I'm a proper student; I only take nine kinds of potions every day.

Yuri took a stack of contracts from the drawer and distributed them.

"Then let's sign the contract."

Ivan took the contract but didn't rush to sign it.

He first looked at the logo at the top of the contract.

A circle contains an equilateral triangle, and a flame burns at the center of the triangle.

The flames are drawn with simple, sharp lines, as if they were drawn in one stroke.

Below the logo is a line of small print: Red King Laboratory.

"The perfect Red King."

Evan silently repeated the name in his mind.

In alchemical tradition, the Red King is another name for the Philosopher's Stone, representing the final stage of great accomplishment, namely, reddening.

Just from the name, you can tell it's definitely a heavyweight.

Without further hesitation, he picked up the dip pen on the table and signed his name at the bottom of the contract.

The rest of the process was uneventful.

The five people changed into gray-white hospital gowns provided by the clinic and were assigned to their respective wards.

Ivan's room was at the end of the corridor, with four metal-framed hospital beds lined up against the wall, and he was all alone.

The sheets were washed until they were white and stiff, and the pillow was as thin as a pancake, but at least they were clean.

The door was locked from the outside to prevent any accidents.

After checking in, Dr. Yuri gave Ivan and the others a complete set of basic examinations.

The doctor took a medical history, measured the pulse and blood pressure, examined the location and size of every rash and puncture mark on the skin, drew a tube of blood, and collected a bottle of urine.

Yuri's movements were skillful and professional, and his gaze behind his gold-rimmed glasses was calm and focused, completely different from the brutal style of the blood-drawing factory on the third floor.

After everything was completed, at 9:00 AM sharp, Evan took his first dose of medication.

The pill was quite large, about the size of a little fingernail, gray in color, with a rough surface, and had no odor.

He placed the pill on his tongue, picked up the warm water glass from the bedside table, tilted his head back, and swallowed it.

[You have taken the stage 3 B virus. Duration of effect: Permanent.]

[Effect: Engulfs Treponema pallidum, concentrating its toxicity; your body's adaptability increases.]

Ivan's heart skipped a beat.

"B virus? It engulfs syphilis and concentrates its toxicity?"

This is not treating an illness.

This is like putting a snake inside someone's body so it can eat mice, but the snake itself is more dangerous than the mice.

[Did you reverse the side effects?]

"Twist!"

[Reversal progress: 2 hours.]

Immediately afterwards, a line of red warning text suddenly popped up on the panel.

[Warning! Drug chain detected.]

[Copper oxide forms an unknown fusion with stage 3 B virus! Will it reverse the side effects?]

Ivan stared at the words, his pupils dilating slightly.

Then he laughed.

"Good heavens. No wonder the nun was handing out copper pills downstairs at Yuri's clinic."

"Could it be that the Healing Church discovered the Red King's laboratory plan?"

"Otherwise, this would be too much of a coincidence."

The copper-forming properties of copper oxide and the phagocytic properties of the B virus created a chain reaction.

Two drugs from different sources unexpectedly collided in his body.

One person was distributing free medication downstairs, while another was offering paid trial medications upstairs.

One belongs to the Healing Church, and the other belongs to the Red King Laboratory.

The two lines intersect in the same building.

This is no coincidence.

This is a covert war between two extraordinary forces.

After Ivan gave the order to reverse, the panel immediately displayed a new prompt.

[Reversal progress: 5 hours.]

He put the medicine bottle back on the bedside table and leaned back a little; the thin mattress made a soft creak on the metal frame.

"Then let me see what tricks you two can pull."

He closed his eyes and pretended to rest.

Meanwhile, in the laboratory of Yuri's clinic.

Dr. Yuri held a wooden tray with a respectful expression, on which five test tubes were neatly arranged.

Each vial contained a dark red blood sample, with a number written on the tube wall in crayon.

He placed the tray on the counter, like a servant standing before his master.

A young man sat on a high stool opposite the control panel.

She looked to be in her mid-twenties and had a slender build.

He was wearing a well-tailored dark gray suit, with a black bow tie neatly tied at the collar of his shirt.

Her golden hair was combed back perfectly, glossy and smooth.

His face was sharply defined with a high nose, but the corners of his mouth were habitually turned down, revealing a cold and arrogant impatience.

Pilsson. The supervisor from the Red King's Laboratory stationed at Yuri's Clinic.

Without saying a word, he extended his white-gloved fingers and picked up the first test tube from the tray.

The gloves are made of lambskin with fine stitching.

The nails were trimmed neatly and cleanly, and even buffed.

He picked up the test tube, which had Carey's name on it.

He examined the color and flow of the blood under the light of an incandescent bulb, then uncorked it, used a thin glass pipette to draw out a drop, and placed it on the tip of his tongue.

Close your eyes.

taste.

It's like a sommelier determining the vintage of a bottle of aged wine.

Three seconds later, he opened his eyes.

"Mid-to-late stage syphilis. The patient is in good condition, with pure blood and no contamination. They can proceed to the second stage of the experiment."

Yuri immediately began to jot down notes in his notebook, the pen nib scratching across the paper.

Pilsson put down the first test tube and picked up the second one, which belonged to a prostitute.

The same actions: facing the light, absorbing, tasting, closing the eyes, judging.

