Although the situation was dire and the survival rate was abysmally low, the outside world had not given up on the rescue.

Throughout the entire night, the sound of gunfire and artillery never ceased. Conventional firearms were still effective against biochemical-type pollutants. It was just that Headquarters didn’t dare authorize high-yield missiles, since there were still several hundred human lives trapped underground.

Four to five hundred people had gathered in the shelter hall, and everyone’s expression had turned deeply anxious and fearful.

Lu Yan found an armed operative nearby, flashed his own identity badge, and traded a pack of cigarettes for a bow. These soldiers were all ordinary troops, serving as the absolute last line of defense. The rest of the Awakened had already headed to the underground frontlines to contain the spread of the pollution.

Lu Yan didn’t know exactly what was happening down there. But with fewer and fewer survivors emerging and the casualty rate skyrocketing, he could imagine that the story unfolding below must be incredibly tragic. This was a safety line forged entirely out of flesh and blood.

Lu Yan picked back up his old trade and began helping treat the wounded. Wearing his white lab coat and displaying his research institute staff badge, no one stopped him amidst the chaos.

Some of the wounded suffered from simple external trauma, while others were experiencing distortions caused by the pollution disease. The latter were isolated individually in the critical care quarantine zone, which had designated wards. Calling them wards was a stretch; they were actually separated only by curtains in the middle. It was merely a relatively comfortable place to wait for death.

Lu Yan casually pulled aside a curtain and walked in. Lying inside was an Awakened who had lost a leg.

“Ward rounds. How did you get hurt? Tell me about it,” he asked.

“Bit by a Ghost-Face Spider. The thing isn’t big, but its teeth can easily pierce right through a combat suit,” the Awakened on the hospital bed grimaced, baring his teeth in pain. “My captain stayed down there to save me… he hasn’t come out yet.”

A terrifying tumor bulged over his knee, faintly taking on the shape of a human face. This patient was apparently quite a chatterbox; Lu Yan had only drifted off for a brief moment before the man shifted topics elsewhere.

“I even saw the research institute’s volunteers. My god, is that a level humans can actually reach? There was one who could spew fire, he was so damn incredible. Wherever his hand touched, it just burst into flames. I actually wanted to ask him for an autograph, but he told me he’d sign it for me after it was all over. He lives in dorm room 907…”

Lu Yan measured the size of the wound with his hand, looking at it very intently. “No anesthesia. Should I cut it off?”

“Sigh, Doctor, it’s hopeless,” the patient sighed. “Even if you cut this human face off, it’ll just grow back. I’ve seen how other people died; this face will grow bigger and bigger, swelling up. The rest of the body gets sucked completely dry. Once the distortion rate hits 100%, spider legs will sprout from the face, and it’ll turn into a new pollutant.”

Lu Yan said calmly, “Close your eyes. Don’t move.”

The heavily injured Awakened was somewhat confused, but he obediently closed his eyes.

Lu Yan removed his gloves, and a slit split open on his palm. Having gone without food for months, the King Fish was already starving. Almost instantly, it bit down into that patch of red tumor.

The tumor let out a miserable shriek. How should one put it… it wasn’t particularly delicious, but it was passable.

Lu Yan put his gloves back on. “Alright, next one.”

The treatment process went relatively smoothly. After all, during the early stages of the cataclysm, the pollution values of the pollutants weren’t that high. What truly made Lu Yan feel uneasy was that twenty-four hours had already passed, yet Qiao Yu had still not emerged.

Four o’clock in the morning. Lu Yan completed his “treatment” of the patients in the critical care room, feeling incredibly stuffed. When a person is full, it’s easy to get drowsy. He leaned against the wall, but before he could even doze for half an hour, the ground suddenly jolted violently.

A long, massive fissure split open from the distance. The floor cracked apart, the broken fractures spreading outward like a spiderweb.

A slender, colossal ant leg thrust out from the rift.

These small ants surged toward the crowd like a tidal wave.

“Those pollutants—they’ve made it up here?!”

A layer of cold sweat broke out on the forehead of the Awakened officer in charge of command. He switched on his communicator, requesting surface reinforcements, only to be informed that the surface had already dispatched seven waves of rescue teams. Without exception, however, no one had been able to successfully reach this place.

The first-floor shelter of the research institute had become an isolated island in an ocean of pollutants.

A wave of utterly terrified screams echoed in Lu Yan’s ears. On the detector, the pollution level spiked to 5400 in an instant.

The Awakened who were still in the critical care unit scrambled up with a struggle, searching for weapons while roaring at the others, “Get into the life capsules! Everyone, find a life capsule and get inside!!”

Although they were called life capsules, they were actually just sturdy iron boxes containing no life-sustaining energy substances—closely resembling high-tech versions of sleeping bags. If the pollutants weren’t dealt with, entering a life capsule was merely changing the location where one waited for death.

Lu Yan didn’t move; instead, he began counting how many arrows he had left.

The patient beside him grew frantic, grabbing him by the collar. “Doctor, what are you standing there frozen for? Hurry up and run!”

