Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

"It seems to be about something... the cleanroom?" The driver scratched his head and muttered, "The workers were talking about it this morning..."

The lock on the suitcase suddenly popped open a crack, and dark green liquid seeped out, dripping onto Merman's shoes. He calmly closed the suitcase, his eyes behind his glasses now appearing cloudy and grayish-white.

"We've arrived, sir."

The carriage stopped in front of the Medical Council’s magnificent building.

As Murman got out of the car, he saw several colleagues in white coats running up the steps in a panic. He straightened his tie and gave them a gentle smile.

"Good evening, everyone. Is something wrong that you're in such a hurry?"

"Merman, what brings you here?" Surprised by the arrival of the former, their attitude changed from their previous bewilderment to one of obvious superiority.

Damn it, they look down on me again, just because of my background, because of that bullshit lineage, to deny my talent and hard work.

Merman's nails dug deeply into his palms, but a humble smile appeared on his face: "I've heard that Ms. Valenti has made a new discovery, and I think I might be able to help in some way."

"You?" The man in the white coat at the front scoffed. "A country bumpkin who only recently got his license as a self-taught doctor?"

His breathing deepened, and he lowered his head slightly, letting his thick glasses conceal the fierce glint in his eyes.

“Indeed, I am still relatively inexperienced.” Merman pressed the bridge of his nose, his sparse hair obscuring the malice surging in his eyes. “But I have seen similar symptoms when I practiced medicine in the countryside.”

He walked forward slowly, his suitcase swaying slightly with each step. His colleagues unconsciously stepped back, whether out of contempt or an instinctive sense of danger, they didn't know.

"Suit yourself." The leader waved his hand impatiently. "That report is going to be filed soon anyway. Valenti doesn't understand the concept of considering the bigger picture, and someone like you..."

Before the words were even finished, the sealed leather suitcase cracked open, releasing a colorless mist and a shower of fine spores. The people who had just spoken froze on the spot before they could even cry out in surprise—dark red spots were appearing on their skin at a visible speed.

“Now,” Merman said softly, closing the case and walking through his frozen colleagues, “we can have a proper talk.”

"Cough, cough..." The first person to speak, clutching their own throat, spoke in a hoarse voice, even questioning them was no longer an option. "What...did you do?"

"It's just to make you, like that Ms. Valenti, victims of medical progress." Watching these ugly human figures fall one by one, Merman's sarcasm was no longer concealed.

"Don't you crave wealth and fame? Don't worry, after death, people are always given various regrets and honorific titles. Those of you with the most prominent symptoms will certainly be the most valuable resources on the autopsy table."

Hurried footsteps came from the end of the corridor.

Murman quickly closed his briefcase, his brows furrowing back into a humble expression. When the guards arrived, they found him anxiously checking the pulses of the fallen doctors.

"Quickly, call the medical staff!" Seeing the people in front of him, he immediately feigned panic. "They suddenly collapsed, and conspicuous red spots appeared on their bodies... It might be a latent outbreak of disease!"

Yes, there were no witnesses, and the spiritual aura was also disturbed by himself, making it difficult to trace. With just a little guidance, he could manipulate the lives of these mortals and watch them fall like discarded chess pieces, which was both reasonable and logical.

Disease, what a perfect reason.

The doors to the Medical Committee swung open automatically before him, and a heated debate was taking place inside. Upon hearing this, Merman straightened his tie and a smug smile crept across his lips.

"Good night, everyone. I wonder if I may participate in this discussion about the future."

The question was uttered, but it startled everyone into silence. The person in question opened their eyes with satisfaction, only to be frozen in place by the sight before them.

There was no crowd, no noisy arguments; at the end of the long table sat only one beautiful woman.

She wore a half-mask, her beautiful face resting against her wrist. Occasionally, a gentle breeze would blow, causing her long hair to flutter and revealing a playful smile at the corner of her lips.

That's the essence of laziness, and also the knowing acceptance of watching the show unfold.

"Good night, Dr. Lines. Thank you for accepting the invitation. You come alone, all alone." The brown-haired man tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and absentmindedly twirled it around his fingertips. In the dim light, his amber eyes shone brightly, like the vertical pupils of a predator.

"We should indeed talk about the future, carefully and patiently, but—"

Her pale lips were not flamboyant, yet they exuded an air of dominance.

She said, Charlotte said:

"I'm the one who speaks, you listen; I'm the one who says it, you acknowledge it."

The set created by the painter faded away, leaving the empty council hall. One person sat with their legs crossed, chatting and laughing, while the other was bewildered and unaware of what was happening.

Clearly, this is a trap, a trap specifically designed for the former.

Chapter 166 Judgment Day

Let's rewind to midnight yesterday.

At an extraordinary party, the masked beauty finally obtained what she needed from others.

—A promotion ceremony for those who become 'monsters' and climb upwards.

