Chapter 303

"I'll lock onto their location."

Zhao Zijing clasped his hands together and activated the 【Dot Matrix Detection】 skill. Three-headed, six-armed mutant monsters and Daoling Gray's light dots merged into one, rapidly fleeing down the floors while continuously siphoning electricity.

Whether it was Dr. Noah's pre-set arrangement or simply the original design, after power supply ceased, all airtight doors opened automatically.

Zhao Zijing led the way, floating ahead, while the other players followed behind, faces twisted in discomfort and tension.

Chasing monsters through unfamiliar terrain carried the risk of falling into traps, but they had no choice—

Not to mention that "Nezha" rampaging around might damage Gao Ta's power system; who knew what it intended to do with the three kidnapped players?

Use them as food? Consume their flesh to heal wounds? Or treat Daoling Gray and the others as high-energy seedbeds to hatch a swarm of mutant offspring?

When we meet them, we'll definitely say, "You guys having a xenomorph?"

Or, "Congratulations, you gave birth to an egg—forty-five kilograms, seven taels. Father and child both safe."

Li Cheng, maintaining his Multi-Threaded Brain Domain technique, drifted into random thoughts, his peripheral vision catching the clouds—then he froze.

Behind the clouds, a massive shadow had flashed by.

"Is this a hydroponic plant room?"

Baiji Xiong's voice came from above; following Nezha's escape route, the group arrived at a vast, dim space.

Towering glass racks reached the ceiling, holding fluorescent lights, automatic watering systems, and semi-sealed troughs filled with withered vegetables and fruits.

"These vegetables are probably genetically engineered products."

Fu Ding Hua Long poked a trough with a stick; even withered, every plant's size far exceeded normal proportions, with far more elaborate root systems.

Clatter.

A sound came from behind; Fu Ding Hua Long turned to see several lower-level players lifting trough equipment from shelves and stuffing them into their backpack slots.

"Do you really have to?"

Fu Ding Hua Long's eye twitched—clearly, these players had learned from U. S. troops stealing oil and wheat in Syria: pluck every last feather, steal genetically modified plant seeds, and sell them back in the real world for profit.

The players ignored Fu Ding Hua Long's strange stare, stuffing items as they said, "Even a fly's leg is meat."

"Yeah, Mr. Hua Long, you're a core member of the Special Affairs Bureau—you can get your gear scrolls reimbursed by superiors. We small fry have to fend for ourselves."

"Exactly. You full bellies don't understand hunger. Back then, I had to kill over twenty people just to build up the courage to steal a wallet and top up my mobile game with 648 yuan."

Fu Ding Hua Long felt a throbbing headache and sighed, "Master Pi Fu, please stop encouraging them."

According to the Bureau's data, Master Pi Fu has earned A-to-S-ranked evaluations on every mission—he's not about to starve.

And what century is this? Still stealing traditional wallets? At the very least, steal encrypted cryptocurrency wallets.

Thud!

One player accidentally knocked over a tempered glass trough; its liquid spilled across the floor, emitting a nauseating stench.

"This is..."

Li Cheng's expression turned grim; his flashlight swept over the yellow-brown liquid, revealing a rotting, irregular flat mass nearly a meter in diameter.

The Info-Synthesis Goggles labeled it: "Artificial Beef."

Artificial meat comes in two types: one made from soy protein with flavorings—a low-tech product.

The other combines cellular biology and materials science—tissue engineering that grows "real meat" from animal muscle stem cells in petri dishes.

The rotting mass in the trough was clearly the latter. Real-world artificial meat technology, constrained by cost, has advanced slowly; Dr. Noah's tech is already highly mature.

"Prometheus and Gen-Sys would pay a fortune for this."

The Hyena excitedly reached for a trough—then saw Li Cheng putting on rubber gloves and picking up the rotting meat.

"??? Master Pi Fu, you're not actually going to eat that, are you? That stuff's inedible!"

Those nearby were startled; though Master Pi Fu's behavior was always unpredictable, eating such decayed flesh pushed the limits of their physiological tolerance.

