Chapter 64
The livestream chat exploded, messages scrolling like a boiling pot:
[User “Electronic Wooden Fish” praises your despicable shamelessness.]
[User “Oceanographer” condemns your ruthlessness and sympathizes with the pollutant’s fate.]
[User “National Top-Tier Humanoid Weapon” admires your beastly hypocrisy and your knack for turning the tables.]
[User “Cyber Bodhisattva” appreciates your utter insanity and tips you 50 universal coins.]
[User “Ultimate Cross-Dimensional Romance” is looking forward to your next move.]
…………
In stark contrast to the lively barrage of comments, the office area was dead silent.
The entire Public Welfare Department was as quiet as a graveyard. Only the sea breeze slipped in through the shattered floor-to-ceiling window, weaving freely between the workstations with a faint, whispering sound.
The fish-people were all looking at Yu Zhi, yet not a single one spoke. Their faces were uniformly numb and indifferent, without even a trace of curiosity or inquiry.
It seemed they had only glanced over because the loud crash had disrupted their work. As for what exactly had happened, or why—it didn’t concern them in the slightest.
After a couple of looks, they withdrew their gazes and went back to work. The clatter of keyboards resumed, rapid and crisp. Not one of them cared whether their “colleague” lived or died.
Watching them, Yu Zhi felt his eyelid twitch, a vague sense of unease creeping up.
The next second, his attention was drawn away by the sticky, soft sensation lingering on his hand.
Looking down, he saw several chunks of fish flesh still clinging between his fingers, limp like fatty meat, slowly sliding downward in a way that was indescribably nauseating.
Yu Zhi’s expression shifted slightly. He wiped the blood and bits of flesh off his hand onto another fish-person’s clothes.
The fish-person being wiped showed no objection at all.
After roughly cleaning his hands, Yu Zhi noticed two fish-people in white protective suits walking toward the Public Welfare Department.
He immediately glanced at the corpse on the floor.
Fish-people were like fish—there wasn’t much blood in their bodies. Only a pool about the size of a computer screen had spread out, and the flesh at the neck looked like raw fish, faintly translucent and pale.
The severed head lay sideways on the ground, its bulging, oversized fish eyes wide open, as if still alive—perhaps even brighter than when it had been. It stared straight at Yu Zhi.
Yu Zhi was just considering whether he should say something to explain how 5799 had managed to mess up his own neck like that during “suicide.”
The two fish-people in white protective suits had already walked up to him.
Their suits were stained with blood, as if they had just collected bodies elsewhere. They said nothing, asked nothing, and silently began handling the corpse.
One of them bent down and picked up the head by its feet like it was a discarded plastic bottle, then tossed it into a black body bag.
The other walked straight to the headless corpse, face numb and cold, not even blinking, and skillfully packed the body into the bag.
Yu Zhi glanced at their badges. There were no names on them.
[Department: Funeral Affairs Division]
[Position: Remains Collection Specialist]
[ID: 3095-123]
[Name: ——]
[Department: Funeral Affairs Division]
[Position: Remains Collection Specialist]
[ID: 3094-123]
[Name: ——]
After finishing, the two fish-people turned and left.
They didn’t even spare a glance at the shattered window, as if nothing mattered at all. Dragging their lifeless steps, they exited the Public Welfare Department one after the other.
“Ding—”
The elevator chimed again.
This time, a fish-person in a plaid shirt stepped out. Its eyes were dull and lifeless. One hand held a computer, the other a keyboard and mouse. It walked straight up to Yu Zhi and placed the items on his workstation.
“5820,” it said, its voice squeezed out of its throat, hoarse and unpleasant. “This is the computer.”
“This is the keyboard.”
“This is the mouse.”
These familiar lines were like a bucket of icy water dumped over Yu Zhi’s head, extinguishing the anger that had built up from the endless workload.
The sharp clacking of keyboards echoed again, popping like beans in the air.
Yu Zhi felt suffocated and oppressed. Even though he wasn’t doing anything, the sensation of struggling to breathe lingered stubbornly in his chest.
When a fish-person died, another would replace it. When a computer broke, a new one would be delivered.
Here, whatever was missing would simply be filled.
It wasn’t a cycle—it was more like…
A thought flashed through Yu Zhi’s mind, but before he could grasp it, it vanished.
He racked his brain for a while but still couldn’t recall it, so he gave up.
Better to think about how he might get out of here.
Yu Zhi picked up his work badge and looked at the employee rules on the back.
[1. The work badge must be worn prominently on the chest. Keep it safe at all times to avoid loss or damage.]
