How the Zerg Were Forged #1-100
Author: 政泓
Date: 2026-01-26T06:06:59+00:00

Chapter 1: Prologue

“Today marks a historic turning point in human civilization.”

“At 15:46 today, a NASA-led paleontological excavation team on Mars uncovered a large number of neatly arranged humanoid skeletal fossils in a foundation tunnel of a Martian base.”

“To answer some of our questions, we have invited Professor Hu Gu from the International Aerospace Center, who is remotely directing the excavation work.”

As soon as the host finished speaking, the screen changed. The host’s interface shrank into a small window, and a refined, amiable elderly man in his late fifties appeared before the public.

“Hello, Professor Hu Gu,” the host said.

“Hello, host,” Hu Gu replied.

“Professor Hu Gu, could you tell us about the latest research progress on the humanoid skeletal fossils unearthed on Mars? Right now, the entire world, wherever there is internet, is watching this.”

“Of course.”

Hu Gu nodded slightly and said, “To ensure the integrity of the fossil cluster and to obtain more information in a short time, we have selectively excavated one of the humanoid skeletal fossils.”

“From this, we can conclude that humans are not alone in the universe.”

“Because they are Martians?” the host asked.

Hu Gu shook his head.

“No, the owners of these humanoid skeletons are not native Martian organisms. They come from other planets and belong to an ecosystem outside the Martian ecosystem.”

The host’s eyes widened noticeably, and his breathing and tone became slightly hurried. “Then, may I ask, which planet do these humanoid skeletons come from? And what is the evidence for this conclusion?”

Hu Gu said, “Although there are many types of life on planets, tracing back to their origins reveals that they share the same ancestors in their evolutionary paths. We researchers in ‘Martian Biology’ call this species at the origin of evolution the ‘foundation species.’”

“This… Could you explain it in simpler terms?” the host asked, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Take Earth as an example. The early Earth environment was transformed into an oxygen environment. After that, the mainstream of Earth’s biosphere relies on consuming oxygen to sustain life.”

“The same principle applies to Mars. The mainstream of ancient Martian organisms is ‘exoskeletons,’ where bones encase organs and support skin and muscle tissue. In this system, if there were Martians, they would weigh 1.5 times more than a normal person of the same size. However, these humanoid skeletal fossils are not like that. Their bone structure is more similar to Earth’s organisms.”

“I see.”

The host nodded in a daze, not sure if he understood.

“So, were these Martian fossils intelligent life forms before they died?” the host asked.

“I can confidently answer that question: yes,” Hu Gu replied.

“Each skeleton is neatly arranged, forming a massive square fossil cluster, which is extremely similar to our Earth’s ‘burials.’”

“From this, we speculate that they were intelligent, and not just a little. At least, they were in the Stone Age.”

Suddenly, the host’s expression turned serious. He pressed his earpiece with one hand and paused for a moment before asking, “Professor Hu Gu, a question on the internet just now has instantly surpassed one billion clicks and is still rising rapidly. Could we consult you about this question?”

“Of course,” Hu Gu replied with a smile.

“What do you think about ‘time travel’? Is it possible that these humanoid skeletons are the remains of human ancestors who traveled to Mars?”

Hu Gu chuckled and shook his head.

“No, that’s impossible. I only said they are similar to Earth’s organisms, not identical. The owners of these skeletons and Earth’s organisms are not from the same system.”

As he spoke, a picture appeared in the lower right corner of the screen. The skeleton was quite similar to a human’s, with only a few noticeable differences, the most prominent being a hole in the forehead.

“We can see that there is a hole in the center of the skeleton’s forehead. This is not due to cranial damage. According to our computer’s comparison of the internal cranial structure, the structure of this hole is basically the same as the other two eye sockets. Therefore, we conclude that this hole is an eye socket.”

“In other words, the owner of the skeleton is a humanoid creature with three eyes.”

“As I just said, the ‘foundation species.’ From the birth of Earth’s organisms to the present, no species has ever had three eyes.”

“Additionally, the excavation team on Mars conducted a simple atomic decay cycle measurement. The skeletal fossils have existed for more than two hundred million years. At that time, dinosaurs still ruled the Earth.”

“But these skeletons are too similar to humans. How do you explain that? Isn’t this too incredible?” the host persisted.

“Similar skeletons are not unusual. With careful comparison, it’s easy to see the differences between the two skeletons, apart from the forehead eye socket. Human and chimpanzee skeletons are also quite similar. Does that mean humans and chimpanzees look so similar that they can’t be distinguished?”

Hu Gu hesitated for a moment and added, “Host, I do have some thoughts on ‘time travel.’”

“Please, go ahead.”

The host perked up, his eyes shining.

“Before that, let’s assume that ‘time travel’ is a true proposition.”

“We all know that the universe is vast, extremely vast. The diameter of the observable universe is 93 billion light-years, and our Milky Way is also enormous, with about one hundred billion stars.”

“Then there’s our solar system. If we take Neptune as the boundary, the average radius is more than 30 astronomical units. In other words, if I were the unit of measurement, about 450.4 billion of me could fit inside.”

“Additionally, the positions of celestial bodies are constantly changing. Our mother planet revolves around the sun at a speed of 29.783 kilometers per second every moment.”

“It’s hard to imagine that ‘time travel’ could happen so coincidentally on Earth. Moreover, among all Earth’s organisms, humans were chosen as the subject of time travel. After successfully traveling, they could still maintain basic life activities. It’s too coincidental to be believable.”

“Professor Hu Gu, you… don’t think ‘time travel’ exists, do you?” the host asked.

Hu Gu smiled noncommittally.

“How could that be?”

“In probability, the probability of an event that hasn’t occurred is never zero. Perhaps, one day in the future, there will be someone who, just like in novels, travels through time.”

“What I mean is, if time travel were to happen one day, I would be more inclined to think it’s a man-made event, triggered by the subjective actions of an unknown civilization in the universe, rather than some accident…”

“Professor Hu Gu?”

The sudden change caught the host off guard. After a while, he reacted, ignoring his image, and turned his head to shout, “Call 120!”

Chapter 2: Spore

Who am I?

Where is this?

The moment this lifeform gained consciousness of its “self,” these two questions arose.

The surroundings were dominated by darkness—absolute darkness, without a single trace of light.

The lifeform could sense itself being swept along by unseen forces, moving up or down, forward or backward, left or right. Sometimes it would make a sharp turn, or be flung in an unknown direction by the clash of two opposing forces, with no discernible pattern.

Where am I going?

Another question surfaced in the lifeform’s subconscious.

In this world of absolute darkness, the lifeform was not alone. Many other things existed in the surrounding void.

Though it could not comprehend the concept of “seeing” in this lightless world, the lifeform was still aware of the presence of these objects.

Driven by the chaotic forces, these objects frequently collided with the lifeform before being torn apart again.

The emergence of subconsciousness brought no change to the lifeform. From the moment of its birth, it had been in this dazed, aimless state, and so it remained.

Confusion reigned, as if there were no future, as if this was all the world had to offer.

This continued until the lifeform encountered an unexpected visitor.

This encounter was different from the others. The visitor did not separate after the collision but clung tightly to the lifeform. Even the ever-present forces could not break them apart.

For the first time, the lifeform felt a sense of danger—a warning signal from its subconscious, urging it: Run! Escape!

Not only did its subconscious urge it, but its primal instincts also screamed: Your life is in danger! Act now, or it will be too late!

The lifeform moved. No longer was it being swept along by the chaotic forces; instead, it used them to change its position, as if trying to shake off the creature clinging to it.

But alas, the effort was in vain.

The lifeform could feel the “foreign object” invading its interior.

In that instant, rather than losing something, it felt as if it had gained more. A shackle that had always weighed it down seemed to have been broken.

“No signs of mass replication… Good… It’s a temperate phage…”

The lifeform thought, still shaken, but new questions followed.

“…What is ‘replication’?”

“…What is a ‘temperate phage’?”

The lifeform did not understand why it had expressed these thoughts. It had been purely instinctive.

Unable to make sense of these questions, the lifeform gave up thinking.

After the incident, the lifeform’s behavior changed. No longer did it drift aimlessly at the mercy of the forces; instead, it actively rode the currents, moving without direction.

What was the purpose of this?

The lifeform did not know. It acted on instinct, feeling that this was the right thing to do, though it did not question why.

This change was not limited to its behavior—its perception had also been altered. It could now see its interior clearly, no longer just a single point of awareness in the darkness.

A spherical form, like a water-filled balloon, shifted shape under the forces, only to return to its original form once they subsided.

The soft outer membrane maintained the stability of its interior and preserved its shape amid the chaotic forces.

At its core was a tangled mass, like a ball of noodles, situated at the very center of the lifeform.

This was the lifeform in its entirety.

“Is this… a cell?”

The thought emerged instinctively, followed by confusion.

“What is a ‘cell’?”

Naturally, it had no answers. It was a single-celled organism, and having such awareness was already a biological miracle.

“Survive…”

The lifeform set its goal—the purest instinct driving it forward.

Under this impulse, the tangled core began to loosen.

The lifeform observed as double-helix strands unwound into straight ladders, then split down the middle into two incomplete single strands. Free-floating substances between the core and the membrane were drawn to the broken strands, forming new double helices.

Two cores now existed within the single cell.

The excess core stimulated the membrane, causing it to expand, increasing its volume.

After an unknown period, the lifeform’s instinctive behavior reached its final step—a thin membrane formed between the two cores, and the single cell split into two distinct individuals.

Thus, the self-replication of the single-celled organism was complete.

At the moment of completion, the lifeform experienced a strange sensation—just as when it had encountered the phage. A shackle had been broken, as if a land-bound beast had grown wings and soared into the sky, or a disabled patient had regained mobility—such freedom!

But this feeling did not last.

As the lifeform and its replica were torn apart by the chaotic forces, the sensation vanished. The beast’s wings were broken, and it fell back to the ground. The disabled patient was once again incomplete, unable to move independently.

The shackle was back in place.

“This is terrible…”

The lifeform instinctively despised this feeling. No living thing enjoyed being bound. Having tasted freedom, it could no longer be content with its current state, even though it had existed in this condition since birth.

It instinctively called out to its replica, hoping it would return and restore their “unified” state.

But it was useless. Its call was nothing more than internal bioelectric signals. Isolated from the world, it could not summon the separated replica back.

Would the lifeform give up?

Of course not. Life was free, and life always found a way.

The lifeform began a new attempt.

Chapter 3: Bonding

Division—this was the next course of action for the lifeform after its call went unanswered.

Amidst the surging, tumultuous forces in the darkness, the single cell struggled to stabilize its form, striving to maintain a relatively steady state.

Division began once more.

Repeating the same process, in this timeless darkness, the lifeform’s self-replication quickly reached its final stage.

That sensation of shackles breaking free surged again, and the lifeform could even feel the pitch-black world around it changing.

When the separating outer membrane fully formed, the two single cells began to drift apart, and the shackles reappeared, slowly locking into place.

The ease it had felt was fading, replaced by an indescribable stagnation. The lifeform didn’t want to accept this—it wanted to keep things as they were.

“…Don’t go.”

The lifeform instinctively called out.

There should have been no response, but this world was full of strange and unexpected things.

The offspring, not yet fully separated from the parent, actively bonded with the lifeform. The surging forces, after the offspring adjusted its shape, became the force that bound them together.

“So happy…”

“…What is ‘happy’?”

As always, it was a question it couldn’t answer.

The lifeform shifted its focus back to itself and suddenly realized it could “see” more than before.

At first, it could only “see” a single point through sensation.

Then, after the phage attack, its vision expanded to its entire body.

Now, in this dark world, its vision expanded again—it could see the offspring clinging to it, its entire internal structure.

Yes, this was change, the same kind of change as before.

The lifeform rejoiced, though it didn’t understand why. But its instincts told it to feel this way, so it obeyed.

“Want more… more change…”

This was desire. Unknowingly, the lifeform had learned “desire.”

Driven by this desire, it wanted to continue replicating.

The materials for self-replication were not scarce—there were plenty in the darkness. Every time the forces swept it along, the lifeform would collide with piles of such materials.

With the help of the bonded offspring, the lifeform quickly gathered what it needed.

“More… more…”

Amidst the lifeform’s joyful bioelectric pulses, a new division began.

The cluster of bonded members in the dark world suddenly grew by two. The offspring, under the lifeform’s direction, also began self-replication.

What followed was a doubled sensation of breaking free from “shackles.”

“So many… so wonderful…”

Basking in this all-encompassing upgrade, the breaking of “shackles” brought even more novel sensations. Compared to when it was just a single cell, everything now seemed to be becoming clearer, more orderly.

This was followed by an even greater craving, driving the lifeform to act.

If just four bonded individuals could bring such a profound experience, what would happen if even more replicated individuals clustered together?

The lifeform eagerly began another round of self-replication.

Four became eight, and with this came an endless sense of novelty, the clarity of thought, and countless other indescribable sensations.

These feelings captivated the lifeform, leaving it insatiable.

But unfortunately, these sensations didn’t last long.

A spiraling force swept up the eight clustered cells. The fragile aggregation, already on the verge of collapse, was torn apart.

“No!”

The lifeform resisted, but it was futile. No matter how it altered its shape, it couldn’t defy the surging force in the darkness.

Once again, it was alone, drifting aimlessly.

From heaven to hell.

“…Painful…”

Having experienced the bond of seven offspring, the lifeform now found the solitude of a single existence even more unbearable. It didn’t want to endure this state for even a moment.

Replication continued, and the craving grew stronger than before.

When the new offspring appeared, the lifeform, while reveling in the clarity of thought, belatedly realized that the empty shell of the gentle phage was still firmly attached to its exterior, unlike the other offspring, which had been torn away by the sudden force.

“Why wasn’t it separated?”

With this question in mind, the lifeform began observing the phage’s empty shell.

“Six protein-based, bracket-like tails connected to the cell membrane, forming a whole. This ensures external forces cannot easily separate them.”

“What is ‘protein’?”

“What is a ‘cell membrane’?”

These were answers the lifeform instinctively obtained. It didn’t understand why simply observing could yield such clear answers.

As before, it couldn’t make sense of this.

Giving up on these endless questions, the lifeform focused on gathering materials. Since the problem had been answered, all that remained was action.

The key was the six connecting tails. Thanks to its unique perspective, the lifeform could easily see the molecular structure of those six bracket-like tails.

It placed the gathered materials into the cytoplasm.

The tangled core began partially unwinding, experimenting bit by bit, searching for the hidden phage gene sequence within the genetic chain.

After countless attempts, the lifeform finally found what it was looking for—the genetic blueprint for assembling the phage’s tails.

The gene sequence began to function, capturing the free-floating macromolecules in the cytoplasm to complete itself.

Soon, the macromolecules in the cytoplasm were exhausted, replaced by dozens of protein structures identical to the phage’s tails.

These structures served the same function as the phage’s tails—they could bond with the outer membrane of any cell they touched.

The lifeform, eager to test its creation, transported these protein structures from the cytoplasm to the outer membrane.

