Chapter 337 Wings of Freedom
The setting sun shines through the glass window and projects onto the living room filled with a burnt smell.
The old and large desk is located exactly at the boundary between light and darkness.
Alan sat on the sunny side, holding a stainless steel cup filled with a warm dark brown drink.
The residents of Liberty City use the powder ground from the nuts of this mutant plant as a substitute for coffee.
After tasting it, Alan felt that the taste was more like burnt soy milk.
It's not delicious, but for people born before the Cataclysm Era, it can at least provide some nostalgia and comfort for the bygone civilized life.
No wonder this drink is so popular among the elderly.
On the shady side of the desk was an old-fashioned armchair.
The old man with gray hair and beard sat in an armchair, holding a cup of the same "coffee" in his hand.
The old man was wearing a black windbreaker and almost blended into the shadows.
The sight emitted from the left eye contains powerful magical power.
Whenever his eyes rested on Alan's face, it always caused a slight stinging sensation.
The old man's right eye is covered by a peculiarly shaped eye patch.
The eye mask looked like a metal compass with a slightly trembling compass needle, which was very strange.
This strange old man is Cato and Anne's adoptive father, Professor Butler.
Two days ago, Allen came to the refuge "Liberty City" under the control of "Freedom Wings".
Professor Butler happened to be away from home at the time.
After waiting for two days, Alan finally got the chance to visit him.
"Prophet, have you considered my suggestion?"
The old man's hoarse voice broke the silence in the room.
Alan nodded slightly.
"Professor, I am willing to accept your test to prove that everything I say can stand the test of time."
From the moment he called himself a "prophet", we knew that being a charlatan was not something that could be accomplished simply by talking.
Professor Butler seemed to disagree with his claim that he was a prophet and came to save the world by God's will.
It was just out of politeness that I didn't scold him as a liar to his face.
He proposed to use his "mind reading" to test how credible Alan's self-proclaimed identity as a prophet was.
At the very least, you have to deceive yourself before you deceive others, otherwise it will be exposed at a glance.
Allen felt that it was natural for him to be questioned since he was on someone else's turf.
With his consent, Professor Butler raised his right hand, touched the compass embedded in his right eye with his index finger, and rotated the compass in a circle.
Alan watched his strange movements in silence with curiosity.
Snap!
A sound similar to that of a lock being opened came from inside the compass.
Then the compass opened up, revealing dark eye sockets.
Just as Alan was wondering, a strange scene appeared.
An eyeball popped out of Professor Butler's right eye socket.
Just like the time bird that pops up on an old-fashioned clock at the top of the hour.
The eyeball, dragging along blood vessels and nerve bundles, flew out of Professor Butler's eye socket and floated in mid-air.
The pupils stared at Allen, emitting a dizzying light.
In reality, Alan is a ninth-level warlock after all.
With years of experience in spell identification, he could tell that this strange eyeball was casting a spell on him.
Or as this wasteland world calls it, it’s called “visual superpowers”.
The ingredients of superpowers are complex.
Alan identified "True Seeing", "Detect Thoughts" and a host of hypnosis and hallucination spell configurations.
All these spell effects are insignificant when taken individually.
But when combined together, it is comparable to 9th-ring magic!
Allen had been observing Professor Butler since the beginning of their meeting.
He was sure that the professor's own magical powers were not up to the level of a ninth-level sorcerer.
But the strange eyeball has the ability to cast spells at the 9th level, which is simply incredible!
Fortunately, Allen had taken precautions.
Before entering Professor Butler's office, he used the "prayer technique" to simulate an 8-ring "mental barrier" and cast it on himself.
With the help of this barrier, the mind-reading and hypnosis attempts of the strange eyeball were successfully blocked.
After a moment, the eyeball retracted into Professor Butler's eye socket.
With a click, the compass eye mask closed.
"Prophet, your heart is unfathomable."
Professor Butler said meaningfully.
Alan's gaze turned to the corner of the desk.
Next to the pen holder, there is a Bible with a faded cover.
So he smiled and responded:
“You shall not tempt the Lord your God.”
Professor Butler was stunned for a moment, then he picked up the coffee cup and took a sip to hide his inner throbbing.
After a while, he put down the coffee cup and his expression returned to calm.
"Prophet, you said that you lived in seclusion in the ruins of Kang Town for a year, eating the flesh and blood of Titan beasts and drinking contaminated water, but you were not infected with Titan cells. I am very surprised."
"To be honest, my assistants and I have been working on copying cancer inhibitors over the years."
