But that wasn’t enough for him to escape the monster’s gaze. Adam Carter gasped for breath, and at that moment his body began to change—the outlines of his arms, fingers, and all other limbs blurred, something surged beneath the surface, shifting toward the form of mycelium, preparing to escape in a more flexible way.

　　Just then—

　　“Bang!”

　　A streak of white light shot through the air, crashing like a meteor into the joint where the monster’s head met its abdomen.

　　After a dull thud, the white light silently exploded, mixed with flashes of red fire.

　　Adam Carter crouched in the bushes, watching as the massive creature was split in two, crashing to the ground with a boom.

　　The leaves of the bushes shook and rustled, falling all over Adam Carter. The monster’s head landed less than half a meter from him, its blood-red compound eyes still staring in his direction.

　　Adam Carter had seen creatures in the “Abyss” that could still move even after being chopped into three pieces. As he was about to get up and move farther away, he suddenly heard voices not far off.

　　“That was the last uranium round. Grab the loot and head back to base.” A man’s voice, deep and thick.

　　“Arthropod shells aren’t cheap. Didn’t expect to score one in the end.” Another man’s voice, sharper than the first.

　　After a brief exchange, they fell silent. Footsteps approached—the sound of heavy-soled leather boots crunching on sand, mixed with a soft scraping noise.

　　—Humans.

　　Since Anze’s death, Adam Carter hadn’t seen humans for a long time. He quietly raised his head from the bushes.

　　The bushes rustled. The first man barked a low command: “On guard!”

　　The next second, three black gun barrels were aimed straight at him.

　　Adam Carter looked at them.

　　He couldn’t help but recall the chaotic memories from the night he lost the spores, but Aaron Carter’s presence had also shown him the kindness and friendliness of humans. He considered his current situation and spoke: “He…hello.”

　　Under the aurora’s glow, the scene before him was clear: three humans in dark gray clothing, all male. Wide brown leather belts were strapped around their waists, with magazines attached. The man in the middle was tall and sturdy, the other two a bit shorter.

　　The man in the center was the one who had just said “last uranium round.” His voice was steady and deep: “Human?”

　　Adam Carter hesitated, recalling the weapon that had blown the monster in half. He replied, “Yes.”

　　“Name? ID number? Where are your teammates?”

　　“Adam Carter, 3261170514, separated.”

　　The man frowned, looking down at him. He had thick black eyebrows, clear black-and-white eyes, a high nose bridge, and full lips. This combination of features didn’t make Adam Carter feel threatened, unlike the beasts in the Abyss. He pressed his lips together and met the man’s gaze.

　　Three seconds later, another man beside him—a short, dark-skinned man—clicked his gun, chambering another round with a threatening air. He stared at him, voice low and rapid: “Take off your clothes.”

　　Adam Carter stood up from the bushes and unbuttoned the first button of his gray shirt, then the second, exposing the skin at his collar. His skin was smooth and milky white, a bit like the color of his mycelium.

　　The next moment, he heard the third man whistle. This one had pale, reddish skin and yellow hair, with many wrinkles on his face—signs of human aging. His eyes were gray-blue, the corners slanting upward, staring intently at him.

　　Adam Carter lowered his head and undid the remaining buttons, taking off his shirt.

　　The gray-blue-eyed man walked up to him, whistled again, and began to scrutinize him up and down.

　　This man’s gaze was sticky, like the saliva of beasts in the Abyss. After looking Adam Carter over, he circled to his side.

　　The next moment, Adam Carter’s wrist was grabbed. The man’s fingers brushed over the skin of Adam Carter’s wrist, his thumb rubbing the wrist bone, and he asked in a slightly sharp voice, “What’s this?”

　　Adam Carter looked down at the back of his hand and wrist, where there were some messy, irregular red marks—scratches from the bushes as he dodged the monster’s attack. He turned his head, gesturing with his eyes at the bushes behind him: “Leaves.”

　　A brief silence followed. After a while, the man smacked his lips and said, “Are you going to take off the rest yourself, or should I do it for you?”

　　Adam Carter didn’t move.

　　He more or less understood what they were doing; there were similar scenes in Aaron Carter’s memories.

　　Gene contamination could occur between monsters, or between humans and monsters. The initial way to check if a stranger was contaminated was to inspect their body for wounds.

　　But the man behind him made him uncomfortable. When he was still a mushroom, this was how it felt when snakes slithered over his stipe and cap.

　　So he looked up at the man in the center. He had seen many fierce beasts in the Abyss and could roughly judge their level of danger. Now, he instinctively felt this man was the least aggressive of the three.

　　“Henry Watson.” After a brief stare, the man spoke again, his voice deep: “Don’t lose your head out here.”