Chapter 141

Chapter 141

The system’s words sent a brief, disorienting ripple through Lu Yan’s consciousness.

“What’s there?”

[SpongeBob SquarePants.]

For some reason, the urge to throttle the system resurfaced with startling clarity.

It chuckled, a low, grating sound. [Don’t be mad. If it’s a homecoming, of course there’ll be family.]

Lu Yan didn’t answer. The new scales prickled against his skin, a raw, burning discomfort.

He ran a bath, sinking into the cool water. The relief was immediate.

His phone had been off for days. Turning it on now, he found his Celestial Forum inbox flooded. One message stood out: an offer of three million contribution points for a pollution source excision surgery.

He tapped the sender’s profile. Username: Indra. Based in the Fifth District, no affiliation with the Special Operations Department. Currently ranked fourth on the global leaderboard.

The Fifth District was… unique. A theocracy where church and state were one, authority derived from divinity. The Special Operations Department’s influence there was negligible, little more than a figurehead.

But walls have ears. Information always leaked through internal channels.

Lu Yan marked the message as read. No reply.

In his current state, performing surgery was too risky. Besides, he wasn’t short on funds.

Another notification, dated two months prior, informed him he’d been added to the forum’s Advanced Specialist Rankings. The main downside was the loss of anonymity. The perks, however, were decent: discounts at the headquarters exchange, access to dedicated research teams for developing custom medications.

He scanned the list. Rank 19. Middle of the pack. But his meteoric rise within a single year had inexplicably spawned a faction of fiercely loyal “career fans” on the internal boards. Every month when rankings updated, if “Clairaudience” moved up, these fans celebrated like it was a festival.

Lu Yan felt no particular pride in it. He skimmed a few gushing appreciation threads before shutting off his phone.

The system snorted. [Some of those posters are headquarters plants. Their whole job is to bolster high-level Awakened’s sense of connection to humanity. And some people actually fall for it. They work themselves to the bone just to avoid disappointing their “fans.” Case in point: @Michael.]

Lu Yan considered it. “Positive reinforcement is important.”

It wasn’t exactly deception. He just wasn’t the type to be swayed by online flattery, no matter how effusive.

Headquarters was already pressing him for the slaughterhouse mission report.

His role in that operation had been the Black Butcher—details impossible to include in any official document. He composed a heavily redacted version from his bathtub, sipping iced coconut milk between paragraphs.

After sending it, he opened a chat with Director Li, his liaison.

Clairaudience: Any word on Ye Liangshan?

It was late, but Director Li was still awake.

Director Li: Found. Zero-One took Subject 9 to the slaughterhouse. We also raided the Hound base. Found another test subject, Zhan Yihan.

It had been the talk of the Awakened community. The Hound base was perhaps the shortest-lived S-Class pollution zone in history, designated in August and eradicated by December.

Director Li: But, regretfully, Zero-One seems to have performed some… modifications on Zhan Yihan prior. By the time we thawed him, all vital signs were gone.

The system’s laugh was icy. [A lie. Zhan Yihan had become a pollutant. Headquarters issued a cleanup order. Saying he died upon thawing just spares the other test subjects’ feelings.]

Of the First Research Institute’s ten original volunteers, two opposing sides had formed. Now, only half remained alive.

Clairaudience: When can the sea fog around Changjia be dispersed?

Director Li: Ideally, perhaps next year…

It was a thorny issue. Ye Liangshan, the one capable of consuming the fog, refused to go. A profound social recluse, he hadn’t left the room assigned to him at the Prevention Center since being decanted from his life pod.

Lu Yan calculated the timeline. “Could it be done sooner?”

He wanted to see Changjia freed before he left for R’lyeh.

Director Li was momentarily stunned, then replied, “Understood. I will petition headquarters immediately.”

Though Director Li appeared to work alone, an entire support team operated behind the scenes, all dedicated to serving Lu Yan’s needs. This was the first time Clairaudience had ever made a request of headquarters, and it garnered significant attention from the relevant departments.

The only person truly sweating was Xie Haiqing, Ye Liangshan’s assigned caretaker.

Pushing open the door, he was greeted, unsurprisingly, by a landscape of trash. Hamburger wrappers, half-eaten fries, empty soda bottles, cream congealed on the carpet. The coffee table was a monument of dirty plates.

Xie Haiqing sighed. “You should eat less junk food. We have other options.”

