Arknights: Studying medicine can't save Terra

"What do you think of these people in front of you?" the doctor asked.

"Which one are you referring to?" Mandela mumbled through her food. "If it's Rhodes Island, my first impression of you, you hooded man, is already terrible."

If you're referring to those Victorians, then I can only say congratulations, you've gone from being my worst hated person to my second worst.

"Hehe, yes, I can understand, you are a Tara."

The doctor chuckled and said, "You are the people ruled by that Gaelic king back then, the original masters of Victoria. It was those mutant Philin who called themselves Aslan who stole everything that belonged to you."

Mandela's eyes lit up.

This was the first time in a long time that she had heard something that resonated with her.

"Hmph, now you've become the third most hated person, a level above Qi Yan," Mandela praised, swishing her fluffy tail.

The doctor smiled and said, "It's an honor. If I'm not mistaken, you hate the white-haired dog because he gave his opinion on the Tara people after thinking with his brain, which is so smooth it could be used for ice skating."

It's basically some kind of talk about the Tara people killing the Victorians, the Victorians retaliating, and the cycle repeating endlessly.

“That’s right, exactly! You’re absolutely right!” Mandela exclaimed excitedly.

The doctor was still smiling, like a scoundrel teasing a fool.

He didn't elaborate on this point, but instead asked a new question:

"So you've been hanging around these Victorians for so long, why haven't you wiped them all out?"

Based on the intelligence I have, you are quite powerful. Given the strength the Self-Rescue Army has demonstrated so far, they will suffer heavy losses.

"It's all because Qi Yan won't let me do it," Mandela said, dissatisfied.

"That white dog doesn't care about people dying. If you were to kill someone, who would you start with?" The doctor's tone was seductive.

Mandra was completely unaware of all this, her thoughts gradually being led by the doctor, as she chewed her food and tilted her head to think seriously.

"There doesn't seem to be anyone I particularly dislike... so let's just kill whoever we see first."

Mandela offered his own answer.

"Kill them all, leave no one alive?"

“…It’s not that we can’t keep him.” Mandela took a breath and frowned. “I’ve spent a few days with that old guy named Bill, and he’s not bad. Let’s spare his life.”

"Any more?"

"And... that little girl named Lolo is also quite nice... Hmm, since we've kept her, let's keep Fester too... and..."

As she spoke, Mandela's voice gradually faded away.

Then she got angry again.

"Why are you angry?" the professor asked.

"Mind your own business!" Mandela hissed at the Doctor for no apparent reason.

The doctor wasn't annoyed, and continued with a smile:

"So, the Tara people and the Victoria people are no different from each other; it's you who have labeled each other."

"And then?" Mandela said angrily. "You're also going to try to persuade me to let go of my hatred, saying that killing each other is meaningless and it's all just a cycle?"

"No, no, no, the white-haired dog just knows a little more, but in my opinion, his thinking is still too simplistic."

The doctor shook his head smugly and said, "In my opinion, all of you killing each other like this now are not reincarnation. You'll just end up in this pot right now, a lump of mush, all of you dead."

"What the hell? Who are you trying to scare?"

Mandela scoffed dismissively.

The doctor picked up the spoon again, and without caring whether Mandela was full or not, he stuck her into the pot and stirred it haphazardly.

The doctor managed to separate the haphazardly tangled ingredients.

“Look, this potato represents the common people of Victoria, and this leafy green represents the Tara people…”

As the doctor spoke, he continued selecting items: "This piece of canned meat is Sarkaz, this clump that looks like a mushroom is the Duke's army, and the other soups and seasonings are just minor factions... well, including Rhodes Island."

And I'm now naming this dish Victoria.

Chapter 590 Doctor: I'll endure it!

The doctor rekindled the campfire that had been dying down.

Steam rises from the pot.

The two people beside the pot stared intently at the food inside.

"Can you find yourself inside?" the doctor asked with a smile.

Mandela shook his head.

"I can't find myself either," the doctor continued, smiling.

"So what?" Mandela stared at the doctor with displeasure.

"So you and I are actually not important." The doctor continued stirring. "It doesn't matter how much food Qi Yan or various forces threw into this pot. What matters is that with this kind of heating and adding of ingredients, it will be completely ruined."

Tara, the Duke, the Sarkaz… no one can escape.”

"What exactly are you trying to say? I hate riddle-makers."

"Your cerebral cortex is smoother than Qi Yan's... Hey, don't hit me, I can't take it!"

After being punched, the doctor gasped in pain, rubbing his shoulder with one hand while continuing to stir the ingredients in the pot with the other.

"What I want to say is that whether the Tara people want to find a glimmer of hope in this pot or become the main ingredient in this dish, they must calm down and carefully examine their current situation."

"You're definitely not the one Qi Yan chose to cook, but I think you might be the first ingredient to react in the pot, reminding the person in charge to turn off the heat."

“You *tara* bastard, that’s the material!” Mandra swore.

But then she calmed down and frowned as she stared at the pot in front of her.

The professor tapped the rim of the pot, shook the food scraps off the spoon, and pointed inside, saying:

"Look, the ingredients have already softened and mushy while we've been chatting. Even if you can't cook, you know what that means."

“That means it’s going to flop,” Mandela replied.

