Chapter 693
Words:2050Update:22/07/01 11:55:26
Dean turned and rushed to the end of the corridor to stop the other three people who were running away in panic. They were wearing the same white coat as the previous middle-aged man. One of them was wearing a thin dust-proof glove. He kicked the wall next to him. Bang! The wall was kicked and a hole appeared. The ferocious force scared the three of them. They didn't dare to move.
"Which one of you is a doctor?" Dean asked in a cold voice.
The three of them looked at each other. They didn't know Dean's purpose and didn't know how to answer.
Dean glanced at the work cards on their chests. He didn't see the title of doctor: "Where is the doctor? If you speak then you will live. If you don't speak then you will die!"
"We, we are in the Monster Research Institute. You, who are you?!" One of the people in the middle courageously questioned Dean. But his face was pale and it seemed that he was powerless.
Bang! Dean's fist hit the man's head. The man's skull was broken, and his brain burst. His body shook a little, and then he fell down. The headless body leaned on the shoulder of a middle-aged man in his fifties. The man's coat was wet from the gushing blood, and he softly slid to the ground.
Both of them trembled in fear. They almost didn't dare to breathe as they looked at Dean in horror. The man on the right immediately responded: "I'll speak! I'll speak! Don't kill me! The doctor is on the eighth floor! Don't kill me …"
The man on the left also woke up and hurriedly said: "The doctor is down there! It's none of our business! Don't kill me …"
Dean turned and kicked the man's waist. The man's body hit the wall. The wall cracked. The middle-aged man's body was embedded in the wall. The organs in his abdomen were squeezed by the huge force. Blood gushed out of his orifices. He died on the spot.
Dean ignored the man on the right and quickly ran back to Aisha. He took her hand and stomped on the ground. Bang! The corridor split open. Both Dean and Aisha fell to the seventh floor underground.
Researchers in white coats were running out of the corridors and rooms on the seventh floor. Four or five armored attendants were running towards Dean from the end of the corridor. They were running in the opposite direction of the crowd.
Dean ignored him and grabbed a bald middle-aged man: "Where is the doctor?"
"I, I don't know, I don't know …" The middle-aged man was panic-stricken.
Dean was too lazy to talk nonsense. He swung his body and threw it towards the attendant. He stamped his feet again and the floor cracked. He and Aisha fell to the eighth floor underground. There were two or three figures in white coats walking in the corridor. They were in a hurry but they weren't panicking. They heard the sudden cracking sound and looked back. They saw Dean and Aisha landing on the ground.
The expressions of the three changed as they hurriedly ran forward.
Dean's figure flashed as he quickly caught up with the three: "Who is the doctor?" As he spoke, he glanced at the work passes on their chests and noticed that one of them wasn't wearing a work pass. He looked like a leader.
The faces of the other two changed as they heard Dean's words. They subconsciously looked at the person in the middle but quickly retracted their eyes. One of them straightened his chest: "Who are you? How dare you attack our Monster Research Institute! Aren't you afraid that his majesty will kill you?"
"Your colleague has already said the same thing, and now he's dead." Dean's eyes fell on the old man in the middle who looked about sixty years old: "Are you the doctor?"
The old man's face slightly changed: "I'm just an assistant. I'm not a doctor."
Dean coldly snorted as he kicked the knee of the man who was talking. The man's knee was broken. The broken bone pierced the skin behind the knee. The man fell to the ground and screamed in pain.
The other two didn't expect Dean to suddenly attack. They raised their hands to stop him but didn't dare to.
Dean grabbed the man's hair and the other hand grabbed his arm: "Who is the doctor?"
The man's face was full of pain as he kept screaming. He ignored Dean's words.
Dean's nails pierced deep into the man's shoulder. He repeated: "Who is the doctor?"
The man screamed miserably. He was in so much pain that he wanted to die.
Dean tore off the man's arm. Blood spurted out and splashed on the pants of the old man in the middle. He repeated: "Who is the doctor?"
The man opened his eyes in horror as he looked at Dean's calm face. It was as if he was looking at a devil. He trembled: "I, I don't know, I don't know …"
Dean's fingers crossed the man's chest. His sharp nails easily cut through the man's unprotected overalls, exposing the skin on his chest. His fingernails passed through the man's chest like a knife cutting a blood mark. His fingers grabbed the edge of the blood mark and tore it. The man screamed like a pig. His whole body twitched and he almost fainted from the pain.
"Who is the doctor?" Dean repeated.
The man was in so much pain that he couldn't hear Dean's words. The old man in the middle saw such a bloody scene. His face turned ugly: "Stop! I am the doctor! What are you going to do?"
"You are?" Dean stopped and looked at the old man. Judging from his appearance and temperament, he did have some guesses and doubts. But even if he admitted it, he may not believe his words. He said: "Take me to your personnel file management office. I want to see your identity information."
The old man's face changed as he hesitated.
Dean narrowed his eyes as he looked at the youth on the right who was trembling in fear: "If you don't want to learn from him then you lead the way." He released the youth who had been tortured half to death.
The young man trembled slightly. He looked at the old man next to him. He hesitated for a moment and said to Dean: "I'll take you there. Don't hurt me." He made a gesture to lead the way.
Dean grabbed the old man and said: "You follow me."
The old man's face turned ugly. He didn't dare to resist as he followed the young man.
The files were on the third underground floor. Dean took Aisha with one hand and took the two of them along the stairs to the third underground floor. Along the way, they met the attendants stationed on each floor who came to intercept them. They were all killed by him. These attendants were weaker than the eight senior Limiteers outside. They were not his opponents at all.
The two people who were held hostage by Dean became more and more desperate as the guards were killed.
The young man found the archive room: "I don't know the password of the door …" Dean didn't finish his words as he kicked the heavy metal door.
"Now I know." Dean went in and saw a lot of files on the shelves. He said to the young man: "I'll give you two minutes to find the doctor's file."
The young man's face turned pale. He knew that there was no room for bargaining. He hurried to the shelf and rummaged through the files. He found a sealed file. He handed it to Dean: "This is the file of the Polish doctor."
Dean opened the file and glanced at it. There was no portrait but the body information was recorded. Age 72, height 1.67, from the noble Pomi family …
He quickly finished reading and turned to look at the old man. His face was slightly cold as he said, "You are not the Polish doctor. Where is the real doctor?!"
The old man clenched his fists: "I won't tell you! You won't find the Polish doctor!"
A cold light flashed in Dean's eyes as his pupils contracted. The world in front of him immediately became clear. He saw that most of the people in the institute had escaped to the ground. But there were three people who were surrounded by four other people who were running in another direction.
"You want to escape?" Dean coldly snorted and threw out the file in his hand. The compressed paper ball hit the old man's throat, and the sound of bones breaking echoed. The old man's mouth was wide open. He looked at Dean in horror and staggered back.
The young man next to him shivered and didn't dare to support him.
Dean held Aisha's hand and chased after the old man.
"Doctor, hurry up, hurry up!" The short young man looked at the Polish doctor who was panting behind him anxiously.
The Polish doctor was out of breath. His face was red, and his forehead was covered in sweat. He said, "I can't take it anymore. I need to rest. My feet hurt …"
The short young man jumped up: "Doctor, I will carry you. They will catch up if you don't hurry up."
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