Chapter 79: First Fortress 31

Babel Tower, an uninhabited zone—a fluorescent glow stick waved left and right through the darkness.

Wen Yewang turned the glow stick’s brightness to its lowest setting, passing by seven massive black Sealed Boxes one after another until she reached a specially partitioned enclosed operating room.

This was the “abandoned zone” one hundred meters underground in Babel Tower, shaped like a vertical shaft as wide as the tower itself. No one had set foot here since Ivyen City had been activated.

Standing within it felt like being plunged into a dark otherworld. The fine dust in the air was stirred by the glow stick’s airflow, then drawn to the bluestone walls overgrown with moss and unidentified root systems.

Wen Yewang hummed a tuneless song, donning her protective suit and mask with practiced ease. Her voice echoed in the vast emptiness, mingling with the faint electric hum of the temperature and humidity regulator.

The echoes lingered endlessly, as if thousands of voices were singing in chorus. In such a chilling environment, Wen Yewang remained utterly oblivious.

She bent down to inspect the situation inside the long glass cabinet before her.

Even in the dim light, the Divine Blood in the God Blood Petri Dish gleamed with a conspicuous red hue.

Wen Yewang slipped on seamless isolation gloves, opened the glass door, and probed into the blood extraction area beneath the petri dish with a specialized needle.

The moment the silver needle tip entered, the viscous blood suddenly writhed to life, surging rapidly toward the warmth of her hand.

“I’m not prey—don’t come at me,” Wen Yewang muttered under her breath, as if conversing with an intelligent being. She shook her arm twice, flinging the blood from the needle tube, then readjusted her position to draw the blood again.

Only she knew that the Divine Blood wasn’t flowing blood at all, but special mycelium far finer than spider silk, clustered densely to appear as thick as blood.

Under suitable temperatures, this “blood” would continuously expand its territory. Once conditions ripened, it would produce tiny sub-sacs. When those grew to a certain point, they would release Yellow Spores into the air.

Wen Yewang had studied it for a long time before unraveling the mechanism of how these spores hunted. Once they found a suitable Parasite host, the spores invaded the host’s central nervous system, releasing toxins and other chemicals to induce hallucinations in the Parasite.

Once the central nervous system was compromised, the spores took root, split, and generated mycelium.

It would construct new neural structures within the Parasite, directly replacing certain neurons or creating additional connection pathways to seize control of the host’s actions.

By then, the Parasite had completely lost effective control over its own muscles, with muscle fibers separating, turning it into a puppet of the Divine Blood.

Just like the process of Bone Erosion Disease. Only those parasitized by Divine Blood fell ill immediately, with symptoms so subtle that outsiders couldn’t detect the host had been taken over.

Wen Yewang had conducted countless experiments to uncover the scientific explanation, but it aligned perfectly with the Church’s conclusion—the God had seized a mortal’s body.

Indeed, as Wen Yewang believed, science was merely a tool to understand the God, much like the feng shui culture people spoke of before the Golden Age: a thousand scientific explanations, yet a thousand unexplainable mysteries.

This mycelium possessed intelligence. It could mimic human language, fabricate hallucinations to converse with the Parasite, think, and distinguish between humans.

For instance, toward Wen Yewang, who provided the environment for its growth, the Divine Blood rarely showed strong aggression.

However, toward the petri dish and glass cabinet confining its spread, the Divine Blood sometimes displayed irritation.

It was wholly another dimension’s highly intelligent lifeform—manipulating humans, simulating them, leading humanity toward immortality. Wen Yewang called it the God.

She hypothesized that as long as suitable Parasites existed, these spores could never be truly killed.

Unfortunately, suitable Parasites were exceedingly rare.

Yellow Spores could only survive three hours outside the petri dish in an ordinary person. If no new suitable Parasite was found within that time, they would deactivate and be metabolized by the body.

Moreover, due to the human body’s peculiar rejection response, many ordinary people who inhaled the spores lost bodily functions within a minute, triggering an immune mechanism—a suicidal defense that led to death.