"It's a pity that we lack a medicinal ingredient that Solomon Company has a monopoly on. The effect of the generic drug is far inferior to the genuine one."
"If what you said is true, then I have reason to suspect that you, as a rare natural person in this world, are naturally immune to Titan cell infection."
"If you are willing to provide a blood sample for me to study, maybe I can develop a special drug to inhibit cancer."
"Prophet, since you are God's messenger, shouldering the sacred mission of saving the world, you will surely not be stingy with giving a little blood."
Alan picked up the coffee cup and sipped it calmly.
I cursed Butler, the old fox, in my heart.
Damn it! They are really good at using moral blackmail!
It has to be said that this move hit his soft spot.
Who made him regard himself as a prophet and act pretentiously by standing on the moral high ground?
If he refuses to donate blood to develop anti-cancer drugs to cure diseases and save lives, it would be tantamount to tearing off the sacred mask with his own hands and losing his moral advantage. Why should people believe that he is a true prophet?
However, Allen was unwilling to accept Professor Butler's moral kidnapping.
His blood can indeed restrain Titan cells.
This trump card must be firmly held in one's own hands.
How could he let Butler, this old fox, get away with it for nothing and make wedding clothes for others?
How to resist Butler’s moral kidnapping?
While drinking coffee, Alan's mind was racing.
Suddenly an idea struck me and I knocked over the coffee cup.
Bang!
The cup fell on the table, bouncing and tumbling.
At the same time, Alan slumped in his chair, his eyes rolled back, foam came out of his mouth, and his hands shook wildly, as if he was going crazy.
Professor Butler was so frightened by Alan's strange behavior that he stood up and actually thought he was having a seizure.
He quickly walked around the desk and trotted over to check.
"Prophet! Prophet! Are you all right?"
Alan was trembling all over and his eyes were wide open.
His pupils were dilated, as if he was about to die.
Professor Butler hesitated for a moment, opened the drawer, and tried to look for emergency medicine.
At this moment, Alan suddenly sat up straight with a solemn look on his face.
"Uh... Prophet, are you feeling better?"
Professor Butler asked tentatively.
"What's wrong with you just now? It looks serious."
"I am not ill."
Alan interrupted him in an unquestionable tone.
"In fact, I just received a revelation from God. The symptoms of madness you see are my way of communicating with God."
Professor Butler hesitated to speak.
It's hard to tell whether what Allen said is true or false.
After all, according to the records in various gospels and Ecclesiastes, prophets and saints throughout the ages did experience such symptoms of madness when they received divine revelations.
There are several classic paintings in the old times that depict this kind of spiritual scene of communication between heaven and man.
Professor Butler is a very cultured person. Although he does not fully believe in the theory of "divine revelation", he will not criticize it unreasonably.
"Professor, I have the blood of God flowing in my body."
Seeing that Professor Butler was frightened by his impromptu crazy performance, Allen pretended to be serious and stepped up his tone:
"When a mortal accepts my divine blood and removes the Titan cells, he or she will also lose all superpowers and the ability to survive in this cruel era. I'm afraid this is not a result you would like to see."
"Fortunately, God is merciful. When he closes a door, he also opens a window."
"Just now, I received God's revelation and glimpsed a path to salvation that has the best of both worlds."
Alan made a prayer gesture with a solemn look.
"In seven weeks, I will follow God's revelation and create holy water that contains miraculous power."
"When patients take holy water, not only can they suppress cell mutations and prolong their lifespan, but they can also retain their existing superpowers."
"But before that, I have a mission to accomplish."
"Professor, this is not only my mission, but also the test you have to go through to prove that you are qualified to enter the gate of heaven!"
Professor Butler crossed his hands and rubbed his thumbs together, as if he was engaged in a fierce inner struggle.
After a long silence, he finally spoke: "Prophet, how can I help you complete your mission?"
Alan smiled slightly and finally got back to the point.
"Thirteen years ago, an accident occurred at the Solomon Institute. One hundred and forty-four researchers were killed and Titan cells were leaked to the outside world because of this accident."
"Professor, of course you know that this accident is the starting point of the Age of Disasters and the source of all disasters in the world."
"Those 144 original victims are all the Lambs of the Lord. I need to know their current situation and try to get in close contact with them."
Professor Butler frowned.
"Prophet, regarding those unfortunate people, I have both bad news and good news to tell you, in addition to sympathy."
“The good news is that thirteen years after the accident, they are both still alive and well cared for.”
"The bad news is... they are only alive in a biological sense and are currently in a coma."
"You will not be allowed to be awakened in the foreseeable future."