Ye Liangshan didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed on the television screen, where a meaningless drama played out.

After weeks of this, Xie Haiqing was used to the silence.

He rolled up his sleeves and started cleaning. This should have been a janitor’s job, but the presence of strangers triggered a panic response in Ye Liangshan, sending him scrambling under the bed. So, the duty fell to Xie Haiqing.

Ye Liangshan sat buried in a mountain of burger boxes. His eyes were on the screen, but their focus was elsewhere. Every so often, he’d mechanically devour two double cheeseburgers.

Despite the volume he consumed, he wasn’t overweight. If anything, he seemed malnourished—small, wiry, like a teenager still stretching upward.

As an ordinary human, Ye Liangshan had possessed a fit, standard physique. But after awakening his Devourer talent, his body had withered day by day. At his thinnest, he’d resembled a freshly unearthed mummy.

Back at the institute, his greatest fear had been the researchers saying there was no food. Without it, his stomach, disobedient, would begin digesting his other organs for energy. The pain was excruciating.

If you cut him open, you’d find a stomach that occupied nearly all the space in his thoracic cavity—a result of the aberration—alongside a heart, lungs, and other organs shrunk to the size of toy models. His intestines had atrophied to the width of a hair.

The first word he’d spoken upon emerging from the life pod was “Hungry.” The gnawing void had been so intense that when first pulled free, he’d nearly taken a bite out of the person holding him. It took considerable effort to pry him off.

That single act had nearly gotten him classified as a pollutant. Thankfully, tests showed a contamination level of only 72.3.

The person who’d pulled him from the pod was Xie Haiqing. A deep, concave bite mark, missing a chunk of flesh, still marred his shoulder.

Before becoming Ye Liangshan’s handler, Xie Haiqing had worked at the Eighth Research Institute, specializing in making animal-based pollutants edible. Headquarters believed modified food was far superior to burgers, fries, and instant noodles. Ye Liangshan disagreed. So, his junk food demands were met.

In the apartment, thick curtains were drawn against the daylight, plunging the room into gloom. Xie Haiqing didn’t turn on the lights. Ye Liangshan was photophobic.

He cleaned in the near-dark, filling six large garbage bags and wiping down the floors. The room could never be too tidy. An overly sterile environment triggered Ye Liangshan’s PTSD, dragging him back to his days in the institute.

Finished, Xie Haiqing quietly sat down beside him.

“Comrade Xiao Ye.”

No movement. Only after a long pause did Ye Liangshan’s gaze drift minutely toward Xie Haiqing’s face. It held no expression.

Xie Haiqing cleared his throat. “Can we… discuss something?”

Ye Liangshan thought for a moment, then typed two characters on his phone: Go on.

Even as a human, he’d been severely socially anxious.

“I hear the sea fog around Changjia Island tastes like vanilla ice cream. How about we don’t wait until December? We could go have some in the next few days.”

“Ah…” Ye Liangshan nibbled at a fingernail, hesitation flickering across his features.

Though he’d consumed mountains of junk food recently, it was mostly habit—a residual echo of human taste and bodily instinct. He couldn’t really taste any of it.

Food made from pollutants, however, could still wake his dormant palate.

Xie Haiqing adopted a coaxing tone, as if speaking to a child. “You know, there’s an Awakened at headquarters called Clairaudience. His talent involves consumption, too. He loves eating this stuff, and he eats a lot. If you go too late, there might be nothing left.”

Ye Liangshan lost interest, his eyes drifting back to the screen. No amount of cajoling or threats from Xie Haiqing elicited further reaction.

He didn’t care about humanity. He cared about whether he was fed.

Cutting off his food supply might force compliance, but the risk of triggering a violent episode was too high. They didn’t dare take the chance.

Xie Haiqing left the room, fist clenched. He muttered a low curse. “Gong Weibin, you son of a bitch.”

He relayed the situation to headquarters. Within half an hour, the message reached Lu Yan.

Chapter 114

Director Li’s voice was apologetic over the line. “Mr. Lu, we’ve tried. Ye Liangshan is unwilling to meet at this time, truly, our apologies. But rest assured, psychological assessments indicate his emotional state is stable. He should agree to the matter in two or three months.”

Ning Huai and the others had waited for decades. A few more months shouldn’t matter.

But Lu Yan had promised Ning Huai he would get them out of Changjia as soon as possible. He wouldn’t have risked the slaughterhouse otherwise.

