☆☆☆

Juta walked onto a floating platform and grabbed the handrail with both hands. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 The info platform began to follow the established course, slowly approaching the transparent spire. Twenty meters, ten meters, five meters...... Suddenly, a sharp acceleration occurred. The platform is moving too fast. She turned her head and saw that she had entered the "glass shell", which was only a meter away, but two worlds.

She stepped off the platform and calmed her stomach. No matter how many times she repeats it, she still struggles to get used to the process.

Walking deeper again, there is a door in front of you, which is transparent, a smooth and soft material, not metal or plastic...... Walk up to the front - the door splits on both sides, like a curtain of water.

Upon entering, the room was filled with a large glass enclosure filled with a red fluid, and in the physiological fluid was a corpse.

She tilted her head, and rows and rows of glass covers filled the place. It contained all kinds of corpses, men and women, as well as children and the elderly.

Passing through the glass enclosure filled with corpses, Yuta walked onto the half-meter-thick hanging platform. From here it overlooks a cabin that occupies three floors high, with a vertical cylinder rising vertically throughout the interior. The cylinder pulsated with red light, like red blood rippling in a giant needle.

Juta knew that inside was their "biological core", or "the man's" laboratory. Anyway, just like the acceleration just now, no matter how long it took, she couldn't get used to working with him. If it weren't for the boss's orders, she wouldn't even want to deal with that kind of disordered, loose, and insane guy.

Juta gripped his head and went down.

Inside, the spacious room was full of documents, books, and miscellaneous items, some on the floor, some on the desk, and some lying crookedly on the shelves. In this way, a good laboratory is not even as good as a garbage disposal plant.

For Yuta, who maintains a rigorous style in both work and life, this is simply unbearable.

She quickly glanced around, and the person was not in the room. Not to mention, it must be in the biochemical laboratory inside.

When Juta walked in, she was the first to see the man's back.

He has dazzling red hair and wears a white robe. The smallest white robe was like a giant's clothes on him, and the width of his shoulders showed that the shoulder line had reached the elbow position. Hearing the movement of the high heels, he scratched his scalp, yawned, turned his head, and greeted gently: "Good day, Grandma Yuta!"

The sound-activated light in the room sensed his voice and lit up with a snap.

It was the face of a little boy. His eyes were ice blue, with a ring of red pupils near both pupils. His red hair reflected his white skin, and his cheeks were covered in freckles.

From the very beginning, he called himself grandma, which was the most annoying. Any woman cares about age, even her.

"Good day!" she replied.

He hadn't heard a woman speak in a long time—no, he probably hadn't heard or seen a living person.

He has always been conscientious. Maybe that's why he was able to stay here for two years, without seeing the light of day, in isolation. Even though she is an old woman who is incompatible with herself, her cold feminine voice can also become a consolation for his soul.

"You're welcome!" he greeted warmly.

"Boss let me see, you made it, didn't you?" said Yuta, suddenly snorting, "Well, what does it smell like?"

There was a foul smell wafting through the air.

The little boy shrugged disapprovingly: "You came at the right time. ”

With that, he turned his head and stared intently at the metal table in front of him.

Yuta was silent, took two steps forward, and sat down in the chair next to the boy.

They just sat quietly, looking at the same quiet corpse lying on the metal platform.

It was a giant male corpse with perfect body proportions, blonde, Caucasian, and in his early twenties.

The cause of death was drowning.

He was placed on a metal table, lying on his back.

Death doesn't make people look more peaceful, it only makes people look hollow, like everything is gone, and if something is missing, a new house that has been uninhabited for a long time will become abandoned.

It is a pity that all the theories and all the theories about the continuation of life are false and untenable in front of "Little William."

Life will continue in this laboratory, but yet, it has not happened.

The boy and Yuta waited motionlessly, not knowing how long it had been. Suddenly, the boy quickly got up and walked over to the metal table.

He approached the corpse. Next, put your hand on the corpse's cheek.

