Chapter 78

Chapter 78

Lu Yan’s gaze settled on Zhao Ke.

It was mid-September, and while most people were still in light autumn wear, Professor Zhao was already bundled in thick clothing—a common sight among the elderly who felt the cold more keenly, yet it made him stand out.

Just a few years ago, when he’d taught their class, Professor Zhao had been in his prime. Now, though his smile remained, his entire being exuded a withered, dying frailty. Age spots dotted his face, a sight that stirred a pang of melancholy.

The professor wore dark sunglasses.

The class monitor sighed softly. "After his wife passed, Professor Zhao was overcome with grief. He cried until his eyes were damaged—can’t stand bright light now. He’s been wearing those ever since."

Lu Yan considered for a moment, then stepped forward, taking Zhao Ke’s hand with genuine concern. "Professor, it’s been a long time."

Zhao Ke craned his neck, peering for a while before his face broke into a delighted smile. "Little Lu! After all these years, you’ve grown even more handsome. Your shimu used to talk about finding you a match all the time."

Lu Yan could feel it—the man’s hand was cold as ice, with an unnatural stiffness to it.

Zhao Ke released the grip after only a moment and moved to take his seat at the head table, surrounded by his current doctoral students and those who had always been close.

Lu Yan didn’t join the gathering. His relationship with most teachers was one of respect, not intimacy.

The system, mimicking Tang Xun’an’s tone, lowered its voice to a murmur. [Figure it out?]

But it was still an unpleasantly mechanical sound, the attempted bass effect falling flat.

Lu Yan thought for a moment. "A dead man?"

Zhao Ke’s hands were cold, devoid of warmth—though that could be blamed on the weather. What made Lu Yan suspect was the faint scent of formaldehyde clinging to him, and during that brief handshake, Lu Yan’s fingertips had brushed against the man’s wrist, finding no pulse.

[Correct.]

Lu Yan pulled out his phone. The data showed the pollution reading during their contact had peaked at around 10.

If an ordinary person had come into contact with a pollutant, that would be a normal residual value.

It also indicated one thing: at the very least, Zhao Ke hadn’t yet transformed into a pollutant himself.

Then again, if he had, Tang Xun’an would likely have already drawn his blade for the safety of everyone present.

At the head table, Professor Zhao smiled, chatting amiably with the monitor and others, occasionally breaking into a light cough. "I’ve been in a daze lately. It warms this old man’s heart that you youngsters still remember someone like me, halfway into the grave."

Aside from appearing somewhat frail, Zhao Ke showed no signs of being deceased. Even his speech and mannerisms were nearly identical to his usual self.

It was deeply puzzling.

The system grunted. [See my importance now? If you go to his home, you can still catch your shimu. Wait a few more days, and she’ll be gone.]

"Is the haunting at Changming Medical Academy related to this?"

[Yes. The ‘resurrected’ cadaver was a critical patient Professor Zhao handled.]

Lu Yan pressed his lips together.

With the current information, it only proved Professor Zhao had contacted a pollutant. Standard procedure would involve an investigation by the Prevention and Treatment Center. If necessary, the Special Operations Department would be notified.

After all, with the Pollution Disease spreading, those who’d encountered pollution sources were numerous in the city. Some had merely brushed past low-level pollutants on public transport. Leaving initial investigations to the Center was primarily to manage the workload.

He thought for a moment, then sent a message to Tang Xun’an: "I want to investigate Zhao Ke."

His phone vibrated a moment later.

"Approved."

Tang Xun’an, Chief Director of City A’s Pollution Disease Prevention and Treatment Operations.

He held final authority over all related matters in City A.

---

The Prevention and Treatment Center quickly provided the residential address listed on Zhao Ke’s household register, along with all properties under his name.

After a lifetime of work, the professor had accumulated two apartments in City A—one for himself, one for his daughter.

The Center also pulled surveillance data, outlining Zhao Ke’s general movement patterns: hospital, university, home. A simple triangle.

The class reunion agenda included dinner followed by group bonding at a karaoke lounge. The monitor, flush with cash, had already booked out a nearby KTV.