The bracket-like protein structures naturally extended through the gaps in the cell membrane, bonding with the outer membrane of the offspring clinging to its parent.

One after another, multiple protein structures formed, making the connection between the two single cells unbreakable. The ever-present surging forces were no longer a threat to separate them—instead, they became a force that propelled them faster.

Chapter 4: Brain

The pressing issue was resolved, and the lifeform began replicating its kind at an exponential rate.

…Two… four… eight… sixteen…

The rapid increase in numbers also unlocked numerous “shackles,” further stimulating the lifeform to replicate and divide even more.

As the number of clustered replicas reached a critical point, the lifeform underwent a fundamental transformation.

“I… I am Hu Gu.”

The lifeform—now Hu Gu—finally had a clear sense of self, completely breaking free from its previous muddled state.

At the same time, it had to accept that it had become a “single-cell organism cluster consciousness.”

“No, perhaps I’m just a being that inherited the memories of a human named Hu Gu…”

Hu Gu didn’t dwell on this for long. After all, “I think, therefore I am.” Only by existing in the present could it ponder such fanciful matters.

For now, there was a far more urgent problem to solve.

The temperate phage had embedded a segment of its genes into the DNA of this single-cell cluster.

A temperate phage was still a phage, not some harmless entity, even if it was temperate.

What was a phage?

It was a virus that specifically infected and attacked bacteria, fungi, algae, actinomycetes, or spirochetes—terrorists of the microbial world.

Unlike virulent phages, temperate phages had a longer reaction cycle.

This was like how poisons could be slow-acting or fast-acting. Slow-acting poisons weren’t non-toxic or non-lethal; they simply had a longer incubation period.

What was even more deadly was that temperate phages would infect the divided replicas as the single cells split. In other words, the entire single-cell cluster that Hu Gu now inhabited had already been infected.

Once the temperate phages entered their final lysis cycle, it would mean the end of the single-cell cluster that Hu Gu depended on.

And without a host, Hu Gu’s fate was self-evident.

So, what should it do?

This question weighed heavily on Hu Gu’s mind, plunging it into deep thought.

Bacteria and viruses were fundamentally the same—lifeforms based on amino acid structures, just with different survival modes…

The gene chain was like a cassette tape in a recorder; only when connected as a whole could it function as intended…

“Though it’s troublesome, this is the only viable solution.”

Emerging from its contemplation, Hu Gu thought of a rather crude method—using DNA “unwinding” to gradually filter out the segment of genes that replicated the phage.

But before that, it needed to do some preparatory work.

First, it had to select an experimental subject. Hu Gu didn’t choose one of the current host cells but instead commanded the outermost replicas to divide and produce an offspring.

After this replica divided, under Hu Gu’s direction, it clung tightly to the clustered single-cell organisms.

The DNA unwinding of this experimental offspring began. Hu Gu observed the process with intense focus, not daring to relax for even a moment, fearing it might miss some crucial detail.

Next was partial transcription. The unwound and transcribed segment started from the gene fragment that replicated the protein structure, gradually expanding outward in both directions.

“Careful… careful… must be more careful…”

Hu Gu repeated this warning to itself. If the transcribed fragment formed a virulent phage, it would be extremely dangerous.

The first replication began. After replicating the protein structure that could serve as a connecting bridge, it was just some useless proteins. Although they formed a connection with the transcribed phage tail, the shape was merely a fuzzy, hollow sphere, completely inconsistent with the phage’s shell.

Hu Gu thus confirmed that one end of the gene chain belonged to the DNA of the single-cell cluster it currently inhabited, focusing its attention even more on the other end.

The second replication began. This time, it did transcribe, but only the phage’s shell, without any of the phage’s genes being replicated.

Hu Gu wasn’t anxious. Conducting experiments required ample patience—a fundamental quality for a researcher. Ten years of persistence was the norm.

The third replication began. The single-stranded gene’s bases spontaneously sought their partners to complete themselves. As amino acids gathered to form proteins, the phage finally took shape.

Three pairs of bracket-like tails and the rocket-shaped protein container connected to them—this was the shell of the temperate phage.

The transcription continued. This time, the amino acids combined in a form entirely different from before, creating single strands that independently completed base pairing and entered the phage shell.

Hu Gu knew it had found the gene segment it had been painstakingly searching for.

But before it could breathe a sigh of relief, the next development made it tense again. Its worst fear had come true.

The single strand that was being replicated didn’t stop transcribing the phage’s genes. The number of phages inside the offspring cell kept increasing. The DNA single strand was completely out of control, doing everything it could to transcribe genes and produce phages.

Clearly, these were virulent phages—the most threatening type to Hu Gu.

Hu Gu could roughly guess what was happening. The phage’s gene replication was still incomplete, and it was precisely this incompleteness that caused the temperate phage to transform into a virulent one.

At this rate, these virulent phages would gradually burst the cell membrane from the inside out, then infect other single-cell organisms, repeating the cycle of “infection-replication-bursting.”

The first to be affected would be the single-cell cluster that Hu Gu inhabited.

Fortunately, Hu Gu had prepared protective measures in case the experiment went wrong.

“Stay away from us.”

Hu Gu issued this command to the offspring that wasn’t connected to the single-cell cluster.

The offspring, now filled with phages, immediately changed its attached state. Riding the surging forces in the darkness, it rapidly distanced itself from Hu Gu and disappeared.

Hu Gu didn’t stay idle either. Taking advantage of those surging forces, it quickly moved in the opposite direction.

After an unknown amount of time and distance, once Hu Gu was certain it was safe, the single-cell cluster finally stopped moving.

The matter was far from over. So far, it had only been gathering information to prepare for the next step.

Hu Gu’s target was now a specific offspring of the single-cell cluster.

Next, it would perform “surgery” to save itself.

Chapter 5: Surgery

First, the unwinding—unraveling the tangled mess of the core.

Soon, the single cell’s DNA strand lay bare before Hu Gu.

Next came the “excision”—cutting out the segment of the gene chain that expressed the phage. This was delicate work, especially for Hu Gu, who currently had no hands or feet.

Carefully controlling the enzyme output, Hu Gu restricted the endonuclease to ensure no damage to other parts of the gene chain. At the same time, by remote command, Hu Gu manipulated the cell, using the flow of cytoplasm to confine the restriction enzyme to the gene fragment that needed to be removed.

This task was like writing with saliva on the surface of water.

“Damn it!”

As frustration surged, the misdirected restriction enzyme sliced through other gene fragments. The cell’s core shrank by nearly half before the enzyme was exhausted.

Then, under the cell’s instinctive secretion of ligase, the scattered gene fragments recombined, forming a complete gene chain once more.

But Hu Gu knew this drastically altered gene chain could no longer replicate the original cell.

Hu Gu selected a new cell from the cluster for another “surgery.”

The previous failure didn’t shake Hu Gu’s confidence. It had never considered itself a genius—if anything, it thought itself a bit duller than average, just with more knowledge from reading.

The surgery began anew.

This time, learning from the last attempt, Hu Gu used the restriction enzymes within the cell more cautiously, drastically reducing their quantity. Most of its attention was on the movement of the cytoplasm.

The flow of cytoplasm guided the restriction enzymes to excise the designated gene fragment, and just as the excision was complete, the enzymes were depleted.

Failure…

Failure…

Failure…

…

Failure…

Success!

“Excellent.”

As Hu Gu had firmly believed, it succeeded. After losing nearly a hundred cells, the phage gene fragment was finally excised.

The next step was ligation, which was simpler. Hu Gu remotely controlled the cell, using the flow of cytoplasm to confine the phage-expressing gene fragment to a specific area.

Then, relying on ligase, the two segments of DNA from the surgery were rejoined into a single, new gene chain.

“Begin division.”

Under Hu Gu’s command, the successfully operated cell began to divide, producing new individuals.

Soon, a new individual appeared in the single-cell cluster, but it presented an unexpected situation.

A “cell wall.”

The replicated cell was encased in an outer shell. Compared to the cell membrane, this shell was sturdier and more elastic, providing ample space for the cell’s growth.

“This…”

“Why?”

Hu Gu pondered, unsure.

“Could it be the result of that incomplete phage gene expression?”

The surgery hadn’t completely removed the phage gene; Hu Gu had only excised the segment known to express the toxic phage.

In any case, an incomplete gene expression would be incomplete—it couldn’t transcribe a phage.

Should it risk another toxic phage outbreak for a perfect excision?

Hu Gu had considered it but decided against it. It wasn’t a perfectionist—no need to take such risks.

But now, this had happened…

A cell wall was necessary because its primary function was to protect the cell.

Simply put, it was like a commoner donning steel armor—defense was incomparable to before.

Originally, Hu Gu had planned to address the cell wall after dealing with the phage, but now…

Hu Gu was torn.

It wasn’t that it disliked this surprise, but this “accidental” cell wall might not meet its requirements.

“Decided. Observe for a while.”

With that resolve, Hu Gu shifted its focus to other cells and began another surgery.

With the first success, the second and third followed. After some time, Hu Gu had honed its skill, stabilizing the success rate of gene excision above eighty percent.

During this process, Hu Gu thought of a way to break the protein structure connections—relying on division. By creating new replicates between two connected cells, the old cells could be pushed out.

This was somewhat like the Ship of Theseus principle—gradually replacing the old cells without disrupting normal thought.

And so, Hu Gu did just that.

As the last infected cell was replaced, the sense of crisis vanished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief. After all, there was nothing left that could threaten it—for now.

Regaining composure, Hu Gu didn’t forget that its current thinking vessel was nothing more than an insignificant cluster of single cells, even lower than the plants at the bottom of the food chain.

Recalling its time as a human, Hu Gu knew there were at least a hundred million ways to annihilate its current single-cell cluster. The thought sent a chill down its spine.

“Too fragile. I need to keep optimizing these cells.”

With a clear goal, Hu Gu began analyzing the unexpected “surprise.” If the cell walls didn’t perform as needed, it would have to perform another surgery—completely removing the phage gene fragment and rebuilding a cell wall that met its requirements.

The first requirement was appropriate permeability. If too permeable, the protective effect would be negligible. If too impermeable, the cell wouldn’t receive enough external substances and would gradually decline.

The second requirement was appropriate flexibility. The cell wall couldn’t be too hard or too soft—it needed some elasticity. Too hard, and it would restrict the cell’s growth. Too soft, and it wouldn’t provide adequate protection. Without elasticity, plasticity would be poor, making it difficult to cluster in this environment.

The third requirement was the most urgent—defense against phages, aggressive bacteria, and fungi lurking in the darkness.

The first two requirements were easy to test—just place a single cell on the outermost layer and observe any changes.

The real challenge was the third.

Chapter 6: Toxic Phage

From the moment Hu Gu regained consciousness, he was at a disadvantage. The single-cell cluster had no “vision,” leaving him completely passive.

Only when foreign cells came into contact with the single-cell cluster could Hu Gu detect their presence.

If he had still been in his human body, even without sight, he could have relied on the neural network in his skin to sense the flow of liquids and judge the presence of objects around him.

But the problem now was that the single-cell cluster he inhabited was far too primitive, making even that impossible.

To defend against external threats, Hu Gu had no choice but to resort to passive defense, and the key to this defense lay in the cell wall.

“The primary attack method of phages is infection, followed by usurpation. They replicate themselves in large numbers within the host cell, and once they reach a certain quantity, they destroy the cell membrane and cell wall from the inside out…”

“So… the key to defending against such enemies lies in disrupting the initial infection stage. If I can interfere with that, those things won’t be able to do anything to me for the time being.”

Thus, a problem presented itself to Hu Gu—how could he disrupt the infection stage of the phages?

The key to defending against phages lay in the cell wall, but this was only a rough idea. The specifics still needed to be worked out.

“The mild phage from before injected its genes directly into the single cell, bypassing the defensive cell membrane…”

“If the cell wall is thick enough, with gaps small enough to only allow small molecular clusters to pass through, then it should serve as an effective defense.”

With a general direction in mind, filling in the details became much faster. Hu Gu didn’t expend much effort before finalizing the design of the cell wall.

Suddenly, Hu Gu thought of something.

“Wait! What if, like some influenza viruses, they intentionally destroy their protein shells to directly deliver gene fragments, bypassing the small molecular gaps in the cell wall…”

“Only a specialized defense can be truly effective. If the cell wall also has to handle filtration, its protective function would be…”

Hu Gu’s attention shifted to the cell membrane.

“Let the cell membrane handle filtration, and the cell wall handle defense.”

“If the cell wall is breached, the cell membrane’s defense won’t be much help. After all, a ‘generalist’ can never match the effectiveness of a ‘specialist.’”

To better compare, Hu Gu unraveled and replicated the gene segment responsible for the phage’s protein shell.

Before long, the empty protein shell of the phage appeared before him.

“This…”

Upon seeing the phage’s protein shell, Hu Gu hesitated.

With a physical comparison, he realized just how small phages were. If the host single cell was a towering skyscraper, then a phage was the size of a person or a pet dog.

This was a far greater discrepancy than he had imagined.

“So… the openings in the cell wall need to be small enough to only allow individual small molecules to pass through if they’re going to block phages?”

Just then, another unexpected visitor encountered the single-cell cluster.

As Hu Gu had feared, the killer of the microbial world was a phage, and this time, fate was not on his side.

After the gene fragments invaded the outermost single cell, the phage immediately claimed sovereignty over the host cell, frantically transcribing its own genes and producing vast numbers of phage genes and protein shells.

Clearly, this was a toxic phage.

“Damn it!”

Hu Gu nearly cursed aloud. The infected single cell was connected to others via protein structures, meaning he couldn’t immediately separate the entire cluster as he had before.

Without further hesitation, Hu Gu commanded the cells to divide, isolating the infected one.

The cells dividing were not those directly connected to the infected cell, but those at the edges of the entire region surrounding it.

This was a precaution. The speed at which the single-cell cluster could separate was the same as the speed at which individual cells could replicate. If the cells couldn’t divide fast enough to outpace the phages breaking out of the host cell, then isolating the connected cells would be meaningless.

If the separation failed, a large portion—or even the entire—single-cell cluster would be infected.

Hu Gu couldn’t afford to take that risk.

Events unfolded just as he had feared—perhaps even worse. The toxic phages had already breached the cell membrane of the host cell and were infecting others at an unimaginable speed.

At this moment, the cell division had only progressed halfway.

Hu Gu’s heart pounded as he focused intently on the dividing cells.

What had once seemed like a decent division speed now felt agonizingly slow.

“Faster… faster… faster…”

His attention darted back and forth between the cells and the phages, and unconsciously, he began muttering urgings to the dividing cells as if in a trance.

Time ticked by, second by second.

Whether it was the effect of his frantic urging or sheer coincidence, the dividing cells completed their separation just in time, casting off the entire infected region into the vast darkness and preventing a second large-scale infection by the toxic phages.

“This can’t happen again. I need to finish adjusting the cell wall as soon as possible.”

After surviving the toxic phage crisis, Hu Gu was shaken but more determined than ever to complete the cell wall that could defend against phages.

After replenishing the missing cells in the cluster, Hu Gu began working on the cell wall.