But two days ago, on that Cabin Cocoon named Vivian, Wen Yewang had seen utterly different data!

True, the God had ultimately failed to take over Vivian, but her ability to react with the Divine Blood and stalemate it for so long was enough to stun Wen Yewang.

Over these two days, Wen Yewang hadn’t disturbed Vivian, but her private research hadn’t slackened. She discovered that the Yellow Spores extracted from Vivian’s blood at the time hadn’t been metabolized—they’d been assimilated by her existing substances, becoming beneficial to Vivian’s body.

This was extraordinary. Could these Cabin Cocoons truly have evolved traits different from ordinary Embedded Spirit Bodies? Would they evolve ceaselessly because of the Divine Blood?

Wen Yewang’s palms itched with excitement.

The Cabin Cocoon Project had seen no major breakthroughs until Vivian shattered the deadlock.

Now, Wen Yewang felt she was back in business!

She planned to divide the seven higher-survival-rate Cabin Cocoons into three control groups: continuous Divine Blood injections, controlled dosage injections, and no injections—to see if Cabin Cocoons could evolve more comprehensively.

If the Divine Blood truly benefited Cabin Cocoons, then powerful new humans like Vivian could be mass-produced, with experiments fully controllable!

She had already launched the plan alone for a day. To prevent Gu Xianqing from invading her dreams, she hadn’t closed her eyes once.

With practiced motions, Wen Yewang pushed in the soft stopper, injecting all the Divine Blood into the nutrient tank of the Cabin Cocoon. For some reason, the Divine Blood roiled restlessly this time, but in three to five hours, the cabin would absorb it all.

Wen Yewang folded the glow stick into a ring and clipped it to the edge of her protective helmet, then picked up a pen to record the Cabin Cocoon’s changes.

It was all Gu Xianqing’s doing—these seven Cabin Cocoons had become a top-secret project. Wen Yewang couldn’t enlist Kazama Asagiri’s help and had to monitor the experiment personally without even an assistant.

The rustling of footsteps amplified endlessly in the vast space, echoing countless times with each step. Wen Yewang quickly grew accustomed to the atmosphere.

Thus, she didn’t notice the faint frictional sounds mingling amid the echoes.

It was the sound of stone walls being pried open by plants. A crack split in the dripping bluestone slab wall, and coiled tree roots burst forth like they were out of control, swelling and spreading relentlessly.

The mycelium clinging to the tree roots—so soft and fragile without any rigidity—controlled the tree’s root system, traversing half of Ivyen City to reach Babel Tower.

Passing through moss, the moss came alive too, responding to a summons: half surged toward the God Blood Petri Dish, half toward the Cabin Cocoons where Wen Yewang stood.

Oblivious, Wen Yewang cast her shadow under the faint glow.

In the darkness beyond the light, more shadows lurked.

Wen Yewang scratched away at the paper, suddenly feeling a chill on the back of her neck, like something wet had dripped onto her skin.

She assumed it was a water droplet from the ceiling and casually wiped it away.

But the hard sensation on the back of her hand reminded her she was still in protective gear—no water should seep through.

That icy chill began to crawl. Wen Yewang looked up, finally gazing into the darkness behind her.

The shadows on the ground grew chaotic and disordered, countless slender silhouettes writhing in the light.

…

“Was it really not you?”

“I said it wasn’t.”

An He stepped on Gu Xianqing’s shadow. They had shifted from the rundown apartment building, chasing one after the other toward the Shell Membrane boundary.

Just moments ago, after taking the medicine, Gu Xianqing had said she had something to discuss. The moment An He relaxed, Gu Xianqing slipped away like a fish into water, darting out a broken window faster than a rabbit.

An He had no choice but to give chase.

“Then what were you doing just now?” An He fixed her gaze on Gu Xianqing’s back, keeping only half a step behind.

“Checking those patients’ infection status. Very suspicious.”

From afar, it looked like they were still chasing at full tilt.

Fifty meters away, the patrol team’s Lieutenant closed in relentlessly.

An He and Gu Xianqing both agreed unanimously: First Fortress soldiers were more tenacious than dogs.

