Chapter 1421

Above the dim cell, the light bulb flickered constantly. All the prisoners were tossing and turning on the beds, looking very irritable.

Ever since a vicious murder occurred on this floor, the prison guard patrolled here at a speed of about three or four times an hour, knocking on the railing every ten minutes or so. Heavy footsteps and coughing sounds rang out without any regularity, and no one could sleep soundly at all.

Any maximum-security prison, although it claims to be watertight, as long as it is not fully mechanized and has human participation in management, there are always loopholes. This is how various contraband items are brought in.

To avoid inspection, contraband items often exist in the form of powder wrapped in paper packets the size of a bookmark. As long as you can get a match, you can use them. In the past, it wasn't that no one hid in places where the prison guards couldn't see to secretly use them, but very few people dared to get themselves high to the point of losing consciousness.

But everyone in the prison who heard about Jimmy's incident didn't doubt it. On one hand, they all knew that Jimmy was transporting drugs for that group of drug dealers in the Border gang. The possibility of him getting contraband was too great, and it was very likely that he was stealing from the warehouse.

The inspection of goods in the prison is very hurried. Jimmy only needed to intercept a tiny bit each time, and it would be enough to get himself high. Moreover, he had also been beaten by Dog and went to the infirmary before. Many prisoners on the road saw it and knew that the two of them had a grudge.

So it was not impossible for Jimmy to use the courage provided by the hallucinogenic ingredients to fight with Dog. The only suspicious point was that he hid a toothbrush. However, he was relatively small, so it was normal for him to think of ways to hide things for self-defense.

Just like that, this incident was judged as a fight caused by a prisoner using contraband, ultimately resulting in one death. After Jimmy woke up, except for trembling all over and crying bitterly, he couldn't say anything.

He didn't suspect anyone, and had no position to suspect anyone. After all, he did take drugs, and the toothbrush was also hidden by himself. The Bandaged Murderer asked him for it and he didn't give it. Everything was his own decision, and it couldn't be blamed on anyone else.

Jimmy was taken to a special monitoring cell, which was the cell used to hold special prisoners. If there were no accidents, he should not be able to come out for the rest of his life.

Dog died, Jimmy left, and the cell where the Bandaged Murderer was left only him and Dog's follower. The day after Dog died, that follower approached the Bandaged Murderer's bed and said: "I saw it. Dog was actually killed by you, right? You persuaded Jimmy?"

"I didn't persuade him." The Bandaged Murderer sat on the bed with his legs crossed, leaning against the wall. His gaze never fell on the follower's face, but seemed to be thinking about something all the time.

"If I had instigated him to kill Dog, then when he learned that he was going to have his sentence increased, he would definitely have turned me in. But he didn't." The Bandaged Murderer said slowly, as if he were clearing up his own train of thought.

"Then how did you do it?" The follower leaned forward again, but when he saw that red-glowing one eye, he retreated to his bed in a panic.

The Bandaged Murderer remained silent, as if the follower's question had stumped him. He cast his gaze toward the opposite bed.

Jimmy's blood was still stuck to the bed sheet at the foot of the bed. When he looked up, another person was sitting by the bed. It was Bruce Wei En, whose eyes were clear and bright blue.

"How did you do it?" The blue-eyed Bruce asked.

"I manipulated Jimmy to kill Dog." The red-eyed Bandaged Murderer said: "This is not difficult, but something went wrong somewhere."

"What problem?" The blue-eyed Bruce asked.

"If manipulating others to kill is not as convenient and fast as killing them myself, then why would I do this?"

"You think manipulating others is too complicated? Then perhaps you should first think about what you have done and how you did it."

"If we are to review from the beginning, then you should tell the first step." The red-eyed Bandaged Murderer said.

The blue-eyed Bruce rested his forearms on his knees, clasped his hands together, and said: "The cause was that I ran to a farm in Kansas to learn how to plant from an experienced farmer, then went to more distant Mexico, and with the help of a god-like princess, a scumbag magician, a highly skilled cryogenics scientist, and an agent of the Green, grew a whole field of broccoli, and threw my professor into the center of the field."

"I am very clear that this professor settles old scores from back to front, but no matter what order he settles old scores in, as long as I am here, he will definitely find me first."

"So, you dropped everything and ran away with lightning speed." Another Bruce appeared, not sitting on any bed, but standing in the center of the room, staring at the light bulb overhead with gray eyes.

The blue-eyed Bruce shook his head and said.

"This cannot be called running away. I think what Clark and Diana said makes sense. In order to protect the universe, we must try our best to keep this professor in a good mood, and being thrown into a broccoli field won't make him feel very good."

