Little Pink Starfish

Vance’s blood spread into An Zhe’s peripheral vision, a deep red pool.
People in line turned to look upon hearing the gunshot, but after seeing what happened, they resumed their expressions as if nothing had occurred.
Yet Vance was dead—just like that, a human killed at the gate of a human base, and no one objected.

Then An Zhe suddenly realized: this man was the Judicator—the very one Vance had told him about a day ago.

He was the master of the Tribunal, responsible for judging every person entering the gate—whether they were human or variant. He could decide anyone’s life or death, no matter who, and needed no reason.

And now, it was An Zhe’s turn to be judged.
At first, his heart pounded violently. The moment the gun barrel aimed at him, he knew he could truly die.

But staring into the Judicator’s cold green eyes, he gradually calmed.

Coming to the Northern Base had been a necessary choice. Then, judgment was simply the outcome—whatever it may be.
He counted silently in his heart.

One, two, three…

The gunshot didn’t come. The Judicator kept his gun aimed, slowly walking toward him.

The people in line seemed to move faster in unspoken agreement, stepping forward to create space. Moments later, only An Zhe remained in the clearing.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen…

On the fourteenth second, the Judicator reached him.
His ring finger hooked around the grip and lowered the barrel, then holstered the weapon.

He said, “Come with me.”
His tone was cold and flat, just like his gaze.

An Zhe stood still, waiting for him to lead the way, but three seconds passed with no movement.

Puzzled, he looked up—
Then the Judicator’s voice turned even colder: “Hold out your hand.”

An Zhe obediently extended his hand.

Clack.
A chill ran through him.
One end of a silver handcuff locked onto his wrist—the other held by the officer.

—And just like that, An Zhe was led away.

Strangely, when Vance had been shot, no one had reacted. But now that An Zhe was being led away by the Judicator, they all began whispering and murmuring.

He barely had time to glance back at Vance’s body before being pulled inside the gate.

Inside, he found it wasn’t a narrow passage, but a vast area, divided into multiple sections, each brightly lit with cold white lights reflecting off steel walls—like snowlight shining on winter-gray rock.

Armed soldiers and heavy weapons were just as numerous here as outside.
Amidst tight security, a long white table stood. Behind it sat three black-uniformed officers, just like the Judicator—An Zhe guessed they were judges. Across from them sat a human being questioned:
“How is your relationship with your wife? She didn’t accompany you out this time?”

From An Ze’s memories, An Zhe knew that infected humans not only showed changes in appearance, demeanor, and behavior—but also in memory and cognition. Interrogation was one method to identify variants.

The man who brought him in glanced that way and said, “Speed it up.”
The central judge nodded: “Understood.” Then turned to the examinee: “You may go.”

The man, relieved, smiled and quickly passed through the gate.

So An Zhe now understood—this man truly was the Judicator. And when he said “speed it up,” he wasn’t urging the process—he had already judged the man to be fully human at a glance.

The next examinee approached from the queue, which was far from the table, and had to pass through gate-shaped machines and changes in terrain—clearly designed to display physical traits.

But An Zhe saw no more. The Judicator tugged him aside, into a long corridor.

He took out a black communicator and said:
“Tribunal. Lu Feng. Requesting gene test.”

An Zhe guessed those two middle characters were his name.

A mechanical door slid open before them. Lu Feng strode in, pulling An Zhe stumbling after him.

The room was silver-white, filled with unknown machines from floor to ceiling.
Six soldiers stood guard. At one end, behind a workstation, sat a young man with short blond hair, blue eyes, and a white lab coat.

“Colonel Lu, coming here?” the man pushed his glasses up, his tone provocatively amused. “I thought you solved everything with bullets.”

Lu Feng coldly replied: “Cooperate, Doctor.”

The doctor gave him a mocking glance, half-smiling, then stood and said to An Zhe, “Follow me.”

An Zhe was guided to lie on a silver-white platform. His limbs were fastened by mechanical cuffs.
“Don’t move,” the doctor said.

Then came a sting in his arm. He turned to see a tube of blood being drawn.

“Healthy blood color,” the doctor commented.
An Zhe: “Thanks for the compliment.”
That made the doctor laugh.

“Blood sent for gene testing—will take one hour. Full-body enhanced scan will take forty minutes. Don’t move.”

As he finished speaking, blue light spread over the platform. A deep humming filled the room—from no specific direction, as if each particle of air carried the sound.
The all-surrounding noise reminded An Zhe of those distant nights in the Abyss—the sea’s muffled crashing during the rainiest hours, or the wails of unknown creatures at the darkest hour.

Electric pulses crawled over his body like ants.
Forty minutes wasn’t long for a mushroom—but An Zhe felt it could be his final forty minutes.
He treasured it, studying the mechanical patterns on the ceiling.

After a while, outside the room, he heard Lu Feng say:
“Selan told me your methods have upgraded.”

“You’re well-informed,” the doctor replied. “We discovered certain unique DNA segments activate during mutation. We call them ‘targets.’ Animal-type and plant-type mutations have distinct targets. The improved test checks both simultaneously. One hour total.”

Lu Feng: “Congratulations.”

The doctor chuckled. “If tests get cheaper and faster, Colonel, will the Tribunal be out of business?”

“I hope so.”

“You’re no fun.”

Silence followed.

An Zhe continued staring at the ceiling, thinking about what species he was.

A mushroom.

