I'm a proper student; I only take nine kinds of potions every day.

"Mid-to-late stage syphilis. The patient is in good condition, with pure blood and no contamination. They can proceed to the second stage of the experiment."

Yuri immediately began to jot down notes in his notebook, the pen nib scratching across the paper.

Pilsson put down the first test tube and picked up the second one, which belonged to a prostitute.

The same actions: facing the light, absorbing, tasting, closing the eyes, judging.

"Late-stage syphilis. The density of spirochetes is extremely high, and the host organs are nearing failure. It can be used as a culture medium."

“Find a reason to send her to the St. Mary’s Sanatorium in the suburbs.”

A flicker of fear crossed Yuri's eyes, and his pen paused briefly on the paper, but he quickly resumed his steady writing.

"Understood." His voice was very low.

Pilsner put down the second test tube and picked up the third.

The word "Arkham" is written on this one in crayon.

As usual, he looked at it against the light, uncorked it, sucked out a drop, and put it on the tip of his tongue.

Close your eyes.

expression.

froze.

"Pooh!!!"

The next second, the young man, who had just been exuding elegance, suddenly hunched forward as if someone had stuffed a lump of excrement into his mouth.

He spat out blood from the tip of his tongue along with a mouthful of saliva, splattering it onto the work surface, where dark red stains quickly spread.

"damn it!"

His face contorted instantly, his handsome features scrunched up, and his tongue lolled out, flailing wildly in the air as if trying to shake off the taste.

"Is this human blood? Why is it full of high concentrations of drugs?"

He looked up and glared at Yuri, his eyes burning with an offended rage.

"Whose blood is this?"

Yuri was startled by his reaction and took a half step back. He had worked for Pilsner for almost a year and had never seen the young man so out of control.

Even when he tasted the urine of a late-stage syphilis patient, which was mixed with pus and blood, Pilsson only frowned.

“Arkham, Mr. Pilsson,” Yuri said cautiously.

"That young college student. One of the syphilis-infected individuals specially mass-produced two months ago at your instruction."

When Pilsner heard the word "Arkham," his brow furrowed even more deeply.

"Arkham".

He repeated the surname in a low voice, as if chewing on a sour fruit.

"What an unlucky surname."

He gritted his teeth, his face growing increasingly grim.

The lingering taste on his tongue continued to spread, a complex mixture beyond common sense, unfolding into a mind-numbing map in his extraordinary sense of taste.

"What kind of medicine has this guy been taking these past few days?"

His voice carried a near-hysterical frustration.

"The smell of vampire blood. The stench of witchers. And the smell of the Healing Church dungeon!"

Yuri's eyes widened, and his lips parted slightly.

He was just an ordinary person.

But he was, after all, a servant on the periphery of the Red King's laboratory, and knew a little about the extraordinary things, especially the division of territories and spheres of influence of the various factions in Bolton City.

Vampires. Witchers. The Healing Church.

None of these three names are people of Yuri's caliber to mess with.

And their essence simultaneously appeared in the blood of a poor student.

Pilsson's complexion grew increasingly worse.

He pinched his nose with one hand, groped around on the control panel with the other, grabbed a bottle of water, and took a big gulp.

"vomit."

The strange smell, a mixture of various extraordinary ingredients, was amplified infinitely in his superhuman sense of smell and taste, frantically assaulting his brain and senses.

He felt that his tongue was not a tongue, but a rag soaking in sewage.

"Damn it, this guy also ate the copper pills that the nun downstairs gave out."

He forced out the words through clenched teeth, his voice distorted by the gag he was trying to suppress.

"Is his brain filled with shit? He'll put any medicine he sees into his mouth?"

He rinsed his mouth several times, spitting the mouthwash forcefully into the enamel basin next to him each time.

As he rinsed his mouth, he kept gagging, his shoulders trembling, his refined appearance completely crumbling.

After rinsing his mouth six times, Pilsner finally managed to suppress the last lingering strange taste.

He spat out the last mouthful of water, straightened up, his face pale, and a fine layer of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"I knew it."

He gritted his teeth, his voice filled with suppressed anger.

"These nuns have been handing out copper pills downstairs in this building lately; they're definitely up to no good."

He turned to look at the file on the control panel containing Evan's information.

I had just glanced down at two lines of text when a sudden wave of dizziness hit me.

His body swayed slightly, but he managed to steady himself by bracing his hands on the edge of the control panel.

Pierre raised his hand to his forehead.

Then his pupils suddenly dilated.

He was poisoned.

Just because he tasted two drops of that poor student's blood.

He, a [Tree Spirit] superhuman, was actually poisoned.

Although it was only a slight dizziness, I was indeed poisoned!

He leaned against the control panel, slowly adjusting his breathing, while reaching out to pull the document in front of him.

Wise Man University. Department of Chemistry.

Signatory of the poverty subsidy agreement.

His gaze swept over the three words "Priss" and stopped.

"University of the Wise".

His voice regained some composure, but it still carried a weak, panting quality.

“I remember there were vampires from the Bartrus family there.”

He turned to the next page and continued browsing.

"Looks like this guy has taken a lot of those vampire potions at school."

He paused, then shook his head, as if to confirm that what he had just seen was real.

"But this guy isn't dead, and he even looks pretty healthy? That's unbelievable."

Yuri stood to the side, not daring to breathe.

Pilsson remained silent for several seconds, then slowly stood up, the dizziness gone.

The extraordinary physique quickly neutralized the trace amount of extraordinary toxicity.

"Let's observe for two days and see how it goes."

His voice turned cold.

"If he doesn't show the mutations we expect in the next two days, we'll get rid of him."

He paused for a moment, then added.

"No need to say much. Just say that he failed the screening and does not meet the requirements for the second phase of the experiment."

Yuri lowered his head: "Understood."

Chapter 30: Extraordinary Trait: Copper Plague

After giving the instructions, Pearson looked at the black-and-white ID photo of Ivan pasted on the document. He had a thin face, ordinary features, and a stubborn look in his eyes that was typical of young people.

He looked like an ordinary, poor student.

But what's in his blood is anything but ordinary.

Beneath the bustling city, various extraordinary factions operate within highly regulated spheres of influence and established rules.

This is not a single vampire, or a single witcher.

This is a freak that is simultaneously stained with the blood of vampires, the scent of witchers, and the potions of the Healing Church.

The Red King's Labs is not afraid of any of these factions.

It's not worth getting into trouble with three different forces over a single syphilis sample.

He didn't want to provoke those powerful, wealthy aristocratic vampires who occupied the University of Sages.

I also don't want to provoke those low-life witchers who have nothing to lose and are as clingy as plaster.

Not to mention the black-robed madmen and red-robed fanatics hidden beneath the white robes of the Healing Church.

Pierson adjusted his suit jacket, straightened his crooked bow tie, and resumed his haughty tone.

"Take all the medicine off his body, and don't let him take any random medicine for the next couple of days!"