I Really Didn't Mean To Be The Saviour Of The World Chapter 219 – Chapter 219: Chapter 173: Brutal Truth

Chapter 219: Chapter 173: Brutal Truth

Translator: 549690339

“Fine, just this once, but never again.”

Harrison Clark decided to forgive her.

What else could he do if he didn't forgive her?

Beat her up?

“So stingy, only giving one chance. What if someone else uses it up?”

Martha Owen muttered in discontent.

Harrison Clark heard her loud and clear, and could only sigh in his heart.

People have different worldviews, and understanding things can be biased, so it's difficult to explain everything.

“Who's that old coot with you? I saw his strong physique. How about you do me a favor and arrange a meeting with him for me after this?”

Martha Owen asked puzzled, “He poked your butt with a needle, and you still want to see him? What for?”

Harrison Clark took a deep breath, “A battle at the top of Mount Hua. Either he dies, or I perish!”

That feeling of indignation rose again.

“How can you have the nerve?”

“What's wrong with having the nerve?”

“Uncle Bernal Connor is already over a hundred and seventy years old, and you want to challenge an old man like that?”

“What? A hundred and seventy?”

After chatting with Martha Owen about politely greeting Mr. Connor, Harrison Clark completely abandoned his vengeful thoughts.

In previous timelines, Harrison Clark had never met Martha Owen's colleagues at the Yellowstone Research Institute.

But he was sure that in the past, there was no Bernal Connor.

That's because the lifespan of researchers in the past couldn't reach a hundred and seventy years.

Old man Connor was probably the first time Harrison dealt with him.

He was the deputy leader of the project team that Martha Owen was in charge of.

On the surface, the old man seemed to be Martha Owen's assistant, but that didn't mean that his knowledge was lower than Martha's.

On the contrary, Mr. Connor was one of the few surviving and respected scholars, a master-level scholar.

He was knowledgeable, had numerous academic achievements, and had many disciples.

However, his temperament was quite eccentric, and he didn't enjoy being in the public eye. Moreover, he was also interested in Martha Owen's project, so he simply acted as an assistant.

In the project team, Martha Owen's strengths were her spirit and agility in thinking, which were advantages brought by youth.

There was no doubt that Martha Owen was extremely gifted.

But her weaknesses were also obvious – she was too young. Although her basic knowledge was far stronger than Harrison Clark's, it was still not quite suitable for the research she was involved in based on her age.

So, within the project team, while Martha Owen was the nominal leader responsible for leading the team forward, the one who truly advanced the projects with solid theoretical foundations was Old Man Bernal Connor.

Facing such a respected yet unscrupulous and shameless old man, Harrison Clark felt hopeless for revenge and became disheartened.

How despicable for someone to hide behind their age and disregard propriety!

“Well, forget it, let it be,” Harrison Clark sighed, and jumped out of bed.

At that moment, there was a noise under his iron-framed bed.

“A man's words are like a one-way ticket. Once spoken, it's hard to take them back. You promised not to hit me. I have a recording of it.”

Harrison Clark turned around and saw that wrinkled old face sticking out from under the bed's white curtain.

Such true dedication!

The three of them had dinner together, and Harrison Clark learned that during the time when he was unconscious, Old Man Connor had personally completed his paperwork.

As an expert-level scholar, Harrison Clark had a villa in the east suburbs of Science City that was for his personal use. The area was quite large, roughly equivalent to a multi-million-dollar mansion in the United States in the past.

Now, what Harrison Clark needed to do was determine his research direction and project theme, as well as choose which unit to belong to based on the project's requirements.

Martha Owen suggested, “Actually, you don't have to look far. Your project seamlessly connects with mine, and I happen to be short-staffed. Come be my assistant.”

Harrison Clark looked at her expressionlessly, “Wake up, stop dreaming. Show some respect to your teacher.”

“You…” Martha Owen, her vengeance now returned, stomped her foot in anger. “What do you want to do then? If Nora Camp hadn't asked me to take care of you when you left, who would bother with you!”

The old man Bernal Connor on the other side also ate snacks and looked at Harrison Clark with great interest.

Harrison Clark honestly said, “I want to study the technological progress of the 21st century.”

“What?”

Both Martha Owen and Bernal Connor opened their mouths wide in shock.

“What's wrong?”

Harrison Clark asked in confusion.

Martha Owen clutched her heart.

“With less than a year left until the Judgment Day, you're going to study that? History? Are you sick?”

She was really angry.

When she first heard that Harrison Clark planned to switch to research, she was quite happy and even enthusiastically approached Nora Camp to help.

Although she couldn't get any information about Harrison Clark's intentions from Nora Camp, she didn't take it to heart.

After all, with Harrison Clark's amazing intuition, no matter what he studied, it would always be useful.

Now that she knew his thoughts, it was a wonder Martha Owen didn't break down on the spot.

It could be said that Harrison Clark's intention now was akin to a brilliant nuclear physicist in the early days of World War II not developing military technology but instead studying the eating, drinking, and basic necessities of people in medieval Europe.

This wasn't just wasting talent, it was criminal!

Harrison Clark knew that he couldn't explain himself to her and didn't bother arguing, “You don't need to worry about me, my mind is made up. Nora Camp didn't bother with me, why are you so talkative?”

“Hey, no, you… how could you do this?” Martha Owen's fingers trembled as she pulled up the summary of the information Harrison Clark had been browsing recently on her personal smart device.

It was really all those tidbits from 21st-century technology history with no value at all.

