After Being Parasiticized By A Monster - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: She was probably the first person to ‘outlast’ a parasitic monster.

Cheng Ming was jolted awake by the cold in the pre-dawn hours.

Whether it was a side effect of over-consumption the night before, or anxiety over potential monster retaliation, she hadn’t slept well.

First came the heat. A raging, 40-degree fever—the kind that felt like her internal organs were incinerating. She had kicked her blanket onto the floor.

Then came dizziness, bone pain, and muscle aches; not a single part of her body felt normal.

Alternating between fire and ice, she shivered, groggily crawled down to retrieve the blanket, wrapped herself in two layers, rolled herself into a burrito, and tried to sleep.

It wasn’t until an unknown amount of time later that she was forcibly awakened by her own voice.

“Cheng Ming, wake up,” a familiar voice urged. “Go eat something.”

A faint hint of morning light seeped through the curtains. Cheng Ming groggily rolled out of bed. The moment her feet hit the floor, thump—her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, which jolted her slightly awake.

But her entire body remained limp and utterly devoid of strength.

She instinctively braced herself against the nearby wall, trying to get up, only to find her palm stuck to the tile. Startled, she pulled hard, and with a splat, she tore it off, leaving behind a pool of transparent mucus.

The suction of the mucus was so strong it felt like it could weld an adult to the wall surface.

Cheng Ming was fully awake. She looked at the skin on her palm and, in a flash of realization, recalled “Wang Qi” hanging upside down from the ceiling last night—this was the monster’s ability.

Her expression was blank and bewildered, her voice slightly strained: “What’s going on?”

Her body temperature was still frighteningly high. Her immune system was fighting some unknown invader.

The biggest invader inside her body dismissed it lightly: “Fusion evolution.”

“What?” she repeated in disbelief.

A fierce headache caused ringing in her ears; every sound was a buzz, let alone such an unbelievable explanation.

“Congratulations. It will be much easier for you to go to the underground storage room in the future.” The tone was disconcertingly human.

For a moment, Cheng Ming suspected it was gloating.

Hunger forced her to overcome her weakness. She practically crawled and stumbled to the storage cabinet, falling, choosing the wrong direction due to dizziness, or sticking herself to the wall countless times along the way—details best left unsaid.

Only after eating an entire box of bread did Cheng Ming finally recover a little from her near-death state.

Without the energy to reheat water, she drank the cool, overnight water from her cup. Her trembling hand laboriously picked up her phone to send a sick leave message to the institute.

Fusion evolution. The meaning was clear: her body was incorporating Wang Qi’s cells, and the resulting “evolution” meant gaining the opponent’s abilities.

“Why didn’t this happen before?” Having done everything she could, Cheng Ming lay back on the bed. In her terrible, churning state, she forced herself to stay conscious, staring at the ceiling as she questioned it.

“Insufficient energy.” Its reply remained brief.

Marine monsters that could be safely contained in the storage room were only LR-level—Non-Risk, lacking higher intelligence or powerful, strange abilities.

For the parasite inside her, they were barely enough to fill its stomach, far from enough for it to grow.

Cheng Ming’s thoughts quickly processed this, and her heart sank.

Although their current relationship seemed peaceful, with shared abilities, as if being parasiticized had simply given her a handy assistant… the truth was, the parasite’s growing power would never be a good thing for her, the host.

Cheng Ming wouldn’t forget the dark, hellish days she endured to achieve this current facade of peace.

The process of establishing symbiosis was anything but smooth.

During the first month of the infection, she constantly fought with it for control of her body. Accompanied by gore and violence, being battered and bruised was the norm.

Back then, it hadn’t mastered her body or human language. Their communication was incredibly savage—hurting each other within the same flesh, forcing the other to yield.

At the sharpest point of their rivalry, she went seven days and seven nights without food or sleep. Though unwilling to admit it, her physical functions were indeed significantly enhanced by its presence; otherwise, she wouldn’t have survived being so weak.

She used a knife to slash cut after cut into her skin, tearing flesh, separating tendons and bones, and severing bl00d vessels—only for them to heal rapidly, tissues restructuring.

Then, they’d be sliced open again.

Scars covered cuts, bl00d washed away scabs, and new wounds piled upon old.

She desperately consumed her own energy—which was also its energy. Flourish or perish together. This was the symbiosis she demanded.

You hear about ‘outlasting’ an eagle or breaking a wild horse, but she was probably the first person to ‘outlast’ a parasitic monster.

Cornered, she could only use her own life as a threat.

Finally, she grabbed a shard of glass and pressed it against the major artery in her neck. Sitting naked in front of the mirror, she looked at the bl00d-stained woman reflected there and gave herself a defiant smile.

“Killing the host is the most foolish approach, usually only aggressive, ancient, and stubborn parasites do that.”

“If I die, how long do you think it will take you to find another host? Or, more likely, will you be buried with me?”

Her hair had long since fallen out from its relentless torment. Fungal hyphae had replaced her beautiful long hair. The lurking fungal cells rapidly proliferated, covering most of her body, expanding and swaying, growing longer and longer, eager to strangle her.

