I'm a proper student; I only take nine kinds of potions every day.

"Normally, the structure of copper rust shouldn't have this level of hardness, right?"

He grinned and used his back molars to grind at a different angle.

I still can't bite it.

"Damn! Could it be that this thing inherited my current 6.9 physique?"

"My spear cannot pierce my shield?"

After several attempts, Evan had to admit that this piece of his own product was ridiculously hard.

Even in his coppery state, the jaw muscles on both sides of his cheeks started to ache and his teeth roots ached slightly as he bit down.

"Let's hide it first."

He wrapped the piece of patina in an old cotton cloth and stuffed it into the tin biscuit box under the bed, which was locked with a brass lock.

"After all, it's a supernatural condensate. Who knows, it might come in handy someday."

Looking down again, the large wound on his chest had been covered with a dark red scab, and the muscle fibers inside were regrowth.

The tight, welded feeling in my left shoulder has mostly disappeared, and I can now raise my arm without any restriction.

"Then let's catch some rats to make up for it."

After a few days of silence, and with all the old residents in the apartment building gone, a new group of them arrived.

Ivan casually sat down on the old canvas sofa, causing a small cloud of dust to rise from the sofa fabric.

With a casual wave of his hand, the small, bone-spur-shaped thing from his secondary brain emerged from his palm and deftly plunged into a hole in the wall.

In less than ten minutes, the new family had lined up neatly as Ivan's tonics.

The blood of fourteen rats. Plague, rat-bite fever, rabies... all in one spoonful.

[Copper epidemic progress +0.14%.]

After a meal of rat blood, lunch was no longer an option.

Evan carefully took off the suit, folded it neatly by the pleats, and put it in the cleanest compartment of the wardrobe.

Looking back at the wad of cash still tucked in his inner pocket, he decided to keep it with him for now, deal with things in Kaili first, and then deposit it into the bank at some later.

For the remaining two hours, he leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes to rest.

By 3 p.m., the wound on his chest had basically healed and was beginning to shed its scabs, which made him itch so much that he had to scratch it every now and then.

In the meantime, he took the opportunity to activate the second phase of the copper epidemic.

Side effects slightly increased: the area of ​​copper rust increased by 10%; lightning resistance decreased from -20% to -25%.

At the same time, the number of copper-plated areas increased from two to six.

According to the classification of the body by the copper plague, there are a total of twelve parts of the body.

Six locations mean that almost all the vital points can be covered.

After he had basically recovered, he rummaged through the depths of his wardrobe and pulled out the old cotton-padded jacket he had worn for two winters, then put on a thick gray woolen jacket over it. The wool lining of the cuffs was already frayed with loose threads.

He wore coarse cloth work pants with dark patches on the knees, and on his feet, he changed into a pair of old work shoes with worn-out soles and steel plates showing at the toes.

The shoelaces were changed twice, both times using the kind of waxed hemp ropes that were picked up from the docks.

In late November, the wind blowing from the Atlantic Ocean in Bolton was quite fierce.

He wasn't afraid of the cold; he just didn't want to attract attention.

Finally, he pulled the black felt hat over his head and went out the door.

After handing a bag of mice to the wild cat, he headed straight for the dock area.

The docks were still bustling during the day.

Several large, gray-painted cargo ships were docked at the main pier, billowing black smoke from their chimneys, which darkened the already gloomy sky above.

On the pier, dockworkers, some carrying bulging sacks and others pulling carts piled high with tin cans, made way for each other on the narrow wooden planks.

The steam crane creaked and groaned as wooden crates swayed back and forth in mid-air, labeled with "Cuban Sugar," "Brazilian Coffee Beans," and "Canadian Whiskey."

All sorts of shouts, yells, and the foreman's foul language sneered into my ears from all directions.

Ivan stood at the edge of the dock, gazing at the bustling scene, and sighed softly to himself.

Just a few nights ago, he was here carrying sacks of burlap, running as fast as he could for a little money.