The thickness of the cell wall wasn’t an issue—repeating the manufacturing process would create a layered effect, increasing its thickness.

The problem now was the cell wall’s permeability. The unexpectedly obtained cell wall had tunnels for material exchange that could accommodate several phages passing through.

Clearly, these tunnels were too large. This cell wall would be useless against phages.

If it were just one, it might be manageable—so long as it didn’t enter the tunnel, it could be defended against. But facing a swarm of phages, it was almost inevitable that some would enter the tunnel.

“I have to find a way to shrink these tunnels.”

Chapter 7: Cornered Beast Bites Back

Hu Gu was in distress. It was currently facing a difficult problem.

The generation of the cell wall stemmed from the DNA blueprint within a single cell. To shrink the tunnel that transported substances, it needed to modify the DNA blueprint.

However, Hu Gu currently lacked the conditions to do such a thing, or rather, it didn’t have enough time. The next wave of phages could arrive at any moment, and it had to complete the cell wall before then.

“Is there no feasible method?”

Hu Gu asked itself, focusing its attention on the cell wall sample and falling into deep thought.

If it wanted to shrink the tunnel, the key to the problem should lie in the tunnel itself…

In its mind, Hu Gu continuously recalled its past as a human, all memories related to ‘pipes’ flashing by like a lantern show.

Suddenly, it thought of something.

“I’ve got it!”

“To reduce the passage, it’s not necessary to modify it entirely. As long as the passage walls are made to curve to a certain degree, a small part of the passage will naturally shrink.”

The cell wall before Hu Gu seemed to gradually disassemble and recombine, and the blueprint in its mind became increasingly clear.

“To make the passage curve, it can be achieved by misaligning the two layers of the cell wall. This way, a part of the passage can be reduced.”

Without delay, Hu Gu immediately began constructing this new type of cell wall.

The single cell with a cell wall, serving as a sample, received Hu Gu’s command and began to unwind and transcribe its own DNA. Hu Gu, on the other hand, focused intently on the remaining genetic chain of the phage.

Soon, a brand-new single cell with a cell wall appeared before Hu Gu. At the same time, Hu Gu also mastered the segment of DNA responsible for generating the cell wall.

Commanding the newly formed single cell to partially unwind, it created another new cell wall.

The substance transport tunnel of this cell wall was slightly misaligned with the original cell wall, just as Hu Gu had planned.

With the previous experience of manipulating enzymes in the cytoplasm, the construction of the cell wall was completed in one go.

Hu Gu looked at the single cell with a double-layered cell wall and felt very satisfied.

The two layers of the cell wall of this single cell were absolutely sufficient to defend against the injections of those phages.

And the tunnel there had been reduced to only allow the passage of a single molecular group. Hu Gu was confident that no phage could invade this single cell through this route.

Everything seemed perfect…

“This way, I can also breathe a little easier… Hmm?”

Just as Hu Gu was about to shift its focus elsewhere, it noticed something unusual.

The double-walled cell, which served as an experimental sample, was gradually losing its original activity.

“This…”

In no time, Hu Gu completely lost control of this double-walled cell, which meant that this double-walled cell had died. The DNA at its core also disintegrated, and the cell membrane completely lost its permeability.

“Why is this happening?”

Toxin? Decomposing enzyme? Antibiotic?…

Hu Gu’s thoughts flashed with countless possibilities, each seemingly matching the current situation, but upon closer inspection, none seemed to fit.

“Calm down, there must be something wrong with the previous operation. Just carefully check one by one…”

Just as Hu Gu was about to investigate the cause of the double-walled cell’s death, a warning bell suddenly rang in its mind.

The entire single-cell cluster was gradually coming into contact with several uninvited guests, and they were the toxic phages that Hu Gu least wanted to see.

“Hiss—more than thirty phages?!”

“No, the number is still increasing!”

With this number of phages, the previous method would definitely not work. And now, the cause of the double-walled cell’s death hadn’t been found yet. Forcing its use would be tantamount to suicide.

At a dead end?

Hu Gu seemed to see the gates of hell slowly opening before it, with endless darkness behind…

“No!”

“This damn gate opens when I say so!”

The approach of death ignited Hu Gu’s fury. A cornered beast bites back, and the entire single-cell cluster seemed to be infected by Hu Gu’s emotions, maintaining a highly excited state.

The excitement of the single-cell cluster, in turn, affected Hu Gu’s cluster consciousness. Hu Gu could truly see the flow of cytoplasm, the division of phages, everything slowing down and becoming extremely clear. It could even see individual molecules in this state.

Not only that, its memories of being human were repeatedly rewinding and fast-forwarding. As long as it wanted, it could immediately recall every detail of that memory, as if divinely aided.

“Opportunity, there’s absolutely an opportunity. It’s just a bunch of phages…”

Like a seasoned hunter crouching in the grass, all memories and knowledge were like animals passing by, unaware of the threat hidden in the grass.

Suddenly, the ‘prey’ appeared.

“…I’m so stupid, I actually overlooked such a trump card.”

As it muttered this, a large number of single cells in the cluster began to spontaneously release a large amount of enzymes. These enzymes included endonucleases, exonucleases, polymerases, ligases, and any other enzymes they could produce.

Through the flow of cytoplasm, all these miscellaneous enzymes were guided to the vicinity of the cell membrane.

After the enzymes reached the cell membrane, the membrane began to gradually thin, but this was of no consequence to Hu Gu now. Eliminating these damn phages was the top priority.

And those parasitic cells that could still be controlled, under Hu Gu’s command, quickly began a suicidal production of a large amount of enzymes, killing the invading phage genes along with themselves.

In the blink of an eye, the number of phages in the process of parasitism rapidly decreased by more than half.

Hu Gu did not relax because of this. It was very clear that the battles in the microscopic world were different from those in the macroscopic world. Quantity often did not play a decisive role.

As long as there was one phage left alive, it could directly threaten the survival of the entire single-cell cluster.

Just as Hu Gu was about to see the victory of this battle, another large wave of phages landed on its single-cell cluster one after another.

“Damn it!”

Hu Gu cursed, commanding the single cells to build a protective layer with their bodies, isolating the vast majority of phages outside.

To maintain the number of cells, Hu Gu simultaneously commanded some single cells to divide. With this maintenance, both sides entered a war of attrition.

Either the number of toxic phages was too large, overwhelming the single-cell cluster led by Hu Gu.

Or the single-cell cluster on Hu Gu’s side would consume this large group of phages.

As the battle dragged on, Hu Gu’s eyes turned red with killing intent. Now, its thoughts were gradually leaning towards a more brutal direction.

Chapter 8: Design

Kill! Wipe them all out! Eradicate them completely! Only by driving them to extinction can we be safe!

Such violent thoughts consumed Hu Gu’s mind, spreading from his consciousness to every single cell. The cells, like soldiers receiving orders, began with Hu Gu directing them to resist using enzymes. Gradually, they evolved to fight autonomously—whenever a phage attempted to parasitize, the cell would immediately sacrifice itself, sealing its cell membrane and taking the phage down with it.

The sudden mutation of the single cells turned the tide of the stalemate. Hu Gu’s cell cluster began to gain the upper hand, pushing back against the corpses of their fallen comrades.

When the last phage perished in a suicidal attack after parasitizing, the desperate battle finally came to an end.

Corpses littered the battlefield. Even in the endless darkness, Hu Gu could roughly reconstruct the scene. The cell cluster had shrunk to one-twentieth of its original size.

Regaining his composure, Hu Gu felt a chill run through him. If he still had a human body, he would have felt as if he had been pulled from icy water.

That battle had been close—if there had been twice as many phages, it would have been over…

“No, I must immediately find out why the double-walled cells died!”

Hu Gu quickly shifted his focus to the completely extinct double-walled cells.

“First, eliminate the impossible factors one by one…”

“It can’t be ‘antibiotics’—while fungi and bacteria can produce them, phages like these viruses can’t. Their structure is too simple. And if the source was the cells themselves, the double-walled cells should have some resistance…”

“Then what could it be?”

Hu Gu found himself back at square one—how did the double-walled cells die?

“First, when they were single-walled, they were fine…”

“Wait, single-walled? That’s it! Single-walled!”

A sudden realization struck Hu Gu. He focused intently on the slightly staggered tunnel between the two walls.

Because of this mutual offset, the tunnel formed a narrow passage in the middle, wider at both ends—a channel for material exchange.

Originally, this was meant to allow the single cells to interact with the outside world—exchanging matter, energy, and information—something essential for all life to sustain itself.

Now, this tunnel was blocked—clogged by small and large molecular clusters.

It was like sealing a person’s nose and mouth. The death of the double-walled cells made perfect sense.

“So, this was a design flaw from the start. But what can I do? Even if I correct the DNA, the blockage problem won’t be solved. If I give up on narrowing the tunnel, then we won’t be able to defend against those damn phages.”

His thoughts led him into a dead end. After some time, Hu Gu’s ideas became a tangled mess, unable to produce a good solution.

“Maybe I should try a different approach…”

Since this path wasn’t working, why not try another? Hu Gu’s mind flashed back to the battle against the phage cluster.

“I am not ‘I,’ but ‘we’…”

“An individual’s abilities are always limited. Maybe I should work toward this direction…”

A rough concept began to take shape in Hu Gu’s mind—multicellular organisms!

“For skin, the outermost layer of cells would work. Make them completely closed cells. For sustaining life, leave that to the inner cells protected by this ‘epidermis.’”

A long, bamboo-like organism appeared in Hu Gu’s vision.

“The inner cells only need to supply nutrients. Defense and attack can be handled by other types of cells.”

“It would be best to have an internal cavity for targeted strikes.”

The long, transparent organism in his thoughts revealed its internal structure. The inner walls of the cavity had the same surface cells as the outer skin. When microorganisms entered the cavity, these inner surface cells would release large amounts of enzymes to break them down into amino acids.

This way, the cavity would become a completely harmless nutrient solution. Although filled with enzymes, as long as the cell walls of the inner surface cells were maintained, keeping both sides in balance, the ‘digestive fluid’ inside the cavity would be harmless.

“With two openings, when the entire cell cluster moves, the flowing water will naturally carry microorganisms into the cavity.”

At this moment, Hu Gu’s thoughts suddenly paused. He realized there was a problem.

How would they absorb the amino acids broken down by the enzymes?

This was a critical issue. If they couldn’t absorb the amino acids from the cavity, all his previous designs would be for nothing.

Was there no solution? Hu Gu fell into deep thought again, recalling his human memories and searching through the biological designs recorded in books.

“What about humans?”

“How do humans absorb nutrients after eating?”

Hu Gu asked himself.

“Stomach mucosa. The stomach mucosa is alkaline and can neutralize stomach acid, so stomach acid doesn’t threaten the stomach itself—unless the mucosa is damaged…”

“I could try to formulate an inhibitor for the ‘digestive fluid’ enzymes. That way, I wouldn’t have to worry about the enzymes breaking down the cavity walls.”

“So, the surface cells of the cavity walls wouldn’t need…”

Hu Gu’s thought abruptly stopped, and he dismissed the idea.

“No, they must still have them. What if the microorganisms infect and parasitize the cavity cells before they’re digested?”

This was a problem that couldn’t be ignored. Hu Gu decided to keep the original cell wall design for the cavity cells.

Next was the design for ‘opening’ and ‘closing’ the mouth.

This wasn’t too difficult. There were ready-made protein structures that could serve as ‘ropes,’ mimicking the ‘tendons’ of multicellular organisms.

Although there were no muscle fibers to assist, this wasn’t a problem. The initial force could be provided by cell division.

The only downside was that it wouldn’t be as fast as the mouth movements of multicellular organisms with muscle fibers.

But Hu Gu wasn’t worried about this flaw. His opponents were microorganisms, so the speed of opening and closing the mouth didn’t matter much.

In fact, as long as he wasn’t fighting multicellular organisms, this design would be invincible. Even against the previous phage swarm, he was confident of crushing them.

The situation was no longer like before—each cell fighting alone, scattered like loose sand. Under this design, the cell cluster would be like a clenched fist, capable of destroying any microorganism that dared to challenge it.

In terms of scale, the microorganisms were doomed from the start.

Chapter 9: Multicellular Organism

In a bubbling, boiling liquid, a cylindrical organism drifted with the current, carried by the flow.

“Good, everyone is holding up well.”

“Now, we will proceed with the first closure. The inner cells, prepare to divide.”

At Hu Gu’s command, the openings at both ends of the drifting cylindrical organism slowly closed, like a multicellular organism shutting its mouth.

“Very good.”

Hu Gu watched the entire process with intense focus. Truthfully, it still felt a bit nervous.

This was the first trial run, and Hu Gu couldn’t guarantee there wouldn’t be any mistakes. Many things could go wrong unexpectedly, just like the double-walled cell incident not long ago.

“Next, we will release enzymes into the cavity.”

Following the command, large quantities of protein-digesting enzymes were produced by the epidermal cells lining the inner cavity and released into the liquid inside.

The microorganisms trapped in this cavity—whether viruses, bacteria, or fungi—were all broken down by the enzymes.

The viruses were the first to be completely dissolved. Their structure was too simple, with only a protein shell. Bacteria and fungi at least had a cell wall.

However, the cell walls of bacteria and fungi couldn’t hold out for long. They were facing a collective monster. For individual microorganisms to resist it was nothing but a pipe dream.

After some time, the microorganisms in the inner cavity were completely broken down by the enzymes. The only thing left in the liquid was amino acids.

The inner cavity walls absorbed, processed, and refined these amino acids, then passed them to the inner cells, which in turn supplied the nutrients to the epidermal cells, the primary defense.

Hu Gu watched the entire process with slight relief. Apart from the initial opening and closing of the mouth requiring its command, everything else was autonomously completed by the cells. This was a significant step forward.

After this, Hu Gu continued with the second and third “feeding” behaviors. The results were similar to the first time—perfectly killing the microorganisms and breaking them down into amino acids for absorption.

“Next, we will create a visual system.”

After confirming that it was temporarily safe from life-threatening situations, Hu Gu prioritized the “visual system.”

Information was always extremely important, no matter the circumstances.

Hu Gu urgently needed to determine its location to formulate a survival strategy.

To have eyes, it needed an “eyespot,” a cellular organelle that could respond to light.

But Hu Gu didn’t currently have such an organelle.

“Eyespot…”

“Since I don’t have one, why not just take it from someone else?”

“Alright, that’s the plan. Capture those microorganisms, analyze their genes, and then integrate them into the existing genes.”

With this in mind, Hu Gu began capturing microorganisms.

The “mouth” of the cylindrical organism slowly opened.

With displacement and the flow of liquid, microorganisms were helplessly sucked into the inner cavity of the cylindrical organism.

As the two connected channels completely closed, large amounts of enzymes were released, just like before, killing large numbers of microorganisms.

However, there was a difference compared to before. After most of the virus-like microorganisms were killed, the enzymes were just about to be consumed.

A mistake?

No, this wasn’t a mistake. Everything was proceeding as Hu Gu had planned.

If there were too many enzymes, the inner cavity would only be left with amino acids. If there were too few, it wouldn’t completely kill the viruses, possibly leading to another phage crisis.

