Little Pink Starfish

During his time as a mushroom, he didn’t have much concept of time. Sunrise and sunset were merely shifts in natural patterns—he had no idea how long it had been since he lost the spore.

February 14th, by human seasonal standards, was still winter. That was right—he still remembered, both in memory and in dreams, the wailing cold wind from the night he lost the spore.

There would never be a second mushroom in the world that lost a spore in the same winter. His encounter with Lu Feng far predated that meeting at the city gate. Or perhaps it was the judge himself, just a wall away, who had taken the spore from him with his own hands.

He paused, then flipped the work log forward. On the next page, February 20th, Lu Feng returned to the base and wrote: “Sample handed over to the Lighthouse.”

His gaze lingered on that line for three seconds. Then he flipped the log back to June 17th, placed the black ballpoint pen back on the page, as if it had never been opened.

An Zhe shifted his gaze from the log to the wall behind the desk. Despite his supreme authority in the base, the judge’s quarters were even more bare than An Zhe’s own. Even the walls were thinly painted, the gray cement beneath faintly visible.

And on that gray-white wall, just above human height, eight characters and a period were written in red paint:

“The interests of humanity come above all else.”

An Zhe shivered lightly. The dungeon was too cold; he still hadn’t warmed up. His eyes moved to the bed beside him. After a moment’s hesitation, he got in.

His head sank into the pillow. He didn’t dare wrap himself up like he usually did—just pulled the blanket loosely over himself and curled up. The quilt, pillow, and sheets were all standard-issue materials, no different from what prisoners in the dungeon had. Not even the synthetic fiber scent was different. Yet An Zhe felt differently—it was the judge’s bed. Just one wall away, he could hear Lu Feng’s brief conversation with someone in the office. A strange feeling overcame him—very dangerous, yet very safe.

Anyone would suffer insomnia under such circumstances. Let alone a mushroom.

—But he surprisingly didn’t stay awake long. As his thoughts wandered, the warmth of the blanket slowly spread through him. His vision blurred, and he fell into sleep.

An Zhe was woken up by someone. He was sure not much time had passed since he fell asleep.

One moment he was reliving that night in the wilderness when his spore was taken; the next, he felt a hand pat the pillow beside him.

He jolted awake and opened his eyes—to meet a pair of cold green ones. Sure enough, the very criminal who had taken his spore.

Lu Feng flipped off his blanket and spoke rapidly: “Evacuate.”

He didn’t need further explanation. The moment he awoke, An Zhe felt the faint trembling of the building beneath him—just like in the dungeon. Were there worms beneath this building too?

While he was thinking, the undulating alarm rang out again—the evacuation signal.

He had no time to think more. He quickly got out of bed and put on his shoes. Lu Feng grabbed his shoulder and pulled him toward the door. Cold wind blew in. Suddenly going from a warm bed to this, An Zhe shivered instinctively. At that moment, he felt Lu Feng’s hand pause slightly.

A dark shadow draped over him. Something heavy landed on his body—Lu Feng had thrown his black coat over him.

An Zhe didn’t have time to thank him—just tightened the coat around himself. Lu Feng didn’t stop moving. He grabbed the work log and pen off the desk, stuffed them into An Zhe’s coat pocket, then pulled him by the wrist and strode out.

Two judges were already waiting at the door. When they saw Lu Feng, they called out, “Colonel!”

—And then, in unison, they glanced at An Zhe.

Lu Feng said nothing. The group headed for the nearest emergency stairwell. It was pitch black inside—creature attacks had affected the power. Only green glow-in-the-dark emergency lights remained lit. The stairs were narrow and steep, barely wide enough for two people side by side.

The others were moving too fast. After descending one floor, An Zhe was already stumbling several times. He realized that unless he turned into mycelium, he wouldn’t be able to keep up—and might even slow Lu Feng down.

Just as he was about to say “you don’t need to pull me,” Lu Feng twisted him sideways and backwards—An Zhe bumped into Lu Feng’s back. His forehead, previously bumped on the officer’s badge, now hit the shoulder badge.

The stairs sloped down—he was slightly higher than Lu Feng. With this jolt, he instinctively reached forward and grabbed Lu Feng—

Then he was carried onto Lu Feng’s back.

Holding onto the judge’s neck, thinking back on the smooth but chaotic series of events, An Zhe was amazed.

Most shocking was how effortlessly the man carried him—bounding down several steps with ease, landing steadily, then running a few steps and leaping out of the second-floor window. Using the first-floor ledge for momentum, Lu Feng landed on the lawn.

His body didn’t have the obvious blocky muscles of someone like Vans or Howard, but even through layers of clothes, An Zhe felt the terrifying explosive power in that moment. A human body was very different from soft, filamentous mycelium.

Lu Feng landed. Then came two more soft thuds behind—two judges.

An Zhe, simply by holding on, already felt exhausted. This was clearly a human body too.

The gap between humans was bigger than the gap between humans and mushrooms—he realized this.

But three seconds later, he realized something worse—everyone in the courtyard was staring at him. Dawn came early. Even through light mist, people could see clearly. From a nearby tent, Master Xiao poked his head out, glanced at Lu Feng, then at him, and began winking wildly.

Lu Feng put him down. An Zhe let go of his neck and landed on his feet.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Lu Feng replied mildly. “Go to the tent.”

The tent was just a few steps away. An Zhe nodded and turned—only to run into Howard walking straight toward him.

Lu Feng: “What’s going on?”

“The situation changed,” Howard said. “More are coming. The people from the Lighthouse arrived and activated the radar. There are worms under all four buildings. It’s not just one or two—it’s a whole nest. They’re breaking through the ground, targeting people inside the buildings.”

Lu Feng: “Evacuate everyone?”

“Evacuate everyone—and you’re leaving too,” Howard said flatly.

Lu Feng: “Show me the radar.”

“No need. There’s no saving it.”

Lu Feng: “The repeller is here.”

Howard’s voice dropped, just as cold: “The repeller can’t be saved. I’ve told you several times. Once we evacuate, I’ll contact the repeller center to boost the other nine’s power.”

An Zhe turned back to look. Lu Feng’s expression had gone glacial, his hand on his holstered gun. He repeated, word for word: “Show me the radar.”

“You—!” Howard looked furious, but wary of Lu Feng’s authority to kill on sight. He waved to someone nearby.

A technician brought over a black device. Lu Feng took it and scanned the screen.

An Zhe watched the temperature on Lu Feng’s face drop from zero to below freezing. His voice was cold as ice:

“They’re not targeting people—they’re targeting the repeller.” He looked at Howard, speaking fast: “The repeller’s base is reinforced. They can’t break through, so they’re emerging from the surrounding buildings.”

Howard: “The Lighthouse report doesn’t support your conclusion, Colonel Lu.”

“I spend half the year in the Abyss,” Lu Feng said, fingers pressing on the gun’s handle. His narrowed eyes radiated cold threat. “Howard, I’ve seen more monsters than you’ve seen people.”

Howard fell silent for three seconds. Then he seemed to realize something—his pupils dilated: “Then the other repellers—”

“Contact the repeller center,” Lu Feng said. “Now.”

A judge behind him took out a communicator and dialed a number, then switched to speakerphone.

“Beep—”

The tone echoed in the courtyard.

“Beep—”

“Beep—”

Nine beeps later, the tone turned to a busy signal. After three seconds, the call dropped.

Howard quickly took out his communicator and punched several buttons: “City Defense, Howard. Connect to the repeller center. Any line. Immediately.”

“Please hold,” the operator said.

Silence stretched. After three full minutes, the operator came back—his voice trembling slightly.

“The repeller center is out of contact.”