinical descriptions. Her eyes widened as she read the listed benefits.

"Dissolving necrotic acid burns, accelerating cellular closure, and restoring tissue elasticity without surgical scraping," Calista read aloud in disbelief. "Evren, this is an exact mirror of the clinical claims I submitted for our Star-Jade Salve."

"Even the secondary solvent ratios they published are almost identical to your patent paperwork," Evren noted, pointing to the chemical chart.

"They’re claiming they invented a cellular regeneration balm that cures the exact same injuries as ours," Calista said, her brow furrowing deeply as she studied the specs. "Yet that’s completely impossible."

"Why impossible?" Evren asked.

"Because the primary active catalyst in my Star-Jade Salve requires genuine Star-Jade tree sap," Calista explained, looking up at him. "Those trees are virtually extinct on the open market. The only surviving grove in the entire province is inside my family’s ancestral conservatory, and we haven’t sold a single drop to anyone."

She tapped the screen, her mind racing through the alchemical variables. "We never submitted a physical sample to the Board during our filing. The only jars that ever left our cleanroom went to the military through Major Bradley’s clinical trials."

"So Crowe must have pulled strings with a military contact to get his hands on one of those trial vial," Evren deduced calmly.

"Exactly," Calista nodded. "Their chemists must have reverse-engineered the basic formulation. But because they couldn’t purchase real Star-Jade sap anywhere in the capital, they had to use a substitute."

She set the tablet down on the counter. "I need to see their balm, Evren. If I can get a sample into our lab, I can run an assay and tell you exactly what substitute they used."

Evren checked the time on his watch. It was just past six in the morning, and the Board’s press briefing was scheduled for nine.

He considered his options. He needed an early sample of the Board’s product before the public conference, and waking up random contacts would waste precious minutes.

Then his mind went to Major Bradley. If the Board wanted to hijack Starlight’s market and replace her contract with their own product, the military would be the first .

Evren picked up his communicator and dialed Major Bradley’s direct military line. The call connected on the second ring.

"Chairman Evren," Bradley answered in his gravelly voice. "I was just about to dial your number."

"You saw the Board’s announcement?" Evren asked.

Bradley scoffed with open disgust. "A sales representative from the Board’s affiliate laboratory walked into my office twenty minutes ago, dropping off an evaluation kit for their new balm and begging us to give it a trial."

"Major, can you bring that evaluation kit to our District Two facility right now?" Evren asked. "Calista wants to run a full laboratory test on their mixture under Decree Twelve."

"I’m already putting my coat on," Bradley replied without hesitation. "I’ll be at your gates within an hour."

Forty minutes later, Evren and Calista arrived at the Starlight facility in District Two. Raymond Wells and Sharon Lee were waiting in the main cleanroom, having already powered up the diagnostic spectrometers and thermal imaging units.

Major Bradley arrived shortly after, carrying a sealed grey case with the Regulation Board’s official crest stamped across the lid. He set the case on the stainless-steel examination table and popped the latches.

Inside rested a six-ounce glass jar filled with pale green ointment, labeled Verdant-Jade Cellular Balm.

Calista put on her sterile white lab coat and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. She unsealed the jar and scooped a small amount of the balm onto a glass slide, inspecting the texture and aroma.

"The surface color is slightly duller, though appearance alone doesn’t prove anything in alchemy," Calista noted, bringing the slide toward the spectral sensor. "What truly matters is the molecular resonance beneath the dye."

She loaded the sample into the automated centrifuge and engaged the spectral resonance scanner. For the next twenty minutes, the cleanroom was silent except for the low hum of the machinery.

Digital graphs and molecular weight curves began to populate across the wall monitors. Calista leaned closer to the readouts, her sharp eyes tracking every compound spike.

"Found it," Calista said, pointing her stylus at a jagged peak on the third graph. "They substituted Star-Jade sap with Synthetic Emerald-Bark Resin."

Bradley leaned over her shoulder, studying the unfamiliar chemical markers. "What does that mean for someone using it?"

"On the surface, it looks convincing," Calista explained, turning toward Bradley and Evren. "It has a cooling effect and temporarily numbs local pain, so patients will initially believe it’s working."

She brought up the thermal absorption curve on the adjacent screen. "The problem is how it reacts inside living tissue. Synthetic Emerald-Bark Resin cannot fully break down at human body temperature."

"Does it cause an immediate burn?" Evren asked.

"No, that’s the insidious part," Calista replied, shaking her head. "A single application won’t cause an obvious crisis. But when used repeatedly over ten to twenty weeks, the synthetic resin accumulates in the fine capillaries and hardens into microscopic mineral deposits."

Bradley’s brow furrowed in deep concern. "What kind of damage does that cause?"

"It causes gradual tissue stiffness and restricts local mana flow," Calista stated firmly. "For an ordinary civilian, it feels like persistent skin tightness. But for soldiers and Awakeners channeling mana through their limbs, those deposits clog the fine meridians and permanently ruin their combat reflexes."

Calista reached into Bradley’s evaluation case and picked up the glossy product pamphlet, curious to see how the Board had licensed such a formula. As she scanned through, her eyes locked onto a tiny block of fine print near the bottom.

"Look at this," she murmured, pointing to the advisory note. "’Patients may experience temporary mild tightness or localized stiffness at the application site.’"

"They knew," Bradley growled, his fists tightening into hard knots. "They saw the stiffness during their internal tests, and they buried it as a harmless side effect just to rush this garbage to market."

"They wanted to beat our military delivery by any means necessary," Evren said with a cold glint in his eyes.

Calista plugged an encrypted data drive into the terminal, exporting the complete spectrometry report, molecular breakdown, and thermal absorption models. She ejected the drive and held it up with a confident smile.

"I have every piece of empirical data we need," Calista said, looking between Evren and Major Bradley. "Their miracle cure is a flawed counterfeit."

Evren glanced at the wall clock. It was eight-fifteen in the morning.

"Director Crowe’s grand press briefing starts in forty-five minutes at the Capital Commerce Hall," Evren said calmly, adjusting his collar. "Let’s go show the capital what its board is truly selling."