[Sequence Seven 'Nest', potion recipe.]

[Extraordinary Materials: One stomach pouch of a Prisoner of Spirits, two main roots of Nerve Vines.]

[Additional Materials: 300 ml of putrid blood, six black datura petals, three drops of your own thick blood from your fingertips.]

[Promotion Ritual: Relying on one's own abilities and strategies, hunt down an Extraordinary being of Sequence Eight or higher, dissect their body, devour their life force, and consume the unextracted Extraordinary characteristics, absorbing and integrating them to complete the promotion.]

What a vivid way to describe it, perfectly capturing the current situation.

Her slender fingers traced the words on the parchment, and a playful smile curved the corners of Charlotte's lips beneath her mask.

The plague messenger, that Merman, had both shown her malice and stood precisely on the opposite side of her, as an obstacle to her renowned reputation. Naturally, the kind doctor had to disinfect Florence.

It's a win-win situation, so why not do it?

The approaching candlelight burned this forbidden knowledge to ashes, and amidst the swirling smoke, she turned and left without a trace of regret.

"The path of fate is always smooth, as if it were predetermined from the beginning."

She murmured to herself, her clear voice echoing in the empty hall, reflecting her thoughts.

Having endured half a lifetime of hardship and bitterness, and enjoyed half a lifetime of hedonism, Charlotte naturally understood her own situation. The seemingly accidental encounters were actually the result of calculations by many parties. Unaware of the situation, all she needed to do was to become enlightened and self-reliant.

It grows rapidly with the nutrients that flow through its fingers, and breaks free from the predetermined chessboard.

......

The following evening, on the rooftop balcony of the relief center.

The seats where Forwell once enjoyed himself have now changed hands.

Leaning against the wall, with her back to the lamplight, Charlotte looked down quietly at the city shrouded in mist.

“Dr. Bella, are you sure you want to do this?” Sofby’s voice came from behind, the red-haired girl’s eyes filled with rare worry. “To cause such a widespread plague, he must be at least a Sequence Seven Extraordinary.”

Even though it was proven that the person in front of her had no connection with that figure, the little peacock still developed feelings of admiration during their brief time together.

She always felt an instinctive pity for those who dared to dedicate themselves to their ideals and made selfless contributions without expecting anything in return; this was true of Watson, and also of Dr. Bella.

"If your information is accurate, and the plague messenger is not physically powerful but focuses on spiritual corruption and assimilation, then a bullet can still pierce a person's skull if you get close enough to see through the disguise."

Charlotte tilted her head back slightly, supporting half of the mask with one hand, letting it gleam with a cold metallic luster in the twilight, just like her calm voice.

“If the source of the disaster is not eliminated, this epidemic will never end, and people will continue to suffer from pain and loss.”

"But you?"

"I am already prepared to die, so why should I linger on this body? As bait, accepting the other's counterattack is the best fate."

She reached out and gently stroked the rose hairpin in Sufby's hair, her movements incredibly tender. "Besides, don't I still have you as my temporary 'assistant'?"

"If the plan succeeds, you, a good girl, will also be promoted and pursue your dreams. If it fails, you, who arrive later, will also be able to stay out of it and not be implicated. This is good for both of us and can be considered as repaying the kindness of our meeting and the help we received back then."

With its eyes slightly widened, the little peacock stood there, stunned, unable to close its lips for a long time.

In Florence, a bustling yet indifferent city, she had never received any kindness from others without expecting anything in return. It seemed that everything she had experienced was teaching her how to become a cold and heartless person. But the beautiful woman before her was like a dignified and elegant peony, quietly blooming with fragrance, showing kindness to the world without asking for anything in return.

Unlike that gray-haired figure, she did not have a playful and cunning face, but only a gentle and patient one. She always kept the most dangerous part to herself, going her own way and never joining others.

"No, I..."

Grasping the beautiful woman's wrist, Sophie's knuckles turned white with force. "There's another way, as long as..."

Before the words were finished, a muffled thud of flesh hitting the ground suddenly came from afar. The two turned their heads at the same time and saw a colorless mist rising from the direction of the hall, revealing the loss of life in their spiritual vision.

“It seems the gentleman has arrived.” She caught the edge of the silk glove in her teeth, then deftly removed it and tossed it into a low bush. “Remember our agreed-upon signal—when he comes in alone, I will remove my mask.”

Before Sophoby could say anything more, a cold finger pressed against her lips. Charlotte shook her head slightly and leaned in to whisper.

"Good girl, just listen to me, just once."

The night wind was biting, blowing the chestnut hair at her temples into disarray. Charlotte slipped down the stairs and sat at the end of the long table.

Her back was as straight as a pine tree, yet it carried the resolute determination unique to someone facing death.

The door opened and closed, and the thin man, who had been so humble before entering, announced his arrival with confidence and arrogance.

