Chapter 130: Experimental Fetus, Torn Photo (Please Vote for Monthly Tickets)

Boom boom boom.

The door slowly opened, and a man in a white lab coat stepped into the room.

He wore plain black-rimmed glasses, and behind the lenses were a pair of eyes that revealed rigor and wisdom.

The man's face was calm and composed; his gaze quickly swept across the room, then looked toward the person behind the desk, and he asked in a gentle voice: "Supervisor, you've disturbed our sleep—what is it?"

The supervisor glanced at the woman cradled in the white-coated man's arms.

The woman was petite and naked, her arms intimately wrapped around the man's neck, her legs entwined around his waist, her two ankles twisted and knotted like ropes, her head lolled onto the man's shoulder, her face deathly pale with lifeless dead-fish eyes wide open.

Hanging beneath the woman's deathly white neck was an employee ID card, printed with a staff photo taken not long ago upon hiring, showing a pure and sweet smile.

The supervisor raised an eyebrow: "You've changed bed partners again—your tastes change too quickly these days."

The white-coated man looked down at the woman with indulgence and said gently: "The last woman had a smell on her, you know—I have a cleanliness obsession."

The supervisor casually mentioned a point, then put away his joking expression, his tone turning serious: "There's trouble in the Nine Districts; the recent batch of Black Cores wasn't collected on time."

The white-coated man's face immediately turned grim: "My experiment is at a crucial stage; the supply of Black Cores absolutely cannot be interrupted."

Without waiting for the supervisor to speak, the white-coated man urgently made a demand: "If the Black Cores in the Nine Districts weren't recovered, how are things in the Eight and Seven Districts?"

The Sixth District is the collection point for the three sub-districts under the supervisor; the Black Cores of the Seventh, Eighth, and Ninth Districts all gather here and are turned over.

The supervisor frowned tightly, shook his head slightly, and his tone carried a hint of helplessness: "The Black Cores of the Eighth and Seventh Districts must be turned over uniformly; the experiments at the Upper City General Church have entered a critical stage, and a death order has been issued—we can't intercept even a single one."

The white-coated man gently pushed his glasses on the bridge of his nose and firmly put forward a demand: "According to past convention, the Black Cores collected and manufactured by the Sixth District in the first half of the year should all be allocated to me."

The supervisor shook his head slightly and explained with a troubled expression: "Due to the loss of Black Cores in the Ninth District, our Sixth District's inventory must first be used to fill the Ninth District's gap, so..."

The gentle glow instantly vanished from the white-coated man's face, replaced by a haze.

His brow furrowed, his emotions became irritable and uneasy; he then moved to untie the "lover's" feet and roughly threw her to the ground, splashing a pool of formalin liquid that emitted a pungent odor.

His voice was low and firm, carrying an unquestionable seriousness: "Without timely replenishment of Black Cores, our previous experimental results face the risk of coming to nothing."

"The various vital signs of E-37 Experimental Fetus are exceptionally outstanding; it has the potential to awaken. I absolutely will not allow such a seed of hope to just miscarry—I must ensure it is born smoothly!"

The supervisor's face was calm, his eyes revealing an indescribable indifference as he quietly watched the emotionally agitated white-coated man.

After a long silence, he slowly exhaled: "I understand your experiment is at a crucial link, but... the Upper City General Church's orders are unquestionable. We can only obey."

Deep in his heart, the supervisor also harbored eager expectations for the successful birth of E-37 Experimental Fetus; however, there was a more sensitive scale in his heart—namely, pleasing the Upper City General Church.

To him, E-37 Experimental Fetus was merely one of many "investment projects" he was responsible for; though important, on the scales of loyalty and obedience, it still had to yield to absolute obedience and flattery toward superiors.

The position under his buttocks determined that he could not defy the Upper City General Church.

But to the white-coated man, E-37 Experimental Fetus was far more than a simple project; it was the crystallization of all his heart and blood, like his "offspring," carrying his dreams and hopes.

This natural chasm between those who do technology and those who do management seemed to be an eternal contradiction, even in a cult.

The white-coated man helplessly compromised; his voice was cold as ice, carrying a hint of unwillingness: "If that's the case, then go find the lost Black Cores of the Ninth District."

The supervisor spread his hands slightly, a wry smile in his expression: "The situation in the Ninth District is indeed not optimistic; unfortunately, the Black Cores have fallen into the hands of the Puppet Mother's heretics, and the Puppet Mother is likely interested in the Black Cores."

