Pollutant Disguise Plan (POLLUTANT)
Liu Chuanyang softened at an unexpected speed—his muscles no longer hard as stone, nor cold as an air-conditioned fridge. The medical staff present were highly intrigued by his sudden drop in contamination levels, so they kept him in the vehicle.
The cost? A car full of doctors and nurses constantly poking and prodding him.
Not a trace of lust—just the overwhelming desire to dissect him.
But survival took precedence over research. After all, Liu Chuanyang was a genuine mutant, and even he had been contaminated. Everyone here was in danger.
So early the next morning, they split into groups to search for a way out or a means to contact the outside world.
Shen Ji wasn’t on the first list of volunteers, but he stepped forward anyway. Dr. Cheng initially refused, but under Shen Ji’s resolute gaze, he couldn’t bring himself to say no.
[You look pretty intimidating when you’re serious.]
Walking down the deserted street, Shen Ji strolled casually with his hands in his pockets, turning at every corner as if he'd known his destination from the start.
A gust of wind made him pause. His coat fluttered, and the transparent lenses of his glasses obscured his vision.
"Since when have I not been serious?" Shen Ji said offhandedly.
"I'm a journalist. The code of our profession is efficiency, diligence, and truthful reporting—so I’ve always been serious."
[...Serious about turning the mushrooms on you into mushroom soup?]
"Appetites are natural. Even little mushrooms have cravings. All Pollutants are gluttons."
Shen Ji gazed at the desolate entrance of the residential complex. "So, could it be hiding here, eating?"
After devouring the contamination from Liu Chuanyang, the mycelium had begun searching for similar Pollutants nearby. The Undertaker was indeed skilled at hiding—even now, Shen Ji could only confirm the contamination here was stronger than elsewhere through the mycelium.
Whether this intense contamination meant the Undertaker itself was here or had just ravaged the complex... remained unclear.
The Undertaker's outbreak had been sudden. Q City was already under strict lockdown, with everyone isolating at home. From detection to the contamination engulfing the Eastern District, barely half an hour had passed.
[Either scenario is terrifying for survivors here. High contamination accelerates infection, especially among vulnerable children and the elderly. But luckily, the young and old rarely mutate into high-level Pollutants—healthy adults are more likely to trigger large-scale disasters.]
"What a grim joke."
[It follows nature’s logic. In war, children and the elderly are the least likely to survive.]
"Humanity exists precisely to defy that logic."
Shen Ji’s words sounded official, fitting his profession.
He stepped into the complex but halted just past the gate at the sound of faint sobbing.
Seeing no one through the glass, he tried the security booth’s door.
But it didn’t budge.
Circling to the window, he finally saw inside.
A man in a security uniform leaned against the door, weeping. A phone with a blank white screen lay at his feet.
His body was covered in dense black feathers, his face elongated with protruding cheekbones. In his arms was a corpse, its blood soaking his uniform and staining his newly sprouted feathers.
"You're dead, you're dead," he muttered.
His eyes brimmed with despair, grief... and a barely perceptible thrill.
[The Undertaker’s mutated contamination induces psychosis. Stage II victims delusionally mourn lost loved ones, growing black wings and feathers—a manifestation of the Undertaker’s obsession with harbinger birds.]
[Stage III victims remember their loved ones are alive, but this doesn’t bring relief—it breaks them.]
[Unable to reconcile their grief with the living, they attempt to kill those they cherish, dyeing their wings red.]
With a click, Shen Ji shut the window. He turned away from the security booth and walked into the residential complex.
The complex was eerily silent, with only the wind rustling through the leaves. Fallen autumn leaves carpeted the ground, untended, and the faint scent of blood lingered in the air.
"Seems like the latter," Shen Ji concluded. "This is an area ravaged by the Undertaker—probably also the next zone the Death Messenger Bird intends to announce."
Tendrils of mycelium slowly spread across the ground. Instead of advancing further, Shen Ji used them to survey the situation in the complex.
Just then, a tiny strand of mycelium peeked out from his knee and sprouted a small cap. It tapped against his thigh insistently. Shen Ji glanced down, and it swayed, pointing in a specific direction.
Shen Ji blinked, staring at the mushroom in contemplation.
"Don’t you think…" Shen Ji mused, "when this thing wiggles on my thigh, it looks like an exhibitionist who just dropped his pants?"
[…Stop thinking like that!]
Is a journalist really allowed to be this unhinged?!
Shen Ji couldn’t be bothered to argue with the system about his ‘sense of humor’.
He followed the direction the little mushroom indicated and eventually picked up a phone buried in a pile of leaves.
The screen was blank, similar to the abandoned phone in the security booth.
The mushroom informed him that these strange little blocks were the most contaminated objects in the complex.
Shen Ji shook the phone—no response. He held down the power button, trying to force a shutdown—still nothing. Just as he considered smashing it against the ground, the white screen flickered, and the display switched to a video recording.
It was footage captured by someone—the heavy breathing and shaky camera work made that clear.
The lens was aimed at a window. Outside, darkness loomed and the wind howling.
A sudden crack of thunder illuminated half the balcony, revealing a black figure clinging to the windowsill and staring into the room with hollow eyes.
Unable to bear it any longer, the cameraman screamed. The device fell, spinning on the ground until it faced the shadow.
The figure swayed in the wind before slowly seeping through the glass like liquid darkness and crawling along the wall like a living shadow.
