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Chapter 8 - experiment

In a trance, Rhine seemed to hear screams and panic before feeling her entire body being lifted aside.

At this moment, Schmidt looked at the girl lying on her side against the wall, surrounded by emergency doctors, with an ugly expression. He had never expected that someone would dare to attack Rhine. If something happened to this girl, his great career would be ruined.

"Sir, the lack of oxygen has made Miss Rhine's consciousness a bit fuzzy. She should be able to move after a while. Additionally, the scar on her neck will take a few days to recover."

"Take care of her," Schmidt nodded and ordered the doctor, before walking towards the man he had kicked away.

"Idiot, do you know what you just did?"

Without giving the man a chance to speak, Schmidt kicked him again and cursed, "Listen up, idiot, even if she asked you to kneel and kowtow, you should have done it. But now you probably won't get the chance."

Schmidt neatly pulled out his pistol, flipped the safety off, and aimed it at the man's head, giving him no chance to live.

"Cough, cough, wait... cough," Rhine, who was lying by the wall, managed to cough out and say to Schmidt, "Don't kill him, he's still useful."

She didn't stop Schmidt from killing this man out of some moral high ground. After all, as the saying goes, how can you repay kindness with kindness? Although the death of his wife and son was tragic, she didn't kill them, so why should she pay for it?

Under such circumstances, there was no need for Rhine to show mercy.

After a while, Rhine felt slightly better. With the help of others, she stood up and walked over to Schmidt's side to look at the man. At this point, there was no trace of guilt in her eyes.

"I wanted you to leave here safely, but since you've made a different choice, don't blame me."

"Bah, you hypocrite. You're just making excuses for your evil deeds... Agh!"

Halfway through the conversation, the man was hit hard by the butt of the rifle Schmidt had taken from a nearby soldier. It seemed Schmidt was really angry now.

However, Rhine, who had been so vehemently refuted, became a bit anxious. She pointed at the man excitedly and said loudly, "I told you that the damage is controllable, and that there is a very generous compensation. So why did you still try to kill me? I didn't kill your wife, so what's the point of taking revenge on me?"

The more Rhine thought about it, the angrier she became. In the end, she stopped arguing. After telling Schmidt to knock the man out, she was helped away.

When the man woke up again, everyone around him had disappeared, leaving him alone in the white room with a bracelet on his wrist.

"John Blazer, wait for the doctor to inject you."

To prevent sleep from affecting the complete observation of the reagent, Rhine waited until he woke up before instructing someone to inject the drug.

Soon, three men in gray hazmat suits walked in, two of them armed with rifles, while the one in the middle opened a case to administer an IV to Blazer.

Blazer watched them leave coldly, took a deep breath, and prepared to face the severe pain he expected, but instead of pain, a wonderful sensation washed over him.

From that moment on, everything in Blazer's vision changed. The texture of his clothes, the small dust particles floating in the air—everything looked incredibly vivid.

Yes, vivid.

It was as if he had been severely nearsighted all his life and had just put on glasses. Blazer could even feel the blood flowing through his heart.

Not only that, but his thoughts also seemed much clearer, as if he had suddenly become enlightened.

This was not a state that drugs could achieve, for drugs typically only forcefully stimulate the senses, providing a false illusion while causing irreversible damage to the body.

Whether the current injection would cause harm was still unknown, but the clarity of his thoughts was not something that could be achieved by drugs alone.

With an active brain, Blazer began analyzing everything he had encountered in the past few days, piecing it all together.

Some passersby and soldiers could be ignored, but the man who had nearly killed him was important. Judging by the position and attitude of others, that man was likely the highest-ranking person present. He might seem ordinary at times, but under pressure, his influence became dangerous.

As Blazer touched the bruise on his face, it served as proof of this.

And the girl who had been strangled by him earlier wasn't just an assistant—she was most likely the one in charge of the project, perhaps even of higher status.

Blazer stood still, thinking, while those outside the laboratory looked at him, puzzled by his inactivity.

The wristband transmitted his physical state to the computer, but aside from an increased heartbeat and blood flow, there seemed to be no other changes. Perhaps his temperament had become a bit different.

"The strengthening of the reagent seems to be internal rather than external. His nervous activity should be very high, meaning he's become smarter. Send a psychiatrist to talk to him," Rhine ordered after a moment of silence.

A psychiatrist, with their keen grasp of mental states, could scientifically analyze Blazer's condition, making them a suitable choice.

However, Blazer, now injected with the reagent, performed unexpectedly well. No matter what questions the psychiatrist asked, he responded flawlessly.

The psychiatrist couldn't glean any useful information from Blazer's smiling face or his calm demeanor, which was entirely different from his previous, more erratic state.

After listening to the psychiatrist's report, Rhine jotted down notes and pointed to a soldier, saying, "Go in and rough him up. Let's see how he reacts."

The soldier, momentarily stunned, looked at Schmidt for confirmation. After receiving it, he handed over his gun and dagger to a comrade and walked into the laboratory room.

Blazer's expression sank when he saw the soldier enter, but he was somewhat relieved when he noticed the soldier was unarmed.

Slightly shifting his stance, but maintaining a friendly expression, he asked cautiously, "Hello, what do you want to talk about?"

"I've been ordered to beat you up."

The soldier's previously neutral face twisted with a hint of menace.

"I've been in a bad mood lately, so you're going to have to bear the brunt of it."

Facing the tall soldier, Blazer felt a heavy pressure, knowing that today's beating was inevitable.