Ultraman: It turns out this is the easy mode.

A gap was quietly pulled open in the cordon around the shoal, and a dozen people holding mobile phones crouched down and squeezed in. At first, nothing seemed amiss, only the sea breeze carried a slightly salty smell. Some even joked, "It's not as exaggerated as they say. I think TPC is just making a mountain out of a molehill."

But after walking less than ten meters, a faint, strange smell began to waft into their nostrils. It wasn't the usual fishy smell of the sea, nor the sour stench of rotting garbage, but rather a mixture of the fishy odor of stale, decaying flesh, the greasy smell of slimy mucus, and a bit like the smell of a rusty iron can soaking in a stinking ditch. The group subconsciously frowned, but still stubbornly insisted, "It's probably just rotten seaweed from the beach, nothing serious. Let's get closer and take a clearer picture."

The moment they stepped out, the gentle sea breeze suddenly changed direction, like an invisible hand giving them a hard push—the next second, the smell that was previously only "faint" turned into an overwhelming stench, pouring into their mouths, noses, and even eyes!
"vomit--!"

The first person to react bent over, their stomach contents gushing out uncontrollably. The stench was overwhelming; first, the tongue tasted a bitter, fishy odor, then the nasal cavity felt like it was stuffed with rotting fish entrails, and even the temples throbbed. What was even more disgusting was that the stench was accompanied by a sticky, damp heat, as if it could slide down the throat into the lungs, making even breathing painful.

Some people tried to cover their noses, but as soon as they raised their hands, their stomachs churned even more violently. They vomited up a mixture of acid and their breakfast onto the beach. The yellow vomit still contained undigested rice grains, and the sea breeze added another layer of sour, rotten smell. "Help...help..." someone tried to shout, but as soon as they opened their mouths, even more stench rushed in. Before they could finish speaking, they were choked by their own vomit, and tears and snot streamed down their faces.

They then realized that the TPC team members who had been guarding the area had already retreated hundreds of meters away. All they could see was the huge monster carcass lying on the beach—the dark brown slime glistened in the sunlight, and blackish-brown putrid liquid was still seeping from the wound on its belly. The sea breeze blowing across the surface of the carcass carried a stench that felt like a tangible whip, lashing their faces again and again.

A girl tried to back away but slipped on the vomit and fell face-first into her own excrement, the sticky liquid soaking her trousers. In that instant, she could even smell the stench emanating from the monster's corpse clung to her clothes, a mixture of the sour stench of vomit that shot straight to the top of her head—not just a simple "stink," but a corrosive nausea, as if her brain was being suffocated by the stench, and her vision blurred.

No one was thinking about filming anymore; everyone was stumbling and running backward. Some people were vomiting as they ran, dry heaving when their stomachs were empty, their throats full of bitterness. Some people were splashed with their companions' vomit and broke down in tears, but they didn't even have the strength to lift their hands to wipe their tears, and could only let the stench seep into every pore.

The sea breeze was still blowing, and the stench emanating from the monster's corpse was like an invisible net, completely covering the beach. The people who had collapsed to the ground, lying in their own vomit, looked at the blurry outline of the monster's corpse in the distance, feeling as if their very souls had been pickled by the stench—their previous curiosity and sense of luck had long since vanished, leaving only a deep-seated nausea and regret.

The chaos on the beach was escalating. Some tried to get up and escape, but their shoes got stuck in the vomit and slime seeping from the monster's corpse, causing them to slip and fall flat on their backs, their faces splattering onto the stench of the sand. The smell instantly seeped into their teeth; they could even taste the bitterness of rotting seafood mixed in with the sand. They immediately grabbed a nearby rock and dry heaved, tears and snot streaming down their faces.

A man who had previously boasted that "TPC is making a mountain out of a molehill" was now squatting on the ground, his hands tightly covering his mouth, but the stench still seeped through his fingers, making his stomach churn. He tried to move, but didn't notice that the seawater behind him had been stained a dark brown by the putrid liquid. He plopped down in the water, the cold seawater mixed with the stench instantly soaking his pants. He jumped up, but his legs gave way, and he fell back down, looking like he'd fallen into a stinking ditch, even his hair covered in sticky brown liquid. The girls' cries rose and fell. One girl in a white dress, her dress stained with vomit and putrid liquid, turning into patches of yellowish-black stains, cried and tore at her dress, but couldn't get rid of the lingering stench. Finally, she simply sat on the ground, letting the tears fall—the stench was beyond description; it was a bone-chilling nausea, making even breathing a torment.

In the command center, Cui Ming stared at the chaotic scene on the monitor screen, his face expressionless. He even picked up a water glass from the table and took a sip. Beside him, Ju Jianhui, watching the screen, couldn't help but speak up: "Should we send some team members to help with the evacuation? They look..."

“No need.” Cui Ming interrupted her, shifting his gaze from the screen to the television news playing beside him. “Evacuation notices were issued three times, and two layers of cordon were set up, but they still insisted on breaking in. They brought this on themselves.” His tone was flat, devoid of any sympathy—these people knew there was danger, but they ignored the warnings just to join in the fun and film a video. Now they were half-dead from the stench, and they only had themselves to blame.

On television, a "monster expert" wearing gold-rimmed glasses was speaking eloquently to the camera: "Based on current information, this monster carcass is most likely a new type of marine creature. Although the smell of its decomposition is unpleasant, it is harmless to humans, and the public need not panic..."

Cui Ming watched the expert on the screen spouting nonsense with a straight face, a cold smile playing on his lips. He picked up his communicator and ordered his team members on the other end: "Go and invite that monster expert on TV, Matsumoto, over here. Tell him I have 'important research' that requires his on-site guidance—have him bring his 'harmless' theory and experience it for himself on the beach."

A response came from the team member on the other end of the communicator. Cui Ming turned off the communicator and looked back at the monitor screen. The people on the beach were still struggling; some were so overwhelmed by the stench that they could barely stand, leaning against the rocks and gasping for breath. Cui Ming shook his head, feeling no emotion whatsoever—there's always a reason why someone is pitiful, and these people who wouldn't listen to advice would eventually pay the price for their recklessness.

Meanwhile, the experts on TV continued their incessant chatter, completely unaware of the "on-site guidance" they were about to receive. Cui Ming picked up his water glass, took another sip, his eyes devoid of any emotion: "Wait until you personally experience that stench that can taint your very soul, and see if you can still utter the word 'harmless'."

Then Cui Ming said to the people behind him, "Get ready, invite this expert to the scene."

"Yes!" (End of this chapter)