Zhou Jiao stepped into the room and immediately saw the wreckage.
She frowned. How could things turn into such a mess during a simple sterilization process? All the fish eggs had self-detonated.
She had encountered this phenomenon before—usually when lower-tier mutants were confronted by a far more terrifying presence.
Unable to withstand the pressure from a higher-tier mutant, the weak would implode—like humans crushed beneath a tsunami.
Could there be a high-tier mutant among these corpses?
Her expression shifted.
If that was true, it spelled serious trouble. She wasn't equipped to handle a high-tier mutant on her own.
The last time she had run into one was half a year ago.
At the time, the Yu City government publicly claimed that a ten-meter-high tsunami had struck the coast—
—but in truth, it had been a high-tier mutant unleashing carnage along the shoreline.
Even after so much time had passed, Zhou Jiao still remembered that day vividly.
She and the Special Bureau task force had arrived at the scene, where the mutant had been cornered on a bridge.
Its body bristled with bone spurs, shrieking with an ear-splitting cry.
Its eyes were hidden beneath a layer of semi-translucent, silicified skin, pupils compressed into razor-thin slits as if sensing something it feared.
But in front of it stood only one person—Jiang Lian.
Zhou Jiao had been too far away to see what happened clearly.
The beach was crowded with Special Bureau vehicles, loud voices filling the air, agents working to disperse the crowd.
Then, suddenly, Jiang Lian raised one hand toward the mutant—
—and in the next instant, every operative drew their weapon and fired in perfect unison.
Bullets tore into the creature, each shot carrying deadly impact.
But it didn't even flinch.
In the end, the high-tier mutant escaped in full view of the public.
As someone who had come into close contact with the creature, Jiang Lian was immediately subjected to a full medical examination.
Zhou Jiao had been present throughout.
Curiously, none of his organs showed signs of infection or mutation, yet a brain scan revealed something extraordinary—
His brain activity had spiked to unprecedented levels, with tens of billions of neurons discharging surging electrical currents.
The phenomenon lasted only a few seconds—
—but miraculously, his neurons weren't destroyed. The anomaly drew the attention of higher authorities.
Researchers were dispatched, and Jiang Lian was interrogated for ten straight hours—
including intensive psychological evaluation.
Previously, no matter which assessment scales they gave him, the conclusion was always the same: antisocial personality disorder.
Jiang Lian knew how to lie on the questionnaires, but he couldn't fake brain scans or genetic tests.
So he had always kept his score finely tuned around 35—
—barely under the 40-point threshold that marked "high-risk individuals."
But this time… his score was shockingly low.
The tests now painted him as an introverted, kind, soft-spoken, ordinary man.
The discrepancy was jarring.
Previously, Jiang Lian had been diagnosed as a charming, confident, manipulative perfectionist.
It was obvious: he was lying.
But why?
Everyone knew what kind of person Jiang Lian really was.
Inside the surveillance room, Zhou Jiao furrowed her brow.
Then something clicked.
She rewound the footage from the interrogation five minutes earlier.
The screen showed Jiang Lian—immaculately dressed in a suit, calm demeanor, and an unsettling aura she couldn't quite name.
Zhou Jiao stared at the video. After ten seconds, she finally spotted what was wrong.
Jiang Lian was staring directly at the interviewer—
—but his orbicularis oculi, the muscles used to blink, hadn't moved at all.
That was physically impossible.
Those muscles weren't under voluntary control.
And while he appeared to sit properly in his chair, his arms just hung at his sides—
—not folded, not resting on the table or his lap. Almost as if… he'd forgotten he even had arms.
Only when the researcher sat down did Jiang Lian slowly raise his hands,
his ten fingers moving in slow, jerky increments, like a glitched video feed.
Zhou Jiao felt a chill crawl down her spine.
Was it her imagination?
It was almost like—
—Jiang Lian only remembered he had hands after seeing someone else use theirs.
Researcher: "Name?"
Jiang Lian said nothing.
The researcher wasn't surprised.
People exposed to high-tier mutants often suffered cognitive disruption.
He pressed on:
"The secretion of high-tier mutants is extremely corrosive. As a Special Bureau contractor, you should've known that. Why did you approach it? Why did you raise your hand?"
Still, no response.
The researcher flagged the unanswered questions and continued.
Thirty minutes later, they reached the final question:
"How do you feel right now?"
For the first time, Jiang Lian reacted.
