In a secret chamber in Night Harbor City, all electronic devices had been switched off. The chamber was completely sealed, and three people had gathered there.
"He let the Transmigrators go? I think he's a Transmigrator himself!"
An old man kept pounding the table, his expression angry and twisted.
With the help of various drugs and technologies, Josiah had lived for around two hundred years, but lately, he had begun to feel himself aging. According to his health analysis, even if he continued maintaining himself with the means currently available, he would be lucky to live another hundred years, and his physiological functions would deteriorate substantially over the final few decades.
Josiah had always been utterly loyal to the Dark Night Group.
The reason was that its chairman, Old Adam, was in much the same situation as he was. In recent years, the group had invested heavily in life extension and achieved some results.
Quite a few of those results had been researched and tested using the characteristics of "Transmigrators." These people, who could directly use "items," possessed an extraordinary natural advantage. They could even directly "read" the properties and drawbacks of some potions.
But now, with a new security director arriving because of Black Sledgehammer's death, everything had changed!
"I agree with you. He most likely secured a 'Transmigrator' slot in exchange for improving the living conditions of all Transmigrators. Those Lizardmen couldn't offer him any benefits, so he didn't spare them."
Another man, who looked somewhat younger, offered his own judgment.
Judging others by themselves, that was the most likely explanation.
"Is he an idiot? Once he got the slot, he could have just arrested them again and continued the research!"
Someone pounded the table and shouted in anguish.
The man actually kept his word! If he couldn't