Things like the nanometer processing of silicon wafers, the principles of sub­network signal transmission, advanced theories of ternary lithium-ion batteries…

What a bunch of antiques!

Unbelievable.

Martha Owen was so angry, “I don't agree!”

Harrison Clark replied, “I'm sorry, but this is my decision and it has nothing to do with you.”

Martha Owen jumped to her feet, knocking over the chair behind her.

She turned to leave, but after two steps, she turned back, glaring at Harrison Clark with teary eyes, “You've disappointed me so much. I almost admired you. I am ashamed of you!”

With that, she stomped away in anger.

Harrison Clark scoffed and looked to the side, “Mr. Connor, your team leader left.”

Since the conversation was going nowhere, there was no need to continue their communication. He figured that Mr. Connor probably wanted to persuade him, so he decided not to chat and just gave him the boot.

Mr. Connor squinted his eyes and observed Harrison Clark, seemingly trying to see through to his heart.

As the saying goes, the older people get, the more cunning they become due to experiencing many ups and downs in life. They inevitably become more insightful and perceptive in the process.

Mr. Connor was 170 years old and the oldest person that Harrison Clark had ever seen.

His clear, old eyes made Harrison feel quite uneasy.

“Alright, Mr. Connor, just say what you have to say. Don't look at me like that.”

Mr. Connor picked up the honey-grapefruit tea from the side and took a sip, “I'm not going to persuade you. I'll just help you analyze this matter from a technical perspective.”

Harrison impatiently waved his hand, “Enough, I know. You all think it's pointless. I'm tired of explaining to you.”

“Little brother, let's not talk about the meaning. I just want to tell you that your project team won't get off the ground.”

“Why?”

“Because no research institute will support you. The History Institute is now very withered. Those who used to study history about one or two decades ago have already switched fields. The last group of history scholars recently changed their projects too.”

Harrison: “What?”

“What's most important for humanity right now is to get through this crisis and survive. Perhaps after this, many people will become interested in history and value its significance. But for now, nobody is researching.”

Harrison puzzledly said, “Isn't the World Government collecting and moving historical relics?”

“Yes, that's why we're trying to preserve them as much as possible—because there are no researchers at the moment.”

Harrison was stunned.

“So, change your idea. If you can't recruit people for your project team, it'll basically just be you, and your team will be all but nonexistent. Even though you're Harrison Clark and the spiritual leader of the Intuition School, people aren't willing to drop their projects and come here to do work they think is useless.”

Harrison raised an eyebrow, “Intuition School? What's that?”

“Don't count on those brain-dead losers. They may foolishly advocate intuition like you do, but they're simply using your seemingly plausible intuition to extrapolate a methodology. Their research direction won't change.”

Harrison ignored him and started researching information about the Intuition School on his own.

Mr. Connor murmured from the side, “Looks like you're not convinced. Well, as a person, you've got to try hard, or else you won't know what disappointment really means.”

Harrison Clark got up and left.

This old man was so annoying and obnoxious.

Two days later, Harrison Clark sat alone in the Empty and vast campus of the History Institute, the wind blowing leaves and weeds spreading all over the ground. He was inexplicably melancholic.

Behind him were the wildly growing plants that enclosed him as if he were in the wilderness.

In front of him was an office desk.

A sign was placed on the desk.

“21st Century Technological Development Analysis Project Team Recruitment.”

Next to the sign were two hundred application forms he had printed himself.

He had printed two hundred forms, but two days later, there were still two hundred untouched forms.

Not one person had signed up in two days.

Even though he moved the office desk from the cold, empty room inside to the entrance to accommodate potential visitors, no one came by or inquired.

The wind was getting stronger, and Harrison Clark felt slightly chilly.

He sneezed.

The two days' worth of dust on his desk was stirred up by the breeze.

It wasn't that his body was cold—it was his heart.

A guard in uniform walked in from the main entrance.

“Dean Clark, let me bring you an extra coat.”

Harrison Clark's heart ached.

From the moment he entered the History Institute, he had become the Dean of the History Academy as an “expert-level scholar.”

Now, he had only two subordinates.

The guard who brought him the coat and another guard who was receiving basic military training at the Science City Defense Force.

Every other scholar had switched professions after completing the transportation of historical artifacts a few days ago.

Clark heard that a grandmaster in the History Institute had become a conference secretary at the Military Institute, specializing in taking notes which fit perfectly with his expertise.

Harrison said, “Bro, don't be a guard anymore. Come to my project team as deputy leader.”

The guard ran away, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

“I can't, Dean Clark! I have to wait for Old Li to come take my shift, then I have to go to the training field!”

Dean Clark wiped the dust from his face.

Things were getting bleaker.

This lousy world was so real.

At that moment, a personal communication system rang with a notification of a strange incoming message.

He glanced up.

Here it is, his influence in another part of the Institute of Sciences relentlessly sought him.

The group of losers Mr. Connor had mentioned.

Members of the Intuition School sent him an invitation every day, hoping that he would attend their lectures and give a talk to boost their morale.

As the spiritual leader of these losers and the newly appointed Dean of the History Institute, Master Harrison Clark had no desire to be their leader. However, he was genuinely becoming bored.

He stood up and stretched, then replied to the message.

“Notify everyone. I'll come and see tonight's lecture.”

Suddenly, a quick reply came from the other end.

“Really?”

It was a voice message this time.

It was a familiar, pleasant female voice.

Harrison remembered.

It was the long-haired girl he had met a few times at the Institute of Life Sciences.

It was a pity that such a beautiful and young girl had chosen to believe in the nonsense of the Intuition School..

Chapter end