Chapter 1297

"I've already said we're still working on it," Thompson stated, regaining his composure. "It's futile to conduct the tests now!"

"It's been months!" Professor Devon roared, slamming his fists on the table. "You're all useless! These medicinal herbs are garbage!" Thompson, already angered by the earlier accusations, bristled at Devon's outburst.

"Watch your language, Devon!" Thompson retorted, attempting to leverage their superior. "The boss holds this experiment in high regard. Are you questioning his judgment?"

The boss had brought Devon and three other biomedical students with him from abroad. Thompson sensed their disdain for medicinal herbs; they viewed the experiment as a pointless endeavor, participating only under the boss's orders. Their research focus differed vastly from the institute's. Thompson knew nothing of their own experiments, conducted in a separate laboratory secured by a heavy iron door and pupil scans. Regarding Thompson's concerns, the boss had dismissed them, instructing Devon to focus on the assigned task—the final testing of Thompson's results.

Countless failed trials had only deepened Devon's contempt for medicinal herbs.

"Don't use the boss to pressure me," Devon spat. "I don't doubt his judgment, but he likely underestimated your incompetence. These herbs are worthless, a trick to deceive the naive!" He continued, "If it doesn't work, give up! Don't waste any more time!"

"The boss brought you here to assist, not obstruct!" Thompson replied sharply. "The experiment continues, yet you urge us to abandon it? Is it because you don't understand medicinal herbs, or fear this experiment's success will cause a global sensation, proving them superior to your manufactured pills?"

Devon's fury escalated. His eyes blazed as he lunged forward, grabbing Thompson by the collar.

"What did you say?!" he snarled. "These herbs are a fallacy! They're nothing compared to our pills!"

Devon's grip tightened, veins bulging on his arms. The frail, gray-haired Thompson was easily lifted. A little more pressure, and he would be crushed. His face, red and strained, was nearly suffocating. Yet, he remained defiant, his gaze unwavering.

Through gritted teeth, he spat, "Medicinal herbs… are the best medicines… for the people! You… are nothing!"

"Go to hell!" Devon's fist clenched tighter, constricting Thompson's airway.

"Professor Thompson!" A voice called from outside, startling Devon. He released his grip.

"Professor Thompson!"

Austin, searching for Thompson, found him absent. After a fruitless downstairs search, he ascended, calling repeatedly without success. Assuming Thompson was experimenting, he continued his search, his phone still pressed to his ear.

Devon's colleagues quickly intervened. "Devon, don't be so impulsive! Remember our purpose here! Don't harm the old man!"