Gu Xianqing halted before a building, then flashed sideways, vaulting through a window sill and up to the rooftop.

Running upstairs during a chase only led to a dead end. An He nearly thought Gu Xianqing planned to jump again, but soon, Gu Xianqing stopped at a seventh-floor window sill.

The view here was excellent, clearly revealing the Wasteland beyond the Shell Membrane. Gu Xianqing swiftly unpacked a box of painkillers, bit off the soft stopper, and injected it into her left arm, pocketing the rest.

All the while, she stared motionlessly at the treeline outside the Shell Membrane. Moments later, she retrieved two lenses from the leather pouch at her waist, stacked and adjusted them, then held them to her eye, squinting.

An He stood behind Gu Xianqing, her leg bones burning with pain.

This was the perfect chance—she could lunge forward and subdue her. But Gu Xianqing’s rare seriousness made An He sense the gravity of the issue, so she set the pursuit aside for now.

An He closed the door behind her, summoning her Raven to circle the rooftop, creating the illusion of pursuit up the stairs.

She stepped forward: “If it’s not your doing, where did this Bone Erosion Disease come from?”

Gu Xianqing replied: “Underground.”

“What?”

“Look at those trees.” Gu Xianqing tossed the lenses to An He from two meters away; An He caught them steadily.

“See it? The leaves on this side show mosaic disease—fungus parasitizing the trees.”

In her sight, the leaves bore green-purple-red spots, the original green not yet faded. Without Gu Xianqing’s explanation, An He would have mistaken it for autumn coloration from temperature shifts.

An He shifted her gaze to the roots. Some trees were banyans, with hundreds of aerial roots descending to pierce the soil, extending deep under the Wasteland.

Combining this with Gu Xianqing’s earlier answer, An He jolted in realization: “You mean the Bone Erosion Fungus has spread into the fortress underground?”

“Highly likely.” Gu Xianqing snatched back the lenses. “Bone-Phagocytic Fungus wouldn’t normally infect these trees, but now they’ve found a way to parasitize them and bypass defenses.”

“Can’t the Shell Membrane stop it?”

“No. Ivyen City’s Shell Membrane was originally for resisting radiation and Radiated Creatures—there was no Bone Erosion Fungus back then.” Gu Xianqing eyed the balcony height as she spoke. “That row of old trees outside was meant to purify irradiated air; now their roots are the vulnerability.”

An He felt a twinge of tension. Bone Erosion Disease was a natural disaster. No matter her grievances with First Fortress, she didn’t want to see corpses littering the streets. She asked Gu Xianqing: “It’s only just emerged. If we report it, can it be contained in time?”

“Too late.” Gu Xianqing’s tone was utterly ruthless. “This shelter city rose from underground; now the subsurface is riddled with voids, no defensive installations. Once the mycelium finds channels, it’ll spread unimpeded below.”

Gu Xianqing tilted her cap brim: “But it’s strange. If it wanted to, it could infect everyone in District 17 in a day. Yet only a few show symptoms. Either this isn’t ordinary fungus and onset is faster, or these people were incidentally infected—their target isn’t them.”

Gu Xianqing faced An He but backed toward the railing.

“Who’s the target then?” An He advanced a step.

“No idea. I yanked two parasitizing mycelium strands; after detaching from the host, they headed toward Babel Tower. Something’s probably there—I need to check.” The words barely fell when Gu Xianqing whirled and vaulted over the balcony.

An He lunged swiftly, grabbing Gu Xianqing’s arm.

“Don’t worry, little lamb.” A smile finally cracked Gu Xianqing’s serious face. “There’s an outdoor fire escape out here.”

An He glanced down to see a row of rusty iron railings.

She didn’t let go: “You can take the stairs.”

“The stairs are crammed with your buddies right now. You want me to walk into that?” Gu Xianqing tugged her arm but failed to free it. “I’m injured—let go.”

Only then did An He realize she’d grabbed Gu Xianqing’s left arm. Her heart skipped; her tightened fingers trembled slightly, fearing she’d hurt the wound.

