The Warden of Sexy Witches

Chapter 485: Chapter 486: Father’s Lie_1

"What are you talking about, child?" Professor Dodge asked in a gentle voice, masking his own unease. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

His sheepdog Hans, which he had raised for over a decade, had eyes that were shiny black, like a lake reflecting the night sky.

When Tony was inhabiting Hans, the dog’s eyes shone brighter than usual, clearly reflecting his face. The dark, lacquer-like lake within those eyes seemed ready to engulf him.

He could feel that this sensitive, delicate child had noticed something amiss.

"Let’s leave this place. Don’t go near ’that place’ anymore," Tony said weakly.

"Don’t talk nonsense. Daddy is about to succeed. Haven’t you also said that such research should not be continued? Daddy will steal those bad people’s research results to cure you. All you have to do is wait patiently!" Professor Dodge emphasized, a statement he had repeated many times before.

But the more he emphasized it, the more Tony doubted it. When one maintains a lie over a long period, one will consciously repeat it over and over, hoping to brand the words into another’s mind.

In the past, during the process of changing bodies, Tony had briefly inhabited his father’s body. In that state, he could feel certain physiological phenomena that his host would hardly be aware of.

While inhabiting his father, he had once discussed topics related to "that place." His father answered casually, but Tony clearly felt the other’s heartbeat accelerate and other abnormal nervous responses—the reactions of lying.

Tony wasn’t sure which part of his father’s story was a lie, but he knew it was definitely not a light-hearted one.

The city they were staying in was also permeated with a heavy scent, as if dark clouds lingered in the sky year-round.

During his walks while inhabiting the sheepdog Hans, he had seen it: homeless people gathering, wandering the streets with lifeless eyes. Occasionally, someone would stare at him with hungry eyes; in the squares, in front of the city hall, people passionately gathered to speak, debate, carrying banners and signs to protest. Although the battlefield was far away, the air was filled with the smell of gunpowder.

His father had mentioned that this country was making the same mistakes his father had made before. He felt it was necessary to correct these errors, or more people would suffer. Therefore, they had stayed here, and it had now been two years.

He supported his father’s decision because it was the right thing to do, but his father had not told him much about the progress in these two years, only reassuring him not to worry.

The more his father stressed this, the more Tony could sense the smell of danger. At least one thing he was sure of—his father was braving dangers for him and was hiding something from him.

"Dad, I’m already nineteen years old..." Tony looked into his father’s eyes.

A moment of silence, then Professor Dodge replied, "You’re only nineteen years old."

"You don’t have to work so hard for my sake; I actually have no regrets..."

Tony wanted to say more, but his father interrupted him.

"Don’t talk nonsense, you haven’t experienced anything yet. What do you have to say about regrets?" Professor Dodge gave his son’s head a pat, his tone a bit stern, "Rest well and don’t think too much."

Tony closed his mouth helplessly. He did not really feel like talking either; Hans’s body had gotten too old, so old that Tony’s inhabitation could not improve it much. Inhabiting Hans, he felt very tired, very sleepy.

But even so, it was better than having no host. Without a host, it was like being stripped of his backbone, lacking even the strength to stand, his breathing erratic and his heartbeat painfully sporadic, as if he could die at any moment.

"You should sleep for a while," Professor Dodge patted his son, seizing the opportunity to apply a simple hypnotic spell.

Tony lay on the bed, his eyelids struggling back and forth slowly a few times, before they closed like heavy canal gates, never to open again.

Professor Dodge sat beside the bed for a while, stood up, and walked outside the room.

His son’s "friend" was waiting for him under an oak tree in the courtyard.

"Professor," the other party greeted him with a standard military salute, a salute of the Gistas Kingdom’s military.

A technical officer from the Gistas Kingdom’s Intelligence Bureau.

"I must thank you for the timely assistance your team provided," Professor Dodge responded.

"Compared to the overall commitment of ’Demonization’, the little request made by our senior external consultant is but a drop in the ocean," the officer smiled.

"I hope to address my little request as soon as possible. How did the ’clinical trial’ go yesterday?" Professor Dodge asked earnestly.

"Out of the last batch of ten subjects, seven survived, three died, and one actually died from an adverse reaction during the initial fusion, so the actual success rate should be close to eighty percent," reported the officer respectfully, while handing over a report.

"Only six individuals have reached the required degree of Demonization?" Professor Dodge asked after looking over the report.

"As you know, the fusion outcome of ’The Mixer’ is random. That’s its nature, uncontrollable," the officer spread his hands.

"The three deceased, were they included?" Professor Dodge inquired.

"Yes."

"Two died in control experiments, which means the actual effective success rate is only two-thirds," he mused expressionlessly, "which is about the same as the previous batches."

What they called "The Mixer" was the Divine Artifact capable of forcibly breaking barriers, fusing humans and demons together, and also the core of the "Demonization" project.

The power of this Divine Artifact was uncontrollable; the resulting demon spawn were always in random states, with most subjects being eroded by their demonic part and ultimately dying. They had found a method to stabilize the state of demon spawn, but it was not one hundred percent successful.

Having learned from past lessons in the Empire, Professor Dodge dared not risk his son’s life anymore.

He needed ample experiments, only samples similar in degree of Demonization to his son were representative, and a two-thirds survival rate was still too low in his eyes.

"The plan needs refinement," he concluded directly.

"Professor, the success rate of this plan is already much higher than that of other groups," the officer tried to persuade, "The technical department thinks it might be enough."

"You’re already eager to put it into application? To have your soldiers undergo a transformation project with only about a seventy percent survival rate?" Professor Dodge said expressionlessly as he handed the report back to the officer, "I don’t care what you plan, I won’t risk my son. Continue the ’clinical trials’."

"To continue the experiments, we will need more samples," the officer reminded, "There will be more sacrifices."

"Then invest in more sacrifices, it’s simply that," Professor Dodge replied calmly, looking toward the house, "We’ve already done so many deeply sinful things; is there any need to talk about redemption now?"