Besides, a cold intuition told him the coming deep-sea mission would be exceptionally dangerous. He wanted every loose end tied up before then.

Is there another way? he asked the System.

[Yes.]

[You can cook. Ye Liangshan loves to eat. Honestly, ‘Macrophage’ is a terrible name for his talent. ‘Gluttony’ would be more accurate.]

***

Late November. After filing his final report on the slaughterhouse mission, Lu Yan bid a temporary farewell to Tang Xun’an—still nursing his cracked ribs—and boarded a private flight to City A.

He met Ye Liangshan’s current handler.

Xie Haiqing was young, with a striking resemblance to Zong Yan—the same peach-blossom eyes, the same disarming smile. Lu Yan found himself staring for a beat too long.

The System sighed dramatically. [And so the substitute lover trope begins…]

Xie Haiqing extended a hand, his face bright with hope. “You must be Doctor Lu, sent from headquarters to treat Xiao Ye’s hyperphagia! I’m Xie Haiqing, Ye Liangshan’s handler.”

Di Ting’s identity wasn’t public knowledge.

Lu Yan shook his hand politely. “Yes.”

“That’s wonderful.” Xie Haiqing’s smile faded slightly. “Honestly, his talent… it makes sense he’s always hungry. But it’s affecting his development. He only eats junk. Won’t touch anything nutritious.”

[Remember Subject 02? After 02 died, a starving Ye Liangshan was released. Someone gave him steamed buns. Said the filling was venison.]

[02’s aberration vector was deer.]

[After that… he refuses to eat any food with detectable pollution values, especially meat. Not just refuses. It makes him vomit.]

They arrived outside Ye Liangshan’s room. Through the door, the young man seemed to sense their presence. A frantic, nervous energy radiated from within. The sound of teeth grinding against fingernails was audible.

Ten fingers, chewed raw and bloody. Nails bitten down to stubs, exposing tender pink flesh beneath.

Xie Haiqing grew tense. “Doctor, will it be medication or psychological counseling?”

Lu Yan thought for a moment. “First, I’ll cook.”

Xie Haiqing blinked. “…What?”

Under the handler’s bewildered gaze, Lu Yan walked into the suite’s kitchen.

The refrigerator was stocked, but most of it was pollutant meat, modified by the Eighth Research Institute. The ordinary ingredients were limited, mostly fruit.

Following an online tutorial, Lu Yan baked a fruit cake. The air filled with a sweet, comforting aroma.

It was his first attempt at dessert, but the little cake looked presentable.

He handed the plate to Xie Haiqing. “Give this to him.”

Confused but compliant, Xie Haiqing did.

A few minutes later, he returned with a spotlessly clean plate, licked shiny. He looked embarrassed. “Doctor Lu… is there more cake?”

“Yes.”

The entire cake was delivered in three installments.

The next day, Lu Yan returned to the Prevention and Treatment Center. This time, he made six egg tarts.

On the third day of deliveries, the door to Ye Liangshan’s room finally cracked open.

Through the narrow gap, a single eye peered out, finding Lu Yan.

The moment Lu Yan turned his head, Ye Liangshan flinched back a step.

“Today’s is a matcha mousse cake,” Lu Yan said. “Want to come out and eat it?”

Ye Liangshan started to reach for his tablet to type, then remembered he didn’t have this doctor’s contact info. A small, strained sound escaped his throat. “…Okay.”

Disuse had rusted his voice.

He emerged from the room.

Lu Yan set the cake before him. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Ye Liangshan’s expression went blank. “…Oh.”

He ate with a small spoon, taking tiny, careful bites. Halfway through, he whispered, “Can… you not go?”

He wanted to keep eating Lu Yan’s food.

Lu Yan passed him a napkin, his tone softening. “I have a mission. I can’t stay here forever. But if you agree to help me with a task, I can spend that time cooking for you instead.”

Ye Liangshan’s spoon paused. “…What task?”

“Absorbing the sea fog over Changjia. I should introduce myself. I’m Lu Yan. Code name: Di Ting.”

Ye Liangshan’s hand, holding the spoon, began to tremble. He stared down at the table for a long time before asking, voice barely audible, “The fog… is it people, too?”

Lu Yan watched the crown of his tousled hair. “It’s a pollution source. I won’t trick you into eating people.”

Ye Liangshan lifted his head, meeting Lu Yan’s gaze with a deep, searching look of his own. “…Okay.”