Witch, Fireball and the Evil God of Steam-Chapter 726 - 100: Day 4

In fact, Professor Karl and the philosopher who penned the City of Truth look vastly different. Immersed in the dreamscape, it was at the empire's inception, and the philosopher was in his prime. Based on the society's description of him, he had sharp eyes and an impressive presence, while Professor Karl is now over fifty, with a slightly portly figure, resembling a kind and caring elder.

Moreover, this elder had a noticeable red mark on his face upon entering the "dreamscape."

"Professor Karl, are you alright?"

Ethan stared at the red mark on his face, asking with concern.

Recently, the Imperial Knight Commander from the Other Shore returned to the Imperial Capital, greatly enhancing the city's security. Even if Professor Karl walked the streets at night, he shouldn't be attacked.

Could it have been Miss Keroy who hit him?

"I'm fine, I just got a bit too involved."

He rubbed his left cheek. Since Ethan's departure, he had repeatedly immersed himself in the role of the philosopher, striving to imitate his words and actions. To ensure infallibility, he even used the Truth Society's magic to place a strong psychological suggestion on himself.

The spell worked remarkably well.

At the dinner table, when he said to Vince, "Who are you? I have no wife like you," Vince finally lost patience and resorted to non-lethal physical actions against him.

"Actually, you don't need to be so nervous."

Ethan said, "They won't notice anything unusual."

He was quite confident about this.

Because here, if he says someone should replace the philosopher, that person can replace the philosopher. The opinion of the Democratic Assembly members is not important; even if their familiar "otherworldly" visitor has turned into a balding, overweight elderly man, they must accept it quietly.

He and Professor Karl stood across the street from the "Consensual Obelisk," and Professor Karl looked up, gazing at the building that seemed to pierce through the sky. He could still scarcely believe that the "civilization spire of the ideal city" he had read about countless times was now tangibly before his eyes.

He knew exactly what was going to happen as he walked through that door.

The books had mentioned numerous times the philosopher's communication and negotiation with the Democratic Assembly, dialogues he had memorized by heart.

"I'll leave the next thing to you; I have to go to work."

Ethan said, "No need to be nervous, in their eyes, you are their familiar visitor, beyond doubt."

This was the fourth day of the dreamscape's existence.

The "ideal city" was accelerating toward destruction.

Ethan skipped the mundane daily life, using only major events recorded in the City of Truth as markers. And today, Professor Karl would be having in-depth discussions with the Democratic Assembly on "perfect specimens" and the True God and Tao Path belief system.

He returned to the clothing store.

Walking all the way down the stairs, three professors were already waiting there.

Under typical circumstances, the research and production cycle of HEV protective suits would take several months to a year to meet objective standards, but Ethan shortened the time to a single day.

"Ethan, you're finally here."

Professor Sun insisted on waiting for Ethan to arrive at the laboratory before starting the experiment, as a gesture of respect toward someone who shared their knowledge. Excitedly, he led Ethan to the lab, having already prepared a white mouse. Professor Sun carefully dressed the mouse in the HEV protective suit's material before placing it in the machine.

Everyone held their breath.

The last time they did this, the experiment was completed, but resulted in a dead mouse.

The machine's button was pressed, and the sound of "crackling" echoed in the laboratory. They intently watched the HEV protective suit and the mouse being disintegrated by yellow lightning. Two seconds later, it appeared on the other end of the apparatus. The frightened mouse froze in place until Professor Sun poked it with a glass rod, and the mouse let out a sharp squeal.

But the squeal was soon drowned out by the cheers of the three professors.

The three gray-haired elders were so excited that they seemed like recent graduates, celebrating with high fives and almost bursting into a social dance.

"Mashu Institute of Technology! I always knew Mashu Institute of Technology's doctoral students could do it!"

Professor Sun, who led this project, clenched his fist. Space transmission technology, this was akin to a scientific revolution. However, when he looked at Ethan, he saw the young man standing calmly, as if for him this tremendous success was just the expected result.

This reminded him of his own mentor, who was already a ninety-year-old elder, while Ethan, younger than everyone in the room, had reached an unattainable realm for them.

No matter the process, the experiment succeeded.

Ethan noticed Professor Zhou dialed a phone number, and shortly footsteps sounded down the corridor.

A middle-aged man whom he had never seen before walked through the door, also wearing a white coat. In front of him, the three professors returned the mouse to the left side of the apparatus and conducted the experiment with the same steps.

Lightning flashed and thunder roared, yet the experiment succeeded once again.

This time, the mouse no longer froze but bared its teeth at them and screamed the moment it was transmitted.