His orbicularis oculi twitched—he blinked.
But the motion was sluggish, unnatural—like some abyssal creature mimicking human behavior for the first time.
Zhou Jiao's eyes widened.
He just learned how to blink.
Then Jiang Lian spoke, his voice slow and hoarse:
"…Hungry."
"What?" The researcher blinked.
"I," Jiang Lian said, drawing out each word, "am very… hungry."
"Oh, uh… one moment. I'll get you something to eat."
The researcher stepped out.
The moment he left, Jiang Lian's eyes changed.
His sclera flooded with rupturing blood vessels, glowing faintly with bioluminescent blue light.
To the naked eye, the glow was imperceptible—
—but Jiang Lian understood: this wasn't the kind of darkness where bioluminescence would help him hunt.
Soon, the researcher returned with a ration pack.
Though it looked small, it was packed with calories—enough to fuel an adult male for a full day.
Jiang Lian was tall and well-built, muscles taut beneath his coat.
Even so, one pack should've sufficed.
He took it wordlessly.
The researcher noticed Jiang Lian's impeccable appearance—
dark gray tailored coat, white dress shirt, black trousers—every inch the image of grace and refinement.
His hands, especially, looked untouched by the world—pale veins beneath flawless skin.
Surely, someone like that wouldn't stomach cheap crackers and jerky.
The researcher had even prepared a stern speech in case Jiang Lian refused the food.
But he didn't.
He looked at the ration pack with a blank expression—
—but then his Adam's apple bobbed, letting out a loud, urgent gulp.
The researcher felt uneasy.
Was he really that hungry?
Then came ten of the most horrifying seconds the researcher had ever witnessed.
A long, purple-black tendril burst from Jiang Lian's sharp-lined lips,
iridescent and gleaming, erupting at the end like a sea anemone—
—it engulfed the metal ration box whole.
In the blink of an eye, the box was gone. Dissolved. Not even a crumb left behind.
"…"
The researcher froze, mind blank with shock.
After a full beat, he stammered,
"D-Doctor Jiang…? Are you… are you still Doctor Jiang?"
Jiang Lian's expression remained eerily calm.
But the veins in his neck began to bulge—
—and then slithered.
Like something alive, they spread across his face, pulsing beneath the skin—
—then vanished.
"I am," Jiang Lian replied.
His voice was smooth, almost gentle—
—but the words clung to the air, damp and chilling, like something dredged from the deep.
"I'm just… so hungry."
Back in the surveillance room, Zhou Jiao flinched.
Now she understood what had been bothering her all along.
The researcher was a renowned academic, well-respected globally—
—but like many scientists, he was introverted, conflict-avoidant, and terrible at saying no.
That's why, even when Jiang Lian stayed silent through most of the interrogation, he hadn't pushed him.
Introverted, soft-spoken…
Wasn't that the new psychological profile?
Cold sweat drenched Zhou Jiao's palms.
A chill surged up her spine.
Jiang Lian had likely been infected by the high-tier mutant to a terrifying, unimaginable extent.
She didn't hesitate—she slammed the emergency alarm button.
In an instant, sirens blared in the interrogation room.
Red lights flashed furiously.
Amid the chaos, Jiang Lian paused.
Then, slowly, he stood up—
and turned, locking eyes with the hidden surveillance camera in the corner of the room.
His gaze was cold. Direct. Oppressively deep.
It didn't feel like he was seeing her—
—it felt like he was smelling her. Like a predator following scent trails.
Zhou Jiao's lips pressed into a hard line.
Can someone infected to this degree… still be considered human?
"Jiang Lian" was both the same as before—and no longer the same.
His body had been split in two: one half still belonged to himself, the other was being devoured by a terrifying, indescribable presence.
It seemed to be some kind of undiscovered higher-dimensional being—something humans could neither look at nor resist, not even comprehend.
Just trying to imagine what it looked like filled his mind with unbearable pressure, a creaking sound groaning from the weight inside his skull.
Though Jiang Lian had never formally studied mutant biology, it didn't mean he knew nothing about it.
On the contrary, his basement was lined with specimens of mutated creatures—marine, terrestrial, and even rare avian types.
But the being that was devouring him was like nothing he had ever encountered before.
The Special Bureau's psychological profile of Jiang Lian was spot on:
He was indeed cold-blooded, lacked empathy, and had a strong aggressive drive.
But unlike the other degenerates in his family, he had no interest in consuming human flesh.
