Brooke ensured the second-floor door was securely locked before heading to the third floor.

The third floor was like a fortress. It was nearly impenetrable, with tough iron doors, security bars, surveillance cameras, and security alarms.

After passing through multiple security bars, he arrived at the dimly lit, messy third floor. The third floor's only tidy and warm room was in the innermost part of the building.

Inside that room lay a frail, pale middle-aged man lying on his bed, unconscious and barely breathing.

Brooke walked over to the man and checked his pulse, then sighed deeply.

"Ten years, and I still can't get you to wake up," he lamented.

"It's a shame I can't cure you despite being a skilled doctor." Brooke shook his head. He retrieved a tablet, and placed it in the man's mouth.

For the past ten years, Brooke had been devoted to Cinna's care, trying various treatments and scouring ancient manuscripts.

Yet all of his efforts had been in vain. All he could do was