I injected the doctor with one milliliter of my blood.
For some reason, I felt very nervous.
I did not even know whether my blood type matched the doctor's.
This violated basic medical knowledge. I had never seen what happened when people with incompatible blood types received transfusions, but I had heard of it. If things went wrong, it could cost someone their life.
But General Ape had told me to do it, and he had stressed that it was the doctor's own instruction.
But how could the doctor have known he would be poisoned? And how could my blood detoxify him?
I could not make sense of any of it. Could the doctor predict the future? Or had he foreseen the danger long ago?
After the injection was complete, I sat to one side and observed him.
The monkey seemed to notice my anxiety. "Don't be afraid. It'll be fine."
"But this isn't scientific!" I said. If professional medical staff had been present, they would definitely have stopped me, because this truly made no scientific sense. It was beyond ordinary understanding and unacceptable to professionals.
"Science? What is science? Many things you consider scientifically sound were not scientific to begin with. Hasn't your science been repeatedly overturned, then overturned again, countless times? From geocentrism to heliocentrism—but is heliocentrism truly correct? Not necessarily. Science is, in truth, constrained by cognition."
I froze. I had not expected a monkey to possess such insight.
"Don't look at me. I'm just a monkey, and I don't know much either. Those are all the doctor's ideas. He merely instilled some of his thoughts in me and taught me how to think."
"So? Have you ever doubted that some of the doctor's ideas might be wrong?"
"Doubt the doctor? Oh, no. Given the gap between