The greater half of a giant ant’s body forced its way up from underground. This ant possessed an excessively massive mouthpart that closely resembled a pair of scissors. Two long, translucent wings trailed behind its back. Its abdominal cavity bulged heavily, with eggs the size of fists churning inside.

It produced offspring even as it launched its attacks; the eggs inside its abdomen shot out, and upon hitting the ground, they hatched into ferocious worker ants one after another.

The instrument indicated the definitive pollution value of this pollutant: 8100. This giant ant stood a full sixteen meters tall.

It was the ruler of the underground world. It had begun its migration two months ago, traversing half of the First District, journeying all the way from another plateau to City A. Pollutants like it were numerous beneath the earth. Even if all the experimental subjects on the ninth floor were released, there was no way to resolve them all simultaneously. That was how such a stray survivor had slipped through.

Lu Yan had assumed that Yu Zhizhi had only awakened today, but in reality, ever since that dream of her adoptive father’s, this little girl had already embarked upon the path of the Apocalypse. The pollutants surged toward this underground research institute located in the suburbs of City A as if answering a summons, resembling a massive gathering.

The pitch-black worker ants rushed toward the crowd, a dense, dark expanse. One could see no end to them at a glance. Someone sprayed a section with a fire extinguisher, but against the countless ants, it was utterly negligible. The people rushing at the very front were quickly swallowed by the ant tide.

The ants crawled in through every single penetrable opening, greedily swallowing down every last inch of bone and blood, intentionally leaving only human skins behind to serve as incubators for hatching. Afterward, they crawled out fully satisfied, surging toward the next victim.

Ever since becoming an Awakened, Lu Yan had to put his life on the line every other day. He fished a mint out of his pocket and popped it into his mouth, comforting his patient: “Don’t panic, it’s a small scene.”

He asked, “Is there gasoline? Alcohol works too. Pour plenty of it.”

The Awakened reacted for a moment, then said in great delight, “Yes! There is!”

Lu Yan climbed onto a three-meter-high light fixture. The field of vision was excellent here. He wrapped absorbent cotton and cloth strips around the arrowheads; the arrows carried flames, shooting toward the ant swarm like falling stars.

These ants the size of a palm were not invulnerable. Their pollution levels were at most around 80; their strength lay purely in their vast numbers. The flames caused the grease on their bodies to burst, and a layer of the charring aroma of roasted fat drifted through the air.

Bottles of gasoline and alcohol were splashed onto these ants, and the fire quickly tore through them. The worker ants curled up their legs amidst the flames, struggling continuously.

The colossal queen ant let out an angry cry and deposited another batch of white eggs. The white eggs hatched into a swarm of winged termites resembling mosquitoes, possessing long mouthparts. The termites vibrated their wings, flying directly toward Lu Yan.

Below, the patient who was still splashing gasoline immediately started shouting frantically, “Holy crap, is this stinking ant playing dirty?! Doctor, hurry up and come down, let’s retreat first!”

Lu Yan didn’t reply. Instead, he gripped the dagger at his waist, fine fish scales emerging across his body. He had always received an A+ in his combat classes.

Hand moving and blade falling, the corpses of the termites dropped to the ground one by one. The patient watched on, utterly dumbfounded. “Are researchers nowadays all this badass?”

The commotion here finally drew the attention of the queen ant. Lu Yan was not the Awakened with the highest spiritual power threshold here; the commander himself possessed a threshold of 3700, making him a rare elite of this era. It had originally intended to deal with this combat-type commander first, but Lu Yan’s actions had truly infuriated it.

Disregarding the several sword slashes inflicted upon it, the queen ant shifted directions and swung its long legs. The queen ant’s speed was exceptionally slow when advancing, yet when launching an attack with its limbs, it appeared remarkably swift due to gravity.

In an instant, a pitch-black ant leg closed in right before Lu Yan’s face, the terrifying and fierce barbs on the limb clearly visible. He was nearly knocked over by the oncoming gale. The chasm of power and knowledge was a vast divide that was incredibly difficult to bridge.

The scales across Lu Yan’s body expanded to their absolute limits, protecting every part of his physical frame as much as possible. He also took the opportunity to lie flat, increasing his surface area to avoid being swatted to death in a single blow.

But he didn’t crash onto the ground; instead, he fell straight into Tang Xun’an’s embrace.

With his distortion rate having dropped previously, the dragon scales on the side of Tang Xun’an’s face had retracted. Yet, likely because he had utilized his talent too frequently of late, the scales resurfaced upon his face. Behind him, pitch-black dragon wings unfurled, even more colossal than during their very first encounter.

After setting Lu Yan down, Tang Xun’an didn’t say much, his golden eyes resembling a burning fire. He gripped Huangchen tightly in his hand and flew toward the queen ant. The moment he drew his blade, the world seemed to be overlaid with a layer of grey.

Quite a few people wept with joy, but Lu Yan alone knit his brows deeply.

