Allen, Rectifying Family Morals

[Decomposition successful, Skill Proficiency +1, Professional Experience Points +1]

[Sufficient experience, current Alchemist level Lv.1]

[Learned Skill: Alchemy Heart]

[Alchemy Heart Lv.1: Improves skills through knowledge accumulation, with bonus effects for creation and manufacturing skills.]

Allen watched a waste blueprint in his hand turn to dust.

He took out another piece of waste paper and decomposed it. In less than a second, it also turned to powder.

"I already understand how to play Alchemist. Unlocking a new identity, the Demolition Office Bully Captain is here to pay his respects."

Allen dove into the pile of garbage, releasing his decomposition skill with both hands, letting system prompts flash in his mind.

An hour later, he had manually decomposed all the garbage.

He swept the paper scraps together and lit them on fire.

"All done, time to clock out."

Allen walked to a nearby bench, sat down, and watched the flames burn out, stroking his chin. "I'll go into seclusion for a while. I'll head out after I level up. It's too dangerous out there otherwise."

Thus, Allen settled down at the Weapons Development Bureau.

Room and board were provided, and he even got a salary. It couldn't be better.

He took the opportunity to chat with old cellmates when he had time, like Dr. Wilson, the single-soldier equipment expert.

"Arsen, do you understand quantum mechanics?" Allen asked, feigning profundity.

"I'm a mechanical engineer; I don't study the microscopic realm."

Wilson drew lines on his blueprint, not even lifting his eyelids.

He was the unlucky guy who ate the gecko last time.

That was Allen's welcome gift to a friend, so naturally, he had to visit often and mooch off him for food and drinks.

"At this point, I'm not going to hide it from you anymore. I'm an expert in the quantum realm."

Allen took a sip of coffee, his tongue sticking out from the bitterness. "Ah... so fresh."

Black coffee, what's fresh about it?

Wilson put down his work and quietly watched Allen, wanting to hear about his achievements in quantum physics.

Even though their fields weren't related, if Allen could fool him, it at least proved that Allen was a rare talent before he went crazy.

Of course, he never considered that Allen was inherently crazy.

Cough...

Clearing his throat, Allen said with utmost seriousness, "As the saying goes, when in doubt, quantum mechanics. If you don't understand color matching, cyberpunk. If you can't explain it, time travel. If your imagination isn't enough, parallel universes. Those who blow smoke don't understand, and those who listen don't understand either. Therefore, 'not knowing your own limits' means don't self-study quantum mechanics."

"..."

Wilson silently lowered his head and continued his work, not forgetting to instruct, "Help me take out the trash."

"I'm just interested in the paper you used."

Allen picked up the discarded blueprints from the trash can and brought them to his nose, inhaling ecstatically. "That smell, so authentic."

Wilson was mentally immune by now, completely ignoring him.

Before leaving, Allen didn't forget to down the black coffee in one gulp.

Gag...

The next second, the coffee in the cup was almost overflowing.

Seeing Allen's miserable expression, Wilson was both annoyed and amused.

He was annoyed that Allen came to mooch coffee every day, and amused that he only drank black coffee. Since Allen couldn't handle the bitterness, he'd drink it all in one go before leaving, only to spit it all back into the cup before it even went down his throat.

The garbage from various offices was collected and piled up in the incineration room.

He spread out a piece of paper.

Allen's eyes gleamed.

"The smell of knowledge."

He greedily absorbed the content on the blueprint.

[Alchemy Heart Proficiency +1]

After receiving the system prompt, Allen decomposed the blueprint and commented, "Not pure enough. Erlov's skills need improvement."

He moved on to the next one.

[Alchemy Heart Proficiency +7]

"Pure enough. Wilson really didn't disappoint me."

Allen's days at the Weapons Development Bureau were simple and happy.

Day after day, it repeated, and three months passed in the blink of an eye.

Meanwhile, Allen grew in silence.

Of course, silence meant developing quietly; his mouth, however, was anything but idle.

He not only absorbed the knowledge and achievements of numerous scientists but also browsed basic books in his spare time.

"Daoist Master, I've become an immortal."

Allen shouted loudly while standing on a bench next to the garbage incinerator.

At that moment, a woman walked by, looking at him with confusion.

"Widow."

Allen excitedly stepped forward, showing off, "I'm ready to leave the mountain now. Want to see what I can do?"

"Oh? What can you do?" Natasha asked indifferently.

"I can't tell you that."

Allen said proudly, "Anyway, I can punch America's Einstein and kick Britain's Newton. I can debate Germany's Gauss and verbally blast France's Descartes. I can conjure up the Riemann Hypothesis with my hands and trample Fermat's Last Theorem with my legs. With my left hand, I'll hold my phone and watch suggestive videos, while my right hand will single-handedly capture Goldbach's Conjecture. In short, it's like a little cow riding a motorcycle – incredibly awesome."

"..."

Natasha appeared indifferent and calmly said, "I have to go. I have something to do."

"Okay, sure."

Allen sang loudly towards Natasha, who didn't even turn her head, "Arise, ye slaves, who long to be free! Arise, ye wretched of the earth, who thirst for equity! Now injustice, chains and laws shall be torn apart! Into the world, a new humanity shall rise!"

Singing the Internationale at a time like this, as if he were going to war, made Natasha quicken her pace in embarrassment.

The song ended.

Allen was still unsatisfied. His hands involuntarily rose, and his expression changed drastically. "Little Left, Little Right, it's not what you think. I'm a very traditional and devoted man. I only like eighteen-year-old girls. Natasha is clearly a young married woman, so she's not within my consideration."

Allen leaned to his left, resting his face on his left hand. "Little Right sister, don't you understand yet? Men always say one thing and do another."

Allen leaned to his right, resting his face on his right hand. "Little Left sister, what should I do? But I love him so much."

He straightened up, looked affectionately at his right hand, and said softly, "Little Right, you're so cute. How could I possibly lie to you? Come here for a kiss."

Slap!

His left hand delivered a powerful slap to Allen's face.

Immediately, Allen glared at his left hand.

"You dare hit my beloved? I'll fight you!"

For a moment, his left and right hands began slapping each other.

"Stop fighting! If you keep hitting randomly like this, you'll get breast hyperplasia."

Allen angrily looked at his hands. "Stop it right now. You're both my little darlings."

As a result, his hands started slapping his own face indiscriminately.

"If I don't teach you a lesson, you'll start tearing down the roof!"

In a fit of rage, he raged for a moment.

Not long after, the triangular love-hate drama subsided.

Allen, in a contorted posture, used his legs to pin down his arms.

"Allen, what are you doing?"

Dr. Wilson looked at Allen, who had bound himself, with a strange expression.

"Arson, I'm teaching my two disobedient wives a lesson."

Wives?

You're a mental patient, where did you get wives?

Dr. Wilson seemed to realize who was being referred to and said awkwardly but politely, "I won't interfere in your domestic affairs. I'm leaving."

On the way to the office building, Dr. Wilson could occasionally hear Allen's madness.

"Don't hit someone in the face. Little Left, I make my living with my face. Believe it or not, I'll chop you up."

"Little Right, don't stoop to her level. She's just a shrew who doesn't make sense."

Dr. Wilson looked back and sighed, "His condition is getting worse."