"How wonderful is this!" a smile bloomed on William's face, and he excitedly pointed to the corpse's neck and asked, "Can't you see something unusual here?"

Juta didn't see any difference, she couldn't feel anything.

When the short little hand slowly moved down from his neck and lay flat on his chest, little William felt as if he had put a book back on the shelf that he had pulled out. Put it back where it rightfully belongs.

At that moment, the corpse's chest began to rise and fall violently.

The next second, he regained his breath.

Yuta was taken aback and blurted out, "Alive?!"

The man gasped heavily. Although he didn't cry like a newborn baby, the tears naturally slipped from his eyes, and he couldn't control it.

He felt his muscles so numb that the blood that had stopped flowing was returning.

For a long time, he lay there, and little William watched him.

The man finally looked up, his eyes were bloodshot, and when he spoke, his voice was very hoarse: "...... Ah......h

Silent.

After a while, when he had calmed down and tried to sit up, William Jr. reached out and took his left hand.

"Welcome back. Little William grabbed his shoulders and helped him up hard, while excitedly saying, "How do you feel?"

"Thank you...... Thank...... Close...... Heart. The man was finally able to speak the whole sentence normally.

The old woman recognized the familiar voice at once.

William said, "Jack, I'm so glad to see you, really." ”

After getting up, he tried to let go of the boy's hand and stood there with a smile on his face that had no warmth: "It feels good." ”

Jack always surprises William Jr.: the fact that he adapts so quickly and begins to control his body shows that he is very well integrated with his new body!

He looked down at his body, naked and of course no one cared. He found the body to be well-proportioned and the skin was shiny. He exclaimed, "It's a nice body!"

"Of course, you know how much effort it took me to find this body for you?" said William Jr. with a slightly smug look.

He twisted his wrist, raised his arm again, and said, "Without those stupid tattoos, that's enough to make me happy!"

William Jr. shrugged his shoulders, sighed, and said, "The last body was not satisfactory, but you also know that we didn't have much choice at that time!"

He remembered the owner of his last body. Born in 1897, Raman Avremov would be one hundred and twenty-eight years old today. His father was born into a declining aristocratic family, and his mother was a Bosnian of Greek descent. My father went to St. Petersburg University and was expelled for participating in the student movement. He was raised by his mother and was in elementary school when the Russian Revolution swept through Belarus. My father returned to his hometown from St. Petersburg, organized revolutionary ranks and rallied the peasants to struggle. Extreme fanaticism made his father full of indifference and alienation from the family, and his feelings for his derelict father made the adolescent Raman become violent, advocating violence, mingling with several local ruffians, from fighting with himself and making small fights, to trying to get tattoos and participating in violent crimes...... He embarked on a path of no return. To be honest, he doesn't look like a typical landlord at all, and the way he dresses on weekdays makes people think that he is a member of high society. Someone once laughed at him so shamefully, but he beat him violently.

At the age of eighteen, he left his hometown with a few friends and went to the big city where his father once lived, and his talents were quickly valued by the gang leaders and became the backbone. He was not born a gang leader, but the good education he received from an early age gave him a more flexible mind than these gangsters with developed limbs and simple minds, and he gradually became obsessed with big business. Crime is like war, and it requires strategy: how to threaten, how to play the game, how to blackmail, how to evade the police...... These made him slowly become the main messenger behind the scenes. Over the course of two years, he expanded his business to become an expert in the field of fraud and crime. Later he moved from St. Petersburg to the outskirts of Moscow. In 1917, his clientele broadly divided into three categories: from terrified royalists, to aging and weakened royalist officers, to members of secret societies in Russia. The people he locked up were all eager to sell their fixed assets, the first two were in dire straits, they needed to get out of the predicament or escape from potential threats, and the latter needed a large amount of cash to support their friendly forces.