The key was the amount of enzymes—neither too much nor too little. The previous openings and closings weren’t just for observation but also to determine how long viruses could survive in such an enzyme-filled environment.

When the enzymes were completely consumed, the liquid in the inner cavity no longer had the ability to break down proteins.

Protein structures with connecting functions were extended, standing upright in the liquid of the inner cavity. The microorganisms trapped inside and darting around were easily captured by these protein structures.

This way, Hu Gu could directly observe the captured single-celled organisms from its perspective.

“Hmm… this is…”

The single-celled organism, resembling a tadpole, had a relatively thick and very loose outer cell wall, which only served to reduce impact and couldn’t defend against viruses like phages or aggressive bacteria and fungi.

Then there was the cell membrane, which was unremarkable. The composition and structure of cell membranes were basically the same.

Finally, there was the small tail that kept wiggling, also known as a flagellum. This was what surprised Hu Gu the most.

With this sample, it could design an external organ to drive the movement of the entire cluster of single cells, significantly increasing safety.

At least, when encountering danger, it wouldn’t have to worry about escaping.

“Let’s put the flagellum aside for now. The key is to find a single-celled organism with an ‘eyespot’ organelle.”

Hu Gu shifted its attention to another single-celled organism captured by the protein structure.

This time, it was a double-membraned single-celled organism without a cell wall. Compared to the previous one, this single-celled organism was much more fragile.

It didn’t have an external flagellum, but it didn’t disappoint Hu Gu. Inside this cell was an organelle that resembled a mitochondrion.

Mitochondria could be considered the engines of the microscopic world. By combining nutrients and oxygen, or other combinations, they could achieve energy conversion.

For example, converting light energy to kinetic energy, chemical energy to light energy, chemical energy to thermal energy, and so on.

Even if this primitive mitochondrion-like organelle couldn’t meet Hu Gu’s current needs, with this mitochondrion as a template, Hu Gu could design a specialized mitochondrion unique to the cluster of single cells.

“This is indeed good, but let’s put it aside for now. Finding an eyespot organelle is the top priority. Not being able to observe the surroundings is too dangerous.”

The long protein structure swayed in the inner cavity, like a fishing line cast by a master angler.

One by one, single-celled organisms were caught by this line. Among them were various types of organelles, all kinds of strange ones, but none had the ‘eyespot’ organelle Hu Gu was looking for.

Chapter 10: Good and Bad

“Why is this happening? While it’s not necessary for every single-celled organism to have an ‘eyespot’ as a photoreceptor, it’s strange that none of them have it at all…”

Then, Hu Gu noticed that among the single-celled organisms, there were also no chloroplasts or chlorophyll—anything that required ‘light’ to participate in reactions.

“Could it be that I was wrong from the start?”

“Is it possible that the external environment truly has no ‘light,’ so these single-celled organisms never evolved any light-related organelles?”

From the state of the single-celled organisms, Hu Gu deduced this conclusion.

Life and the environment influence each other. If there were no life to begin with, the Earth would gradually become a barren planet.

The surrounding environment also determines the forms life can take, shaping their evolution.

The sun, as a source of energy, is something no organism should overlook. Even if they didn’t initially have light-related organelles, they would find a way to evolve them.

However, Hu Gu wasn’t in a hurry to conclude. After some thought, it decided to continue capturing microorganisms on a large scale a few more times.

“Drawing conclusions like this is too hasty. This is only the first capture. Let’s try a few more times. If there’s still nothing, then it can be confirmed that my current location is either the deep sea where no light reaches or an underground dark lake with no illumination at all.”

It disassembled the cell membranes and cell walls of the dead single-celled organisms with trace enzymes, then extracted their internal organelles and gene fragments, pulling them into the inner cells beneath the surface cells of the cavity, securing them to the inner wall of the cell membrane with connecting proteins.

For a moment, Hu Gu even felt like it had struck it rich overnight.

But then, thinking about the possible existence of multicellular organisms, its excitement quickly cooled.

Hu Gu was well aware that while the current multicellular cluster was invincible against countless microorganisms, it would be as fragile as a newborn baby if faced with a multicellular organism.

The cell walls that could block phages were thinner than paper to macroscopic organisms.

The enzymes that could break down cell walls were harmless to macroscopic organisms.

The sharp teeth and claws of macroscopic organisms that could easily tear apart skin tissue were, to the current single-celled cluster, like nuclear weapons of a superpower to African tribes.

“Not enough… To no longer be threatened by life, there’s still a long way to go.”

Hu Gu reminded itself of its current situation while directing the cells to perform the mouth-opening action.

The gaping maw, which appeared like a black hole to microorganisms, slowly opened. Pushed by the current, Hu Gu’s single-celled cluster advanced, and countless microorganisms, proteins, amino acids, and other substances were unknowingly enveloped into the realm of death.

It used enzymes to kill the now worthless viruses, extended connecting proteins, captured a large number of microorganisms, disassembled them, and carefully extracted their genes and organelles.

With two successful attempts, the third time became more proficient. The frequency of opening and closing the mouth increased, and the coordination between Hu Gu and the cells in the cluster improved, no longer as mechanical as before.

After opening and closing the mouth hundreds of times, the action seemed no different from that of a normal macroscopic organism to Hu Gu.

This was good news, but there was also bad news.

The cause of the problem was the single-celled organism with a suspected mitochondrion that Hu Gu had captured earlier. This single-celled organism was a sulfur bacterium that used sulfur for its life activities.

Sulfur bacteria were not unfamiliar to Hu Gu. It had seen such single-celled organisms under an electron microscope in samples of volcanic rock.

These organisms were generally distributed in waters where sulfur was present, just as their name suggested—they could not live without sulfur.

Even during the human era, sulfur bacteria had not gone extinct. They were mainly concentrated around active volcanoes or hot springs and could survive even in boiling water at one hundred degrees Celsius.

Since such an organism had been captured, it could be inferred that there must be a large, stable sulfur environment nearby.

“I just hope that place isn’t an active volcano.”

Hu Gu felt uneasy. Even if the volcano wasn’t erupting, just emitting thick smoke, the harmful substances mixing with rainwater in the atmosphere would result in either acid rain or alkaline rain. A heavy downpour would instantly change the water environment.

And then there was the lava. Without eyes to observe the surroundings, lava was extremely dangerous to Hu Gu and the single-celled cluster. The molten rock would cause the surrounding liquid to boil, and in such high temperatures, the cells forming a whole would all die within seconds—or rather, be boiled alive.

There was no choice. The current multicellular organism formed by the single cells was too primitive, lacking even a temperature-sensing system. Hu Gu could only indirectly observe the water temperature through changes in the proteins within the cell cluster.

If the sharp teeth and claws of macroscopic organisms were like nuclear weapons of a superpower to the current single-celled cluster, then an active volcano was like the sun. All Hu Gu could do was revere it. If the volcano erupted, with the cluster’s current speed, death was inevitable.

“Only when you lose something do you realize its value…”

Hu Gu desperately missed its former eyes and the international civil aviation aircraft that could reach twice the speed of sound in the human world.

Clearing its mind of distractions, there was no time to waste. The threats lurking in the darkness wouldn’t wait for it to be ready.

Two things could be confirmed for now.

First, from the captured single-celled organisms, it could be confirmed that the surrounding environment was completely dark, so none of the single-celled organisms had evolved any light-related organelles.

Second, there was an unknown area nearby with a high concentration of sulfur.

“Assuming the worst-case scenario, suppose there is an active volcano nearby…”

Hu Gu’s analysis came to an abrupt halt. It wasn’t that it didn’t want to continue, but its thoughts had frozen.

In the face of absolute power, these were just futile struggles.

“…I really need eyes.”

A thought suddenly appeared in Hu Gu’s mind—if it couldn’t find any light-related organelles, why not create a pair of ‘eyes’ independently?

The moment this idea emerged, it spread like wildfire, instantly occupying Hu Gu’s thoughts, impossible to shake off.

“That’s right, I can completely design my own visual system, more refined and high-performing than the ‘eyespots’ of those single-celled organisms.”

“The standard will be human vision.”

Chapter 11: Pupil

To create a visual organ, the first step was to find a method that could interact with light—what was known as a ‘photochemical reaction.’

The difficulty in creating a visual organ lay in the ability to receive light and convert it into comprehensible bioelectrical waves—the retina. The human eye could see the vast world precisely because of this crucial component.

“To engage in photochemical activity, mitochondria must be involved. They allow substances to transition from a ground state to an excited state through ‘photoexcitation,’ then channel these excited substances into the mitochondria for processing. As the substances return from the excited state to the ground state, an electrical signal is generated.”

“Since light exists in varying wavelengths, the number of photons participating in photochemical reactions per unit of time will differ. This difference can be utilized to depict the external world through electrical signals.”

“By rapidly constructing these images, continuity is established—much like the film reels of the eighties and nineties—forming a dynamic visual system.”

As Hu Gu delved deeper into self-exploration, the structure of the visual system in its mind gradually took shape.

Speaking of mitochondria, Hu Gu recalled the single-celled organism it had previously captured, which used sulfur for its life processes.

“That sulfur-processing mitochondrion doesn’t meet my requirements…”

“Even with hypochlorous acid, photolysis would require ultraviolet light…”

“Wouldn’t that mean I’d only be able to see the world in ultraviolet?”

Hu Gu pondered for a moment before concluding, “Adjusting the mitochondria is still necessary.”

Time passed drop by drop. Hu Gu had no idea how much time had elapsed, only that the cell cluster had undergone over four hundred generations of renewal.

During this period, the number of cells had not increased significantly. This was primarily for safety reasons.

Given the potential presence of an active volcano nearby, Hu Gu needed the cell cluster to maintain a basic level of mobility. An excessive number of cells would only be a burden at this time.

Finally, the blueprint for the visual system took shape in Hu Gu’s mind, and the new mitochondria were designed.

These mitochondria primarily processed hydrochloric acid, combining it with carbon dioxide to convert it into hypochlorous acid.

After calming its emotions, Hu Gu’s attention became highly focused.

During this time, it discovered that by concentrating intensely on a single task, it could enter the same state as when battling phages—its thoughts would become exceptionally swift.

Of course, this came at a cost. The cells’ metabolism would accelerate significantly, shortening their average lifespan.

Hu Gu estimated that this was likely due to the accelerated processes of energy release and reception within the cells.

Though it felt reluctant, for the sake of overall safety, Hu Gu had no choice but to proceed.

The cells began to divide. They received instructions that the entire collective needed new members.

The cylindrical organisms drifting in the liquid rhythmically opened and closed their mouths to gather enough material to construct the required visual system.

Over time, a small bulge protruded from the side of the cylindrical organism. Gradually, after some time, that small bulge grew into a thin pillar.

After a while longer, the pillar stopped lengthening and instead grew thicker.

At the very center of this pillar were numerous thin strands composed of cells—these were the ‘fiber optics’ that transmitted the retinal electrical signals.

Surrounding these ‘fiber optics’ were inner cells that supplied nourishment.

Finally, the outermost layer formed a long wall of barrier cells to prevent external viruses from invading.

The pillar was the final preparation. During its growth, Hu Gu also collected enough chlorine to construct this ultraviolet-receiving retina.

The barrier cells at the end of the pillar began to divide, forming a sphere.

Then, within the safe enclosure built by the barrier cells, the inner cells transported the collected chlorine to this sphere.

Lastly, the cells acting as ‘fiber optics’ also divided. Some of the resulting cells transcribed DNA, their cytoplasm became acidic, and an additional mitochondrion capable of synthesizing hypochlorous acid appeared within them.

These were the retinal cells Hu Gu had prepared.

Starting from the end, half of the sphere’s cells gradually became transparent, like crystal-clear glass, to refract the collected light onto the retina.

The barrier cells and inner cells continued their work unchanged; Hu Gu had only adjusted the pigments within their cytoplasm.

At the moment the retina officially began functioning, Hu Gu’s perspective shifted.

It gained an additional viewpoint, and it didn’t feel abrupt at all. Hu Gu sensed no discomfort, as if this perspective had always been innate—it was meant to see the world this way.

Compared to the comprehensive analytical perspective of the entire cell cluster, this new viewpoint was quite limited.

It could only see one hundred and eighty degrees, while the other one hundred and eighty degrees remained invisible.

However, Hu Gu didn’t mind. The issue of limited perspective was easily resolved—it only needed to grow a similar visual system on the other side to achieve a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree, blind-spot-free observation.

Hu Gu began to survey the surrounding environment.

What could it say…

Out of sight, out of mind. But now that it could see, it was startled.

At a distance from Hu Gu, an enormous column of smoke rose from the bottom, drifting straight upward, accompanied by countless bubbles, impurities, and other miscellaneous debris.

Occasionally, Hu Gu could even see a bright glow at the base of the smoke column.

This was an underwater volcano!

While lamenting its accurate guess, Hu Gu also felt a sense of relief.

If it hadn’t created a visual system and had continued drifting in this area with a lucky mindset, who knew when it might have perished in this active volcano.

The omnipresent currents could now be explained. Underwater volcanoes experienced intermittent eruptions, not due to subterranean forces but because the vent became clogged, causing pressure release.

These small waves, after reflecting off the jagged rocks nearby, formed the randomly surging currents.

“Hmm? Something’s not right…”

“Doesn’t this mean that the cells are organisms suited for survival in acidic liquids?!”

Volcanic activity inevitably polluted the water. Judging from the sulfur-based microorganism it had encountered earlier, the liquid in this area should be acidic.

In other words, since the cell cluster could thrive here, it meant they were actually organisms adapted to acidic environments.

At this thought, Hu Gu felt a headache—if it still had a head.

Chapter 12: Flow

This was bad…

The cells’ proteins were formed in an acidic environment. If they transitioned to neutral or alkaline waters, the proteins might denature and lose their original activity.

And it wasn’t just that. There was also the water temperature. Since there was a volcano, the surrounding water should all be hot. Hu Gu couldn’t guarantee that the cells’ proteins, adapted to hot water, would suit normal temperatures.

“Am I stuck here?”

Hu Gu snapped back to reality and used its visual system to examine the volcano again.

When the water came into contact with the scorching lava, it instantly turned to steam and rose to the surface, with the empty space filled by the surrounding water.

This created a current flowing toward the volcano, a kind of underwater “black hole.”

If it weren’t for the towering rocks around, diverting this current…

If it weren’t for the volcano’s intermittent minor eruptions…

Hu Gu estimated that it would already be cooked.

Now, with the visual system, as long as it was careful enough, it could avoid the volcano’s dangers.

“So, should I not leave?”

Hu Gu hesitated, asking itself.

Ignoring the dangers of the volcano, there were still many benefits.

The volcano’s intermittent eruptions drove the currents and made this area extremely nutrient-rich. Amino acids, proteins, nitrogen, phosphorus, potassium, calcium, magnesium—almost anything it wanted was within reach. It was practically a paradise for microorganisms.

Honestly, thinking about this made Hu Gu slightly tempted.

