Kevin Miller landed heavily on the ground, scrambling on all fours, and the drool he exuded corroded the floor into a layer of foam.

　　[You should be grateful—it doesn’t have much of that stomach acid, which is as potent as sulfuric acid, itself.]

　　[Its weakness is the belly. Back when you studied medicine, you dissected plenty of frogs. You know what to do, right?]

　　Adam Carter's gaze grew sharp.

　　He wasn’t skilled at fighting, but when facing danger, his will to survive made him exceptionally clear-headed.

　　[Retreat.]

　　[Go left, counterstab. Run.]

　　Adam Carter's stamina was actually quite good. After all, when nurses were too busy, he would step up to help carry patient stretchers. But in front of the already-mutated Kevin Miller, now a pollutant, it wasn’t nearly enough.

　　He was tackled to the ground.

　　Kevin Miller gripped his neck, looking puzzled: “Why aren’t you afraid?”

　　Humans who die in terror are the most delicious food for pollutants.

　　But Adam Carter's expression was unusually calm.

　　Still, that didn’t matter.

　　Kevin Miller's hand moved upward, slender fingers prying open Adam Carter's eyelids, his smile nearly splitting to his ears: “Let’s start with the eyes. Senior, you have no idea how beautiful your eyes are.”

　　It opened its mouth, spitting out a long, nauseating tongue.

　　This was exactly what Adam Carter had been waiting for.

　　A twisted madness appeared on his calm face, but his hands were steady.

　　The first time Adam Carter held a scalpel, his teacher had praised him, saying he was born for this line of work.

　　But those with steady hands aren’t just doctors—they’re butchers, too.

　　Kevin Miller's foul-smelling tongue was only an inch from Adam Carter's eyes.

　　The moment of truth.

　　The blade plunged deep into the opponent’s abdomen.

　　Red blood spurted out, drenching Adam Carter's head.

　　……

　　……

　　The fight was over. The frog, gutted and split open, had basically lost all ability to move. Worried it wasn’t completely dead, Adam Carter went up and stabbed it several more times.

　　When he came out of the bathroom, the pollutant lying on the floor was already cold.

　　Adam Carter picked up the mop and started cleaning. The blood was a bit hard to wash out, but fortunately, he was prepared. A mix of light saline and 10% potassium iodide solution made the floor spotless in no time.

Chapter 5, 005

　　005/Seven Streams

　　“This kind of frogman has corrosive saliva. Its stomach acid is as corrosive as aqua regia.”

　　“It reacts strongly with human flesh, consistent with the mutation patterns of pollutant disease patients.”

　　“The skin is tough and waterproof. The weakness is in the abdomen.”

　　“Most of the body is made up of fast-twitch muscle fibers. Preliminary assessment: strong explosive power, poor endurance.”

　　Adam Carter wrote down the relevant data point by point in his work log.

　　After two days of recovery, his injuries no longer affected his movements.

　　A doctor’s home has everything. So, having a set of dissection scalpels didn’t seem strange.

　　Adam Carter didn’t mind describing the dissection process in detail, but if he did, the author might end up in jail.

　　These low-level pollutants had basically lost all human characteristics, completely lost their sanity, and retained only a primal hunger for food—they were no longer human. Besides, the other party had tried to kill him.

　　So, although he still respected the cadaver teacher, Adam Carter didn’t hold back when he struck.

　　When Adam Carter tossed the frog meat into the grinder, shredded it, and flushed it down the drain, the system’s voice sounded regretful: [This kind of frog meat... is actually pretty tasty.]

　　Adam Carter: “I think at the very least, people can’t—shouldn’t.”

　　[…Fine.]

　　By the time he finished disposing of the body, a day had passed, and Adam Carter hadn’t slept for nearly thirty hours.

　　He collapsed into bed, but was still woken up at ten in the morning by a knock at the door.

　　He’d always been a light sleeper—nothing he could do about it.

　　The property management guy shouted at the door: “Mr. Carter, are you awake?”

　　The property manager’s name was Ethan Sullivan, and he’d been working here for two years.

　　Previously, the door lock had been corroded. In those special times, Adam Carter couldn’t find anyone to replace it, so he had to do it himself.

　　An electronic lock, fingerprint unlock, the kind without a keyhole.

　　He turned on the peephole camera and asked through the intercom, “What is it?”

　　“Do you know where your neighbor across the hall went?” Ethan Sullivan asked, his eyes a bit vacant, holding a bottle of mineral water and taking a sip every half minute. “He hasn’t picked up his water for the past two days. We checked the surveillance, but didn’t see anyone. Just curious.”

　　Adam Carter replied calmly, “I don’t know.”

　　“Alright. If you hear anything, you can contact me in the property group. I’ll go deliver water to the next apartment.”

　　Ethan Sullivan might not have noticed himself, but when he left, he skipped away in little hops.

　　If it were a child, it might have looked cute.

　　Adam Carter was silent for a moment, feeling that the number of infected people in this city might be even higher than he’d imagined.

　　The system also sighed: [The rate of evolution is accelerating. Normally, it would take at least a month to go from stage one to stage three. K City will spiral out of control faster than expected.]

　　Adam Carter hesitated for a moment and asked, “Isn’t there a Center for Pollutant Disease Control?”