Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Four

Four days before the United Nations conference, O'Donoghue Airport.

O'Donoghue Airport was not a commercial international airport. Rather, possessing an even higher status than international airports, it was an international executive airfield. If London Airport was used to host prominent business clientele, O'Donoghue Airport was reserved exclusively for ambassadors and even prime ministers of various nations, making its importance by no means inferior to that of London Airport.

Although it was still early, the contingent from the United Kingdom had already arrived at O'Donoghue Plaza to wait. However, the only ones who had arrived ahead of schedule were those belonging to the Welsh faction. Miller, having stayed at the Welsh base over the past few days, was among them. Meanwhile, the representatives belonging to Scotland and England had yet to show up. Of course, since the appointed time had not yet arrived, Trehy would not settle accounts with them just yet. But if they truly failed to appear, Trehy would deal with them according to military law. As for that maid, Charlie had specifically asked him to look after her and avoid making things too difficult for her. While Trehy had no inclination to pick on anyone arbitrarily, nor would he use military law to punish a maid who was not even a soldier, it did not mean she would be completely exempt from disciplinary measures.

"Really, do they have any concept of time? Or is this deliberate, just to cause trouble for us in Wales?" Sitting in the lounge, sipping morning tea and partaking in breakfast, Trehy was already in a foul mood. Neither Cromwell, young Nelson, nor that maid—not a single one had arrived on time.

"There's nothing to be done about it; after all, it's the morning rush hour. This kind of issue has persisted for so many years with no solution in sight, isn't that right?" Miller, however, was quite considerate in this regard. She knew what time it was. Indeed, around seven or eight in the morning was the peak hour for commuters, and in a metropolis like London, this phenomenon remained quite prominent—even though counter-urbanization had taken root here long before the United Kingdom achieved independence. Despite this, downtown London still suffered from massive traffic jams every day at this hour. Even the subway, a mode of transit immune to traffic congestion, was notoriously difficult to board, even for those with privileged status.

"That is no excuse. You must remember that what we are doing right now counts as a military operation. If it is a military operation, they must shoulder military responsibility." Trehy was rather unforgiving, but this was precisely one of the reasons he was fit to be a leader of a faction. After all, no one was willing to acknowledge a weak and incompetent leader; sometimes, only hegemony could truly govern a region. Hegemony was merely a tool, at least in the eyes of certain statesmen.

"If you find them too slow, I can always speed them up a bit!" Hearing Trehy complain, Cole chimed in from the side. "If you're willing, I can just teleport them here using spatial manipulation. Of course, them suddenly vanishing out of thin air would be a bit too conspicuous."

"Don't even think about it. If you do that, I'd much rather they just walked over." Hearing Cole's proposal, Trehy was unsupportive. "You already showed off that trick a couple of days ago; there's no need to abuse it like that."

"Oh, come on, look at you. Isn't technology meant to be used? If technology can't be put to use, why bother researching it in the first place?" At this point, however, Cole suddenly hesitated, then added, "Of course, some technologies are indeed too anti-human. Those kinds of technologies are fine just being invented, but as for actual application, there's really no need."

It was quite obvious that this remark was aimed at his mentor, Professor Titan. The professor had made countless contributions throughout his life, yet the greatest flaw of his life was this newly developed pathogen.

"Cole, you really do still care about this matter, don't you?" Hearing Cole's hesitation regarding Professor Titan, Trehy knew he still hadn't let it go. However, Cole seemed to want to deny it; he feigned indifference and laughed it off. "Technology is just like that. Technology itself has no inherent morality, but if something goes wrong with the technology itself, that's another story." Cole acted as if he completely dismissed Professor Titan's so-called virus, especially since a vaccine had long since been invented. Yet the vaccine could only deal with the virus itself and had no effect on the host. The pathogen no longer spread on its own, but it could still cause other living creatures to contract the disease through infection by existing hosts.

"How should I put it? I actually know about this pathogen. Its principle is quite simple, and its initial purpose was merely to accelerate the patients' physical recovery speed. It breaks through the limits of the human body's self-repair mechanisms, enabling the human body to heal wounds that would normally be unfixable, while simultaneously replacing necrotic cells and tissues in the body." Yet Cole seemed extremely familiar with it; perhaps he himself had once participated in the research project, or perhaps he was simply refusing to admit it.

"As for why it turned out like this, it must have been due to radiation-induced mutation. After all, the aircraft that shot down Teacher's plane back then was hit by a uranium-containing radioactive shell. Come to think of it, it was just karmic retribution brought upon themselves by the Kingdom of Kestan!"

"Whoa, hold on, it looks like someone's here." At that moment, several footsteps echoed from outside. The room was not soundproofed—not because it lacked insulation, but because they were intentionally waiting for certain individuals today, so the soundproofing mode had not been activated. The footsteps were somewhat chaotic, certainly not belonging to just one person. "There are three people in total, and their footsteps fall into three distinct patterns. One of them is the sound of high heels, while the other two have tightly synchronized paces, resembling the march of soldiers." Cole seemed to have studied such things. Even so, it was easy to guess, since those were the only three expected.

The door of the room swung open, followed immediately by a series of greetings: "Pardon us for the delay, Your Royal Highnesses. We subordinates have arrived late."