[2. It is strictly forbidden to lend your badge to others or falsify work information.]
He stared at the first and second rules for a while.
It seemed like he could tackle both at once.
Yu Zhi pushed his chair back slightly, glanced at the shirt-wearing fish-person on his left, then at the skirt-wearing fish-person on his right.
After a moment of thought, he suddenly reached out—yanked off the shirted fish-person’s badge, snapped it, and tossed it to the ground. Then he turned to the completely unsuspecting skirted fish-person and, in one swift motion, tore off its badge and hung it around the shirted fish-person’s neck.
The whole sequence was smooth and lightning-fast—so fast that neither fish-person even realized what had happened.
By the time they noticed their badges were gone, Yu Zhi had already begun scolding them righteously.
“Are you even going to let people work properly or not?”
“If you don’t want to work, fine—but others still do. Can you not disrupt us?”
The shirted fish-person’s lips moved slightly. It looked even more exhausted. “I am working.”
Yu Zhi shot back without hesitation, “How many words are even in your document? And you still have the nerve to say you’re working properly?”
The shirted fish-person: “…”
It fell silent. Seizing the moment, Yu Zhi turned to the skirted fish-person and said, “5723, why did you lend your work badge to it?”
“The employee rules are written clearly—your badge must be kept safe, and it’s strictly forbidden to lend it to others.”
“One of you damaged a badge, the other lent one out—you two are clearly colluding!”
“In cahoots! Birds of a feather! Covering for each other!”
“I didn’t.” The skirted fish-person replied numbly, reaching out to take its badge back.
Seeing this, Yu Zhi punched it straight in the mouth. “Arguing is one thing—now you even dare to make a move against me?”
The skirted fish-person: “…I—”
Yu Zhi threw another punch, cutting off whatever it was about to say.
This blow, enhanced by his ability, smashed its mouth open. Rows of teeth spilled onto the ground with a clatter, mixed with red and white flesh.
Suppressing his nausea, Yu Zhi used the last few seconds of his one-minute ability to turn and land two solid punches on the shirted fish-person as well.
Fair treatment for both—two punches each, beating them until neither could speak anymore.
Even after being struck, the two fish-people showed no real change in expression. No fear, no anger, no resentment—just the same lifeless numbness, like half-dead corpses.
“Ding—” The elevator chimed again.
Yu Zhi lifted his eyelids. This time, a fish-person in a dark brown suit walked in. It was larger than the others, at least 1.9 meters tall, yet its face carried the same exhausted expression as every other fish-person at their desks.
As it approached, Yu Zhi realized—it was the head of the Public Welfare Department.
[Department: Public Welfare Department]
[Position: Department Head]
[ID: 2031- 101]
[Name: ——]
Even the department head had no name.
Its eyes shifted slightly as it glanced at the badges of the shirted and skirted fish-people, then said, “I’m disappointed in you.”
Though it spoke of disappointment, its face remained as blank and lifeless as ever. It took out two syringes and injected each of them without hesitation.
The two fish-people neither resisted nor avoided it. As if knowing it was useless, they simply watched the needles pierce their bodies.
Soon, they collapsed to the ground, their bodies convulsing violently, like dying fish instinctively slapping against the floor—thud, thud, thud.
The spasms gradually weakened. Then their gray-green scales began to swell, one by one, as if their entire bodies were covered in bloated, pus-filled sacs.
In the blink of an eye, their scales stood upright. Beneath them, the flesh bulged with tiny lumps that suddenly burst, oozing yellow-green fluid.
Their bodies expanded, becoming grotesque, pinecone-like masses leaking foul liquid—strange and horrifying.
Yu Zhi only glanced once before his scalp prickled and every hair on his body stood on end.
He immediately looked away. Though he couldn’t see it anymore, he could hear it.
“Pop pop pop pop pop—”
The sound of bursting sacs, mingling with the constant clatter of keyboards, echoed endlessly in his ears.
Yu Zhi clenched his teeth. The more he tried to ignore it, the clearer it became.
“Pop pop pop pop pop—”
“Pop pop pop pop pop—”
The disgusting image replayed in his mind. He even felt as if something was swelling under his own skin—slowly pushing outward.
A faint itch, accompanied by a slight, swelling pain.
For a moment, Yu Zhi couldn’t tell whether this was mental contamination—or if he himself had already begun to mutate.
He braced himself and touched his arm. All he felt were goosebumps.
Not scales, not pustules—but his nerves grew tighter and tighter, his temples throbbing.
The other fish-people showed no reaction. They kept typing, indifferent to the death of their kind, unconcerned even with their own lives—as if death meant nothing at all.