"Congratulations to all of you."

Compared to the three professors, the unfamiliar middle-aged man appeared much calmer, "You have made a remarkable contribution to this city."

"This is all thanks to Ethan. If it weren't for this young man, it would have been challenging for us to reach this step."

"Well then, as agreed, the company will come by in an hour. Please prepare your families."

"Of course, now we need to go back and pack our things."

The three professors left one after another. This was probably the first time they had left the lab in months, returning to their own homes. It was the prophecy of the apocalypse that brought them together, willing to put aside their revered identities, time with their families, and comfortable lives, returning to the state of pursuing their doctorates in their youth, shutting themselves in the laboratory all day long.

Among them, there were naturally agreements that Ethan was unaware of.

"Where are they going?"

After the three professors had left the lab, Ethan asked.

"They will return here to continue their research," the middle-aged man said with a cold attitude. "Before that, they have won tickets to enter the sanctuary for themselves and their families."

"Sanctuary?"

"Mr. Ethan, you have proven your worth. Three days, which is even better than we anticipated. The company... no, the Assembly trusts your knowledge and abilities. You and your wife will also receive tickets to the sanctuary."

The middle-aged man did not appear to be a researcher; his tone and demeanor were more like that of an administrator. "Your work at the West Suburban Research Institute has concluded. They will continue the research on HEV suits and spatial transmission. The Assembly has arranged a new position for you."

On the third day of starting, there was already a change in position, and the middle-aged man's tone didn't seem like a negotiation.

"Can I refuse?"

"...That might not be a good idea."

The middle-aged man said, "Come with me, and see your own lab and your team."

On the third day of his assignment, guided by the middle-aged man, Ethan noticed that beneath the West Suburban Research Institute, there was an even larger space. The corridors illuminated by incandescent lights, and people dressed in the same uniform who had long settled here, it all looked like a real sanctuary.

This reminded him of the prophecies of Noah's Ark. The people of the Western Continent also built an ark capable of breaking through the waves to deal with the apocalyptic flood.

Then, the remaining people had to scheme and intrigue for "tickets," turning everything into a power game.

Just now, the three professors had won "tickets" for themselves and their families. It seemed like many people who had made "outstanding contributions" before them had already won tickets, but Ethan felt it was mostly the officials who, after moving in, decided to leave some empty rooms for others to live in.

And this unsmiling middle-aged man had a significant official presence, suggesting his position was not low.

Walking through the corridors lit by incandescent lights, Ethan arrived at the office he was familiar with.

This was where he had been during his time as a "game designer," back when the long black-haired version of Lindong was also here. His desk was closest to the hallway, and on the left was the place where the project leader would stay.

So, before the doomsday arrives, was he supposed to develop a large-scale otherworldly role-playing game for sanctuary residents to enter and enjoy in the future?

"This is where you will be working from now on."

The middle-aged man stopped in front of the familiar desk.

"What is the work content this time?"

"Start by taking a look at these."

A thick pile of literature was stacked on the desk, which, besides text, also included detailed illustrations depicting a vivid medieval city.

All descriptions originated from the sages' accounts of the Empire, summarized into words and illustrations, organized and transferred here.

"The project leader will explain the specifics to you in detail."

The middle-aged man suddenly thought of something, "Try to think of it as a real-world."

Leaving this statement, the project leader quickly headed back the way he came.

The destruction of the City of Truth, and the blank memory in his mind seemed to be connecting in this way.

This was the last project he handled, after which he crossed over to Ximu Town and joined the ranks of refugees.

With this in mind, Ethan knocked on the door of the project leader's office.

A characteristic Mediterranean hairstyle, during work they often joked in private about the leader's hairstyle because each of their clever ideas had been shot down by this unscrupulous boss.

In front of his subordinates, Mr. Mediterranean always had an aloof demeanor.

But not now.

When he entered the room, Mr. Mediterranean was sitting behind the desk, uneasy, and even his speech became stuttered, "Hello, Mr. Ethan, yes, they mentioned you to me, welcome to the department."

Besides unease, Ethan also saw deep fear in Mr. Mediterranean's eyes.

That gaze was identical to the guild members when they saw him appear with a "404" face.

"Hello."

Ethan warmly extended his right hand to Mr. Mediterranean, deciding to ease the tense atmosphere with a playful joke, "Don't be so nervous, I'm not some deranged serial killer."

"Hard to say..."

Mr. Mediterranean shivered, quickly explaining, "Oh, of course, I mean, I certainly know you're a law-abiding citizen."