After all, in this acidic water, the only thing that could threaten it was the volcano. Any microorganisms that could adapt to this environment couldn’t pose a threat to it anymore—they were just its food.

“Maybe…”

“Staying for a while and preparing properly before moving is a good option…”

A sudden tremor, as if some massive creature was stirring the water.

“What’s going on?!”

The cell cluster’s nuclei resonated with the tremor—something that had never happened before.

Instinct told Hu Gu that something was about to appear.

There was no time to think. Hu Gu immediately hid in the gap between two boulders.

The tremors grew more violent. From the gap, Hu Gu could see rocks occasionally falling from the top of the boulders.

In the distance, by the faint glow of the volcano, the seafloor seemed covered in a thin, delicate veil, swaying gently with the current.

It was volcanic ash, long settled at the bottom, now stirred up by the tremors.

The tremors continued for a while, growing more intense.

Finally, it seemed to reach a critical point.

A powerful current, far surpassing any before, surged with terrifying force, like the shockwave of a nuclear explosion, sweeping everything in its path.

Wherever it passed, small stones were swept away, large stones overturned, and even boulders trembled.

Now Hu Gu understood why there were no medium or small rocks on the nearby seafloor.

Earlier, it had thought it was the result of years of water erosion. Now it seemed they had simply been thrown far away by this current.

Hu Gu tried to shrink itself as much as possible into the deepest part of the crevice.

But even nestled between the two boulders, Hu Gu could feel an indescribable, terrifying force trying to pull it out.

If it got swept away, it would be over!

Hu Gu reminded itself of this, commanding the cell cluster to change shape, abandoning the original cylindrical form and conforming completely to the crevice, leaving no gaps.

Like the previous tremors, this impact current lasted for a while before subsiding.

After some time, once Hu Gu was sure the previous current wouldn’t erupt again, it cautiously emerged from the crevice, still shaken.

“The eruption came from the volcano. Judging by the surrounding terrain, it probably happens frequently. I was just lucky before, arriving right after an intermittent eruption…”

“This kind of eruption is completely different from the previous intermittent currents. It’s not a pressure release from a blocked volcanic vent but comes from deeper magma surging up…”

Collecting all available information and analyzing the problem was Hu Gu’s usual approach, and it was how it had survived this long.

The next step was to make a choice.

Leave or stay.

So, should it stay?

The moment this option appeared, Hu Gu rejected it.

“No, I must leave. That volcano could erupt at any moment. If something unexpected happens, I won’t have anywhere to run.”

After what had just happened, Hu Gu refused to stay any longer.

It inserted the flagellum DNA into the outermost wall cells, and countless microscopic cilia grew on the exterior of the cylindrical organism.

Just as a ship’s propeller needed an engine to drive it, these flagella also needed an “engine” to slide through the water.

Fortunately, Hu Gu had such an engine—the mitochondrion.

After collecting proteins for a while, it stored them in a new cavity it had created.

To make movement through water easier, Hu Gu reshaped the front and back of the cylindrical organism into cones, with streamlined grooves appearing on the sides.

This reduced the cell cluster’s resistance in the water.

Considering that it might encounter narrow passages while swimming, the eyes that had originally extended from the sides of the cylindrical organism retracted, becoming embedded in the sides.

To ensure a sufficient field of view, Hu Gu added three more eyes—one on the opposite side of the original eye, creating a full 360-degree view.

The other two were placed at the front and back. The large cavity originally used for digesting microorganisms was divided into six smaller cavities. At the junction of these cavities, an eye grew, right at the tip of the front and back cones.

Each time it consumed microorganisms to replenish proteins, it looked like a flower opening its petals.

Since this design was only for dealing with microorganisms, it took on a plant-like appearance. If it encountered macroscopic creatures, Hu Gu would use acid to make them back off.

After redesigning its form, Hu Gu let out a breath, relaxing its highly concentrated mind.

“Good thing I didn’t forget all the physics and chemistry I learned in high school.”

The cell cluster began to operate under its command.

But sometimes, good ideas didn’t always work in practice. With the new design came new problems.

Chapter 13: Propulsion

Hu Gu awkwardly realized that the propulsion generated by the flagella acting as “oars” seemed insufficient to drive the rapidly expanding cell cluster forward.

“Looks like I need to redesign some things.”

Focusing its thoughts, a three-dimensional structure of the cell cluster materialized in Hu Gu’s mind.

So, how should it improve?

“Hmm… The main issue is still propulsion. Maybe I should start there.”

“The propulsion is insufficient mainly because the flagella are too short, which means the sliding water doesn’t generate enough forward force to drive the entire cell cluster at high speeds.”

“So… For the current cell cluster, the flagella can only serve as small engines for adjusting direction, not as the primary source of power.”

The problem now was what kind of main propulsion engine to install in the cell cluster.

An image of the spinal tail used by torpedoes flashed through Hu Gu’s mind—combining with muscles to oscillate water and provide forward thrust.

But Hu Gu dismissed the idea.

A fish’s spinal tail required a spine to function. Redesigning an entire skeletal system would involve too many considerations, such as water pressure and bone weight.

And Hu Gu needed to leave this dangerous volcanic area as soon as possible.

“Let’s put the spinal tail aside for now…”

Hu Gu’s mind quickly scanned through the propulsion systems of marine creatures that had existed in Earth’s history.

Arthropods were out of the question—their mobility was primarily crawling, with the only advantage being amphibious capability. Otherwise, their limitations were too great.

Suddenly, a spark of inspiration struck Hu Gu’s wandering thoughts.

“Right! I can try the jet propulsion method used by mollusks.”

Jet propulsion, as the name suggested, involved drawing in water and then expelling it.

In this process, muscle tissue compressed the water, imparting sufficient kinetic energy. According to Newton’s third law—“The forces between two objects are always equal in magnitude, opposite in direction, and act along the same line”—the reaction force from the expelled water allowed for displacement in the water.

The advantages and disadvantages of this method were clear. The advantage was the ability to reach high speeds in water for short periods, while the disadvantage was the lack of endurance compared to spinal tails.

After all, once the water used as the propulsion medium was exhausted, it would need to stop and replenish.

Without delay, Hu Gu immediately began improving the cell cluster.

Jet propulsion could be divided into three stages: intake, accumulation, and ejection.

As long as these three stages could be completed in one cycle, the jet propulsion engine would be complete.

First, it needed to design a cavity capable of holding liquid.

This cavity couldn’t be too small, as it held the propulsion medium, directly affecting the endurance of the cell cluster’s propulsion.

This wasn’t difficult for Hu Gu, who could manipulate cells. Soon, a new cavity formed at the tail of the cylindrical organism.

Next was the design of the intake. Hu Gu placed these openings at the front, so that the momentum of propulsion could effortlessly draw water into the cavity.

For the intake, Hu Gu used multiple intake valves, controlled by the mitochondria within the cells.

This was to ensure that during the accumulation stage, water wouldn’t flow back out through the intake.

“Next is the accumulation stage…”

With that, Hu Gu focused its attention on individual cells. It needed to create a muscle cell template.

The biggest difference between muscle cells and other cells was that they contracted rapidly and had exceptional fatigue resistance.

However, Hu Gu didn’t intend to replicate the muscle cells from its memory.

The precision and complexity of those muscle cells far exceeded the effort required to create a skeletal system.

In fact, when Hu Gu first encountered muscle cells, it couldn’t help but wonder if life forms were truly natural products. Without external interference, how could such intricate microscopic structures exist?

The precise structure of muscle cells allowed them to correctly receive electrical signals from the brain, contracting at any moment to move the body.

But Hu Gu could bypass this. It could directly command the cells.

“Now that I think about it, I have my own advantages. Maybe I can try combining mitochondria…”

The new type of cell it wanted to create was a simple structure that could simulate muscle cell contraction…

So, how to simulate muscle cells to achieve contraction.

Currently, Hu Gu had two types of mitochondria: one processed sulfur, and the other processed hydrochloric acid to produce hypochlorous acid.

“Let’s follow the muscle cell’s shape, dividing it into multiple regions. The oxygen expelled from the cell will combine with hydrogen to form water. Losing a large amount of oxygen, the muscle cell will inevitably contract. This way…”

The jet propulsion biological engine gradually became refined in Hu Gu’s mind, continuously operating.

Then came the ejection stage. To achieve ejection and sustain it, the ejection valve needed to be small but not too small, otherwise the output power would be insufficient. It also needed a certain degree of elasticity.

Hu Gu continued to use muscle cells, making the output power of the ejection valve controllable.

“Almost forgot about the rudder.”

At high speeds, encountering obstacles was inevitable, so it needed to be able to turn flexibly.

Thus, on both sides of the three-dimensional cell cluster model in Hu Gu’s mind, two pairs of “small fans” appeared. Using fish terminology, these small fans were called “fins.”

By using muscle cells to adjust the angle of the fins, it could achieve rapid ascent, descent, and turning in the water in a short time.

When the last cell fell into place, the designed cell cluster activated this newly formed aquatic engine. As kinetic energy was imparted to the water in the cavity, the long, tubular tail clearly showed a curved arc. From a distance, it looked like a meticulously carved porcelain bottle.

Boom!

Accompanied by a water-mediated sound wave and a swirl of volcanic ash, Hu Gu’s cell cluster vanished from its original position.

“Damn!”

The designed aquatic engine was too effective. The speed the cell cluster had reached completely exceeded Hu Gu’s expectations.

Desperately dodging the jagged volcanic rocks on the seabed, at this moment, it felt as if it were riding a rocket, navigating through an asteroid belt.

Each time, it barely avoided the rocks, and a collision was only a matter of time.

Fortunately, this wasn’t land. Hu Gu had other options.

“Ascend! Ascend!”

Guided by the fins, the cell cluster made an emergency turn, ascending almost vertically.

Behind it, another explosive current surged out, as if bidding a final farewell.

Chapter 14: Journey

As the cell cluster moved farther from the seafloor, the strange rocks surrounding it gradually thinned out, and the water used as a propulsion medium was nearly exhausted.

At this point, it needed to rely on inertia to fill the water storage cavity.

“Open the intake valve… Hmm?!”

Something unexpected happened.

The intake pipe, after absorbing water for a while, suddenly sealed shut, completely blocking the flow of water.

This accident directly caused the jet propulsion to fail, and the cell cluster’s speed gradually slowed.

As the speed decreased, the intake pipe returned to its original separated state.

“Bernoulli’s principle…”

“How could I have forgotten this?”

After observing the entire process of the pipe’s transformation, Hu Gu finally realized the problem.

Bernoulli’s principle is a fundamental law in fluid dynamics that applies only to ideal fluids with negligible viscosity and incompressibility.

That is, the faster the flow, the lower the pressure.

This principle can be easily demonstrated in small experiments. For example, blowing between two sheets of paper causes them to stick together.

The reason they stick together is due to pressure. Blowing air between the sheets reduces the pressure in the middle, causing the sheets to adhere.

The same thing happened inside the intake pipe, except that the reduction in pressure was caused not by airflow but by water flow.

“This intake pipe is useless now…”

To prevent the pipes from sticking together, the pipe walls needed to be thickened to structurally resist the pressure…

“But that would also increase unnecessary weight…”

To ensure speed, efficiently utilizing mass became Hu Gu’s primary concern.

If only there was a pre-existing channel connecting to the outside that could draw water into the cell cluster…

“Wait, isn’t there one right here?”

In his moment of hesitation, Hu Gu’s attention locked onto the digestive cavity connected to the mouth, divided into six small sections.

Hu Gu muttered to himself, a mix of excitement and regret.

“Why didn’t I think of this earlier?”

With the adjustments nearing completion, Hu Gu resealed the cell cluster’s intake pipe and connected the water storage cavity to the digestive cavity instead.

Then, through six small valves, he separated the six small digestive cavities from the large water storage cavity.

Beneath the surface of the digestive cavity, Hu Gu added muscle cells. This allowed the process of squeezing water into the storage cavity.

Once the digestive cavity had completely digested all the microorganisms in the water, it would push the water into the storage cavity to serve as a propulsion medium. Additionally, rapid movement would facilitate quick harvesting of microorganisms.

With the adjustments complete, Hu Gu set off again.

This time, the route was not a vertical ascent but a diagonal glide upward.

Previously, Hu Gu had been forced to ascend vertically to quickly escape the dangerous volcanic area.

In reality, such a vertical ascent was extremely dangerous. One misstep could cause the cell cluster to explode due to the difference in water pressure inside and outside.

As the altitude increased, Hu Gu’s field of vision gradually expanded. The bright spots of underwater electricity and the rising columns of smoke fully revealed just how many active volcanoes lay at the bottom of this watery domain.

“My heavens…”

“The water here must be nearly boiling, around seventy or eighty degrees, right?”

Continuing to ascend, the murkiness of the water gradually obscured Hu Gu’s vision. First, only scattered bright spots were visible, and then, everything went completely dark.

Without the faint glow from the volcanoes, Hu Gu could see nothing.

“Fortunately, I anticipated this possibility early on and made a backup plan.”

Hu Gu silently celebrated his foresight. His perspective changed again, and the entire world seemed divided by crisscrossing fine lines—those were magnetic field lines.

The substance that gave Hu Gu this ability was the tiny amount of magnetite (Fe3O4) hidden within each cell.

However, the situation that followed was completely unexpected.

The magnetic field lines trembled incessantly, gradually changing. Hu Gu watched in disbelief.

There were still crisscrossing magnetic field lines, but their arrangement was entirely different from before.

After a long while, Hu Gu finally managed to say:

“…Where the hell is this place?”

The magnetic field was chaotic. Hu Gu quickly summarized the phenomenon and reached this conclusion, which also meant that magnetic sensing was now useless here.

Hu Gu had been completely confident in the magnetic sensing, as it was based on the simple principle of a compass. At the time, he hadn’t thought to test it.

Thus, it wasn’t until now that he discovered the magnetic field in this place was chaotic.

“This place is still underwater. As long as I keep moving upward, I should be fine… right?”

He said this, but Hu Gu couldn’t shake an inexplicable sense of unease.

Dismissing it as a psychological effect from escaping the volcano, the determined Hu Gu continued his upward glide.

With the digestive cavity serving as a relay, the jet propulsion now had sustained endurance. As long as the microorganisms in the water didn’t run out, ensuring an ample supply of protein and amino acids, the cell cluster could maintain this propulsion method for several days of continuous movement.

He didn’t know how long or how far he had glided upward. Without any reference points or timing devices, many things were impossible for Hu Gu to determine accurately.

At this moment, there was still nothing around, but the changes were becoming increasingly apparent. The near-total darkness had given way to a certain degree of visibility, and Hu Gu could sense changes in the current through his cilia.

The water gradually became neutral, which was a disaster for acidophilic bacteria but posed no problem for Hu Gu. With appropriate adjustments to the cell membrane, he could prevent the membrane from becoming inactive.

“Above must be a very ‘lively’ place. Maybe I should be more careful…”

The higher he glided, the more Hu Gu sensed significant movement. Previously, the water flow had been gentle, almost still, but now it was turbulent and surging.