"I love the line from 'The Lonely Gourmet'—Isa's old man said, whether it smells good or bad, once it's in your mouth, it's meat." Li Cheng said casually: "Rotting meat makes you queasy? Today's youth are worse than the last generation. Back in our day, when we ran missions with no food, we ate herring cans mixed with fermented seal intestines and Icelandic shark meat, washed down with soybean juice."

The reputation of herring cans needs no explanation; Kiviak is an Inuit traditional food, made by stuffing captured little auks into fresh seal skins, sewing them shut, and fermenting for three months before sucking out the fermented, rotting innards.

Icelandic fermented shark meat has a peculiar ammonia flavor, like jelly formed from decades-old toilet bowl grime.

Li Cheng ignored the constipated expressions on everyone's faces and carefully examined the edges of the artificial meat, noticing something unusual.

Bite marks—fine, not human.

"We've got company."

Hearing Li Cheng's words, Zhao Zijing, floating ahead, turned around and rescaned with the Dot Matrix Detection skill.

The vast, empty room held not just their group, but countless hidden light dots scattered in every corner.

Shhh—shhh—

From beneath the troughs, racks, and lighting fixtures, tens of thousands of snails slowly crawled out; their shells thicker and larger than ordinary snails, with protruding Kong Dongs on both sides.

One by one, the Kong Dongs glowed faintly blue.

Invisible pressure spread—next second, one snail's shell erupted with ghostly blue flames, shooting like lightning, grazing the Hyena's temple and leaving a deep, bone-exposing gash.

Li Cheng exclaimed: "Holy shit, turbocharged snails!"

"Pun penalty!"

Fu Ding Hua Long's forehead dripped sweat as he stepped backward; countless snails in the hydroponic room had locked onto the players, each preparing to fire.

Shhh-shhh-shhh-shhh—

One player who'd just been talking couldn't dodge in time—dozens of snails pierced his skull; he staggered and fell, still clutching an unopened protective skill scroll.

These mutated snails' shells were absurdly hard; combined with their turbocharged speed—exceeding Mach 2—each was equivalent to a large-caliber armor-piercing incendiary round, effortlessly punching through steel frames, embedding in walls, and piercing through bodies.

As for the players' counterattacks, they weren't just ineffective—they were utterly useless.

The snails were too fast—even under massive flame attacks, they used their speed to zip straight through fire, avoiding heat transfer.

Zhao Zijing's telekinesis could, thanks to its penetrative advantage, slip inside the shells and kill the softer snail bodies inside.

But compared to the tens of thousands of snails, it was negligible.

They could only shift from offense to defense, using the alloy steel wall temporarily drawn by Fu Ding Hualong's brush to slowly retreat toward the hydroponics room exit with the others.

"I can't hold on much longer."

Fu Ding Hualong kept drawing new steel plates to replace the damaged ones, his face growing paler with each stroke—he consumed Qi, Sanity, and an unquantifiable "mental clarity" every time he used his brush.

"I'll do it."

Li Cheng frowned deeply, his expression solemn, and in the expectant gazes of the others, he suddenly pulled out

a blue-green, backpack-style electric pesticide sprayer, the kind used by field farmers.

Splash!

Li Cheng poured clean water into it, added several packets of pesticide, then, amid the others' expectant stares, shoved the sprayer's nozzle through a small hole in the alloy steel wall and blasted pesticide outward in a furious stream.

He muttered under his breath, "One packet of metaldehyde, one packet of methomyl, one packet of spinosad, one packet of chlorfluazuron—today, even if the Snail God himself shows up, I'll kill him for you!"

In Li Cheng's passionate declaration, the thousands of snails at the front, struck by the pesticide spray, rapidly slowed and gradually lost vitality, becoming motionless.

The rest, after a brief delay, retracted their bodies into their shells, then spat mucus to seal the shell openings, ignoring the pesticide spray entirely as they continued charging toward the alloy steel wall.

Pesticide works only if it contacts the snails' soft bodies.

"Hahahaha!"

Li Cheng threw back his head and laughed loudly, then turned and sprinted away, shouting to those still standing in place, "If you're slow, you're gay!"

(End of Chapter)