Now, he finally has the right to say goodbye to this place completely.

He quickly found the familiar pier belonging to Bryce Transportation Company.

Parker is standing with his hands on his hips, directing the workers to unload the goods.

After not seeing him for a few days, the old foreman with the bulbous nose didn't seem to be fooling around as he had originally feared; he looked quite healthy.

The sea breeze froze his purplish-red nose, causing clear snot to trickle down his beard and tremble.

He would occasionally put the polished briar pipe in his hand back into his mouth for a couple of puffs, exhaling a puff of pale blue smoke.

"Uncle Parker."

Ivan walked over with a smile.

Parker turned his head, only half of his face facing him.

On that half of his face, his eyes widened in surprise.

"You seem to have gotten taller?"

Evan laughed and said, "It's probably because of the soles of the shoes."

He casually changed the subject and then quickly steered the conversation back to the main topic.

"Uncle Parker, do you know where Carey lives?"

Parker's eyes flickered, his pipe paused at the corner of his mouth, and his tone suddenly became wary.

What are you going to do?

Evan's heart skipped a beat; he knew something was amiss, so he lowered his voice and made up an excuse.

“I’ve tried the drug with Carey before.”

"I want to ask him how the drug trial is going over there, and if there are any other avenues."

Upon hearing this, Parker snorted coldly through his nostrils.

"That ungrateful wretch!"

He gestured with his chin toward the distant canal.

"He lives at 1-224 Hain Street. It's a two-story detached house."

After he finished cursing, he added another sentence in a low voice.

"Be careful. This guy's been acting strange lately."

As he spoke, he turned his face completely around.

Only then did Evan see clearly that Parker's face, which had been partially obscured by the light, was covered with a thick layer of gauze from his cheekbone to his jawline, the edges of which were soaked with some kind of yellowish-brown liquid.

“I went to visit him before... thinking I'd see how he was doing lately.”

He chewed on his pipe, muttering indistinctly and awkwardly.

"When he came back, he beat me up like a madman."

When Evan heard this, he almost lost his composure.

This isn't a greeting to Kaili; you're clearly eyeing his widow.

However, he naturally didn't say these words aloud.

As he spoke, his nostrils twitched unconsciously. The heightened sense of smell lingered from the reversal of the shark potion's side effects, and the scent emanating from under the gauze made his brow furrow instantly.

Rotting flesh. Pus. And a faint, indescribable stench.

Evan spoke with a solemn expression.

"Uncle Parker, you need to have your wound treated."

"It has become infected and is now purulent."

Parker sighed helplessly, "I've tried it myself several times. I've been to the pharmacy three times and spent a total of four dollars, but it still doesn't get better."

He waved his hand impatiently and turned to yell at a group of workers who were moving large boxes on the other side of the pier.

"Don't spill it! The people behind will fall!"

His voice was full of energy, and you couldn't tell he was seriously ill at all.

Ivan stood there, watching him slowly walk away in his dusty gray work clothes.

He knew that the infection in Parker's wound was definitely not some ordinary filth. If this continued, he would surely die.

He wanted to lend a hand.

After all, Parker is indeed a good person.

"It's not possible at this stage."

He silently made a decision in his mind.

"Hopefully, once the copper epidemic is complete, it will unlock the ability to directly devour viruses from other people's bodies."

Chapter 87: Killing the Girl in His Arms (4/5)

[Contains special descriptions; proceed with caution if you are eating.]

Following the address Parker gave him, Evan quickly found Carey's house.

It was an old-fashioned detached house standing at the end of Hain Street, almost on the edge of the city.

Judging from the wooden walls with countless layers of paint peeling off and the patterned pillars on the porch, it must be an old self-built house that was built here during the colonial period.

These houses can still be seen quite often in the outskirts of Bolton today.

The neighboring building had half its roof collapsed, with tiles scattered in the overgrown weeds. Further south was an old farmhouse, half of which had been blackened by a fire.