With that, Mandra snatched the spoon from the doctor's hand and used his other hand to extinguish the campfire with a fire poker.

The professor chuckled and said from the side:

"You gave the correct answer; the dish was about to burn, so we needed to intervene at the crucial moment."

Mandela belatedly realized what was happening and turned to look at the Doctor:

"So you're comparing Victoria to a pot of food, and you're the one cooking it?"

"Of course...no, hey, don't hit me!"

Seeing that Mandela was about to take action again, the doctor quickly waved his hand to show his position: "I am looking for the person in charge of cooking."

"Isn't it just the Sarkaz and those dukes?" Mandela said dismissively. "You can't even see that clearly, yet you're still pretending to be all high and mighty."

The professor rested his chin on his hand and chuckled:

"They are the vegetables, the people who throw ingredients into the pot, and perhaps the ones who stir it back and forth with a spoon in the early stages."

However, before I came, I tried to gather some information, and after entering the venue, I observed carefully. I discovered that there was an unseen force that had not yet shown itself, and I suspected that they were preparing a big move.

They say the main character always makes their appearance last, so I can't be the one in charge now. I'm going to have a competition with the other person to see who can hold out the longest.

“Nonsense,” Mandela continued to mock.

"There's no need to know that much."

The doctor shrugged: "Just like you, all I have to do is grab that hand at the crucial moment, take the spoon from her, stir it a few times, and turn off the heat and take it out of the pot at the right time."

As the doctor finished speaking, Mandra successfully extinguished the campfire completely.

Mandela glanced at the doctor, then silently picked up a spoon and began serving the food.

"Not full?" The doctor also picked up his bowl and waited.

“No, I just don’t want to waste food,” Mandela said expressionlessly. “You’ve said so much that it’s giving me a headache. I don’t understand the weird sense of humor of you riddle people at all.”

All I know is that food is a precious thing, and like my companions, it shouldn't be wasted for any reason.

"Thank you for your guidance."

The doctor held out his bowl.

A spoonful of a burnt-tasting, indescribable clump was poured into the bowl.

The two sat around the extinguished campfire, no longer chatting, and silently ate the food in their bowls.

"Get up and get to work! Stop sleeping here like a 'Kazdel'!"

In the workshop, the Sarkaz supervisor kept waking up the sleeping people, and anyone who was even a fraction of a second too slow would get kicked.

These prisoners were captured by the Sarkaz for various reasons and put to work in this factory, which was called a workshop but was actually a temporary prison.

They didn't even have dormitories to rest in; after each workday, they would find a corner in the workshop to lie down and fall asleep.

Every morning, the Sarkaz supervisor's abrupt wake-up call has become the norm.

But today, when the Sarkaz overseer called someone over, his rough movements stopped instinctively.

"You, the one called Extreme Realm, get up right now!"

The Sarkaz overseer stood rooted to the spot, roaring loudly.

"Extreme Realm, someone's calling you... Wait! No, that's not right!"

Qi Yan sat up with a start, scratching his head and chuckling dryly, "I was startled awake from my deathbed, and now I realize that I am the ultimate self. Hello, boss."

"What is all this nonsense?" the Sarkaz overseer exclaimed, bewildered. "Who's your boss? Get back to work!"

"Yes, boss, no problem, boss!"

Qi Yan nimbly got up from the ground, took out the cat-shaped egg roll from his pocket, ate it as he jogged back to his workstation.

The Sarkaz overseer felt a surge of anger as he watched Qi Yan's actions.

But he quickly suppressed his anger, and the more he thought about it, the more he felt something was wrong.

He was a mercenary and uneducated, but that doesn't mean he was stupid.

“Extreme… someone called you… this reaction…” The Sarkaz overseer took a deep breath. “No, I need to find someone to cover my shifts for two days.”

He wasn't sure if what he guessed was the truth, but finding someone to cover his shifts for two days wouldn't hurt.

With that in mind, the Sarkaz overseer shouted and yelled at the prisoners to hurry up and work, and walked quickly toward the workshop gate.

Qi Yan, amidst the shocked gazes of those around him, ate a cat-shaped egg roll as he arrived at his workstation.

Heidi glanced at the egg roll in Qi Yan's hand, then at the departing Sarkaz overseer, and began to question the meaning of life.

"You eat like this?"

"Otherwise what?" Qi Yan said, puzzled. "I've never learned to eat with my nostrils either."

Heidi: "..."

Fortune favors fools?

The last vestige of conscience in the overseer's heart prevented him from harming the fool.

Do they have that kind of thing?

Heidi felt she must have missed some details.

As she operated the machine, she tentatively asked:

"Extreme Realm, what do you do for a living?"

Qi Yan stopped what he was doing and silently looked at Heidi.

"...I'm not talking about now!" Heidi gritted her teeth. "I'm talking about what kind of work you did before you were arrested."

"Ugh, working for a shady pharmaceutical company, I'm working 007 every day until I'm completely distracted."

Qi Yan swallowed the last bite of the kitten egg roll and complained, "I work so hard, and I still get targeted by my boss's mother. This isn't an insult, it's really my boss's mother... ugh, my boss's guardian, who's as close to me as my mother, is targeting me."

I haven't been working long, but I'm already drowning in debt. Left with no other option, I've decided to start my own business, a nursing home called Ark.