Like the serpentine hair of Medusa in mythology.

She clenched her jaw, pursing her lips, confronting it through the reflection, refusing to back down an inch.

Bl00d seeped from her pale skin, sliding down the intensely straining muscle contours. Tachycardia. Bl00d surging.

Being in the same body, she couldn’t tell if she was trembling, or if it was the outward manifestation of its emotion.

This parasitic monster, of unknown species and origin, finally yielded.

It agreed to conceal all outward claws, reduce its presence, and not control her body without her permission, unless they faced a life-threatening attack. This was their Three-Chapter Compact.

So far, their cooperation seemed decent.

But the Fish-Fungus’s powerful learning capability, its rapid growth rate… everything about it scared her. Cheng Ming couldn’t ignore the hidden threat it posed.

In just one month, it had fully mastered the language system. Conversing with it often gave her the illusion of talking to a real person. If one day it completely took over her, she feared no one around her would notice.

Moreover, she knew absolutely nothing about it.

“Do you have a name?” Exhausted, Cheng Ming didn’t dare to fall asleep again, asking random questions to stay awake.

“…Are you delirious from the fever?”

“Huh? So, do you?” Cheng Ming tucked herself tightly into the blanket, leaving only her dewy eyes exposed, murmuring muffledly.

“Your name is my name.”

“You want to be called Cheng Ming too?” Cheng Ming’s alarm bells were ringing. Despite her fevered confusion, she struggled to think. “That won’t work, we’ll get mixed up… How about I call you Xiao Ming (小溟) from now on?”

“…Say that again?”

Cheng Ming failed to notice the shift in its tone. Muffled in the blanket, she muttered, “What’s wrong? Xiao Ming is my childhood nickname… If I’m ever caught talking to you, I can just say you’re my alternate personality. Isn’t that perfect?”

“…Go to sleep.”

Cheng Ming closed her eyes and instantly fell into a deep sleep.

So, she didn’t see what happened next: A strand of “her hair” autonomously elongated, growing long enough to reach the floor. It crawled sinuously into the bathroom, tore off a towel, soaked it in cold water, and then contracted, pulling the towel back and placing it on her forehead.

If her nervous system were to be damaged by the fever, it wouldn’t be good for it either. With the host unconscious, the parasitic partner diligently and consciously guarded her body.

Cheng Ming slept for a full twenty-five hours.

When she opened her eyes again, it was 7:30 the next morning.

The moment consciousness returned, she sprang up from the bed, grabbing her phone immediately.

Thankfully, she hadn’t been attacked while unconscious, no accidents had occurred over the past day, and she hadn’t even missed today’s work time.

There were only two missed calls from her direct supervisor, Jiang Dexin, placed yesterday afternoon at 3 PM and 5 PM, most likely checking on her condition, which made her heart warm but also tighten.

She quickly slid to the chat box, only to find that Jiang Dexin hadn’t “pestered” her further because someone had replied on her behalf.

“I was afraid she would call the medical team if I didn’t give her feedback, so I took the liberty of replying for you.”

Hearing the explanation near her ear and recalling her last memory before falling unconscious, Cheng Ming paused, then tentatively called out: “Xiao Ming?”

Its response indicated six points of: “…”

Clearly, it wasn’t fond of the name.

Cheng Ming asked, “Did you control my body while I was sleeping?”

【No.】

The answer wasn’t spoken; instead, a strand of hair draped on the phone screen slowly moved, typing two characters into the input box.

Its fungal hyphae had become more agile and capable of more complex operations… Cheng Ming calmly placed her hand on her chest, feeling the strong, powerful beat of her heart, entirely different from before.

Returning to the previous topic, she chuckled softly:

“Ming (溟) means ‘ocean.’ Doesn’t it suit you well?”

The institute and the staff apartments were no more than five kilometers apart, with a shuttle service available.

Cheng Ming lived closer and decided to walk the one kilometer to work, taking advantage of the early hour.

Surrounded by tall buildings, the route was shaded, saving her the need for sunscreen.

Steel and concrete structures rose one after another, connected like high walls, isolating the marine pollution from human society.

This sight was completely normal for Cheng Ming, who had grown up following her scientist parents and joined the institute directly after graduation.

She walked into the institute’s main entrance as usual. The moment she swiped her face ID, her phone suddenly vibrated.

She lit up the screen. Within the internal network’s coverage, she received an unknown notification: “Comrade Cheng Ming, Employee ID 7086, please proceed to North 09902 Conference Room immediately. Door Code: 23454.”

No signature, no further information.

But the location alone suggested something unusual.

The institute building was over three hundred stories high, nearly a kilometer tall—the tallest structure recorded in human history. The North Tower belonged to the Fungus Research Team.

Her workstation was on the 22nd floor. As an assistant, the highest she had ever gone with Jiang Dexin was the 60th floor. Generally, the higher up, the more sensitive the classified information.

The metal door reflected a blurred image of her. Cheng Ming stood by the elevator, gripping her phone, her mind momentarily blank.

—This was a surprise screening by the Security Department.

Why?

Because of Wang Qi’s disappearance?