Relying on the movement of his fins, Hu Gu carefully navigated the currents. No matter what, he was determined to catch a glimpse of what lay above. Risking danger to satisfy his curiosity was his usual approach.

If he hadn’t been an old man when he was human, he would have insisted on boarding a rocket to the Mars base to see those human skeletal remains with his own eyes.

Riding the momentum, adding force to force, as two terrifying waves collided, the cell cluster burst through the water’s surface with a surge of power!

Chapter 15: A Foreign Land

Head so dizzy…

What just happened?

Who am I again?

What was I supposed to be doing?

Hu Gu struggled to recall…

The white-capped waves rolled endlessly across the water’s surface, and the long-necked porcelain bottle-shaped cell clusters tumbled and drifted in the turbulence.

The waves weren’t the cause of Hu Gu’s dizziness—it knew that much.

This groggy state persisted for an unknown length of time before Hu Gu gradually regained normal cognitive function and remembered the situation above the water.

The relentless downpour, the orange-red sky, lightning tearing through the dark clouds, volcanic eruptions spewing crimson flames clashing with the howling winds whipping up towering waves…

These were the scenes Hu Gu had witnessed on the surface.

But the most critical factor was the astronomical concentration of carbon dioxide. Unprepared cells were inundated with CO₂, which combined with water to form carbonic acid, severely disrupting their normal functions.

This was the root cause of Hu Gu’s earlier stupor.

Yet this adventure wasn’t without its rewards. Even a fleeting glance had provided Hu Gu with invaluable information.

The revelation was so staggering that Hu Gu’s thoughts froze for a long moment before snapping back to reality.

“It seems I’m now on an unfamiliar planet.”

In such high concentrations of carbon dioxide, any humans present would suffocate within half an hour.

Hu Gu recalled the volcanoes it had glimpsed.

“The volcanoes around here seem a bit too active. There’s a cluster underwater, and now on the surface, I can see so many active ones.”

“As I rose from the seabed, I didn’t spot any multicellular organisms—not even the simplest algae…”

“Combined with the sky-high CO₂ levels and the orange-red sky, this unfamiliar planet might still be in the early ‘Rain Ocean Period’.”

All these conclusions were based on the assumption that this planet had an environment similar to Earth’s, given that both had oceans of liquid water. There were no other planetary templates to reference.

The Rain Ocean Period was when a planet’s oceans formed. The planet’s internal heat vaporized water trapped in the crust, and gravity bound the steam into dense rain clouds. The water returned to the surface as rain, only to be vaporized again in an endless cycle, turning the entire planet into a vast, boiling cauldron.

If the planet had enough water, this deluge could last for millions of years.

The long-necked porcelain bottle-shaped cell cluster descended, distancing itself from the chaotic surface.

“The Rain Ocean Period… I never thought I’d have the chance to witness such a historic event firsthand.”

After gaining a deeper understanding of its current situation, Hu Gu didn’t feel disheartened by being in a foreign land—in fact, it felt a flicker of excitement.

For an archaeologist, especially one specializing in extraterrestrial life, what could be more thrilling than witnessing a historic event with their own eyes?

It was during the Rain Ocean Period that oceans formed, paving the way for life—at least, that’s how it happened on Earth.

“I’ve made a decision. Let’s start with a small goal—establish a global observation network to monitor every corner of this planet.”

The combination of curiosity and excitement drove Hu Gu to make this ambitious decision. As a human, such a plan would have been nothing more than a pipe dream, given the limitations of individual power.

But now, things were different. Hu Gu was a collective, not a single entity. It had tens of thousands of cells at its command. Though this force might seem insignificant, even ants, given enough time, could move a planet as massive as Earth.

Of course, that would require a path for the ants to transport the planet’s mass.

“But what about the volcanoes?”

Hu Gu thought of the mountains spewing flames. Their presence was due to excessive pressure within the planet, releasing core energy in the form of heat.

Liquid lava at 1,200 degrees Celsius was enough to denature any protein.

“…The global observation network plan can be put on hold. I’ll wait until this planet enters its cooling phase. After all, I can afford to wait.”

During the European Middle Ages, someone posed a question: If a ship’s planks are gradually replaced until none of the original wood remains, is it still the same ship?

This was the famous “Ship of Theseus” paradox.

Now, Hu Gu was that ship. It had obtained the ability that emperors throughout history had craved—immortality.

As long as the number of cells didn’t fall below a certain threshold, it could maintain its current consciousness. As long as there was no shortage of matter or a sudden mass extinction of all its cells, it could live forever.

Suddenly, Hu Gu’s thoughts stirred slightly.

“Where does my power come from?”

It had already figured out that commands were only effective when cells were in direct contact with the collective.

In other words, Hu Gu’s “commands” existed only at the microscopic level—atomic or molecular. Beyond that, the transmission of command information either failed or was delayed.

“So the question is…”

“If the cells remain a whole but aren’t in direct contact, will my commands still work as before?”

Practice was the sole criterion for testing truth—this was Hu Gu’s lifelong creed.

As soon as the doubt arose, Hu Gu began experimenting.

New cells were divided—these were the original, unspecialized single cells.

This time was different. The newborn cells didn’t actively merge with the cell cluster. Instead, their connection relied entirely on three short linking proteins.

“Transcribe the linking proteins. Extend their length.”

Under Hu Gu’s command, the three linking proteins gradually lengthened, and the experimental cell slowly drifted away from the cluster, carried by the current.

After the extension was complete, Hu Gu issued a new command.

“Transcribe DNA. Begin dividing into new individuals.”

If the cell started replicating, it would mean the command was effective.

If not, then the medium for command transmission wasn’t protein.

“Now, let’s see what the result will be…”

Chapter 16: Contemplation

“It doesn’t seem to be protein.”

The cells did not divide into new individuals as Hu Gu had commanded, which meant the answer was the second possibility.

“Since it’s not protein, it probably has nothing to do with amino acids either.”

Amino acids were the smallest units that made up proteins. Countless amino acids formed peptides, and through repeated folding and twisting, these peptides formed the three-dimensional structures of proteins.

So what could it be that allowed him to maintain his current thoughts and human memories?

He had thought protein was the most likely candidate, but now that it had been disproven, Hu Gu’s logic had hit a dead end. He decided to go back and carefully re-examine everything.

“Hmm… Whether it’s the internet, the human brain, or computers, they all share one thing in common: they are built upon a vast number of computational units. This research direction should be correct.”

“My situation should be the same. There must be a vast number of cells serving as the computational foundation, and the connections between them should be universal…”

“In the human brain, connections are built through neural synapses, but that clearly doesn’t apply to my current state. Right now, I’m just a cluster of cells with no physical connections like neural synapses between them. The previous experiment also proved that the connections between cells have nothing to do with proteins.”

The core question Hu Gu was trying to unravel gradually became clearer.

“That’s right—it’s the ‘connection.’ What medium are the cells using to build these connections and form a vast network?”

Hu Gu focused his attention on the entire cell cluster, trying to discover the ‘medium’ between cells through this macroscopic approach.

But still, he found nothing, even though he could now see every cell from the inside out.

“Could it be like the internet, relying on electromagnetic waves to build connections between computational units?”

“Impossible. Although I’m not an expert in computer science, from what little I know, this guess doesn’t hold up.”

The reason was simple: there was too much external interference. The life field constructed by cells was far too weak—so weak that the energy released from chemical reactions in the seawater could disrupt this extremely fragile life field…

Hu Gu’s thoughts suddenly paused. He keenly caught the fleeting spark of insight in his mind.

“…Wait, this seems to make sense.”

“Because external interference is too strong, this connection can only work within the cell. This would also explain why two cells need to be in contact for my commands to take effect.”

The environment inside a cell was very stable. If it were as unstable as the environment outside the cell membrane, the genetic material in the nucleus wouldn’t be able to exist stably. Therefore, the inside of a cell had to be very stable.

In such a stable environment, the life field that was constantly being interfered with could expand and take effect.

Thus, the current life network was formed!

To verify his hypothesis, Hu Gu decided to conduct a new experiment.

The outermost wall cells of the cell cluster began to divide, followed by the inner cells, and then the wall cells again, forming a small cavity.

He filled this cavity with pure water and placed a single cell inside.

This cell had one flagellum, the most primitive cell membrane, and a DNA nucleus. Other than that, it had nothing. Hu Gu had deliberately made it this way to ensure the experiment wouldn’t go wrong.

“Now, follow my command and begin moving in a circular motion around the entire cavity, but don’t touch the inner walls.”

Sure enough, the cell that had been motionless inside the cavity began to sway its flagellum, following Hu Gu’s command. It moved as if it were an extension of his own arm, perfectly tracing the path Hu Gu had imagined in his mind, circling the inner wall of the cavity without touching it even once.

After swimming around like a tadpole for a while, the experimental cell stopped. The flagellum at its tail ceased all movement.

Hu Gu wasn’t surprised by this. The movement of the flagellum required the breakdown of amino acids. The cavity where the experimental cell was located contained only water, so the cell couldn’t obtain any amino acids. Naturally, it had no choice but to stop moving its flagellum, just like a rocket engine running out of fuel.

“So where is the ‘field source’? If it relies on a field, there should be a source that generates the field.”

After some thought, Hu Gu decided to use the process of elimination.

He first eliminated the cell membrane and cytoplasm because he could command the cell to unwind and transcribe DNA, which wasn’t a capability that came from controlling the cell membrane or cytoplasm.

In fact, the answer had been obvious from the beginning. The field source was ‘hidden’ within the tangled double helix of DNA in the nucleus.

“…Am I being too cautious?”

After mocking himself a little, Hu Gu continued to focus his energy on the experimental cell.

Proteins began to squeeze out from the gaps between the wall cells lining the experimental cavity, entering the pure water.

Over time, the water in the cavity became extremely nutrient-rich. The flagellum at the tail of the experimental cell began to move again, circling the inner wall of the cavity.

Considering the potential danger, Hu Gu established a connection between the experimental cavity and the digestive cavity, separating the two with a valve.

Once everything was ready, Hu Gu gave the experimental cell a new command.

“Partially unwind, transcribe the DNA, and create a new individual.”

The experimental cell began to replicate a new individual. Because it was a partial transcription, the time needed to gather materials and replicate the new individual was very short.

Soon, Hu Gu saw the newly born cell.

This new individual also had a flagellum, but perhaps due to the partial DNA transcription, its size was directly reduced to one-twentieth of the original mother cell.

“You, circle the entire cavity without touching the inner walls,” Hu Gu commanded the newly formed cell.

However, this new individual did not follow Hu Gu’s will. Instead, it wandered aimlessly around the cavity, no different from the microorganisms Hu Gu had encountered before.

There could only be one reason for this: the replicated cell did not have a ‘field source’ in its nucleus, so it wouldn’t obey Hu Gu’s commands.

Hu Gu wasn’t surprised. This was within his expectations. The probability of finding the field source in a tangled mess of genetic chains in one try was equivalent to winning a million-dollar lottery on the first ticket.

Similarly, he wasn’t frustrated. What he lacked the least was time.

“It seems this isn’t the right segment of DNA. I need to extend the transcription further forward and expand the copying range.”

After deciding on the next segment of DNA to transcribe, Hu Gu gave the original experimental cell the transcription command.

“Replicate a new individual, partial transcription.”

…

The repetitive experiments continued one after another. The number of replicated cells in the cavity grew from single digits to an uncountable number.

Finally, he found it!

After transcribing DNA countless times, Hu Gu was finally able to control the new individuals replicated by the experimental cell. This meant he had found the mysterious field source.

“How could it be… this kind of substance?!”

Chapter 17: Emerald

At the very beginning of pondering the issue of the “field source,” Hu Gu first thought of the trace amounts of magnetite contained within cells.

Magnetite, commonly known as “lodestone,” constantly emits a magnetic field. Combined with the fact that the amount of this substance in cells is naturally very small, it seemed to align with the previous hypothesis that “life fields are easily interfered with by external factors.”

But the experimental results told Hu Gu that it was wrong!

The true identity of the field source—beryllium-aluminum silicate mineral.

Just hearing the name, many would find it unfamiliar, but if mentioned by its common name, it would be instantly recognizable—“emerald,” the gemstone once used as jewelry by nobles and royalty.

“Why is it this substance? Can this substance even form a ‘field’?”

The situation had suddenly shifted into something Hu Gu couldn’t comprehend. In its memory, emeralds, apart from their ornamental value, seemed utterly useless. It had never heard of them emitting any kind of field.

At this point, Hu Gu realized one thing—its knowledge was no longer sufficient to solve the current problem.

Human energy was ultimately limited, and each field of study was vast and profound. Though it was a professor, its specialized research area was archaeology. Its knowledge of physics and chemistry was only the superficial understanding gained through archaeological work.

“Alright, I’ll set aside this ‘emerald mystery’ for now and tackle the more solvable problems first.”

Hu Gu had originally hoped to identify the substance that allowed it to maintain its consciousness, then understand its principles to achieve cross-cluster networking. That way, by dispersing countless cell clusters across the planet, it would no longer have to worry about sudden geological activity wiping out both itself and its host cell cluster.

“Still, it’s not a big deal. Even if I haven’t found out why that substance produces a ‘field,’ the result is still acceptable. At least I’ve discovered what the medium for cell cluster communication is.”

“With this, I just need to enhance the ‘field’s’ output power to mask the interference and issue commands to distant cells… Hmm?”

Just as Hu Gu was planning its next steps, a crisis that threatened the entire cell cluster suddenly struck.

The first to be affected were the inner wall cells of the digestive cavity and the internal cells near them. They successively entered a state of death.

Attacking microorganisms?

Hu Gu instinctively thought of this.

The reason was simple—it was absolutely confident that no microorganism could breach the completely sealed cell walls of the wall cells. The wall cells relied on protein channels from neighboring internal cells to maintain cellular activity.

This explained why the inner wall cells of the digestive cavity and the connected internal cells were the first to die.

The only place where the entire cell cluster exchanged substances with the outside world was the digestive cavity. The internal cells used the larger gaps between the inner wall cells to absorb amino acids from the digestive cavity, providing sustenance for the entire cell cluster.

However, Hu Gu quickly dismissed this hypothesis.

All microorganisms relied on proteins and amino acids as their basic building blocks. Considering the possible existence of extreme acidophilic bacteria, Hu Gu had initially chosen enzymes as the digestive fluid—a deadly weapon against microorganisms whose life was based on proteins.

The gaps between the inner wall cells were also absolutely impenetrable. That was where the internal cells absorbed proteins and where digestive enzymes were released. The enzyme concentration was highest there in the entire digestive cavity.

Apart from wall cells, which were completely specialized and sealed, no microorganism could withstand the breakdown by digestive enzymes for long.

But if the cause wasn’t microorganisms, then what had led to the death of the inner wall cells and the neighboring internal cells?

Since it had been focused on researching the source of the cell cluster network, Hu Gu only noticed the abnormal state of the cells when they started dying. It didn’t know the specifics of what had happened.

Hu Gu briefly observed the internal cells around the inner wall but couldn’t find the cause.

The exchange of substances between the digestive cavity and the outside world couldn’t be stopped—just as humans needed to breathe, all the cells in the cluster relied on the digestive cavity to collect and integrate “supplies” to maintain their cellular activity.

