There Must Be Something Wrong With This Game!

Noticing Duan Fei’s hesitation, the squad leader must have misunderstood its cause. He said in a raspy voice, "The alcohol helps kill germs. If you don’t want to drink it, that’s fine. You can just gargle with it and spit it out."

Duan Fei let out a sigh of relief. He carefully took a small sip, spitting the alcohol out before it could trickle down his spine and past his pelvis.

The squad leader motioned for Duan Fei to follow, leading him into the pitch-black villa. As they walked, he said, "The Priest mentioned that he’d also been infected with the plague but that you saved him. What method did you use? Of course, we won’t ask you to tell us for free. We’re prepared to pay to purchase your method. We would only be buying the right to use it, so you’d still be free to sell it to others. What do you say to five hundred large gold coins?"

Duan Fei didn’t know the value of a large gold coin, but he figured it must be a considerable sum.

But Duan Fei shook his head and said regretfully, "I’m afraid my method is somewhat unique. Or, to be more precise, my pet is."

The Doctor Beak stared at Yan Yuan on Duan Fei’s shoulder, his covetous gaze sending a shiver down Yan Yuan’s spine.

"Then how much would you be willing to sell your pet for?"

Before Duan Fei could reply, Yan Yuan cried out anxiously, "Master, we’re not short on money!"

"It can talk! Even better!"

"Master, we really aren’t short on money!"

After Duan Fei told the Doctor Beak that Yan Yuan was not for sale, the squad leader sighed once more and showed him into the office of the Doctor Association’s president.

There were no patients to be seen inside the villa. All of them had been quarantined in the courtyard to prevent the plague from spreading into the Doctor Association.

Treading on the creaking floorboards, Duan Fei entered the dilapidated office and saw the president.

The president of the Association was a tall man who had to hunch over his desk just to work while seated.

When Duan Fei entered, the man was signing a document. He looked up at Duan Fei after he finished.

Through the lenses of his goggles, Duan Fei could see a pair of blue eyes scrutinizing him with a detached gaze.

After a moment, the man spoke. "You’re Mr. Duan, I presume? Could you please close the door? Also, you can remove your cloak. I know you’re not human, but a skeleton."

"How did you know? Did the Priest write that in his letter?"

"No, the Priest is very discreet; he said nothing. I figured it out myself. Based on your height, you should weigh around seventy kilograms, but your footsteps suggest a weight of only fourteen. From this, I deduced that you’re made of only bone. In other words, a skeleton."

"Impressive."

With that brief remark, Duan Fei closed the door and sat down opposite the president.

’In truth, Duan Fei was certain the Priest wouldn’t have revealed his secret. After all, he was still equipped with the [Savior] title, and the Priest had never shown a hint of hostility.’

’The president before him was the same.’

’He’d only asked the question to determine how the man had figured it out, and thus get a better read on his character.’

’A middle-aged man with keen powers of observation.’

Even though he already knew Duan Fei was an Undead Creature, when the president actually saw a skeleton appear before him, he couldn’t help but exclaim, "This is hardly scientific. Would you be interested in letting me study you?"

"You’re surrounded by Magic and the arcane, yet you champion science?"

"Who says Magic and the arcane aren’t scientific? They are simply phenomena that can be triggered through certain fixed methods. If something can occur in a repeatable, predictable manner, then it is scientific."

Duan Fei nodded in appreciation. He was starting to like this man.

’Too many people had a narrow understanding of science, but it was actually a broad and rigorous discipline.’

’If Magic were proven to exist in the real world, countless scientists would weep with joy. It would mean the dawn of a brand-new field of study, with innumerable papers beckoning to them. Research funding would become readily available, and humanity’s scientific progress would take another great leap forward.’

After a moment of astonishment, the president asked Duan Fei a few questions. He then personally drew a blood sample from Yan Yuan, diluted it, and began to test its therapeutic efficacy.

Discovering that the blood retained some efficacy even when diluted to a 1:35 ratio, the president inquired about Yan Yuan’s blood regeneration rate. From this, he concluded they could save 350 people per day.

A smile spread across the president’s face once he confirmed the blood was truly effective.

"It’s not as much as we’d hope, but this is a fantastic line of research. We’re preparing to extract blood from recovered patients to see if their blood can be used to treat others. Thank you for your contribution, my dear Mr. Duan."

"See? I told you no one would thank me," Yan Yuan muttered helplessly, having just had its blood drawn.

"My apologies. And you as well, Mr. Yan Yuan. I have some feed here. Would you care for some?"

"I’ll have a steak! Medium-rare, with a bottle of ’82 Lafite. And there must be a violinist playing nearby. I have very refined taste, you know."

"It shall be arranged."

He rang a small bell. A secretary appeared, received the president’s instructions, and left with Yan Yuan.

Once the two of them were alone in the room again, the president looked at Duan Fei with a relieved smile.

’Hope always emerges from despair.’ That was something his grandfather often used to say.

’Even when he was on the brink of death from a grievous war wound, he had smiled and told him, "At least now I have time to spend with you all."’

Shaking his head with a small smile, he focused his attention back on Duan Fei. "Mr. Duan, thank you again for your assistance. I mean no offense, but I’m curious... how did you become an Undead Creature?"

As if afraid Duan Fei might misunderstand, the president added, "In my view, a person of such noble character as yourself should not have suffered the fate of becoming a skeleton."

The [Savior] title was subtly influencing the president’s perception. Because the president himself was a man of lofty ideals, he felt a deep sense of gratitude and goodwill toward Duan Fei, despite him being a skeleton.

The fact that Duan Fei had brought a glimmer of hope only strengthened this favorable impression.

’By Duan Fei’s standards, the president’s favorability toward him should be between 70 and 80. That was the level of a close friend, meaning he would likely agree to even some rather unreasonable requests.’

’Having calculated the current favorability rating, Duan Fei felt it was time to set some of his plans in motion.’

"It’s rather embarrassing, but I’ve forgotten myself. Death caused me to forget a great many things. I only remember waking up in a tomb near a southern village. I can’t recall anything else."

"A tomb... Do you mean here?" The president unrolled a map, pointed to a location, and asked with a grave expression.

"Yes. Do you know what place that is?"

"Of course. That is the place where the great hero Beist and the Demon King Winston destroyed each other. Before heading there for the final battle, Beist warned that no one else should ever enter, and he sealed the place. However, since you’ve come out, that must mean the seal has been broken."

A thought occurred to the president, and he suddenly said with a smile, "Perhaps... you are the legendary hero Beist himself. Yes, the more I think about it, the more it fits."

Recalling what a fool Beist had been, Duan Fei’s face twisted into an expression of unconcealed disgust.

’Who would want to be like that reckless, brainless brute!’

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