Lu Yan sent him a message: "Can you take Old Zhao to the KTV later?"

Monitor: ?? Old Zhao says he’s tired and wants to go home to sleep.

Monitor: Also, why do you want him at KTV? You’re not even coming.

Lu Yan: Please.

He attached an adorable kitten sticker.

Bewitched by cuteness, the monitor immediately puffed out his chest. "Alright, alright. Leave it to me."

The system snorted. [Hah. Men.]

Lu Yan impassively cleared the chat history, avoiding potential future emotional complications.

---

Tang Xun’an had been drinking and couldn’t drive. Lu Yan naturally took the wheel.

He didn’t drive often, but he knew how. For safety, he kept a moderate pace. An hour later, they arrived at their destination.

Despite his long tenure at Yan University, Professor Zhao still couldn’t afford property within City A’s third ring road. Rumor had it he’d only finished paying off his mortgage five or six years ago.

The neighborhood was old, built decades prior.

Parking the car, Lu Yan followed the Center’s directions to Professor Zhao Ke’s doorstep.

Despite their attempts at stealth, the detector’s reading spiked to 300 the moment they reached the door.

Now, even without the system’s input, Lu Yan knew something was inside.

As he pondered how to pick the lock, he saw Tang Xun’an place his hand on the doorknob. Almost instantly, the relatively new fixture began to rust, turning mottled and brittle.

Tang Xun’an shook it firmly. The door swung open.

Lu Yan couldn’t help but remark to the system, "Look at his temporal manipulation, then look at you."

The system, for once, was speechless.

Upon opening the door, a thick, pungent odor of decay assaulted them.

Every window was sealed with iron bars, the curtains drawn tight even in daytime, leaving the interior in near-total darkness.

Lu Yan remained in the doorway.

Even in the blackness, he could see it—fine, silken threads covered every corner of the room. They were long and thin, coated with a transparent, sticky fluid. Resembling spiderwebs, or perhaps silkworm silk.

[Your shimu has become a Silkworm Mother. Or perhaps, a Gu insect?]

[These silk threads carry a neurotoxin. Low pollution level, but best not to touch them. Pity 07 isn’t here. his Karmic Flames are lethal to many lifeforms.]

Tang Xun’an drew his blade. The dark Tang sword slashed through the threads, which immediately withered in a large patch, the decay spreading outward.

[Your shimu had a rare disease—ALS. No cure exists. Your teacher, desperate, chose to believe in a folk remedy offered by a Gu breeder.]

"Who is this Gu breeder?"

[You can call him Master Gu.]

[Professor Zhao cultivated a Gu insect inside your shimu. She did indeed begin to recover day by day. But she also started to mutate. Slowly at first, until the aberration progressed to the point she could no longer leave the house…]

[So, Professor Zhao told everyone his wife had succumbed to her illness.]

[Those who live long-term with pollutants rarely meet a good end. If they can’t achieve evolution, their bodies gradually deteriorate under the pollutant’s influence.]

[Half a month ago, Zhao Ke died. His body is dead, but his consciousness lives on, sustained by the offspring Gu your shimu feeds him.]

Tang Xun’an used his blade to part the silken threads. "You might want to wait outside. It’s rather unclean in here."

In his experience, Lu Yan’s fastidiousness was severe.

"It’s fine."

Lu Yan stepped inside. The detector in his hand fluctuated wildly before finally pointing toward the bedroom.

The cloying stench of decay hung heavy in the air. The bedroom door remained shut.

Tang Xun’an pushed it open.

Inside lay a snow-white cocoon.

Over two meters long, semi-translucent, it revealed the pollutant within.

Lu Yan shone his light. It looked like a large, curled-up insect. Segments of soft, plump flesh were studded with short, red tentacles.

The pollutant was clearly aware. Seeing the two intruders, its limbs writhed, attempting to break free prematurely.

The pollution value in the bedroom had soared to 700.

One could imagine once this silkworm fully emerged, it would become yet another headache for the local Prevention and Treatment Center.

