Chapter 65

Chapter 65

They found more evidence in this room.

The window was difficult to push open because the steel frame had fused with its base.

Upon closer inspection, the skeleton's leg bones had disappeared into the couch. The most grotesque sight was a chandelier in the shape of inverted lilies hanging from the ceiling of the second bedroom. Its lampshade and metal frame had melded together, melting and drooping downward like a candle burning to its last wick. The once pristine white shade was now embedded with black dust, each grain the size of a needle tip. They were densely clustered, seemingly ready to crawl towards them at any moment.

This eerie, inexplicable phenomenon, defying human understanding and the limits of science, gave An Zhe an illusion – the world was like melted wax, gradually blending into a chaotic mess.

Xi Bei returned to the living room. He sat dazedly on the floor, picked up his grandfather's body, and moved him away from the chair as if it were the most terrifying monster. It was as if the corpse would fuse with the chair in the next moment. Away from the chair, he placed his grandfather on the floor, but his facial muscles immediately twitched nervously—the floor was also a monster.

In the next instant, he trembled violently and abruptly retreated a few steps back—he himself was a source of contamination.

Seeing Xi Bei's panicked and helpless state, An Zhe stepped forward. However, just as he took one step, Xi Bei's terrified gaze met his, causing him to stumble backward.

If everything in the world could contaminate one another, then the only way to preserve oneself was to distance oneself from all matter.

An Zhe understood his fear and voluntarily increased the distance between them.

"I'm sorry, I..." Xi Bei's teeth chattered as he said, "I need... some peace and quiet."

Lu Fen led An Zhe into the bedroom.

As they stepped into the room and he saw the swaying chandelier once more, he abruptly halted. An Zhe looked up at the colonel, noticing the icy glint in his green eyes.

In the next moment, Lu Fen took out his communicator from his breast pocket. He clenched it tightly, his knuckles turning white.

An Zhe watched by his side. Seeing Xi Bei break down, he knew, as a human himself, that Lu Fen was likely in no better state. Perhaps, the colonel was experiencing even more. While overcoming the fear induced by this chaotic world, he also had to maintain composure for the distant human base – for the sake of the base, he had to stay calm.

If engines could malfunction due to contamination, so could communicators. There was a screwdriver in the drawer of the nightstand in the bedroom. Lu Fen picked it up and unscrewed the casing of the communicator.

The outer shell, intricately patterned chip, interwoven wires, and countless tiny components were spread out on the bed. Lu Fen picked them up one by one, examining their minute structures under the light.

With many parts to the communicator, after a while, An Zhe also began sorting through the pile, picking out simpler components to check if they conformed to the human standard of mechanical precision and order.

Closing the bedroom door, it felt as though they were the only two people left in the world. Neither spoke, and amidst the sound of rain, only the rustling of inspecting parts could be heard. Lu Fen worked swiftly, and all the components seemed to be functioning normally.

But suddenly, An Zhe froze.

He gazed at the tiny circuit board in his hand, where two parallel crimson copper wires, each composed of dozens of thin strands twisted together, were supposed to be separated by a few millimeters. At this moment, they had loosened, bending into eerie curves and intertwining with each other, an abnormal sight.

For a fleeting instant, An Zhe suddenly wondered: if even the communicator was irreparably damaged due to the distortion of matter, and if Lu Fen could never return to the base, what would happen?

But he wasn't such a malevolent mushroom.

—He looked at the chip in his hand and, after a moment's hesitation, tugged on the corner of Lu Fen's sleeve.

Inside the military boot, there was a hidden buckle containing a sharp dagger. Now, the dagger was taken out, and under the flashlight that An Zhe brought from the mine tunnel, its blade was used to meticulously untangle the knotted copper wires. There were signs of adhesion between them, but fortunately, it was discovered in time, allowing them to be separated.

When they were finally untangled, An Zhe's nerves tensed slightly. However, he felt a slight dizziness in his head. It seemed like he was falling ill; ever since the spores showed signs of maturity, his body had been weakening.

Lu Fen checked the remaining components once more before reassembling them in order. Pressing the button, he turned it on.

Instead of the familiar "Sorry, signal has been interrupted due to solar winds or ionosphere interference…,"

"Beep—"

"Beep—"

"Beep-"

The rain grew fiercer, pelting against the windows in thousands upon thousands of large droplets like bullets, creating a relentless drumming. It was a torrential downpour that only occurred in the height of summer. Beyond the window, the world had transformed into a gray waterfall.

The raindrops seemed to tap against An Zhe's very soul.

In his daze, he thought he faintly heard a gentle robotic female voice coming from the communicator. But the dizziness intensified, distorting the world before his eyes into a kaleidoscope of colors—then, he plummeted forward.

As he lost consciousness, one thought lingered in his mind—hoping that the spore wouldn't fall out too soon.