Ultraman: It turns out this is the easy mode.

As Cui Ming's roars of command on the beach carried by the sea breeze towards the city, the lazy afternoon air still lingered in the residential streets—convenience store clerks dozed off at their counters, schoolchildren chased and played with their backpacks, and old ladies sat on park benches chatting. Then, a faint, pungent odor, like moldy salted fish mixed with spoiled soy sauce, wafted into their nostrils, and someone instinctively frowned: "Hey? What's that stench? Did someone forget to take out their trash?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than someone suddenly pointed at the sky and screamed, "Look! What's that in the sky?!"

The moment everyone looked up, their hearts stopped—on the distant horizon, a dark brown "fog" was rapidly drifting in with the wind. It wasn't fog at all; it was a mixture of countless sticky bits of flesh and putrid liquid, like mud whipped up by a gale, pressing towards the residential area! Even more terrifying, as the "fog" drew closer, the stench suddenly intensified. It was no longer a "faint stench," but a corrosive stench, like having a decades-old unwashed toilet placed directly on your head, making your eyes water.

"Holy crap! It stinks!!!" Someone covered their nose and turned to run, but their legs felt like lead, and they couldn't run fast at all. The old ladies in the park were so frightened that they collapsed on the benches, dropping their shopping baskets and scattering vegetable leaves all over the ground; the convenience store clerk was jolted awake, and just as he was about to lock the door, he saw that the "fog of putrid liquid" had already reached the street corner, and the dark brown slime dripped down the streetlights, creating small, foul-smelling craters on the ground.

"Oh no! It's that monster's stuff from the beach!" Someone recalled the news report, their voice filled with despair. But before they could finish speaking, the first drop of putrid liquid landed on a student's backpack—the sticky sensation instantly seeped through the fabric onto his back, and the stench pierced his nostrils like needles. The student vomited on the spot, and the putrid liquid continued to drip from the backpack, sizzling and foaming as it fell to the ground.

The next second, the "corrosive liquid rain" poured down completely!

Dark brown bits of flesh mixed with slime splattered onto rooftops, streets, and pedestrians. Some tried to hide in stairwells, but the putrid liquid seeped in through the door cracks, instantly filling the entire passageway; others held up umbrellas for protection, but the umbrellas offered no shield against the flying bits of flesh, the putrid liquid running down the ribs and smearing their faces and hands. The stench was a hundred times more pungent than the worst manure—a stench of 70 years of rotting and fermentation, mixed with the sour smell of monster entrails and the stench of unknown microorganisms decomposing. Just one breath felt like your lungs were filled with sewage, and even breathing felt like a burning sensation.

"Aaaaaaahhhhh!!!" Screams echoed everywhere. An old woman was hit in the chest by the putrid liquid and fainted on the spot, with half a piece of greenish flesh still hanging on her face; the glass door of the convenience store was soaked through by the putrid liquid and became blurry, and the people inside were banging on the glass for help, but those outside were too busy to help themselves and could only struggle in the putrid liquid.

Someone stumbled and ran to the street corner, only to find the entire street covered in putrid liquid—a layer of dark brown slime covered the ground, making a squelching sound when stepped on; cars parked on the roadside were charred like "canned meat," with putrid liquid still dripping from their windows. He looked at the ever-approaching mist of putrid liquid in the distance, then touched his slime-covered face; the stench had seeped into every pore, even his tears smelled foul.

"Help, help me..." he cried out towards the sea, but only the sound of waves and his own retching answered him. At this moment, the city had become a stinking inferno. Those who had not been able to evacuate in time could only let the putrid liquid engulf them in their despair, not even knowing where to escape to—after all, no matter where they hid, the deadly stench had already seeped into every nook and cranny.

The conference room in the Tokyo Metropolitan Government building was filled with smoke, like a steamer. Several officials in charge of maritime affairs sat around the conference table, their faces as black as the bottom of a pot—they had just received a report from their subordinates that the monstrous putrefactive liquid had not only blasted the shallows but had also spread to most of a residential area with the wind. Now, social media was filled with public outrage, and the hashtag #JapaneseGovernmentDerelictionOfDuty had already topped the trending searches.

"We must shift the blame!" An official from the Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare slammed his fist on the table, knocking cigarette butts out of the ashtray. "We'll say the EDF acted without authorization, without communicating with us beforehand, which led to the monster's resurrection! Yes, we'll also say that Choi Myeong made a command error; he could have controlled the situation, but instead created this huge mess!" "No way!" an official from the Ministry of the Environment immediately retorted, his voice trembling. "The EDF is directly under the command of the TPC; we have no authority to command them! Besides, the public knows that it was our attempt to move the monster's corpse that triggered the whale explosion!"

"What should we do? We can't be made to take the blame!" Another official was so anxious that he was scratching his head. "If this isn't handled properly, we'll all be dismissed!" They discussed ways to shift the blame, with some suggesting forging a document stating that "EDF refused to cooperate," and others suggesting finding an expert to "prove that moving the goods was the only feasible solution." After all that, no one dared to mention "refusing Cui's order to burn the goods on the spot"—that was their biggest weakness.

Just then, the secretary stumbled in, holding a tablet computer, her face pale: "Something terrible has happened! EDF has just released the operation plan and communication records on its official website and social media platforms!"

"What?!" Several officials stood up at the same time, grabbed the tablet computer, and were instantly struck by lightning. The screen not only showed Choi Myung's initial "on-site burning plan," which detailed the burning time, purification measures, and risk assessment, but also a clear audio recording of a conversation in which Choi Myung proposed that "on-site burning is the safest" and Japanese officials refused on the grounds that it would "affect the image of the residential area" and "require professional assessment." Every word was clearly audible.

Below is a statement from EDF, strong in tone yet clear in its logic: "As soon as the monster's carcass was discovered, we proposed an on-site incineration plan, but due to opposition from local officials, we were forced to change it to transportation, which ultimately triggered the whale explosion and the spread of putrefactive liquid. We are currently fully committed to the rescue efforts and will cooperate with the TPC investigation to hold those responsible accountable."

The meeting room fell silent instantly, save for the heavy breathing of the officials. The Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare official who had just been clamoring to shift the blame to the EDF slumped into his chair, his tablet computer crashing to the floor with a thud, the screen shattering. Staring at the call logs, only one thought occupied his mind: It's over, completely over.

Their worst fears came true. Not only did Choi Ming leave them no room to shift the blame, but he also exposed their "foolish decision" to the public—the evidence was conclusive, the public was furious, and the TPC would definitely hold them accountable. Forget about keeping their jobs, they might not even be able to escape unscathed.

"What do we do... what do we do now?" The official from the Ministry of Environment's voice trembled, his eyes filled with despair. His previous arrogance and scheming had turned to panic—they thought Choi Myung was just a hot-tempered action-taker, but they hadn't expected him to be so meticulous, preserving all the evidence beforehand, just waiting for them to shift the blame so he could deliver a fatal blow.

“What else can we do…” The oldest official sighed and slumped into his chair. “Prepare to write your resignation letter and wait for the investigation… This time, we’re really finished.”

Outside the window, the faint sounds of protesting could be heard, growing ever closer. The officials looked at each other's pale faces, their hearts filled with endless regret—if only they hadn't opposed Cui Ming's plan, if only they hadn't clung to that pitiful desire for "face," they wouldn't be in this predicament today. But now it was too late. Cui Ming's move had nailed them to the pillar of shame for "dereliction of duty," leaving them with no chance of redemption. (End of Chapter)