Chapter 989
Cui Ming: Incompetent higher-ups, damn it!
"I...I didn't know the situation!" Matsumoto could only offer a forced explanation. "If I had known the monster's corpse was in such a serious state, I definitely wouldn't have said anything!"
"It's not too late to know now." The team member in the driver's seat finally spoke, his tone still icy. "Once we get to the scene, you can 'guide' us on how to handle it. Maybe Mr. Storm One will see your sincere attitude and let you go back sooner."
These words were like a bucket of cold water, instantly extinguishing Matsumoto's last shred of hope. He looked out the window at the approaching coastline, even faintly smelling the familiar stench of decay in the air, and his body began to tremble uncontrollably. He wanted to say something more to beg for mercy, but looking at the indifferent profiles of his teammates, he swallowed the words back—he knew it was useless to say anything now; he couldn't escape this "on-site guidance."
Silence fell again in the carriage, broken only by the sound of wheels rolling over the road. Matsumoto leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes in despair, his mind filled with the image of the enormous monster's corpse on the shallows and the scene of himself being overwhelmed by the stench; even his breathing became heavy.
As the SUV rounded the bend in the coastal highway, Matsumoto vaguely sensed a strange smell entering his nostrils—like moldy fabric in a damp corner, with a hint of rotten seafood. Before he could think further, the moment the car came to a complete stop, a devastating stench suddenly exploded, forcefully filling his nostrils and throat!
The smell was far beyond ordinary stench—it was like dozens of pairs of socks, worn for ten years without washing, soaked in sweat until stiff, and finally suffocated in sealed plastic bags until they were oozing pus and bursting, all crammed in front of him. The fishy smell was mixed with a sour, rotten, sticky feeling, and it was also a bit like spoiled mayonnaise mixed with rust. As soon as he took a breath, Matsumoto's stomach felt like it had been gripped by a hand, and it churned violently.
"Ugh—!" Before he could even cover his mouth, acid reflux spilled from the corner of his lips and dripped down his chin. He staggered as he pushed open the car door, intending to find a place to gag, but the sight before him made his legs go weak—not far away on the shallow beach, the sixty-meter-long monster's corpse lay sprawled on the sand, dark brown slime dripping down the grains of sand, glistening in the sunlight, and blackish-brown putrid fluid oozing from the rupture in its belly. The sea breeze carried the stench like invisible whips, lashing his face again and again.
“Mr. Matsumoto, please.” The EDF team member who had helped him earlier walked over, his tone still indifferent, not even glancing at Matsumoto’s disheveled appearance, simply pointing towards the shallows. The surrounding team members were either busy setting up barriers or adjusting testing equipment, no one giving Matsumoto a second glance—to them, they were already used to the stench, and this expert who only knew how to talk the talk was just a nuisance to “fulfill his promises.”
Matsumoto, leaning against the car door, was retching uncontrollably, his face streaked with tears and snot. He wanted to back away, but his teammates stood behind him, blocking his way. The stench was still seeping into his brain, as if it were turning his insides upside down; he even felt that the smell clung to the strands of his hair, impossible to wash off.
"I...I can't..." Matsumoto waved his hands, his voice trembling with sobs, "This smell is too awful, I can't guide anyone...Please, let me go back!"
No one paid him any attention. The team members in charge of the detection squatted not far away, scanning the monster's corpse with a detector while reporting data to someone on the walkie-talkie; the team members setting up the cordon worked quickly, soon surrounding the shallows, without even glancing at Matsumoto. Matsumoto was like a transparent person, abandoned alone in the center of the stench, only able to watch the monster's corpse, feeling the stench, comparable to "bursting socks," constantly assaulting his senses, making it hard for him to even stand. He suddenly remembered what he had said on TV: "The stench is harmless, just keep it ventilated," but now he only felt a burning pain on his face. This was not "harmless," this was torture that could suffocate a person's soul! He leaned against the railing, his stomach churning again, this time unable to even vomit bile, only an empty, burning sensation remained.
"Mr. Matsumoto, Mr. Storm One is waiting for you at the command tent and needs your 'guidance' on the handling plan." The EDF team member's voice came again, still devoid of any emotion. Matsumoto looked up at the blue command tent not far away, feeling as if that short distance of a few dozen meters was a purgatory road full of "bursting socks," every step was torture.
Outside the makeshift command tent on the shallows, Cui Mingzheng was bending over, inspecting the flamethrower's tubing. He wore a perfectly sealed gas mask, and a slight hissing sound came from the filter canister. His teammates had already set up a firebreak around the monster's corpse. With just one order from him, they could start the incineration process and burn this rotten, seventy-year-old thing to ashes.
Just then, Sawai walked over quickly with his phone in hand, patted Cui Ming on the shoulder with a grim expression: "Old Cui, there's a little problem... The Japanese higher-ups just sent a message saying they want the monster's corpse to be transported to another location before it's disposed of, and they don't want it burned on the spot."
Cui Ming's flamethrower froze in mid-air. He slowly straightened up, and through the transparent window of his gas mask, he could see the helplessness in Ze Jing's eyes. After a few seconds of silence, Cui Ming ripped off his gas mask, his voice filled with barely suppressed anger: "Are they crazy? Wouldn't it be easier to just burn it on the spot? After burning it, just treat it with a purification agent, and all the pollution would be gone. Why do they have to transport it somewhere else? What if the putrid liquid leaks during transport? Who will be responsible if the stench spreads?"
“They’re sick, but there’s nothing we can do.” Zejing rubbed his temples and handed his phone to Cui Ming. “They said there are residential areas nearby and they’re worried that the smoke from the burning will affect the residents. They also said they need to find a ‘professional agency’ to assess the risks and can’t let us ‘handle it on our own’.”
Cui Ming glanced at the text on his phone screen and laughed out loud in anger: "Affecting the public? When the public rushed in and were made to vomit all over the place by the stench, why didn't they say anything? Now that we're trying to solve the problem, they jump out and pretend to be good guys!" He pointed to the monster's corpse not far away, his voice rising a few decibels, "This thing has been rotting for seventy years. Every minute that's delayed increases the risk. What do they know about assessments!"
The team members around him all stopped what they were doing, and no one dared to say a word—everyone knew that Cui Ming was in a fit of anger, and the Japanese high-ranking officials jumping out to obstruct him at this time would only add fuel to the fire. Sawai sighed and said in a low voice, "I argued with them, but they said it was a matter of 'local autonomy' and threatened that if we forcibly burned it, they would not approve the subsequent cleanup funds."
"Funding?" Cui Ming sneered. "They weren't this stingy when they contracted with TPC Armed Forces! Now they're using funding as an excuse? No problem, I'll pay for it myself. Do you really think they can afford to buy weapons with that little bit of money?" (End of Chapter)