He paused, his face turning grave: "The situation is probably far more dangerous than we imagine. I have already urgently reported the situation to the General Church; I think it's best for the General Church to directly send experts to handle it in the Ninth District."

The white-coated man's face turned gloomy: "By the time you report it up, and the General Church goes through layers of approval and meetings to decide, E-37 Experimental Fetus will already have lost nutrients and died."

The white-coated man coldly laughed; he knew all too well the efficiency of the General Church.

He had muttered to himself more than once that, though clearly a heretical cult deviating from the orthodox path, it had somehow caught all the common ills of big corporations.

The white-coated man couldn't wait and sneered: "Where are there so many dangers? It's just an excuse for subordinates shirking responsibility or exaggerating because they handled things poorly."

The white-coated man knew full well because, when he usually applied for new funds after experiment failures, he had done the same thing not a few times.

He leaned forward, staring at the supervisor with oppressive intensity, and said grimly: "Let me go to the Ninth District; I'll personally go retrieve the Black Cores."

The supervisor frowned, seeming to hesitate: "Alright, I'll send a team over; you stay in the laboratory and wait for news."

The white-coated man shook his head decisively: "Those wastes under your command can't succeed but can sure fail; I'm not at ease with them—I have to go personally; the experiment can't be delayed."

The supervisor helplessly sighed a long breath and finally nodded: "Alright, since you insist so much, I'll immediately dispatch an Elite Squad to set out; they will infiltrate the Ninth District and completely obey your command."

After a brief pause, the supervisor raised a new question: "But how do you plan to go? You are our company's Star Scientist, and countless eyes are watching you from the outside at all times."

The white-coated man frowned in thought for a moment, then gave his plan:

"Aren't we in a cooperative relationship with Hongguang Pharmaceutical in the Ninth District? We can ask them to hold an Academic Exchange; under this pretext, I can go as an invited guest."

The supervisor approved the white-coated man's plan and nodded in agreement: "That's not difficult; when morning comes, I'll contact Hongguang Pharmaceutical."

The white-coated man's expression softened slightly, and remembering something, he said: "Since we're attending an Academic Exchange, then under the pretext of transporting experimental equipment, report it for clearance and send those cute little creatures I cultivated along as well."

In the supervisor's mind appeared those "cute little creatures" the white-coated man spoke of, and goosebumps rose on the back of his neck; he muttered to himself: "The perverted aesthetics of a mad scientist—truly Cannot Understand."

"That's troublesome and will take some time." The supervisor finally agreed: "I'll handle it as soon as possible."

The white-coated man stood straight again, his face returning to its usual calm gentleness, and asked: "So then, please tell me now—exactly who snatched E-37's food? You'd better not tell me your people haven't even figured this out."

The supervisor slowly rotated the computer screen to face the white-coated man, and said at the same time: "The Puppet Mother's lackeys; the leader is named Zheng Hang, and he's in hiding, but fortunately we still have another person we can use as a breakthrough."

The supervisor slowly spat out a name from his mouth: "Feng Yuhuai!"

The white-coated man gently pushed his glasses; it was clear that the people sent to the Ninth District this time weren't all good-for-nothings—at least this target information had been gathered with great care.

In the email text, a clear photo was inserted; it should be a photo of a father and daughter, the photo incomplete, as if torn from the middle.

But it doesn't matter; the main target is enough on the photo.

The man in the photo wore a Patrol Bureau uniform, his face stern and unsmiling.

The girl leaning beside him wore a vibrant school uniform, her face bearing a sweet smile.

The white-coated man moved his gaze away from the man and focused on the girl's sweet face; he subconsciously licked his lips and murmured: "Feng Yuhuai, you took my things, so you must sleep with me."

Afterward, the white-coated man withdrew his gaze, lightly lifted his foot to step over the female corpse on the ground, and walked out of the office.

The supervisor's gaze followed the white-coated man's back until it disappeared, and his face immediately turned exceptionally grim.

He took a deep breath of the formalin smell permeating the air, then pressed a number on the landline, and said in a cold tone: "Notify the cleaning staff to come up and clean up the trash."

On the ground, that female corpse with fair skin and a delicate figure had a stiff face but still maintained a sweet expression, silently gazing at the ceiling, as if wordlessly telling something...

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End of Chapter