So far, aside from Zhou Jiao, he'd only ever shown interest in mutated species.
His feelings for Zhou Jiao weren't predatory—he simply liked her.
She lived up to her name: beautiful, porcelain-pale skin, and misty, cold eyes.
But she was far from a delicate flower—Jiang Lian had once seen her drive a blade straight through the eye of a low-level mutant.
He admired that kind of calm and intelligence in a woman.
But perhaps due to genetic predisposition, once he became interested in someone, he became addicted to their scent.
To avoid being controlled by his DNA, he had to keep his distance from her.
The process of being devoured was excruciating.
Jiang Lian could feel the entity infiltrating his consciousness, organs, and flesh.
Though he fought to suppress his fear and see the creature clearly, he still saw nothing.
All he knew was—something had burrowed into his fingertip and was now writhing beneath his skin, emitting a chilling, buzzing sound.
It wasn't the sound of a monster chewing flesh—
It was more like a sacred hymn, sung with fanatical devotion upon a god's descent.
Was it a worshiper devouring him—or a god itself?
As more of him was overtaken, Jiang Lian's thoughts grew fuzzy.
Cold sweat drenched his hair, soaking one lens of his glasses.
All color drained from his face, his breathing grew shallow.
Soon, he would die.
Become an empty vessel.
A host for the arrival of this unknown being.
If death and possession were inevitable—
Why not seize control?
Why not offer up his body willingly?
His body was frail, his mind deranged, his genes a mess.
You want it?
Fine. Take it all.
Jiang Lian closed his eyes.
His face twisted, losing its calm façade and becoming something manic, grotesque.
His jaw and facial muscles spasmed uncontrollably; veins stood out sharply along his pale, slender neck.
He looked as though blood would burst from him at any moment.
For a moment, he was truly horrifying.
Then suddenly, he snapped his eyes open.
A writhing tendril flashed behind his iris.
The assimilation was complete.
In the end, the alien being had won.
The original Jiang Lian was completely consumed.
Now, "he" had become Jiang Lian.
Still dressed immaculately, still handsome, still cold and sharp.
But from certain angles, his pupils narrowed into needle-thin slits, exuding an eerie, inhuman aura.
In this contest between man and monster, Jiang Lian had utterly lost.
His will was completely digested.
But in turn, the creature inherited his paranoia, his madness, and his twisted DNA.
The moment "he" opened his eyes, he was overwhelmed by hunger.
An endless, insatiable hunger.
But not a simple physical craving—
It was a grotesque cocktail of lust, predation, and sadistic desire.
As deep as an abyss, as slick as a water-dwelling beast,
It coiled and clenched inside "his" stomach.
"He" had never experienced such complex sensations.
The human world—its thoughts, bodies, and very environment—was unbearably noisy.
It irritated him.
But "he" didn't particularly mind that irritation.
Because it wasn't truly his irritation—
It was the human emotional system telling him he should feel irritated.
Meanwhile, in the surveillance room—
After Zhou Jiao hit the alarm, Jiang Lian was swiftly subdued by Special Operations.
They had a comprehensive protocol for dealing with infected individuals.
Jiang Lian was placed in quarantine, administered over a dozen different drugs, and finally, they managed to force a high-level mutant worm out of his body.
According to them, it was the worm that had affected his mind—driving him into that ravenous frenzy.
Fearing he'd suffer aftereffects from chewing up his metal food tray, the medics pumped his stomach several times before allowing him to leave.
Zhou Jiao had a strange feeling when he walked out of the hospital.
Instead of gratitude, Jiang Lian looked at her with naked disgust—and something like contempt.
Disgust, she could understand.
But contempt? Why?
Zhou Jiao shrugged it off.
After that, Jiang Lian grew colder and more distant.
Unless absolutely necessary, he refused to speak to her.
And every time he did, his Adam's apple would bob violently—like a rabid dog staring at a delicious, forbidden treat.
Zhou Jiao thought it was strange.
She wanted to suggest he see a doctor again, but worried he'd accuse her of meddling.
It's now been six months since Jiang Lian was parasitized.
She'd long forgotten the exact details of that incident—
But one thing remained vivid: the scalp-tightening terror she'd felt when looking into that high-level mutant's eyes.
That wasn't something she could handle alone.
She had to work with Jiang Lian.
Hopefully, in this moment of crisis, he wouldn't pull some "Don't come near me, woman—I'm not interested in you" kind of crap.