Immediately, Hu Gu issued a new command to the cell cluster.

“Cell division. Repair the inner cavity wall. Replace the dead cells.”

Consuming a certain amount of protein reserves, the inner wall cells and internal cells took the place of the dead cells, completing the repair of the digestive cavity and continuing the resource collection operation.

However, the same thing happened again soon. The internal cells working through the gaps in the wall cells to collect amino acids and proteins quickly began to lose activity in their cell membranes, repeating the fate of the previous cells. Before long, the internal cells died again, and the connected wall cells, having lost their sustenance, soon followed.

Hu Gu watched the entire process with a cold eye. The death of the cells didn’t panic it. On the contrary, everything that happened was intentional, all to understand the cause of the cells’ deaths.

“External factors caused the ‘denaturation’ of the cell membrane… Hmm, it’s the water.”

The cells of the cluster originally lived in the waters near underwater volcanoes—high-temperature and acidic waters, a paradise for acidophilic bacteria and hell for non-acidophilic ones.

Now, Hu Gu had led the cell cluster away from those waters into a neutral water environment. As acidophilic bacteria, the cell cluster naturally couldn’t tolerate this environment. The cell membranes of the internal cells denatured upon contact with the neutral solution, losing their original activity, which was only to be expected.

Solving this problem was simple. It only required making slight adjustments to the properties of the cell membrane. Whether acidophilic or alkaliphilic bacteria, the cytoplasm inside them was neutral. They relied on the cell membrane to regulate the liquid, allowing them to survive in such extreme environments.

The modification process wasn’t complicated. Thanks to the cells’ inherent ability to self-replicate, Hu Gu quickly obtained a batch of internal cells that could survive in neutral waters.

But the implementation results weren’t as simple as Hu Gu had thought. Under its astonished gaze, the newly constructed inner wall still collapsed as before.

“Why is this happening?”

“I clearly adjusted the mechanism of the cell wall. Why is the protein still denaturing?”

Suddenly, Hu Gu noticed the tiny crystal particles floating in the digestive cavity solution.

“Salt… Wait, could it be?!”

The cell cluster’s 360-degree panoramic vision began to mobilize.

Chapter 18: Salts

The “salts” Hu Gu spoke of were not just the common table salt, sodium chloride, consumed daily by humans, but rather a broad category in the chemical system—“compounds formed by the combination of metal ions or ammonium ions with acid radicals or non-metal ions.”

“Found it!”

After adjusting the glassy substance in its eyes several times, Hu Gu captured the distant pillar of smoke rising from the sea floor, identical to the underwater volcanic smoke it had seen before.

“As expected…”

The slight panic in its heart instantly settled, confirming a certain hypothesis.

Besides the pH of the aqueous solution, another critical factor causing protein denaturation in cell membranes was temperature!

During the Hadean Eon, the planet was a deathly wasteland suitable only for microorganisms, a colossal steaming cauldron.

Why had there been millions of years of torrential rain?

This was the reason—the planet’s core heated the seawater to boiling, and as the steam cooled in the upper atmosphere, it fell back as rain, only to evaporate again.

During this period, the ocean’s temperature constantly remained at the maximum for liquid water—100 degrees! Boiling water!

Life was incredibly resilient. Even in such extreme conditions, life persisted, as evidenced by the cell clusters and the microorganisms they had encountered.

However, while 100-degree heat did not harm these microorganisms, cold could.

The formation of salts was an “exothermic reaction,” but since the water temperature was already at its maximum of 100 degrees, it had no significant effect. The key lay in what followed.

Due to environmental factors, these salts would soon undergo “hydrolysis,” an “endothermic reaction,” absorbing heat from the water during the process.

Thus, in this “steaming pot” world, “low temperatures” were created.

Of course, this “low temperature” was only relative to the surrounding boiling water environment. Microorganisms that had been exposed to 100-degree boiling water since birth would find it difficult to adapt to a “low temperature” environment of 70-80 degrees.

“I knew there was a reason the number of microorganisms collected in the digestive cavity had suddenly decreased…”

Muttering to itself, Hu Gu began adjusting the cell membrane mechanism.

After the adjustments were complete, Hu Gu repaired the inner wall of the digestive cavity once more, observing intently without the slightest relaxation.

If problems still arose, it would mean there were other factors it had overlooked, necessitating another round of cell membrane adjustments.

Fortunately, everything proceeded smoothly. The new internal cells and wall cells functioned normally, and Hu Gu breathed a sigh of relief.

The cell cluster’s eyes gazed at the distant pillar of smoke in the water. Hu Gu knew that it was one of the culprits creating the neutral “low temperature” waters.

Alkaline underwater volcanoes!

It was this type of volcano, along with the acidic volcano from which Hu Gu had set out, that, under the influence of currents, caused the convergence of substances, neutralizing acid and base, and producing salts in this water area capable of altering the temperature of the surrounding waters.

“Ahead lies the alkaline waters.”

Hu Gu could imagine that near that volcano, there must also be an ecosystem of alkali-loving microorganisms.

Should it go?

To be honest, Hu Gu was very curious. As a scholar with a keen interest in biology, having an unknown treasure trove right before its eyes, claiming not to want to explore would be a lie.

Among humans, there were always those willing to risk death for the pursuit of knowledge, and Hu Gu was one of them.

“Better to resolve that matter first.”

Hu Gu decided to postpone exploring the alkaline waters.

While it was true that it dared to risk its life for knowledge, that didn’t mean it would take unnecessary risks when a safer method was available. That wasn’t “fearlessness,” that was “lack of intelligence.”

The cell cluster began rapidly replicating new individuals to expand the entire cluster’s size.

Originally, to ensure mobility, Hu Gu had always deliberately kept the cell cluster’s mass in check. But now, it needed more cells to test its hypothesis.

“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. I understand this principle. I hope the upcoming experiment proceeds smoothly without any hiccups.”

“Experiment to enhance the power of the life field officially begins!”

The cells followed the command, shifting their positions within the cell cluster, making room for the largest cavity to date, with a volume three times that of the water storage cavity.

To extend the cells’ “life field” outward and issue commands to distant individuals of the same kind, there was only one option—increase the output power of the “life field”!

“Let’s see if this works…”

“Internal cells partially unravel, creating new individuals.”

Following the command, the internal cells began releasing enzymes to split.

This division happened rapidly, far exceeding the speed of all previous cell replications. Even the self-replication speed of phages was slightly inferior.

A tiny cell, equivalent to one percent of an internal cell, detached from it.

This cell was extremely small, with a very short genetic chain and a crude structure. Its cell membrane was even thinner than that of the primordial cells, so thin that even aggressive microorganisms weren’t needed—violent ocean currents alone could rupture it.

This was also why its creation was so quick—its structure was too simple.

“New type of cell…”

Hu Gu pondered the use of this cell and made a decision.

“Hmm, let’s call it a ‘sensory cell.’”

The replication of this new type of cell proceeded vigorously within the cell cluster. Before long, the large cavity, three times the size of the water storage cavity, was packed with sensory cells.

Between the sensory cells, Hu Gu used connecting proteins to link them, forming a vast microscopic matrix. Then, a network of internal cells permeated the entire cavity, ensuring the supply to the sensory cells.

To expand the field’s range of influence, the field’s power needed to be increased. And to increase the field’s power, one had to start with the field source.

Although Hu Gu didn’t fully understand the essence of this life field or why the field source was an emerald, this didn’t prevent it from enhancing the field’s power to some extent.

Increasing the number of field sources was an effective way to enhance output power. In other words, as long as the number of controlled cells was sufficient, the range of the life field would expand.

Based on these factors, Hu Gu realized something—if the field source remained unchanged, the contribution of large cells and micro cells to the life field should be equal. Then, producing a large number of ultra-small controlled cells that only possessed a field source would effectively enhance the life field’s power, wouldn’t it?

Chapter 19: Expansion

With the final gap in the cavity filled by sensory cells, the life field expansion organ was complete.

Through the perception of water flow via its lateral fins, Hu Gu could clearly sense the cell cluster gradually sinking. The cause was the newly created life field expansion organ—it was as if a large stone had been added inside the cell cluster.

“I didn’t expect the weight to increase so much. I should proceed to the final step quickly. Hopefully, it works.”

Adjusting the direction of its fins, the descent slowed.

Hu Gu instructed a single cell to be split off within the water storage cavity, then expelled it from the cell cluster along with a compressed jet of water.

At the same time, Hu Gu adjusted the vitreous body of its eyes, locking onto the cell that had been ejected.

“Now, begin gene transcription. Replicate yourself.”

Hu Gu issued the command to the experimental cell outside the cluster, waiting to see if the experiment would succeed.

Under Hu Gu’s intense gaze, a delightful change occurred—the experimental cell did indeed split, and after gathering enough amino acid materials, it began replicating a new individual.

This meant its idea had worked—the enigmatic life field had indeed expanded.

With the results in hand, Hu Gu eagerly issued another command. This time, the target was the entire cell cluster.

The cells divided. Every cell in the cluster split.

The process resembled cellular self-replication—a central axis appeared, acting as a mirror, stretching the cluster in two directions while filling in the missing parts.

In no time, a brand-new replica of the cell cluster was born.

“Excellent!”

Hu Gu gazed satisfactorily at the “mirror image” of the cell cluster. It noticed its field of vision had increased, accompanied by an indescribable sensation.

This feeling was the same “joy” it had experienced when it was still incomplete, piecing itself together cell by cell.

Another shackle binding it had been broken!

“It seems I chose the right path…”

“From now on, you are Cluster Two.”

Hu Gu designated the new cell cluster to distinguish it from the original, which it now called Cluster One.

“Next, testing.”

“Two, move away from One in a straight line. Test the maximum range of the life field. I will continuously send command signals. If you stop receiving them, turn back immediately.”

Following the command, Cluster Two activated its water storage cavity and swiftly increased its distance from Cluster One.

Throughout the process, Cluster One’s visual system remained fixed on it.

When Cluster Two returned, Hu Gu immediately knew the current radius of the life field. This was easy—optical ranging made it simple.

“Fifty meters, with a margin of error of four meters.”

Hu Gu couldn’t help but feel relieved that it had prepared in advance. Otherwise, it would have had to go through extra trouble, like figuring out the exact length of a “meter.”

Whenever it thought about this, Hu Gu couldn’t help but admire the protagonists in web novels who traveled back to the Stone Age. Without any tools, they somehow managed to define the exact length of a “meter.” Hu Gu couldn’t make such precise guesses.

Compared to them, Hu Gu’s method of determining a “meter” was much more complicated. The diameter of a water molecule was 4×10^-10 meters. By aligning a million water molecules in a straight line, it obtained the unit of “one centimeter,” then multiplied that distance by one hundred to arrive at the concept of “one meter.”

“Though it’s much better than the few meters I initially expected, fifty meters is still too short.”

After a while, Cluster Two returned to the starting point. Hu Gu issued another command, similar to the last, but with a slight difference—this time, there was an additional new cluster, Cluster Three.

Cluster Three set off before Cluster Two returned, heading toward the edge of the life field where Cluster Two had reached. Hu Gu’s command was for it to remain at the edge.

This time, Cluster Two passed Cluster Three’s position and ventured even farther.

“Excellent. The relay station experiment is a success.”

Hu Gu knew it had taken another significant step forward. This was a formal transformation—the success of relaying commands meant that with enough cell clusters, it could extend its commands infinitely.

Of course, as the distance increased, there might be delays in command transmission.

“Two, stop at the edge where you can still receive commands.”

Following the order, Cluster Two adjusted the angle of its fins and glided to a stop after some distance.

Next was the final experiment. With the first two experiments succeeding, Hu Gu was confident.

“Transfer!”

“…”

It stood there blankly for a moment, but nothing happened.

“I must be doing it wrong. Let’s try again.”

“I jump!”

“…”

Again, nothing happened.

“Strange. Why can’t I transfer to Clusters Two or Three?”

“Didn’t I already establish a life field network? Theoretically, I should be able to reach Two and Three.”

After some thought, Hu Gu had no choice but to give up. It didn’t even understand the mechanism of the field source, so it had no way to proceed.

“Does this mean I’m stuck in Cluster One forever?”

Hu Gu grumbled in frustration, unable to pinpoint the problem.

The final experiment was about switching hosts, like changing clothes—removing the old and putting on the new. But the problem now was that the old clothes couldn’t be taken off, so the new ones couldn’t be put on.

This experiment had undoubtedly failed.

“If that’s the case, then I can’t let Cluster One take any more risks…”

“Fortunately, this wasn’t a complete waste.”

The clusters’ vision turned toward the nearby plume of smoke rising from the seafloor.

“Two, proceed to the nearby alkaline waters to investigate.”

“Three, advance as a relay station.”

“One, remain here and produce more cell clusters for relaying commands.”

Hu Gu recalled the alkaline waters that had piqued its curiosity. With its current abilities, there was nothing to fear.

Clusters Two and Three swayed through the water toward the alkaline volcanic plume, while Cluster One hurried to produce new clusters.

Chapter 20: Calamity

The exponentially growing cell clusters had quickly reached a considerable number—over four hundred individual units.

Due to their altered appearance, the cell clusters that had entered the sensory region had changed from a long-necked porcelain bottle shape to a gourd shape. Hu Gu straightforwardly called them “Gourds.”

“Gourd Ten, maintain your position as much as possible.”

“Gourd One Hundred Thirty-One, you’ve deviated from your course. Adjust your pitch, move nine meters to the upper right, and return to your designated position as soon as possible.”

“Gourd Three Hundred Sixty-Eight, immediately reduce your speed and maintain formation.”

…

Hu Gu tirelessly emphasized his commands. As the distance for transmitting instructions grew, a not-so-obvious problem became apparent.

Although he could use relay methods to transmit commands farther, the instructions relayed this way had a delay. The farthest and smallest individuals always took a while to receive the commands he issued.

For this reason, Hu Gu had to periodically correct the position of certain Gourds to maintain the overall formation. In this complex and ever-changing environment, the delay issue was quite troublesome.

Currently, Hu Gu didn’t have a good solution to this problem. After all, he still didn’t understand the core secret that had caused his current state, so he couldn’t talk about utilizing it more efficiently.

“Not enough numbers…”

“Am I being too reckless?”

Squeezing out a bit of thinking capacity from the complex command work, Hu Gu thought this way. Although the delay problem didn’t have a good solution for the time being, as long as the numbers were large enough and the coverage area was wide enough, the overall formation’s fault tolerance would increase, and the problems caused by command delays could be covered up.

Hu Gu began to consider whether to slow down the progress of exploring the alkaline waters and instead expand the Gourd group’s water coverage area.

At this moment, hundreds of eyes, always vigilant for environmental changes, keenly captured the subtle anomalies appearing in the nearby waters.

At a glance, a “white line” appeared at the farthest end of the Gourd group’s vision, like something resembling the horizon.

Hu Gu immediately used the Gourd closest to that “white line” in the formation to observe.