The doctor had said mutations were either animal or plant-based.
First, he wasn’t an animal.
But… mushrooms weren’t plants either—no leaves.

An Zhe was puzzled. He tried fitting himself into the plant category but lacked proof.
He spent the whole scan thinking it over—before reaching a conclusion, the blue light faded like a receding tide.

“All done,” the doctor said. The restraints released automatically.

The doctor then asked: “Colonel, may I ask why you brought him in for testing?”

“No,” Lu Feng replied.

The doctor was clearly stung.
He helped An Zhe up and sat him in a nearby chair, ruffling his hair: “Be good. Rest here. I’m going to check your blood test.”

An Zhe sat quietly.

Lu Feng sat opposite him, staring with icy green eyes.
His face was young, sharply defined.
Strands of black hair fell under the cap’s brim, casting cold shadows over his brows and eyes.
His gaze cut like a blade.
An Zhe shivered—mushrooms feared the cold.
He turned his chair away—but felt even colder.

Finally, the doctor returned, breaking the frozen silence:
“No abnormalities in the gene report. You can leave.”

A few seconds passed. Lu Feng asked:
“You’re 100% certain he’s human?”

“Sorry to disappoint, but we found no targets.
Other infected or variants show at least ten.
He has none.”

Then the doctor said, “See? Even the kid doesn’t want to look at you.”

Lu Feng said coldly: “Turn around.”

An Zhe obediently turned back.

Meeting Lu Feng’s gaze, he looked away slightly.
Because he truly wasn’t human.

That tiny flinch seemed to offend Lu Feng. His voice turned glacial:
“What are you afraid of?”

An Zhe remained silent.
He sensed that speaking more could lead to trouble—possibly fatal.

Finally, Lu Feng raised an eyebrow. “Not leaving yet?”

An Zhe jumped down from the chair and followed—this time, uncuffed.

In an empty corridor, halfway through, Lu Feng suddenly said:
“The moment I saw you, I knew—you weren’t human.”

An Zhe’s heart nearly stopped.
After three full seconds, he asked: “Then… what about the second look?”

“This is my first time requesting a gene test,” Lu Feng said, handing over the report. “You better be.”

An Zhe silently accepted the “all-clear” sheet.
For a while, only their footsteps echoed in the silver corridor.

At a corner near the exit, they encountered a group.
A black-uniformed judge led two armed soldiers escorting a man, followed by a tall, disheveled woman.

The judge greeted: “Colonel.”

Lu Feng glanced at the captive man.
The moment their eyes met, the man’s throat spasmed, and he shouted:
“I’m not infected!”

The judge said: “Highly suspected infected. No conclusive proof. Family demanded a gene test.”

Lu Feng replied calmly: “Mm.”
The soldiers continued forward.
Then—

Bang!
Lu Feng holstered his gun, walking away without looking back.
“No need.”

The man collapsed. A soldier caught the body.
The woman behind screamed and fell.

An Zhe looked at Lu Feng’s face—it was utterly indifferent.
An Zhe had never seen such a gaze.

An Ze had been gentle.
Vance, kind and steady.
Hawthorn, full of greed.
Anthony, always on guard.
But Lu Feng… had nothing in his eyes.

An Zhe thought—for the Judicator, killing might be more natural than breathing.
He wouldn’t feel anything from it. He was used to it.

Soon, An Zhe and Lu Feng reached the corridor’s end.
At the exit, two lightly armed soldiers stood beside a body covered in white cloth.

An Zhe knew—it was Vance.

His vision blurred. He stepped forward to lift the cloth and see Vance one last time, but was blocked.

One soldier extended a blue chip:
“Mercenary team AR1147 confirmed KIA. Equipment and supplies recovered. Spoils converted and combined with compensation, issued to family. Please claim the belongings.”

An Zhe asked: “Where are you taking him?”

“To the crematorium,” the soldier replied.

An Zhe trembled. He hesitated to take the ID chip.

Lu Feng asked: “You don’t want it?”

An Zhe said nothing.
After a long pause, he looked up at Lu Feng.
“He really… wasn’t injured.”

In those cold green eyes, he saw himself—wide eyes, a calm sorrow.

Lu Feng remained expressionless.
But just as An Zhe thought he would turn away—

Lu Feng stepped forward.

The gun’s butt lifted the cloth—revealing Vance’s right hand.
An Zhe knelt and looked.

At the tip of the ring finger—
A tiny red dot, like a barely-there prick.
But at its edge, a drop of ominous gray-black liquid slowly seeped.

He froze. The scene rushed back to him.

The ant’s armor had human blood on it.
That day, Vance told him:
Some people hide injuries—because in low-contamination areas, there’s still a chance they won’t mutate.
And they just… want to go home.

So, the one pricked by the ant’s shell—wasn’t Anthony.

It was Vance.

An Zhe could barely breathe. His fingers trembled.
He took the ID chip and placed it in his inner pocket.
When he turned to look at Lu Feng—he was gone.

An Zhe stood and looked outside.
A black figure grew smaller beneath the gray sky at the gate.

Then came a sudden noise.
He turned.
It was the woman from earlier—stumbling, trying to rush out, stopped by soldiers.

“Lu Feng! Judicator—!”
She screamed and fought, waving her arms wildly:
“You’ll die horribly—!”

Her hoarse cries echoed through the building.
But not even a glance back came from the Judicator.

Silence slowly returned.
The two bodies were taken away.

In the empty corridor, only the woman’s broken sobs remained.