"I don't quite understand what you mean." Allen stared at the professor. "Since they are all in a vegetative state, why are they not allowed to receive awakening treatment?"
"Because it is more valuable for Salomon to keep these people in a coma than to wake them up."
Professor Butler smiled wryly.
"My old friend Dr. Solomon has spent a large amount of money to study these sleepers and found that the Titan cells that reproduce in their bodies have become milder as the physiological activity of the host decreases. Some subtle mutations have also occurred that cannot be explained or replicated by existing theories."
"Drawing blood from a comatose person and injecting it into the infected person can effectively stop the progression of cancer."
"In fact, the serum extracted from these comatose people is the second key raw material for cancer inhibitors!"
"Imagine that if these comatose people were awakened, their Titan cells would become active. Who knows whether their blood would lose its anti-cancer function as a result."
"Prophet, waking up the sleeper means the possible loss of extremely valuable anti-cancer drugs. Dr. Solomon and the consortium behind him are certainly not willing to take such a risk."
In order to continuously produce cancer inhibitors, even though there are now supernatural methods to awaken vegetative patients, these living "plasma bags" must obey the will of capital and continue to sleep.
Until the last bit of value is squeezed out.
Allen knew that his own self in this world, "Dr. Allen", was one of the 144 sleeping "plasma bags".
"Those unfortunate victims, during their long sleep, might dream that they have traveled to another world and become the protagonists of adventure novels."
Professor Butler made a joke.
Alan couldn't laugh.
To him, this was a complete joke from hell!
…
Half a month later.
Metropolitan Shelter, subway tunnel.
The rise and fall of rail transit has witnessed the history of the city.
Construction began in the early 20th century, with a total length of more than 1,000 kilometers, the extensive subway network was once the pride of the metropolitan residents.
Today, the entire city's subway traffic has been paralyzed.
The subway tunnels, crisscrossed like a spider web, have become a shelter for those who seek to escape from the world.
In the slums, ferocious Titan beasts appear from time to time.
The Ditch Gang, the number one underworld organization in the Metropolitan Shelter and a thorn in the side of the Solomon Company's Security Department, also operates the subway tunnels as their own territory.
In the eyes of surface residents who have legal online identities, dark and filthy subway tunnels are always associated with robbery, rape and murder, and they avoid them as much as possible.
Midnight.
Two figures appeared in the dim subway tunnel.
The man was over two meters tall, in his early thirties, with a strong build and a thick beard.
The sight from the gray-blue eyes could penetrate the darkness and see clearly even a mosquito flying by a hundred feet away.
The little boy next to the sturdy man does not have his father's sharp supernatural dark vision.
Afraid of falling in the dark, I held my father's hand tightly and walked forward along the rusty railroad tracks.
The Titan cells in the seven-year-old boy's body turned into cancer prematurely, causing his abdomen and hands and feet to appear abnormally bloated.
The pale and tender little face also showed signs of swelling caused by the spread of cancer.
After walking a short distance, he couldn't help breathing heavily, and beads of sweat oozed out of his forehead.
The sturdy man heard the boy's panting, so he squatted down and motioned for him to climb on his back.
The boy shook his head and insisted on walking by himself.
The sturdy man sighed and did not force his stubborn son.
"Dad, how long can I live?" the boy asked.
The sturdy man said nothing.
He didn't want to lie to his son, nor did he want to undermine his son's confidence in recovery, so he could only remain silent.
"Dad, you shouldn't be staying with me."
The boy spoke to himself.
"Because I could go 'bang' at any moment, like when old John died, and I don't want you to get hurt."
"Dad! You should put me in a secluded place, let me stay alone and quietly, and wait for mom to take me to heaven...if there really is a heaven."
"Witt, don't be silly!"
The father finally couldn't help but interrupt his son.
"The person we are going to meet tonight is here specifically to deliver medicine to you."
"As long as you are willing to take the injections and medicine, you will get better soon."
That being said, the man knew in his heart that he was deceiving his son.
As a recluse, he voluntarily gave up his online identity and made a living in the underground world, like a rat in the gutter.
Personally, he does not regret his choice.
However, considering my son's health and future, if I had swallowed my anger and retained my online identity, I would be able to get free anti-cancer drugs now...and the poor boy would not have to suffer with me.
As the leader of the "Ditch Gang" and a "Class A wanted criminal" with a reward offered by the Solomon Company, he has no way back and can only place his hopes on Professor Butler.
Although this generic drug has a bad reputation and is far less effective than the genuine product, it is unlikely to save the boy who has already entered the late stage of cancer.
But what else can we hope for, other than trying to grasp at this lifeline?