Tang Xun’an didn’t hesitate. He raised his blade.

A noise came from the doorway.

"Don’t touch her!" Zhao Ke’s hoarse scream echoed as he stumbled frantically toward the bedroom.

He moved too fast in the unlit room, inevitably tripping and falling.

His sunglasses clattered to the floor, revealing eyes clouded over, pupils no longer visible.

"Don’t touch her, please don’t!" Professor Zhao thudded to his knees, clutching Lu Yan’s ankle. "Sujuan has never hurt anyone! Never!"

"I admit it, I stole some corpses for Sujuan to feed on. That’s my fault," Zhao Ke’s hands trembled violently, tears streaming down his aged face. "It’s not Sujuan’s fault. Arrest me, throw me in prison, I’ll accept it. Lu Yan, your teacher has never begged anyone in his life. I’m begging you now, just this once! I’ve already filed for retirement. In a few days, I’ll take Sujuan back to our hometown… Teacher will kowtow to you!"

His voice abruptly caught in his throat.

Tang Xun’an’s blade moved faster than the eye could follow—a faint gleam in the dark, already sheathed.

The sound of something heavy collapsing followed.

Professor Zhao Ke lay motionless on the floor, a thin, precise line etched across his neck. No blood flowed. He had been dead for a long time.

The large cocoon in the bedroom ceased its writhing.

From within the translucent silk, a distorted, mournful keen began to rise—the sound of something that had once been human, but was human no more.

Green blood sprayed from the severed silkworm. The Silkworm Mother let out a pained shriek as the blade cut clean through her middle.

Her face was still vaguely human, but the upper half of her body thudded to the floor, writhing and hissing.

The splash of green ichor across Zhao Ke’s face robbed him of all speech.

The pollutant’s form began to wither from the wound, desiccating like a mummy. The lower half had already fully transformed into a grotesque, pulpy worm.

Professor Zhao’s jaw went slack. He crawled forward, the veins in his neck standing out like cords.

“Sujuan… wife… it’s okay. I’m here.”

No sound came out. He just wrapped his arms around the creature, mouth open in a silent wail.

The Silkworm Mother lifted an arm, her touch feather-light against his cheek. In life, she had been old, frail. The evolution had reversed time, gifting her the youthful face from Zhao Ke’s memories. The girl he’d seen on their first day of high school, the one he’d thought was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

They’d fallen in love, married. For over forty years, he’d treated her like a precious daughter. She’d never lifted a finger to do a chore.

He’d healed countless patients. But he couldn’t save her.

Fat tears traced paths down Zhao Ke’s weathered cheeks.

Lu Yan took a step forward. “Professor. The moment she became a pollutant, she ceased to be your wife.”

A silkworm breaks its cocoon to become a moth. A flying pollutant was a nightmare—unpredictable, mobile, a city-wide reaper of lives.

Zhao Ke didn’t seem to hear. He sat on the floor, cradling the dying creature, perfectly still.

With the mother insect dead, the juvenile Gu sustaining him wouldn’t last. Within minutes, lividity bloomed across his exposed skin—the unmistakable mottling of a corpse.

Tang Xun’an had witnessed countless partings. Each one still sat like a stone in his gut.

He needed a cigarette.

“She never hurt anyone… never hurt anyone. Why… did you have to do this?”

Zhao Ke’s murmur was barely audible.

The Silkworm Mother stirred in his arms. Her mouth gaped open, as if trying to form words.

“What is it? Tell me, Sujuan, tell me.” Zhao Ke bent his head close, his voice a tender whisper.

She wrapped her arms around his head. Tears welled in her eyes. Then her jaws unhinged, and she bit down on his face.

[A gravely wounded pollutant needs sustenance, energy to recover…] the system stated, its tone a mix of pity and scorn. [This is the truth of most pollutants. They may retain shreds of consciousness. But they can never hold onto reason forever. Just failed experiments in evolution.]

A long-dead corpse holds little blood. The scene wasn’t gory, just deeply unnerving.

After Zhao Ke finally went still, the Silkworm Mother twitched a few more times, then lay motionless.