Moments later, An He gritted her teeth and gripped harder, her other hand reaching for Gu Xianqing’s waist, trying to haul her back up—Gu Xianqing was in this state and still climbing a rickety outdoor ladder? Wasn’t she afraid of falling to her death?!

An He darkened her expression. “Since you’re heading into Babel Tower anyway, why not turn the tables and surrender without a fight?”

“You mean you’re actually going to arrest me?” Gu Xianqing hooked her foot around the balcony railing to steady herself, pressing down on An He’s hand at her waist to stop her from holding on. “So when you had Lola pass the message for me to wait, you were serious.”

“No. Come back with me—I can guarantee your safety.” An He’s mind raced. If something was wrong at Babel Tower, Gu Xianqing could enter under the pretext of surrendering, and the two of them could work together to investigate thoroughly.

Not only that, An He could claim credit for the capture, outmaneuver Min He, and earn the Saint Lord’s complete trust—highly advantageous for her.

Most importantly—

An He opened her mouth, but the rest of her words caught in her throat. She’d already seen Gu Xianqing’s wound up close; it was serious. If Gu Xianqing were imprisoned in Babel Tower, it would be easier for An He to sneak her medicine—no need to make special trips to Lower City.

All Gu Xianqing had to do was cooperate like before, put on a show, and let An He use her a little.

But this time, Gu Xianqing didn’t agree. She glanced over An He’s shoulder at the glinting Holy Sword and frowned in disgust. “Arrest me for a reward? Or to claim merit? Your proposal sounds good, but I’m not cooperating this time.” Gu Xianqing shoved An He’s hand away. “What I hate most is losing my freedom—especially in First Fortress.”

She could act, she could even jump, but getting captured? No. Once she lost her freedom, anything could happen. What if she ended up dead?

Had An He ever truly considered her safety? Or was it just mutual exploitation, like always?

A pang of bitterness twisted in Gu Xianqing’s chest, so she leaned forward. As An He moved to catch her, Gu Xianqing bit down on An He’s earlobe.

Pain and a teasing tingle hit An He at once. Her hands trembled in shock, and in that split-second daze, Gu Xianqing shoved her away and leaped down onto the fire escape.

“An He, go investigate Wen Yewang. It has to be her meddling.”

Gu Xianqing narrowed her eyes, steering An He. Whether it was Wen Yewang or not, it worked for now.

An He gripped the railing. She didn’t dare shout loudly, and frustration boiled over at Gu Xianqing ignoring her plans. All she could do was hiss, “What about you?”

“I’ve got my own way. You go overt, I’ll stay in the shadows—we’ll coordinate better that way.”

An He clenched the railing tighter. The one-handed woman didn’t take the usual route. After dropping one floor, she jumped along the balcony into the adjacent building and vanished quickly.

The Lieutenant finally descended from the rooftop to the seventh floor. When she pushed through the door, An He had already donned her hat and was irritably kicking the balcony railing with her injured leg.

An He was growing agitated. Ever since that slap, Gu Xianqing had stopped going along with her schemes—just as An He had stopped listening to Gu Xianqing.

Fine, no cooperation then. But Gu Xianqing had left such an obvious mark. An He tugged at her hair and hat brim to cover her right earlobe.

The Lieutenant paused, then stepped forward to console her. “Don’t get worked up. You’ve done great. I hear Min He’s side hasn’t even spotted a suspicious shadow. At least following you, we saw someone.”

An He forced a dry laugh, pulling at her lips. That wasn’t what was bothering her.

Half an hour later, An He rushed back to Babel Tower on an emergency.

Prompted by Gu Xianqing, An He made a point to inquire about Wen Yewang’s whereabouts—and discovered someone else searching for her too.

Kazama Asagiri was asking around everywhere. She even stopped An He as she passed by the Research Lab. “Vivian, have you seen Professor Wen?”

An He’s heart jolted. “No. Why?”

“She was supposed to meet me for an observation experiment at the appointed time, but it’s been half an hour past, and she’s nowhere to be seen.” Kazama Asagiri’s expression turned grave. “Professor Wen is never late.”