Arknights: Studying medicine can't save Terra

Manfred: ?

He was actually a little curious about what this guy had encountered on the airship.

Given Theresa's personality, there's no reason for her to use torture to interrogate the poet, yet the poet's state of mental distress doesn't seem feigned.

Shaking his head, Manfred suppressed his damned curiosity and quickened his pace to leave the scene.

The poet ignored Manfred, continuing to gesture with the wrench in his hand and muttering to himself:

"Why can't the door be closed? Why can't it be closed?"

The poet, who was already bordering on madness, went upstairs and soon arrived at the door of Qi Yan's room.

Inside, Qi Yan's familiar laughter rang out, mixed with Mandela's shouts.

“Mandela, what can I say? You may have lost your leader, but you still have me!”

"Qi Yan, what are you barking about? You're not even worth a hair on the leader's head!"

"You're right, but I've touched her hair and petted her big tail. Can you do that?"

"Are you looking for death? Are you crazy?"

From inside the door came Mandra's furious outburst, followed by the sound of chairs overturning and shouts of "spy" trying to break up the fight.

poet:"……"

He pushed open the door and, unsurprisingly, saw Mandela and Qi Yan huddled together on the floor.

Qi Yan was clearly no match for Mandela and was firmly pinned to the ground, but he still stubbornly clung to Mandela's tail.

"Let go!" Qi Yan was grabbed by the wolf's ear, and he gasped in pain. "You were the one who got dumped, and I kindly took you in, and you repay kindness with enmity!"

Mandela persisted, "I don't believe it! This must be your conspiracy! You coerced the leader into abandoning me!"

"I'm a key duplicator, are you?"

Qi Yan pulled Mandrag's tail in front of him and bit it down with a whoosh.

Mandra screamed and jumped off Qi Yan, struggling to break free of her tail.

Qi Yan got up, spitting out cat hair from his mouth, but still didn't forget to unleash his firepower:

"Sometimes I look for the reasons within myself. Have I gotten a promotion over the years? Have I worked diligently for STI?"

"What do you mean, 'what do you mean, 'what do you mean'?" Qi Yan wiped his mouth. "I saw it all. The officer was doing so well by Banana Sister's side. Even after being tricked, he still received a comforting smile from Banana Sister."

"What do you mean, 'what do you mean'?" Qi Yan's voice grew increasingly arrogant. "There are so many cadres in your Deep Pool... Oh, I forgot, you're just a squad leader, you haven't been promoted to cadre yet."

Mandela immediately broke down, forcefully tugged at her cat ears, and jumped up, headbutting Qi Yan on the chin.

With two thuds as people fell to the ground, the room finally fell silent.

'spy':"……"

poet:"……"

Who are we? Where are we? What just happened?

After a while, Qi Yan struggled to sit up, looked at Mandela who was lying on the ground pretending to be dead, and smiled smugly:

"Little brat, I might not be able to out-argue Xiaoman, but I certainly can't out-argue you, Xiaoman?"

Mandela buried her face in the floor and let out a muffled groan.

Suddenly she felt a hand fall on her hair.

Mandela's body trembled slightly.

She was so enraged that she acted without thinking, launching a rocket headbutt and only realizing who she was facing when the person was lying on the ground.

"...Kill me or torture me, it's up to you." Mandela remained silent, completely giving up the struggle and becoming an ostrich.

The scenario of being slapped into the floor and unable to be pried out, which one might have imagined, did not occur.

The hand that landed on her hair was just gently rubbing it.

"Silly cat, did you hurt yourself?" Qi Yan teased. "You almost knocked me unconscious. Did you really want to kill me?"

"Aren't you angry?" Mandela finally raised her head.

Through her slightly messy bangs, she saw a smiling face. The other person's expression was so peaceful, even gentler than the leader she remembered.

Perhaps... the leader was never kind to her, and it was all just a romanticized version of her own memory.

She lost her leader, but perhaps she truly found a new purpose.

Mandra's soft cat ears twitched slightly, and she lay on the ground, instinctively trying to rub her head against Qi Yan's palm.

"I'm not angry. Why should I argue with an idiot?"

Qi Yan's words caused Mandela to freeze in place.

"Speak in unison!!!"

A scream pierced the eardrums of the other three people in the room, and Qi Yan was once again tackled to the ground.

"Protect the emperor! Quickly, someone come to protect the emperor!"

Qi Yan's screams followed immediately, one after another.

It took quite a while for the poet and the 'spy' to finally separate.

Even with the 'spy' holding his shoulder, Mandra kept baring his teeth at Qi Yan, almost making a hissing sound like a kitten.

The 'spy' looked at Mandela's irritable appearance with a wry smile, but inwardly he finally breathed a sigh of relief.

He no longer needed the words he had prepared in his mind before he arrived.

