Chapter 579 - 569: Sound Source Pollution 21

Ultimately, Hugh Finch concluded that the sound was a test for the natives, but it wasn’t the disaster meant for them.

Moira Lynch fell silent upon hearing his answer. "And here I was, thinking you were onto something."

’And that’s it?’

As Moira Lynch saw it, no matter what the disaster was, they just needed to stay alive.

Faced with Moira’s optimism, Hugh Finch couldn’t bring himself to smile. Perhaps because of his Divination Talent, his intuition was far sharper than the average person’s.

And right now, his intuition was telling him that a disaster was stealthily creeping up on them.

Yet, he couldn’t divine what the disaster was. All he could see was a thick, white fog.

It felt as if someone was deliberately hiding the answer.

Seeing Hugh Finch’s solemn expression, Moira Lynch was suddenly reminded of her time in the deserted island survival game.

At first, they hadn’t known what dangers they were about to face either.

But the apocalyptic scenes from the final days of that game were seared into her memory.

Back then, her personal space was still accessible, so she had nothing to fear. But now...

At this thought, Moira Lynch couldn’t help but feel a knot of anxiety tighten in her chest.

"Today is the tenth day. Why don’t we go outside and look for clues," Moira Lynch said.

"If this game is really like the deserted island survival I experienced before, then by the tenth day, the second phase of the disaster has already begun. There must be some omens outside."

At her words, Hugh Finch nodded. "Alright." He then glanced in the direction of the listening device.

Moira Lynch immediately took the hint. "Big brother, it’s so boring staying in the room all day! I want to go out and play."

"More and more people outside are getting noise sickness. It’s too dangerous to go out now," Hugh Finch said disapprovingly.

Moira Lynch let out a disdainful "pfft." "It’s not that dangerous! You’re making a mountain out of a molehill, big brother. Anyway, I wanna go out! I wanna go out! I wanna go out!!"

With that, Moira Lynch plopped down onto the floor and started making a racket like a child throwing a tantrum.

In the end, after Hugh Finch reluctantly gave in, the two left the hotel in their car.

As they drove, Moira Lynch pulled up a map of Portmire on her wrist-mounted screen.

"Let’s start by surveying the area on the map. We can look for useful clues and familiarize ourselves with the routes."

"I just looked it up. The City of Portmire is ancient, so besides the main roads on the map, there are countless smaller, crisscrossing paths. Some are on the map, but others aren’t."

"Okay."

Hugh Finch took the wheel while Moira Lynch sat in the passenger seat, diligently taking notes, recording their route and any out-of-the-way roads they found.

In the past, this would have been easy. She would’ve only needed to extend her spiritual power. Forget just mapping out routes; she could’ve told you how many pups a mouse had birthed in a hole in the most obscure corner of the city.

Unfortunately, now whenever she tried to extend her spiritual power, it felt like a rave with a million people was going on inside her head. She could still pick up on major events, but she simply didn’t have the patience for the finer details.

In order to see more clearly, Moira Lynch rolled down the car window, and a foul odor washed over her.

It was a bit like the smell of a sewer, but also a bit different.

Moira Lynch instinctively wrinkled her nose.

When she tried to pinpoint the source of the stench, the smell suddenly vanished.

She glanced at the pedestrians on the street, but their faces were impassive. They didn’t seem to have smelled it.

"Did you just smell a foul odor?" Moira Lynch turned her head and asked Hugh Finch.

Hugh Finch nodded. "A little. I thought I was just imagining it."

Neither of them dwelled on it, quickly putting the matter out of their minds.

Moira Lynch rolled the window back up.

At that moment, a figure suddenly dashed out in front of their car.

Seeing this, Hugh Finch hurriedly slammed on the brakes.

With a piercing screech of tires, the car skidded to a halt about a foot and a half from the figure.

"Are you okay?"

Hugh Finch asked, checking on Moira Lynch first.

Moira Lynch shook her head, indicating she was fine.

Just then, the car lurched again. It was the person who had run out in front of them.

The man was wearing a blue-and-white hospital gown and his head was wrapped in white gauze, as if he’d just escaped from a hospital.

But that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was that he was now sprawled across the hood of their car.

"Is he... trying to pull a scam?"

While the two were still stunned, the man had already scrambled from the hood to the front windshield, pressing his entire face against the glass.

Moira Lynch finally got a clear look at his face. It was the man from the news—the first person to contract noise sickness, the one whose family had sent him to a psychiatric hospital.

The man was unshaven and scruffy. Crimson blood seeped through the gauze on his head. His eyes were shot with red, and his expression was one of pure madness.

The man roared, his fists relentlessly pounding on the windshield. He stared intently at Moira Lynch inside, looking no different from a rabid animal that had lost all reason.

Although the man wasn’t attacking anyone else, the scene still caused quite a commotion.

Fortunately, the police arrived quickly, and the disturbance didn’t last long.

The man was incredibly strong. It took a great deal of effort for them to subdue him and get him into their vehicle.

As the man was being forced into the police car, Moira Lynch heard the first thing he’d said since this all started. No, it wasn’t a sentence, but a single word.

"Antidote."

His voice was hoarse and the word was muffled, but Moira Lynch still caught it.

After the man was taken away, a police officer came over and knocked on their car window.

"Hello, would you mind coming down to the station with us to give a statement? It won’t take much of your time."

The two of them nodded.

It was every law-abiding citizen’s duty to cooperate with the police.

On the way to the police station, the officer suddenly asked, "By the way, what brand of perfume are you two wearing? It smells really nice."

"Perfume? We’re not wearing any," Moira Lynch said, sniffing the air around her. Of course, she didn’t smell anything.

"Not perfume? Then maybe it’s the smell of your body wash." The police officer looked disappointed. "If it was perfume, I was going to buy a bottle for my girlfriend. That scent is really great, and I’m sure she’d love it."

Hearing the officer’s words, the two exchanged a look. To avoid revealing their identities, they had been using only unscented soaps and shampoos.

"If you really want to buy a gift for your girlfriend, I’d suggest lipstick or something else, not perfume."