"Late-stage syphilis. The density of spirochetes is extremely high, and the host organs are nearing failure. It can be used as a culture medium."

"Find a reason to send her to the St. Mary's Sanatorium in the suburbs."

A flicker of fear crossed Yuri's eyes, and his pen paused briefly on the paper, but he quickly resumed his steady writing.

"Understood." His voice was very low.

Pilsner put down the second test tube and picked up the third.

The word "Arkham" is written on this one in crayon.

As usual, he looked at it against the light, uncorked it, sucked out a drop, and put it on the tip of his tongue.

Close your eyes.

expression.

froze.

"Pooh!!!"

The next second, the young man, who had just been exuding elegance, suddenly hunched forward as if someone had stuffed a lump of excrement into his mouth.

He spat out blood from the tip of his tongue along with a mouthful of saliva, splattering it onto the work surface, where dark red stains quickly spread.

"Damn it!"

His face contorted instantly, his handsome features scrunched up, and his tongue lolled out, flailing wildly in the air as if trying to shake off the taste.

"Is this human blood? Why is it full of high concentrations of drugs?"

He looked up and glared at Yuri, his eyes burning with an offended rage.

"Whose blood is this?"

Yuri was startled by his reaction and took a half step back. He had worked for Pilsner for almost a year and had never seen the young man so out of control.

Even when he tasted the urine of a late-stage syphilis patient, which was mixed with pus and blood, Pilsson only frowned.

"Arkham, Mr. Pilsson," Yuri said cautiously.

"That young college student. One of the syphilis-infected individuals specially mass-produced two months ago as instructed by you."

When Pilsner heard the word "Arkham," his brow furrowed even more deeply.

"Arkham".

He repeated the surname in a low voice, as if chewing on a sour fruit.

"What an unlucky surname."

He gritted his teeth, his face growing increasingly grim.

The lingering taste on his tongue continued to spread, a complex mixture beyond common sense, unfolding into a chilling picture in his extraordinary sense of taste.

"What kind of medicine has this guy been taking these past few days?"

His voice carried a near-hysterical frustration.

"The smell of vampire blood. The stench of witchers. And the stench of the Healing Church dungeon!"

Yuri's eyes widened, and his lips parted slightly.

He was just an ordinary person.

But he was, after all, a servant on the periphery of the Red King's laboratory, and knew a little about the extraordinary things, especially the division of territories and spheres of influence of the various factions in Bolton City.

Vampires. Witchers. Healing Church.

None of these three names are people of Yuri's caliber to mess with.

And their essence simultaneously appeared in the blood of a poor student.

Pilsson's complexion grew increasingly worse.

He pinched his nose with one hand, groped around on the control panel with the other, grabbed a bottle of water, and took a big gulp.

"vomit."

The strange smell, a mixture of various extraordinary ingredients, was amplified infinitely in his superhuman sense of smell and taste, frantically assaulting his brain and senses.

He felt that his tongue was not a tongue, but a rag soaking in sewage.

"Damn it, this guy even ate the copper pills the nun downstairs gave out."

He forced out the words through clenched teeth, his voice distorted by the gag he was trying to suppress.

"Is his brain filled with shit? He'll put any medicine he sees into his mouth?"

He rinsed his mouth several times, spitting the mouthwash forcefully into the enamel basin next to him each time.

As he rinsed his mouth, he continued to gag, his shoulders trembling, his refined appearance completely crumbling.

After rinsing his mouth six times, Pilsner finally managed to suppress the last lingering strange taste.

He spat out the last mouthful of water, straightened up, his face pale, and a fine layer of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"I knew it."

He gritted his teeth, his voice filled with suppressed anger.

"These nuns have been handing out copper pills downstairs in this building lately; they're definitely up to no good."

He turned to look at the file on the control panel containing Evan's information.

I had just glanced down at two lines of text when a sudden wave of dizziness hit me.

His body swayed slightly, but he managed to steady himself by bracing his hands on the edge of the control panel.

Pierre raised his hand to his forehead.

Then his pupils suddenly dilated.

He was poisoned.

Just because he tasted two drops of that poor student's blood.

He, a [Tree Spirit] superhuman, was actually poisoned.

Although it was only a slight dizziness, I was indeed poisoned!

He leaned against the control panel, slowly adjusting his breathing, while reaching out to pull the document in front of him.

Wise Man University. Department of Chemistry.

Signatory of the poverty subsidy agreement.

His gaze swept over the three words "Priss" and stopped.

"University of the Wise".

His voice regained some composure, but it still carried a weak, panting quality.

"I remember there were vampires from the Bartrus family there."

He turned to the next page and continued browsing.

"Looks like this guy has taken a lot of those vampire potions at school."

He paused, then shook his head, as if to confirm that what he had just seen was real.

"But this guy isn't dead, and he even looks pretty healthy? That's unbelievable."

Yuri stood to the side, not daring to breathe.

Pilsson remained silent for several seconds, then slowly stood up, the dizziness gone.

The extraordinary physique quickly neutralized the trace amount of extraordinary toxicity.

"Observe for two days and see how it goes."

His voice turned cold.

"If he doesn't show the mutations we expect in the next two days, then get rid of him."

He paused for a moment, then added.

"No need to say anything more. Just say he failed the screening and does not meet the requirements for the second phase of the experiment."

Yuri lowered his head: "Understood."