Rahman was very interested in the business. He buys up their properties, companies, antiques...... and then give the other party a discounted cash, which is not only profitable, but also when he meets the right person, he will swallow the other party's flesh and bones into his stomach. Many people do not dare to speak even if they suffer a loss, because if it causes a commotion, it will only make them lose more, and in the end they can only knock out their teeth and swallow them. Rahman was a wonderful genius, and the fall of the Romanov dynasty made him a windfall.

He deceived in the name of the Far Eastern Trading Company. He's so talented, under the noses of the police, everything is going well, and no one knows about his business, his tricks.

Until a customer comes to the door. After the introduction of the intermediary, the two sides quickly negotiated the business, and Rahman spent money to buy a certain enterprise of this customer in Moscow at a low price, and he could earn dozens of times as soon as the land alone changed hands, not to mention the plant and equipment. It's a near-perfect deal. After the handover was completed, the client offered to have a banquet for Raman. Somehow, Rahman wanted to meet this fat sheep client.

That night, he met the English gentleman, who was some years old. In his gestures, the other party's speech and demeanor fascinated Laman, and he seemed to have experienced the so-called innate aristocratic temperament. The two drank wine and chatted, like old friends who had known each other for a long time. Raman even felt incredible, as if the blood of the nobility in his body had also been revived, he liked this feeling, the other party appreciated his talents, approved of his methods, and said that he was a buried talent, which suddenly made him feel that he was born superior to others. Just as the wine was in full swing, the other party's eyes fell on Raman's face, and he said very seriously that he was going to prepare for a new business in the United States, and offered an attractive opportunity for Raman to work for him.

Although he didn't say yes immediately, Raman nodded in a daze. His eyelids became heavy and he wanted to sleep. For some reason, he always felt that he would definitely have a good dream. He seemed to feel the Englishman standing right behind him, his long, soft fingers running lightly across his cheek.

Raman was a little drunk and seemed to hear the other person muttering, he had been looking for himself for a long time, he needed himself......

After that night, Raman Avremov disappeared and was never seen again.

Later, some people say that he was arrested by the police and thrown into prison on suspicion of financial fraud, others say that he died because he provoked a certain big man and was secretly executed, and others say that he fled to the New World with a large fortune.

He did go to prison, nine years, in another sense, he did die, and from that night onwards there was no difference between life and death, and he did go to the United States, and nine years later, he got off the ocean liner anchored in the harbor of New York. He had a meal first and went to the tattoo parlor. Coming out of there, with a "Holy Tower" on his arm, which represented nine years of prison life, he went straight to the neighborhood under the rule of the Russian gangsters.

And with the increasing number of tattoos on his hands and arms, he recreated a new gangster myth in the United States - he was the number one killer, and no one remembered his name.

It took him nine years to fully merge with Raman's body.

Truth be told, Raman wasn't perfect in his own right, his body wasn't as strong as he thought he was, he had a family history of illnesses and was flawed.

And the most dissatisfying thing is his quality, his nationality, and his profession.

"This new body is different! it's perfect!" William Jr. assured Jack with a pat on his chest.

"Nothing is perfect. Jack retorted.

"Don't be so harsh," William Jr. said as he walked to the wall with his hands behind his back.

Suddenly, the entire wall turned into a screen. With the flick of his finger, he activated the control panel, opened the database, and explained to Jack about his new body:

His name was Clark Webb, a British student studying in New York, and a native of London.

As William's finger slid across the screen, Clark Webb's life photos were revealed. In the photo, Clark is in a lively spirit, wearing a jacket of exaggerated color with some kind of badge on the chest, and a pair of fashionable pants. He wears leather shoes, but no socks. The last photo that stops shows him on a luxury yacht, a group of young men and women, looking for fun.

Jack stared at the last picture on the screen: the young man's teeth were neat and perfect enough to shoot a dental commercial. He looked neither fat nor short and was of moderate stature.

William Jr. swiped his finger lightly again, and the screen displayed various data about Clark's body, height, blood type, and MRI films, "He has no family medical history, is in good health, and meets our ......requirements in all aspects" (to be continued.) )