Dr. Connors's eyes flickered.
Sitting blankly in his office chair, his expression appeared calm, but in reality, he was torn between two conflicting emotions.
On one hand, Dr. Connors also wanted to conduct human experiments.
After all, what had he been researching for so long? It was to benefit humanity and eliminate the suffering of disability.
But on the other hand, Dr. Connors knew perfectly well that the current regenerative serum was unstable.
So far, only one mouse had achieved the results he dreamed of after being injected with the regenerative agent.
But the crux of the problem lay here.
They didn't know why it had succeeded.
Yes.
It had succeeded, but they didn't know why it had succeeded, and they couldn't replicate it.
Because they didn't even know where the problem lay; without finding the problem, naturally, they couldn't replicate it.
Medicine is rigorous and allows no room for carelessness.
Especially when it comes to human experiments, let alone a single problem, even the slightest doubt must be resolved before proceeding to the next step.
So emotionally, no one wanted the regeneration drug to succeed more than him.
But rationally, the board's actions were undoubtedly playing with the lives of those disabled veterans.
Dr. Connors was torn between two conflicting ideas.
Angels and demons flashed through his mind.
The angel told him it was wrong, that God wouldn't forgive him if something went wrong.
The demon told him medicine was destined to involve sacrifice, and if it succeeded, even if he died, the angels would make way for him in heaven.
Dr. Connors sat blankly in his office.
Sunlight streamed through the window, casting flickering shadows on his face.
He sat there from afternoon until nightfall. A ding from his phone jolted Dr. Connors out of his internal struggle.
He grabbed his phone and opened the text message that had just arrived.
It read: " Doctor, I'm on my way to the hospital. We believe in you."
Dr. Connors's gaze glazed over.
Then!
A whoosh.
Dr. Connors abruptly stood up from his seat, then, as if having made a firm decision, walked resolutely towards the door.
The surveillance camera monitoring the lab sat quietly in the corner, its red light flashing.
With a ding, the "bioengineering mixer" used for cross-species gene splicing and fusion successfully opened, and Dr. Connors retrieved a vial of green serum. "
I may not be an angel, but I absolutely cannot be a devil," Dr. Connors muttered to himself, looking at the vial of regeneration serum—a fusion of mutated serum extracted from mice and lizard serum—before sitting down with a determined look.
A moment later, Dr. Connors, sitting in his chair, looked at the syringe in his hand, took a deep breath, and without hesitation, plunged the syringe into his right arm, the arm he had lost in an accident, and quickly pushed the syringe all the way in.
Almost the instant he pulled out the syringe, a wave of dizziness, without even a prelude, washed over him.
Thump!
Dr. Connors collapsed headfirst onto the table in front of him.
At the same time, something seemed to be wriggling and struggling to break free from the missing part of his right arm.
Like "An insect?"
"Yes, a very small lizard."
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Having finished dinner and returned to her room, Gwen was on the phone with Hawke, recounting the amusing incident where her eight-year-old brother had been frightened by a lizard that had crawled out of nowhere during their meal.
Hawke, hearing Gwen's laughter on the other end of the line, was curious.
"Weren't you scared?"
"Hawk,"
Gwen said seriously, "You forgot? Our lab's regeneration serum was inspired by lizards.
The lab has plenty of mice and lizards."
She wasn't some delicate little woman.
She was a cold-blooded scientist who could drain a lizard's blood without batting an eye, and dissect a mouse without flinching either.
Hawke suddenly understood and smiled.
Gwen smiled too, then changed the subject.
"So, have you finished eating?"
"No."
Hawke looked at the fried chicken leg he had just bought: "I'm going to the rooftop to box.
I'll eat after I'm done."
There was no other way; the old gymnasium had been demolished and converted into a swimming pool for the new semester.
The new gymnasium was crowded, especially today, with a new semester and new ninth-grade students.
Hawke decided to go home that evening, practice boxing on the rooftop, then eat, shower, and sleep.
Gwen listened to Hawke's plans, nodded, and then remembered something.
"Hawk, can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Why do you practice boxing every day? You're already pretty good, aren't you?"
Gwen said.
The image she had seen after crossing the forest flashed through her mind:
Hawke standing shirtless in a pool of water.
The waterfall cascading down in front of him.
Gwen didn't know if Hawke had actually caused the waterfall, as she hadn't witnessed it herself.
But she had no doubt that Hawke could kill a bear with a single punch.
She had seen it with her own eyes.
After witnessing Hawke kill a bear with one punch that day, Gwen felt both relieved and terrified.
After all, she hadn't encountered a single wild animal from the moment she entered the forest until she found Hawke; one could imagine how lucky she was.
No, that wasn't quite right. Perhaps it was God's will.
Gwen then thought of the unknown website that could provide Hawke's real-time location even though his phone was switched off.
While Gwen was recalling Maryland and that unknown website, Hawke fell silent upon hearing Gwen's question.
"Why do you still practice boxing every day?"
"For..."
Hawke paused for a moment, a scene flashing through his mind.
After thinking for a while, he gave an answer.
"To protect myself and the people I care about."
"Am I included?"
Gwen's clear voice rang in Hawke's ears as she listened to his explanation.
She had forcefully given Hawke her own beautiful personal phone that day, and after Hawke didn't refuse, she felt she had found the secret to getting along with him.
Hawke hadn't expected Gwen to be so straightforward.
He couldn't help but chuckle, then nodded heavily.
"Of course."
"..."
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