Good night, everyone. I wonder if I may participate in this discussion about the future of the pandemic.

Murman's voice echoed in the empty conference room. He pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, the lenses reflecting a cold light that concealed the sinister glint in his eyes.

At the end of the long table, Charlotte, wearing a half-mask, slowly raised her head. The candlelight flickered in her amber eyes, reflecting a calm chill.

“Of course, Dr. Lines.” Her voice was as soft as a feather. “After all, the end of this plague must be witnessed by the very person who started it.”

"You, what are you talking about?"

Even though he had considered the possibility, Murman never thought about the possibility of his complete exposure.

The information he gave to those fools was nothing more than trivial matters; how could they possibly deduce his own identity behind the scenes from it? Isabella Valenti was merely an ordinary person; how could she possibly see through extraordinary secrets?

“Ms. Valenti, you seem to have some misunderstanding about me.”

Overwhelmed by shock and lingering fear, Merman gripped the suitcase tightly between his fingers, even unconsciously using a respectful term in his speech.

"Misunderstanding? As long as I'm not blind enough to ignore the innocent workers who died in the cleanroom, and as long as I don't have tinnitus so badly that I can't hear the roaring fire in a village in Tingen four years ago, I won't consider it insignificant—"

"the truth."

Chapter 167 Sequence Seven

Charlotte took out a test tube she had prepared earlier from the counter beside her, gently shook the culture medium inside, and simply stated her opinion.

"Four years ago, during the plague outbreak in Tingen, both you and Professor Victor used this same strain, right?"

"By controlling the water supply system in the cleanroom, the workers are made to become accomplices without their knowledge—what an ingenious design."

Murman's Adam's apple bobbed, and a fine sheen of sweat soaked his shirt collar.

He never imagined that the woman in front of him, who seemed only capable of writing editorials and engaging in debates, could trace back to a case from four years ago through the slightest clues.

Silence fell, no more conversation took place, and the atmosphere in the empty council chamber grew increasingly tense.

Merman's suitcase fell to the ground, and dark green liquid seeped out from the cracks, corroding honeycomb-like holes in the carpet.

"It seems you've investigated thoroughly." His voice gradually became hoarse, as if his throat was filled with a viscous bacterial fluid. "But do you know? What exactly is the difference between the mundane and the extraordinary? You haven't even touched the hidden world, yet you dare to question me, to arrest me? Those who know too much often—"

The suitcase was completely torn apart, and the dark green fungal carpet spread across the wooden planks like a living thing, climbing up the walls.

Merman's skin cracked inch by inch, and dozens of barbed fleshy tendrils burst from his chest, tearing his pure white coat to shreds. Each tendril split open into a mouth full of sharp teeth, roaring hoarsely, "None of them will survive tonight!"

Without flinching, Charlotte flipped the long table with a single hand, the oak tabletop instantly scattering wood chips as the fleshy whiskers struck her.

As she spun back, the mask fell off, revealing half of her festering face—dark red markings had spread to her eyelids, staining the whites of her eyes a chilling blood color.

"The survivors of that plague four years ago lamented the tragedy of their families being torn apart and their hearts breaking at the loss of their loved ones, all because of your and Victor's greed."

"You who harm the people for your own selfish desires are not worthy of being called doctors."

The words of the virtuous are cold and plain, yet they are like daggers piercing the heart, causing pain in the hearts of those who came before. As if angered by these dignified words, their inhuman roars immediately shook the chandeliers on the ceiling.

"Since you're willing to be the savior, then I'll give you another ride."

In an instant, the viscous liquid, like a living colony, sealed off all the gaps in the room. Barnacle-like clusters continued to grow, and from the central gap, chunks of rotting flesh and blood poured out. Twisted spiral apex and limbs dripping with pus grew rampantly on various parts.

That was a distortion, a twisted prosperity and creation.

As her breathing deepened, the foreign sensation in her lungs rose, and Charlotte instinctively covered her lips, suppressing the tentacles that were extending from her internal organs, piercing her flesh and bone, and probing her throat.

Following the spiritual riot, the red spots covering her face, like mosquitoes and ants, came to life, biting and sucking blood from her flesh, devouring her already dying life.

"Ahem, ahem..."

Unable to stand, Charlotte bled from all five orifices, her senses overwhelmed by pain, and could only cough painfully.

"Foolish! You don't understand the difference between mortals and us, you don't understand the evolution we pursue throughout our lives—a transformation that transcends the biological ladder, a transformation that can truly save humanity—"

Before the hypocritical arguments could be fully refuted, a deafening gunshot rang out in response.

The silver-plated bullet tore through the night, shattered the glass, and struck Murman's right shoulder with precision. His howl turned into a series of overlapping roars, and black, sticky fluid spurted from the wound.

"Who?!" He turned around in a rage, and dozens of fleshy tendrils lashed out like whips in the direction from which the bullets had come.