American Medicine God: Starting by Inheriting a Pharmaceutical Company and Selling Medicine

The underground vault at the headquarters of Water Pharmaceuticals, New Jersey.

The heavy steel doors of the vault stood open. Fluorescent light tubes buzzed with electricity, illuminating the mountains of greenery.

Bundles of old banknotes, tied with rubber bands, were neatly stacked on a tray like bricks. These were cash repatriated from pharmacies across the United States, not yet deposited in a bank, or rather, not yet deposited all at once.

"One hundred and twenty million."

Saul Goodman's voice echoed in the empty vault, "This is last quarter's net profit. Victor, we're rich. Really rich. Now I even use Evian water to flush the toilet, otherwise I feel like I'm doing my ass a disservice."

Victor didn't laugh. He tossed a bottle of medicine into the air and caught it.

"Do you know what this is, Thor?"

"OxyContin. Our printing press."

"No." Victor shook his head, his eyes cold. "This is a time bomb."

He jumped down from the pile of money and dusted off his trousers.

"We won the PBM war, but it also exposed our weakness. We only have this one drug. If the FDA changes its mind, or a new alternative appears, this gold mine will collapse instantly." Victor pointed to the banknotes around him. "This money, if it doesn't become new assets, is just worthless paper."

"We need a moat. We need new prey."

Saul paused for a moment, then pulled a document from his briefcase, his face plastered with a fawning smile.

"Speaking of prey, I've actually found one. But... it might not be to your taste."

Tell me about it.

"A bio lab in Philadelphia is on the verge of bankruptcy. They developed a new drug to treat asthma, but it failed. The owner is eager to cash out and leave, offering only two million dollars."

"A failed drug?" Victor frowned.

"Yes. But their equipment is very new, and they have a team of skilled chemists. If you're looking to expand your R&D center, this is a great opportunity to take advantage of them."

Victor pondered for a moment: "Get the car ready. To Philadelphia."

......

Two hours later. Philadelphia, Bolton Biological Laboratory.

The laboratory was a mess, with documents and glassware scattered everywhere.

"We don't need to be acquired! What we need is time!"

A middle-aged man in a white lab coat was yelling at Thor. His name was Eric Wagner, Dr., the chief scientist of the lab.

"Doctor, let's face it," Thor said helplessly, spreading his hands. "The bank is auctioning off your centrifuge next week."

"That's my life's work!" Wagner grabbed a brown reagent bottle, as if protecting his own child. "This compound was supposed to be a revolutionary bronchodilator! Its molecular structure is absolutely perfect..."

"But it's useless," Victor interrupted him coldly. He walked to the lab bench, picked up the reagent bottle, and examined it against the light. The amber liquid sloshed in the glass bottle, viscous and cloudy.

"It's a failure as an asthma medication." Wagner's voice lowered, like a deflated balloon. "Clinical trials showed that it had negligible relaxing effect on bronchial smooth muscle. And the side effects were too severe."

"What side effects?"

"Central nervous system excitation." Wagner sighed, flipping through a thick lab log. "In animal experiments and early human trials, subjects exhibited extreme arousal. Heart rate increased, blood pressure rose, and dopamine levels surged. Worst of all, for pediatric subjects..."

Wagner paused, a pained expression on his face.

"It will turn children into zombies."

"Zombies?" Victor raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. Children who were originally lively and active become abnormally quiet after taking the medication. They will stare at one thing for hours without speaking or moving. This state of 'forced concentration' is terrifying. This is not treating the illness at all; it is stifling the child's nature."

Wagner shook his head, preparing to snatch the reagent bottle back and throw it into the waste container.

"This stuff is poison. I plan to destroy all samples and data."

"etc."

Victor reached out and stopped him. His hand gripped Wagner's wrist tightly.

"You said...it can make a lively and active child quiet and focused?"

"Yes, but the price is suppressing your natural instincts! Side effects include decreased appetite, insomnia..."

"No, Doctor."

"In this highly competitive society, the inability to focus is itself a major disability."

Victor took the reagent bottle from Wagner and examined it under the light.

"Remember the 'Faith' product line we mentioned during our IPO roadshow? We promised to focus on the mental health of teenagers."

"What?" Wagner and Thor were both stunned.

"In this country, how many parents are anxious about their children's grades? How many teachers are struggling with classroom discipline? Those boys who are always running around, can't sit still, and can't concentrate, they're not naughty, they're just sick."

Victor turned around, his voice filled with compassion and empathy.

"Their brains lack a chemical that allows them to calm down and think. And we have a responsibility to help them."

"You mean ADHD?" Wagner frowned. "But that's a very rare neurological disorder..."

“That was before,” Victor interrupted him. “From today onward, it will become a public health issue that requires ‘widespread attention’.”

He walked to the blackboard, picked up the chalk, and wrote the word "Focusin".

"We tell exhausted parents: Your child is smart; he's just stuck with an imbalance of chemicals in his body. This medicine isn't a suppressor; it's a 'potential releaser.' It can help your child sit down, listen to a lecture, finish his homework, and get into an Ivy League school."

"This...this is exploiting parents' anxiety!" Wagner said, trembling. "We can't just give healthy children random medications!"

"This is care, Doctor." Victor tossed aside the chalk, his tone firm. "If a child fails to get into college because he can't concentrate and ends up flipping patties at McDonald's, that's the greatest irresponsibility towards his life. We're giving him a chance to change his destiny."

"Moreover, this has always been our philosophy—to first identify the pain, and then address it. If the pain is not obvious enough, then we use science education to make people aware of its existence."

“Think about it,” Victor leaned closer to Wagner, “there are fifty million school-aged children in the United States. Even if only 10% of them need this kind of ‘help’! We’re not only saving the future of five million families, but also finding the growth engine for the company for the next decade.”

Wagner looked at Victor, trying to find greed in the young man's eyes, but all he saw was a chilling sense of "holiness".

"You...do you really believe you're helping them?"

"I believe in the market, Doctor," Victor said with a smile, patting him on the shoulder. "I also believe that no parent would refuse to help their child become better."

He turned to Saul: "Draft a contract. Retain 5% of the technology for Dr. Wagner, plus $500,000 in research and development funding annually. On the condition that he adjusts the formula, keeps the side effects within an 'acceptable' range, and turns it into a strawberry-flavored syrup."

Saul swallowed hard and quickly pulled out his pen. "No problem, boss. This sounds very socially responsible."

Victor took the bottle of amber liquid and walked to the window. Not far away was the playground of an elementary school, where children were running in the sunlight.

In Victor's eyes, that wasn't a child.

Those are countless future elites waiting to be "corrected" and "optimized".

He gently shook the reagent bottle, and the liquid refracted a mesmerizing halo in the sunlight.

"First comes the physical pain, then the emotional comfort!"

Victor muttered to himself.

"We're not selling medicine, we're selling 'perfection'."