But he still felt powerless; some of the pollutants here had even evolved a bit of intelligence.

However, at two in the morning, these pollutants suddenly froze in place as if someone had pressed a pause button, standing motionless.

Although he didn’t know why, David Harris clearly wasn’t going to let this golden opportunity slip by.

He had just started cleaning up for two minutes when the pollutants in front of him seemed to awaken from a dream, all turning their heads in the same direction.

On their faces appeared... varying degrees of fanaticism.

It was like a pack of hyenas, starving for days, catching the scent of carrion.

No one knew who croaked like a frog first.

The next second, not a single pollutant spared another glance at the brightly lit Qujiang Park. Like a tide, they all surged in the same direction!

“What’s going on?” The inspector beside him looked shocked.

David Harris was stunned for a moment, then thought of a possibility, his expression suddenly turning grim.

“I’ve only ever heard of this happening once…”

“The First Research Institute, Subject 0 awakening. It’s a rare healing-type ability, said to be the number one in the talent sequence—‘Apocalypse.’ That day, the institute was also surrounded by pollutants.”

“To protect Subject 0, the institute had no choice but to lock them in the life pod.”

Although the inspector was an Awakened, he was support-type with a low spiritual threshold, and had always been stationed in K City. This was the first time he’d heard of such a thing, and he looked confused: “There’s a healing-type ability? How come I’ve never heard of it?”

Isn’t that obvious? There are only three in the whole world right now.

One is locked in a life pod, too dangerous to let out. One is kept at headquarters like an ancestor. The last one is overseas.

David Harris put away his gun, turned on his earpiece, his eyes bloodshot, and roared, “Ryan White, stop watching the show on the wall! Someone in K City may have awakened a healing-type ability—damn it, if you’re late, you’ll be collecting corpses!”

Chapter 8, 008

008/Seventh Stream

Adam Carter couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been chased like this.

It was probably back in his school days, during the sports meet.

He was in good shape and ran fast, always trailed by seven or eight classmates.

He never expected that, after so many years, he’d experience that same tense excitement again.

Adam Carter glanced around—pollutants were coming at him from all directions; nowhere looked safe.

He steeled himself and simply chose the route closest to his destination.

[You’re not a pollutant, but you’re symbiotic with Jason Walker. That means your blood is extremely attractive to these things infected by parasitic fish.]

He could tell.

Nearby mutants surged toward him. There weren’t many yet, but their grotesque, disgusting appearances were enough to make anyone nauseous.

Adam Carter’s adrenaline spiked. “Shouldn’t you have told me this earlier?”

The system retorted forcefully: [How is this my fault? If your spiritual threshold wasn’t so low, I wouldn’t be like an amnesiac! Turn left—there’s an SUV, keys are inside. By the way, I suggest you take off your clothes.]

Because of the mucus from the fishman’s tentacles, Adam Carter’s arm was still bleeding profusely, the deep red, fresh blood soaking a large patch of his sleeve.

The strong smell of blood could briefly attract those mutants.

Turning left, there wasn’t just an SUV—there were also several violently deranged mutants.

A frogman leapt through the air, trying to tackle Adam Carter to the ground, but was kicked three meters away.

Adam Carter smashed the car window with a punch, climbed in, started the engine, floored the gas—smooth as could be—and asked, “Isn’t this a bit of a blight on the city’s image?”

[Not at all, Bodhisattva. Hurry up and strip.]

Adam Carter: “……”

For over twenty years, Adam Carter had always been a law-abiding citizen. Afraid of ending up in jail, he took off his clothes—but not all of them.

He tore off the blood-soaked part of his sleeve and tossed it out the window.

If the bleeding didn’t stop, he could tear off more. It was much more economical than throwing out the whole shirt.

Behind the car, a bunch of bizarre-looking pollutants fought viciously over his clothing, even piling on top of each other, looking just like crazed fans at a celebrity meet-and-greet.

In the end, the three-meter-tall fish-head guy managed to defeat the other weaker frogmen, swallowed the bloody cloth, and, following the scent, continued chasing after Adam Carter.

The SUV drifted skillfully, dodging a frogman that had lunged at the windshield.

Adam Carter usually lived downtown, where traffic was always a mess, so he preferred to walk to work. After getting his license, he’d barely touched a car.

He never expected that the next time he drove, it would be in such a high-stakes situation. Luckily, the streets were deserted.

Pollutants kept slamming into the car, the metal roof above screeching with a sound that set his teeth on edge. Those were sparks from the mutants’ claws scraping the steel.

After shaking off some of the lower-level pollutants, the group chasing alongside Adam Carter’s car became clear.

Two fishmen, three frogmen. All much larger than normal specimens.

[They’ve reached E-level pollutant standards. They possess low-level intelligence.]

Adam Carter could smell the nauseating stench of fish.

This 7-liter SUV was already at top speed, but it was only just barely faster than these pollutants.