Less than a minute later, two familiar figures in white protective suits appeared at the door.
Without even looking, Yu Zhi knew—the shirted and skirted fish-people were completely dead.
Breaking Rule One or Rule Two meant death.
Fine.
Even if his chances of escape had grown slimmer, at least they had been thoroughly disgusted.
The emotions inside Yu Zhi slowly faded, replaced by a heavy sense of powerlessness.
Could he leave by finishing the work? No—the work would never end.
Could he leave by breaking the computer? No—it would just be replaced.
Could he leave by breaking the rules? No—that would only get him killed.
Yu Zhi could clearly feel the mental contamination taking hold.
Partly because of the oppressive, unchanging environment. Humans were easily shaped by their surroundings.
But more importantly, he was being forced to repeat the same cycle over and over:
try to escape ? fail ? try again ? fail again.
Each failure wore down his temper, eroded his mental state, devoured his emotions, and accelerated the contamination.
He was like an insect trapped in a glass bottle, desperately searching for a way out—only to smash himself bloody against invisible walls.
And then…
Yu Zhi lifted his eyes and saw his reflection on the computer screen.
Numb, indifferent, utterly exhausted—just like those half-dead fish-people.
The livestream audience noticed the change and happily flooded the chat:
[User “Pure Love Warrior” admires your repeated defeats.]
[User “Strongest King” eagerly anticipates your transformation into a pollutant.]
[User “momo” finds your instance mission fascinating and tips 10 universal coins.]
[User “Rich Young Master Domineering Cool” praises your persistence and tips 0.1 universal coins.]
The slight change in his balance snapped Yu Zhi out of it.
He took a deep breath, rubbed his face hard, and repeated silently: This is a mission. This is a mission. This is a mission…
Stay calm. Stay steady. Don’t panic. If it’s a mission, there must be a way to complete it.
He wasn’t like these fish-people.
He was the noble Mantis Slayer, Battle Mantis, Love Warrior, Love God of War…
As he comforted himself, he pictured a certain irritating figure in his mind, forcing his numb emotions to stir.
Fu Suxi, you bastard—where the hell are you?!
Why haven’t you finished your mission yet?!
Are you even capable, protagonist?!
…………
[User “Lord of Fire” finds your mission fascinating and tips 50 universal coins.]
[User “Vitamin E Supplement” is curious about your ability and tips 50 universal coins.]
[User “Piggy Canned Meat” hopes you’ll follow the pollutant’s orders and tips 100 universal coins.]
[User “Lightbulb” wonders why you’re not completing the pollutant’s task and tips 50 universal coins.]
—
Fu Suxi held a black long blade, his gaze dark as he stared at the stainless steel door before him.
“Creak—”
The door opened. A fish-person in a black leather apron walked in and said coldly, “6302.”
“Scrape the scales off this leg.”
With that, it threw a gray-green, scale-covered fish leg onto the stainless steel worktable with a heavy thud.
Expressionless, Fu Suxi raised his blade. The long knife pierced straight through the fat fish-person’s head, splattering red and white liquid across the wall.
He moved swiftly, blade flashing, slicing off the scales along with flesh.
Moments later—
“Creak—”
The door opened again.
Another fish-person in a black leather apron walked in, dropped a leg, and said in the same tone, “6302.”
“Scrape the scales off this leg—”
Before it could finish, its body was cut into pieces.
“6302, scrape the scales off this leg—”
“6302, scrape the scales off this—”
“6302, scrape this—”
“6302…”
Under the dim yellow light, dark red blood splattered across the entire room. Pale chunks and slices of flesh were piled together with twisted amusement, forming a mountain of corpses that filled half the room.
Fu Suxi leaned against the table, his eyes bloodshot, pupils unfocused. Madness and violence radiated from his entire body.
This time, the stainless steel door did not open again.
After a long while, with no target appearing and nowhere for the violence inside him to vent, Fu Suxi gradually regained some clarity.
He put away the long blade, lit a cigarette, and took two drags. His long, crimson eyes slowly refocused through the drifting smoke as he glanced at his right hand.
His well-defined hand was covered in blood, as though it had just been washed in it. At some point, gray-green scales had spread up from his wrist, covering his entire right arm.
The exact same scales as the fish-people.
He had been contaminated.
Fu Suxi slowly let out a laugh. Wisps of gray-white smoke spilled from his thin lips, curling along the sharp lines of his face.
“Where is Yu Zhi?”
[User “Big Yellow Girl” reminds you that he’s enjoying himself in the office.]
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