Bai Yaoyao was still debating what to do.
The other man spoke up. "I moved it. After you left, this guy woke up and dislodged his IV needle, so I adjusted it!"
"You scared the hell out of me. If they found out, none of us would survive."
Bai Yaoyao froze. Holy shit, what a lifesaver!
"When are we finally going to develop a perfect specimen? It's been three years. Even the apocalypse is here, and we haven't succeeded once!"
"The apocalypse is great. It's so much easier to grab people now. We're probably close. Didn't Mr. Ye Chuan say the Ji Family had already cultivated a partially successful specimen?"
A long while passed before a contemptuous voice answered.
"Hah. Those sons of bitches in the Ji Family."
Judging by the sounds, the two men had split up to resume their work, injecting serum into the people on the hospital beds again.
She heard no more useful information.
After a while, a sudden howl of agony rang out, followed by both men cursing.
"What a pain. Number Eleven died. Hurry up and find another test subject."
"I keep feeling like someone's been in here. I can't put my finger on what's wrong, but this space feels different."
"Stop jumping at shadows. Come on, let's go out. I need to ask Murong Xixi what's going on again."
After the two left, Bai Yaoyao slipped out of her space. This time, she was much more careful and touched nothing.
She noticed a thin layer of sand scattered across the floor beneath the secret room's doorway. It seemed the two men had become somewhat wary after all.
Bai Yaoyao approached Bed Eleven. Its occupant was the seventy-year-old man, and he looked much like the dead woman in the culture vessel she