"Continue the experiment log—soul level." He sat back down, his voice lowering. "The pestilence doesn't kill its hosts directly. It binds the soul to the rotting flesh, making their consciousness keenly feel every inch of decay. Pain is its nourishment—the greater the pain, the faster it grows."
He pulled up several charts of soul fluctuations collected from the Rotting Corpse Walkers.
The fluctuations were chaotic, like a madman's electrocardiogram.
But a closer look revealed a pattern—every peak corresponded to a burst of mycelial growth.
"It uses pain as fuel. The more the host hurts, the faster it grows. That's why those Rotting Corpse Walkers run around and attack living people: to create more pain. The more pain there is, the stronger the pestilence becomes."
He shut off the screen and fell silent for a while.
"Final source assessment: the pestilence was not naturally born. It was spawned from the world core by an amorphous entity. For now, we're calling it the Mother of Pestilence. It was formed from the laws of decay. It enslaves no one, rules no one, communicates with no one. It follows only one iron law—assimilate everything and return it to decay."
He sorted out the report and printed out a thick stack of pages.
Holding the report, he entered the command room.
Wu Heng stood there before a hastily erected holographic map. Several red dots were marked on it—the places where survivors had gathered.
Clayton handed the report to Wu Heng. "President, the pestilence's properties have been fully analyzed. In summary: it's alive, it can consume energy, it can trap people in decaying bodies and make them suffer forever. Its source is something called the Mother of Pestilence, located in the world core."
Wu Heng opened the report, skimmed it, and closed it.
"Gather all infected