"So, you intend to let his mood turn from cloudy to sunny?"

The blue-eyed Bruce nodded and said: "And I have to find a way to let Schiller put my name back on his student list. Thomas's heart and blood pressure really can't withstand any more."

"And the only way to achieve both points at the same time is to write a good paper."

The blue-eyed Bruce raised his head, leaned against the wall, sighed long, and then said: "For four years, I finally understood a truth. In terms of psychology, I am not an academic talent. I am not good at summarizing the theories of other psychologists and then sublimating and innovating them in theory. This doesn't work at all."

"I can memorize the theories, and summarizing and outlining them isn't difficult either. But as long as it involves emotional analysis, there are too many truths that cannot be imagined, let alone innovation."

"Therefore, I must create a brand-new direction, find another path outside of psychoanalysis and cognitive theory, and even create a new discipline."

"Actually, I should have done this a long time ago." The blue-eyed Bruce tilted his head slightly, looked at the other gray-eyed self, and said: "I do this in any other discipline. The theories of predecessors are just auxiliary to me."

"But the reason why psychology has been hesitant for so long is because Schiller is my teacher. He led me into the world of psychology, let me appreciate its charm, and made me really want to inherit those theories and become a master of the psychoanalytic and cognitive schools like him."

"But facts have proven that whether it's physics or psychology, I am not good at doing pure theoretical research, but am better at practice. In terms of physics, even without summarizing and innovating any formulas, I can build mechanical creations far exceeding the modern technological level. Psychology is the same."

"But in terms of psychology and sociology, if certain ideas are to be put into practice, it's not something that laboratories and machine tools can do. I need a qualified testing ground."

"The requirements for the testing ground are: it must be a closed social environment, have a unique ecosystem, have enough people, and the identities of these people must allow me to have no guilt when I treat them as experimental subjects. The maximum-security prisoners in the Florence Supermax Prison are the best choice."

"In this way, only the last problem remains, and that is how to ensure that I am not affected by other emotions, avoid the interference of long-standing moral sense on the experimental process, be able to calmly and objectively execute the entire plan, and accurately record the data."

The blue-eyed Bruce cast his gaze on the face of the Bandaged Murderer. And in the spiritual space, the bandages on the Bandaged Murderer's face kept peeling off, revealing a face exactly the same as Bruce Wei En's, except his eyes were red.

"Frequent visits to Schiller's high tower made me realize that the separation of personality traits is not without benefits." The gray-eyed Bruce said: "Actually, everyone is using different sides of their personality to deal with different things. The lively, sociable side is used to deal with interpersonal dealings in work and life; the violent and rebellious side is used to deal with injustice in life; the calm side good at thinking is used to learn knowledge and take exams."

"And Schiller and I are two extremes. His personality traits are separated too far, while mine are not separated at all, intending to use my serious, cold side to deal with everything in this world."

"Now I realize that perhaps I should lean more toward the median value." The blue-eyed Bruce said. He looked at the other two selves separately, and finally fixed his gaze on the red-eyed Bruce's face.

"Bruce Wei En's heart will of course have violent, evil, and cold sides. Or rather, that overly high moral level is because the strength of the positive traits is not enough to control these dangerous traits, so a strong and powerful standard must be set to keep oneself from being manipulated by these negative traits and falling into madness."

The red-eyed Bruce said in that hoarse tone: "But when I decided to further deepen my personality traits, all negative traits separated and stood in opposition to the positive traits."

"And the reason why I no longer worry about becoming crazy..."

The blue-eyed Bruce dragged out a long tone, and then together with the red-eyed Bruce, looked at the figure standing in the center of the room.

Two Bruces with different eye colors sat on the opposite beds, while in the center stood the gray-eyed Bruce. The light flickering overhead elongated the shadows, like a stable and powerful pillar of a balance.

"To complete this plan, I must first find a way to enter the Florence Supermax Prison. It won't work with Bruce Wei En's identity, but I have no way to completely change my appearance. Any other disguise in appearance cannot escape the layer-upon-layer search of this prison."

The red-eyed Bruce leaned against the wall and said: "And at this time, a piece of news caught my attention. Thomas Elliot killed more than a dozen people again in the process of being pursued by the FBI, and is now being wanted by the entire federal government."

"He has a different interest in Bruce Wei En's identity. He once tried to undergo plastic surgery to look like Bruce. Although he was disfigured in the end, his facial features are roughly consistent with mine."

"And in order to implement my plan, and also to stop him from continuing to kill, I used another piece of information to attract his attention, letting him give up the hunt for the surviving girl in the Kansas farmer's family, and instead go to investigate another matter."

"I used the gossip of several newsboys to let Elliot notice the serial killer club."