Life in North America, you call this an autopsy officer?!-Chapter 437 - 254 6 (7500 words combined in two parts, additional - s 5 and 6 for May monthly tickets)_4
Chapter 437: Chapter 254 6 (7500 words combined in two parts, additional Chapters 5 and 6 for May monthly tickets)_4
This degree is hard to grasp; it needs to be done over and over again.
The final wave of despair will then carry them away.
If you don’t show up,
I’ll give them a chance to shoot, then crush their arms, but I won’t kill them.
Guess what I’ll do next?"
Brian suddenly thought of the emotional fluctuations of those victims.
He said slowly, "You’ll let them think they’re certainly going to die and make them vote to execute one person. The others can survive. Then when they think they’ve dodged a bullet, you’ll switch up the game and end up executing everyone."
"Exactly!"
Sudan looked at Brian with surprise and feverish enthusiasm, "I’ve never met someone who understands me so well. I like you a lot, Brian. That’s a nice name. How about trying to play the game with me? It’s quite thrilling!"
Brian:...
Looking at this obviously mentally unstable guy, he couldn’t help asking, "Are you sure you used to be a mental hospital employee, not one of the subjects?"
Sudan nodded confidently,
"I hold a Doctorate in Psychology.
However, my research ran into some problems a while ago. Many patients died, and the hospital covered it up for the sake of their reputation.
As a result, I went from being a researcher to a lab janitor, and I was still responsible for several research projects to repay the hospital’s losses, or else I would become a research subject.
Heh, how could research ever be free of death?
These fools have no idea how great my research project is.
Once I perfect my research, I’ll use them as material!"
The more Brian listened, the more uneasy he felt, "What kind of mental hospital is this? What is your research project?"
Sudan shook his head,
"A small mental hospital; it seems to be an institute under some research facility. It openly offers free treatment for the mentally ill, but secretly uses them for research.
As for my research project, haven’t you seen it?
Isn’t it beautiful?
I call it the Magic Flute.
It was a story I loved as a kid.
Destroying their hopes over and over, then giving them hope again, toy with their minds until they’re brainwashed into obedient little rats, voluntarily consumed by despair.
The people at the mental hospital said I went mad from my research.
So I sent their children away.
Those people can’t comprehend greatness; I can only show them I’m right with reality.
They don’t understand me simply because they’re too worthless!"
As he spoke,
Sudan’s fervent tone softened.
He suddenly looked at Brian with an odd gaze,
"It’s strange; I can’t see through your heart.
Earlier, I deliberately angered you, attracted your curiosity, or maybe you cooperatively recited the events, but your facial expressions, like those of a running mechanical program, seemed to react, but you’ve actually remained calm all along.
Do you wear a false face?"
Brian did not respond.
He looked at Sudan in astonishment, "Can you read minds?"
Sudan’s expression turned frosty, "You haven’t answered my question, which is very impolite!"
During the conversation,
He exhaled a faint white vapor from his nose and his frail body unnaturally bent slowly, transforming from an unhealthy skinny figure into one full of explosive potential:
"Do you know why I left you the message? Because when you think you’ve got me, but you find out you’re as powerless as ants, that kind of despair is even more delicious!"
The next instant,
Sudan, with a fierce smile on his face, leaped five meters, held a scalpel, and swiped past Brian’s body, grazing the base of his neck.
He was like a swordsman, who kills with every ten steps, standing more than two meters behind Brian, his back towards Brian, his tone melancholy and somewhat sad,
"Thank you for the thrill.
Damn it.
This is the pleasure I seek.
I enjoy talking with intelligent people.
You should not have died so easily by my hand, having seen through the clues I left.
I wanted to talk to you more.
I’m sorry.
I know you must be feeling desperate now.
Your despair tastes delicious.
A few months ago, my emotions became somewhat unstable, and I don’t know why.
Eh, you should have become a quality material for my projects.
Why couldn’t you have cooperated?"
"That’s..."
Brian, watching this madman talk to himself, couldn’t help but interrupt him, "Your speed is indeed not bad, but is that all?"
Listening to the slightly deflated sound of his voice, Sudan’s pupils contracted violently.
How could that be possible!
He turned unbelievably, looking at Brian.
Under the street lamp, he saw the tall, handsome man watching him with a strange look.
At the man’s neck, among the large gashes, there was no blood splatter as he anticipated, only horrifying, nauseating meat buds dance in the air, fusing with each other, visibly healing the wound on the neck...
Seeing Sudan’s ghost-like expression,
Brian touched his healing neck, "It’s rather cool with the windpipe cut open. Now, where were we? Oh yes, Mind Reading Technique. You know Mind Reading?"
Sudan stiffly picked up his scalpel with his right hand, looked again at Brian’s fully healed neck, and without a word, turned and fled.
The next moment,
An afterimage flashed.
By the time he realized what was happening, his head was already grasped by a palm and violently yanked into the air.
In his eyes filled with terror, Brian exerted a sudden force.
Rip~
Flesh tore apart.