Their brief physical contact just now had allowed him to discover one thing: Tang Xun’an’s distortion rate was too high—so high that the aura of a pollutant could practically seep out from beneath his scales. Furthermore, he seemed to already be injured.

Lu Yan opened his palm. He had touched Tang Xun’an’s arm just now, and currently, his palm was entirely coated in dark-red blood. He had sustained injuries in the future.

As if confirming Lu Yan’s suspicion, as the battle between Tang Xun’an and the queen ant reached a fever pitch, the characteristics of distortion on his body grew increasingly pronounced. Dragon wings, dragon tail, dragon claws… even his torso continuously expanded.

Finally, beneath the shocked gazes of everyone present, he transformed completely into a black dragon.

The black dragon roared, snapping the neck of the queen ant. The queen ant went entirely motionless.

The black dragon had lost quite a few scales, its entire body riddled with wounds. The dragon wings behind its back drooped powerlessly, and it slumped onto its side on the ground like a small mountain. The blood flowing out resembled mountain streams.

Its golden dragon eyes looked toward Lu Yan.

In an abrupt flash, Lu Yan recalled Yu Zhizhi’s drawing. The pitch-black dragon, and its weeping eyes.

On the monitoring equipment, the reading provided for this black dragon was no longer a distortion rate, but a pollution value instead. The instrument emitted a warning chime.

After a prolonged silence, a researcher clad in a white coat stepped out from the crowd.

Gong Weibin pointed at the black dragon on the ground, his tone trembling: “It is no longer human! If we don’t seize this moment to kill it, once its injuries recover, everyone here will die! You all saw it, didn’t you?!”

A flash of terror slipped through the eyes of quite a few people. They were all frontline workers; they naturally knew exactly what pollutants were like.

The firearm in the commander’s hand was raised and then lowered. “But… this, this is Tang Xun’an, isn’t it?”

“Pollution is irreversible! Minister Wang, do not possess the misplaced mercy of a woman! Do you wish to bring about the deaths of everyone present?!” Gong Weibin’s voice was piercing, resembling a hammer striking heavily against the commander’s heart.

The others didn’t speak, but the uneasy expressions across their faces already stated everything.

“He has not completely become a pollutant yet,” Lu Yan spoke up suddenly from the crowd.

An expression of fury appeared on Gong Weibin’s face. “I am a senior engineer of the research institute! Just who are you?”

“I am his psychological counselor. For the past three months, I have been the one observing him.” Lu Yan didn’t look at Gong Weibin; instead, he looked at the commander, his tone resolute. “I have a way. Trust me, let me go over.”

His confident and calm demeanor caused the commander to nod subconsciously.

Lu Yan actually had no way; he didn’t possess a healing-type talent at all, it was just that the King Fish could consume pollutants. And judging from the previous treatments, after consuming the source of pollution, the distortion rate on a patient could also drop significantly. He was out of options, but he wanted to try. Tang Xun’an could die like a hero, yet currently, what remained for him was only a hostile gaze as if looking at an enemy.

Beneath the watch of everyone present, Lu Yan walked toward him.

The black dragon’s breathing remained heavy and painful, its mouth filled entirely with blood. Its golden eyes constricted into a single vertical slit—the hallmark sign of natural predators on the eve of an attack. The commander’s palms sweated with anxiety, deeply afraid that the black dragon would open its mouth and swallow Lu Yan in a single bite.

Lu Yan’s hand pressed onto its head, repeating the phrase from their very first meeting: “I am not here to hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”

The fish scales on Lu Yan’s arm flipped up slightly, and fine white threads extended out from beneath his arm. Ever since the King Fish had evolved its second form, Lu Yan hadn’t utilized this method of… feeding for a very long time.

“Nothing will happen, I promise you, you won’t turn into a monster,” Lu Yan whispered.

The black dragon’s golden eyes looked toward him. It remained heavily injured and drained of strength, yet a trail of tears suddenly spilled from the corner of its eye.

At this precise moment, the dreamscape began to collapse. The surroundings, whether people or setting, all began to shatter like broken shards of a mirror.

[You’re finally back. Sweetheart, I missed you so much.] The System’s voice echoed in Lu Yan’s ears. Having not heard it for three months, it actually felt a slight bit unfamiliar. [Good news: I don’t know how long you wandered in that dream, but only half a minute has passed in reality.]

[Bad news: Although half a minute isn’t very long, the way you’ve been standing frozen in front of him has already aroused the alertness of the Banyan Tree. If I were you, I would immediately feed some blood to your chief instructor to stack a Bloodlust gene buff, so he can kill this massive Banyan Tree.]

The instant Lu Yan lifted his head, the Tang Xun’an before him opened his eyes as well. The emotion overflowing from his gaze was an attachment that Lu Yan was exceptionally familiar with.

For some inexplicable reason, Lu Yan actually experienced the sudden awkwardness of meeting an online dating partner face-to-face completely out of the blue.

However, the time left for them was limited. Lu Yan made a split-second decision, slicing his index finger with a fingernail, taking a step forward, and inserting his finger through the gap in Tang Xun’an’s bite restraint.

“Lick,” he said.