[The Undertaker’s contamination event coincided with a communication cut off. Footage of the Undertaker spread online, and even without the internet, it propagated through devices. That’s why the Eastern District fell so quickly.]
"Through communication signals? Could it be in radio broadcasts?"
[No, no—please don’t try to explain contamination with science. It’s more like a supernatural phenomenon. Pollutants are closer to physical ghosts.]
Ignoring the system, Shen Ji continued pondering.
"This footage could stretch into a five-part Approaching Science special… No, make it at least five episodes."
[…]
Sometimes, the system found Shen Ji utterly baffling.
He was a journalist—a righteous one at that. He had reported on countless social issues and was a true industry benchmark. Initially, the system had feared that bringing Shen Ji into this situation would have disastrous consequences—like him choosing self-destruction out of sheer moral outrage.
But now, the system realized: Aside from basic human decency and empathy, Shen Ji was surprisingly rational about everything around him.
Whether it was working at the facility or treating contaminated patients, he did it all because it served his purpose—ensuring his own survival.
On the foundation of his own survival, he didn't mind doing a bit of good.
Excessively rational, yet occasionally absurd to the extreme.
Whether it was mushroom soup or "Approaching Science”.
Casually tossing his phone back into the pile of withered leaves, Shen Ji prepared to leave the neighborhood.
Just as he reached the security checkpoint, his phone suddenly rang.
He pulled it out and saw an unknown number.
The last time this unknown number had called him was the facility.
Shen Ji answered, "Hello?"
"Finally got through! Xiao Ji, it's Cheng Gu!" The voice on the other end belonged to Dr. Cheng. "It's bad—everyone's phones suddenly regained signal, but only within this area. Then, all our phones started playing the Undertaker's video footage. After watching it, everyone started feeling sick."
"We abandoned the vehicle and evacuated as a group. We're looking for a less contaminated area now—don't go back to the original location!"
"...What?"
Noise crackled through the line. Shen Ji could hear Dr. Cheng's ragged breathing, as if he were running. The phone was held far from his mouth, making his voice sound distant.
"...Hallucinations?!... Inhibitors, quick!"
"Use the specialized needles!"
With a click, the call ended.
[We need to deal with the Undertaker as soon as possible.] The system said. [If we delay any longer, these people will all be in trouble.]
"But the main problem right now is that we can’t even locate its true form. How are we supposed to deal with it if we can’t find it?" Shen Ji's voice was lower now, almost like a muttered soliloquy. "Is there any way to force it out?"
[There’s an extreme method that could cause collateral damage. Do you want to try it?]
"Oh? How extreme?"
[The Death Messenger Bird’s contamination is stored within you. You could release it and simulate the Death Messenger Bird being in crisis to lure out the Undertaker. Of course, if you do this, the contaminated patients around you will suffer secondary exposure. Once a Level S Pollutant releases contamination, it happens in the blink of an eye.]
[The worst outcome would be the complete annihilation of everyone in this area.]
Shen Ji didn’t speak further.
He seemed to be deep in thought as he weighed the pros and cons, while the system remained silent to avoid disturbing him.
Just then, Shen Ji turned his head to the side.
A small white mushroom perched on his shoulder mimicked his movement, tilting as well.
The door to the security room creaked open, revealing the person who had been huddled inside earlier, but was now staring at him through the gap with a deathly intensity.
His face was already covered in black fuzz, and in his hand was a bloodstained knife—the very blade he had used to kill his closest loved ones.
"You’re luckier than me," he rasped while raising the knife. "No!"
"You can’t be luckier than me. You can’t have lost nothing. I won’t be the only one left without a family."
His eyes were pitch-black and devoid of emotion, like a lifeless puppet. "So, I’m going to kill you!"
The security guard lunged forward, but before he could get within two meters of Shen Ji, he froze in place.
Fungal tendrils coiled around his legs, yanking him off his feet and hurling him against the wall with a sickening crash. He let out a scream, but it wasn’t over—the mycelium hoisted him upside down and dangled him in front of the security room’s entrance.
[Contamination level: 95%. Contamination was out of control. He has mutated into a low-level Pollutant.]
Shen Ji studied him for a few seconds before finally speaking. "He reminds me of the Death Messenger Bird."
[Since he was born from the Undertaker’s obsession, his Pollutant form naturally resembles the Death Messenger Bird.]
"Then that means we now have a ‘Death Messenger Bird’ of our own, right?"
His words came abruptly and laced with an eerie undertone.
Then a faint crimson hue seeped into Shen Ji’s pupils, while tiny mushroom spores sprouted on his forehead.
An oppressive aura of contamination radiated from him, yet he seemed entirely unaware as his unnervingly calm gaze fixed on the guard.
Trembling in terror, the guard didn’t dare move a muscle.
"Let’s inject the Death Messenger Bird’s contamination into him," Shen Ji said while pushing up his glasses with one hand. The lenses flashed with a cold glint.
He continued slowly, "Low-level Pollutant is controllable, and this way, we’ll have a genuine ‘Death Messenger Bird’—‘captured, controlled, and on the brink of death,’ waiting for the Undertaker to come to the rescue."
"It’s the perfect plan."
[...]
Though it was flawless, for some reason, the system couldn’t shake the feeling that Shen Ji was giving off major villain vibes.
No, no!
Its righteous little journalist couldn’t possibly be a villain!
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