We Are All Microbial Owners, You Want Me to Deliver Food?

On the streets of Jiangcheng in the heavy rain, Lin Yan's electric wheel ran through the water and stopped downstairs three minutes earlier than the navigation expected. There are seventeen unread negative reviews, and the account balance is still short of 2,700 yuan, which is enough to save the money for my adoptive father's targeted lung disease medicine next week. No one knows that this rider with the most complaints on the entire platform is the missing experimental subject No. 0 Of the God-Creation Project - billions of fungi are flowing in his veins, the gluttonous strain can even eat up the attacking mycelium of superpowers, and the ghost spores can make him invisible and disappear in the crowd. Fatal orders from the Holy Light Church were plastered all over the dark web, and the number at the Night Watch headquarters was about to be bombarded. Su Wanqing, wearing a white coat, leaned against the door of the laboratory and watched as he placed the hot milk tea firmly on the table: "Is the takeaway finished? Come here and help me take a look at a sample of the mutant strain." Lin Yan crossed out the timeout warning pop-up window, raised his head and glanced at the people surrounding him. "Go back to the next site. This order is still 50 seconds away from delivery. I will be deducted 3 yuan for overtime. Who among you will compensate me?"