Although Qi Yan kept challenging Mandela's nerves, the effect was unexpectedly outstanding. Although Mandela looked furious at the moment, as her childhood friend, the 'spy' could clearly tell that Mandela's condition was much better than before.

With the poet's help, Qi Yan got up, rubbing the red marks on his arm from being scratched, and opened his mouth as if to say something.

"Lord Qi Yan, I have brought back some intelligence."

The poet quickly interrupted Qi Yan, fearing that he would further provoke Mandela.

"How can you still gather intelligence in this condition?"

Qi Yan's suspicious gaze swept over the poet.

The other person was captured by Theresa. Although there were no visible injuries, the oil stains on his clothes and the suspicious wrench in his hand clearly indicated that he was undergoing labor reform at the police station.

The poet awkwardly wiped his clothes, but this action only made the oil stains spread further.

"Honestly, you would never guess what I've been through," the poet tried to salvage his image.

"Did they go to fix the gate?" Qi Yan asked.

The poet choked on the words that were about to come out.

Chapter 695 Theresia, a unique guardian spirit of Terra

"And it's not even fixed yet?" Qi Yan added insult to injury.

poet:"……"

"So that's why Theresa disliked you?" Qi Yan persisted.

poet:"…………"

"at last……"

"Wait!" The poet couldn't withstand the pressure any longer. "How does Lord Qi Yan know all this? I mean... how does Lord Qi Yan know it so precisely?"

Even if Qi Yan is a god who has undergone unimaginable refinement over time and possesses many secrets, there's no reason why he would know such messy and freshly made gossip.

Could it be that Qi Yan's divine authority is the Eight Trigrams?!

The poet began to question the meaning of life.

Qi Yan chuckled: "Just guessing."

"How could you guess so accurately?" the poet remained skeptical.

“It’s not hard to guess,” Qi Yan said half-jokingly. “After all, Theresa is practically the gatekeeper of this land, always enjoying fighting against the gates.”

Years ago, she encountered a door that couldn't be fixed, and in the end, that door caught Kal'tsit's hair.

Now she's battling another door, and who knows whose hair will end up caught in it.

But he still tried his best to keep this absurd premise in mind.

"Lord Qi Yan, what I want to say is that I have discovered the secret of the airship!" The poet steered the conversation back on track.

But after he finished speaking, he found that everyone, including Mandela, was staring at him as if he were an idiot.

He glanced at Qi Yan, then looked away.

This is someone we can't afford to mess with.

He looked at the 'spy' again, hesitated for a moment, and then chose to move away.

There's no need to mess with this guy.

He finally looked at Mandela and immediately glared back at her fiercely.

You idiot, how dare you look at me like I'm an idiot?

Mandela was glared at and it took her a moment to process what the poet was thinking.

She immediately bristled: "Who are you calling an idiot? Who doesn't know that airships are the dead souls of the Sarkaz these days?"

poet:???

Am I the fool?

"No, how did you know?" The poet was a little flustered.

"I made it public," Qi Yan readily admitted.

The poet was stunned, and immediately began brainstorming.

Given that the airship = Dead Soul, Dead Soul = Sarkaz, and Sarkaz = People of the Demon Prince.

Then Qi Yan, the Demon King, suddenly revealed the truth about the airship, pushing it into the spotlight.

"Is this a power struggle between demon kings?" the poet said confidently. "Lord Qi Yan wants to use the help of various forces to take advantage of Theresa's current isolation and help to severely dampen the current demon king's arrogance!"

"Please rest assured, Lord Qi Yan, today's Kaiser is also your most sincere partner, and will show absolutely no mercy to the other demon kings!"

Qi Yan: "..."

Mandra instinctively stepped forward, wanting to relay the statement Abrahana had made earlier.

But she hesitated for a moment, and finally just pouted and forced herself to say:

"The troops from Deep Pool are also on their way."

"A group of divine gold."

Qi Yan rolled her eyes, too lazy to pay attention to the two of them.

He brushed the dust off his clothes from playing with Mandela, and walked toward the door.

"They can come or not, it's all the doctor's business anyway. I just need to be in the right place at the right time."

"Aren't you incapable of taking action?" Mandela was the first to ask.

"Who said I was going to make a move?"

Qi Yan raised her hand to tidy her slightly messy hair: "I'm going to bring a cute little cat with me to meet her parents."

Mandela's eyes widened suddenly, and her legs inexplicably lost control as she quickly followed Qi Yan's steps.

The 'spy' and the poet exchanged a glance and followed.

The four of them went downstairs to the front door. The poet, eager to please like a lackey, quickly stepped forward, ready to personally open the door for Qi Yan.

Seeing the poet open the door, Qi Yan's heart skipped a beat, but it was too late to stop him.

Just as the poet's fingertips were about to touch the doorknob, he suddenly realized something and kicked it away.

"who?!"

With a low shout from the poet, the door was kicked open, and black threads rushed in from outside, arriving before the poet in an instant.