The visual system, upon receiving Hu Gu’s command, immediately adjusted the convexity of the vitreous body. The eyes turned, tightly locking onto the distant “white line.”

Under the magnification of the vitreous body, the “white line” turned into a “fence,” as if built from cotton, existing only in fairy tales, swaying gently in the breeze of a rural path.

Then, Hu Gu noticed the abnormal condition of the entire Gourd group. The cell membranes, cytoplasm, organelles, and even the cell walls were all undergoing subtle vibrations.

“That can’t be…”

An extremely ominous premonition enveloped his heart like a sudden enlightenment. A rather terrible hypothesis surfaced in Hu Gu’s thoughts, making him feel a chill.

“Clusters Eight to Five, be alert! A strong current is coming! Flowing to the left rear, adjust your course, fully extend your fins, and prepare to buffer!”

Soon after the command was issued, the entire Gourd group followed the instructions and made corresponding changes.

Perhaps sensing Hu Gu’s anxiety or foreseeing the impending crisis through Hu Gu himself, the survival instinct provided help. The Gourd group’s emergency adjustment was just barely completed before the foreseeable disaster arrived.

However, this was not something to celebrate. It was just a small psychological comfort after a streak of bad luck.

Not much time had passed. Soon after the Gourd group completed the emergency adjustment, the danger that had chilled Hu Gu to the bone had already crossed the horizon and arrived nearby.

At this point, it was no longer a “fence” but a “wall.”

Time seemed to have been pressed into slow motion. When Hu Gu was still human, he had heard people say that when nearing death, thoughts accelerate, and subjectively, the sense of time slows down. At least, that’s how it was for humans.

Gazing at that wall not far away, one could deeply appreciate the meaning of the word “insignificance.” It stretched upward to the sea surface, and looking to the left, it extended to the limit of the vitreous body’s convexity at the edge of vision, still not seeing the end of the wall. Looking to the right was the same.

As if standing at the end of the world, facing the barrier at the edge of the world—this was Hu Gu’s most intuitive feeling about what he saw at this moment.

Through the surging white waves on the white wall and considering the liquid environment of the ocean, it was easy to judge the true nature of this magnificent giant wall—a massive tsunami.

Somewhere in this sea, an unknown explosion point had released an enormous amount of kinetic energy in one go, radiating in the form of “waves” in the liquid environment of the ocean, which was the massive tsunami the Gourd group now faced.

The sweeping white wall arrived in an instant, directly engulfing the entire ant-like Gourd group and continuing to rush toward the distance.

“Steady! Must stay steady!”

Hu Gu knew this was a futile shout. In the face of such immense power, their cluster was nothing but a negligible joke. The fins’ diversion had its limits.

But some things, even if known to be futile, must be done. At times like these, even a little miracle was infinitely better than no miracle at all.

After being engulfed by the tsunami, the surrounding scenery turned into fleeting shadows. This was mainly because the Gourds, serving as the carriers of the eyes, were constantly being tossed and rolled by the turbulent currents of the tsunami.

Currently, the only thing that could still function well was the internal vision of the Gourds. After being swept up by the surging waves, the number of Gourds had dropped from four hundred back to double digits. They weren’t dead but had been thrown far away, losing contact.

And this was not the end. Misfortune never comes alone; sometimes, when luck turns bad, even drinking cold water can get a tooth stuck.

Something moved at an extremely fast speed past one of the remaining Gourds, leaving a gash about one-third the length of the Gourd itself.

“What the hell?!”

Hu Gu was horrified. He wanted to know what it was, but he was powerless. The vision, as a means of external detection, was now no different from a decorative display.

Once again, he felt that deep sense of powerlessness.

The same situation continued. The first Gourd that had been slashed with a one-third-length gash was actually the least damaged in the entire cluster.

The Gourd group suffered more from perforating injuries. Dozens of Gourds were riddled with holes by those objects, and the Gourd that Hu Gu inhabited was no exception.

The wall cells’ defenses were breached, and a large number of aggressive microorganisms launched an attack on the current top predator in this water area.

The situation was deteriorating further.

Chapter 21: Reflection

Hu Gu had no idea how long he had been swept up in that violent surge. Without any means to measure time, he could only rely on his subjective perception, and it felt like an eternity had passed.

During that time, the gourd-like organisms in the cluster were torn apart by the churning currents, their wounds expanding until they were shredded like scraps of paper.

Hu Gu could do nothing to stop it. He was barely holding himself together—his original host gourd had been ripped apart along its wounds, reduced to twenty-one uneven chunks of flesh.

When the surge finally subsided and Hu Gu regained his senses, he found himself back in the same destitute state he had started in—completely stripped of everything in every sense of the word.

“Too close… If I had been just a little slower… my normal logic and thought processes would have been compromised…”

At that moment, Hu Gu didn’t feel much fear about what he had just endured. Maintaining even the most basic thought processes was already a struggle for him.

Layer upon layer of mental restraints had dulled his reactions.

His top priority now was to recover as quickly as possible.

“…Must… reproduce… quickly…”

The internal cells, receiving the command, immediately began collecting amino acids and proteins, expanding their numbers. The recovery process was in full swing.

Of course, it wasn’t smooth sailing. When the number of internal cells had grown to four times the volume of the original fragments, new uninvited guests arrived.

They were a group of spindle-shaped microbes, their tails flicking with flagella. Through the eyespots in their cells, they locked onto their target and charged straight at the expanding cluster of internal cells.

These microbes had a sharp spike at their heads, which they used as a weapon to dominate this aquatic environment, securing their place at the top of the food chain.

The spikes easily pierced through the cell membranes of the internal cells. The microbes then agitated their own cytoplasm, injecting proteolytic enzymes through the tiny channels in their spikes into the internal cells.

Once injected, the internal cells immediately withered, losing all vitality and breaking down into large protein structures.

Without eyes, Hu Gu only noticed these intruders when the outermost layer of internal cells had already been completely killed off.

The microbes, still unsatisfied, prepared to attack the nearby internal cells.

“You’re asking for death!”

After years of studying cellular control, Hu Gu had developed his own systematic method of manipulation. He was no longer the same as when he had first begun working with cells.

While the microbes were busy attacking, Hu Gu issued a ‘reproduce’ command to the internal cells on the other side, untouched by the assault.

The shape of the internal cell cluster began to change. The attacked section gradually caved inward, while the unattacked sections bulged outward under the reproduction command, slowly forming a cavity that enclosed the microbes.

“Release proteolytic enzymes.”

The moment the command was given, the internal cells facing the cavity adjusted their cell membranes, releasing a large amount of proteolytic enzymes. Soon, the enzymes filled the entire cavity.

Only then did the microbes realize something was wrong. They tried to escape.

One by one, the agile microbes flicked their flagella, swimming aimlessly in areas of low enzyme concentration, as if searching for an escape route or trying to avoid the enzymes’ damage.

But it was all in vain. The cavity was completely sealed. From the moment it formed, their fate had been sealed.

Along with the microbes, the internal cells lining the cavity walls also perished. Sacrificing a portion of internal cells, Hu Gu gained a large amount of various proteins and amino acids.

As time passed, the necessary biological materials were finally collected.

The first to be restored was the mouth, followed by the jet propulsion organ.

With these two components working together, Hu Gu’s ability to collect biological materials improved significantly.

However, Hu Gu didn’t dare to move at full speed. Without eyes, it was like driving on a road blindfolded. If it weren’t for the fact that he knew he was in the open ocean with almost no obstacles, he wouldn’t have dared to do so.

Once enough materials were collected, the eyes used to observe the outside were restored, followed by the recovery of the sensory cavity.

The entire process didn’t take long. Hu Gu was simply retracing his previous steps, skipping the arduous trial-and-error phase.

After fully recovering to his peak state, while replicating other gourd organisms, Hu Gu also focused on another task—summarizing and reflecting.

Hu Gu had never feared failure. As long as there was a chance to start over, failure was actually helpful. It was this mindset that had made him a respected figure in the field of archaeology when he was still human.

“First, reflection.”

“Too fragile. The defensive capabilities of the wall cells are truly too fragile…”

“While they can provide strong defense against microorganisms, that’s only on a microscopic level. At the end of the day, they’re just a thin layer of cells. On a macroscopic scale, they’re probably even more fragile than tofu pudding.”

“And then there’s the jet propulsion organ. While it has good burst power, its endurance is lacking. This time, when faced with that surge, I didn’t choose to flee but instead prepared a defensive formation because the endurance isn’t up to par. With the current mobility, there’s no way to escape.”

Hu Gu thought back to the surge he had faced earlier, filled with regret. If he had taken the time to design a more efficient propulsion method, he wouldn’t have ended up in such a dangerous situation.

“Next is the subconscious ‘complacency.’ Even though I know I’m as fragile as a baby on a macroscopic scale, I subconsciously ignored threats from that level because I thought there were no multicellular organisms in the Hadean Eon…”

In Hu Gu’s mind, images flashed of the gourds being pierced by unknown objects, and he once again recalled the terrifying surge. This time, he felt fear.

“This won’t do. There absolutely cannot be a next time. I was lucky to survive this time, but who knows about the next? Even if there’s another stroke of luck next time, the time after that is uncertain.”

“Finally, the summary…”

Here, Hu Gu paused, lost in thought.

“I’ve been deceived from the very beginning…”

“I was already above those microorganisms, a macroscopic organism. Whether as a human or in my current form, it’s more accurate to say that it’s only natural for a thinking being like me to defeat mindless microorganisms. There’s nothing to be proud of.”

“Microorganisms were never my greatest threat…”

“My true opponent should be… this world, this era…”

“This planet still in the Hadean Eon!”

Chapter 22: The Island

After adjusting to the new adversary, the design of the new macroscopic organism was also accelerated. At the same time, Hu Gu finally had the leisure to observe the surrounding environment.

This was an alkaline water region, the most compelling evidence being the excessively high concentration of free metal compounds in the aqueous solution.

For acidic water organisms, this place was a death zone—entering meant certain death. Their life mechanisms, which could withstand strong acids, were powerless against the corrosion of strong alkalis.

However, for the gourd cluster with Hu Gu’s supermind, this was not a difficult matter. By adjusting the osmotic pressure inside and outside the cell membrane and the screening mechanism, the gourd cluster transformed from acidophilic to alkaliphilic organisms.

Nearby, there were three volcanoes—two underwater and one above the surface. The cooling lava had formed a volcanic island that was still releasing gray smoke and dust into the atmosphere.

The entire island appeared black, and in the cracks of the rocks, one could faintly see a blood-like crimson. Rain falling on it produced wisps of pale green smoke, making it look as if it had just been pulled from a fire.

“Land from the Hadean Eon…”

A sudden thought flashed through his mind, recalling the super tidal wave that had once swept across the entire sea. Then, his attention focused on the volcanic island before him.

“Isn’t this a perfect ‘shelter’?”

Eagerly, Hu Gu gazed at the distant lava island and issued commands to the gourd cluster.

As before, to ensure safety during exploration, they formed a long, narrow formation.

With previous experience, the time to deploy the formation was significantly reduced. The delay adjustments had become second nature to Hu Gu.

As they approached the shore, the water temperature rose. Hu Gu could see the volcanic island submerged in water, with the elliptical or pillow-like shapes formed by the cooling of scorching lava—also known as pillow lava.

This part was mainly at the very bottom of the volcanic island, while the middle section consisted of columnar joints. Due to the rapid cooling and contraction of the lava, vertical cooling surfaces often formed cracks, parallel to each other, resulting in these pentagonal or hexagonal long stone pillars.

Moreover, as they got closer to the volcanic island, the interference from the waves became more pronounced. Combined with the command delay, the difficulty of operating the foremost gourd individuals skyrocketed for Hu Gu.

Fortunately, the solution was not elusive. The width of the gourd cluster’s exploration formation increased, raising the fault tolerance.

After much effort, the gourd cluster finally made close contact with the volcanic island.

The first batch of gourds rode the waves as the first animals to set foot on the land of this planet.

However, the good news did not last. All the gourd individuals that climbed onto the land perished.

Hu Gu did not have much emotional fluctuation about this, as these gourd individuals were meant to die. Everything was for understanding the dangers that existed on the sea surface.

The causes of death for these gourd individuals were varied.

Some died due to atmospheric composition. The atmosphere was not just filled with an explosively high concentration of carbon dioxide but also excessive methane, sulfur dioxide, and other elements.

Without preparation, these elements were absorbed by the gourds, affecting their internal material circulation. Combined with the difference in pressure between water and air, this ultimately led to death.

Others died from external injuries. In the Hadean Eon, there was no such thing as fine sand—everywhere was rocks. The shore was dominated by angular stones. Most gourds washed ashore were scratched with large gashes. Without external limbs like feet to return to the sea, the entire cell died from dehydration.

A very small portion of gourds barely adapted to the unfamiliar atmospheric environment and were not destroyed by the stones or had minimal damage to their wall cells. However, they still did not survive.

The reason lay in the microbial communities living on the island. Long before the gourd cluster arrived, this island had its ‘natives.’ They were washed ashore by the waves, occupying the volcanic island earlier than Hu Gu.

Unlike the ocean, the land had almost no organic macromolecules such as amino acids, proteins, or phospholipid groups. Hu Gu used the previous method to kill the invading microorganisms in the gourds, but the stored organic materials were quickly depleted. After all, maintaining the life activities of the cells themselves also relied on these organic materials.

Thus, the last survivors among this batch of gourds died of starvation.

“Stones… Could it be that…”

Hu Gu suddenly realized that the second cause of death was similar to the mysterious attacks they had encountered during the previous tidal wave.

In the Hadean Eon, there should not be macroscopic large organisms other than microorganisms. In other words, the unidentified objects that pierced the gourd cluster should be inanimate.

This made it easy to understand. The super tidal wave carried not only the gourd cluster but also those stones, tumbling together in the waves.

Imagine putting small stones and water balloons into a side-loading washing machine. The small stones, given kinetic energy by the washing machine, would not be gentle with the water balloons that burst upon impact. Thus, the tragedy in the waves at that time was created.

“So, to avoid encountering that kind of danger again, a safe harbor is necessary. A stable environment is the only way to ensure survival.”

This was a compromise. Establishing a base on an active volcanic island undoubtedly carried significant risks. However, before designing a biological engine that could give the gourds higher speed, this was undoubtedly the best option.

Moreover, after the Hadean Eon, advancing onto land was Hu Gu’s goal. Why not start now and accumulate more experience for future plans?

“The gourd’s structure is indeed very useful in a liquid environment, but on land…”

Without the support of water buoyancy, the effect of gravity became prominent. The physiological structure determined that the gourd was not suitable for movement on land.

Various arms and legs of organisms flashed through Hu Gu’s mind but were immediately rejected. The reason was simple: too energy-consuming. Collecting those proteins and amino acids was already quite troublesome and time-consuming.

Hu Gu’s gaze settled on the columnar joints in the middle of the island in the sea. The hexagonal stone pillars looked more like man-made sculptural art.

“Perhaps… I can learn from plants…”

“Yes, plants. Why must I be limited to animal forms? Plants could also be a good choice.”

“Wait, if it’s plants, can I also…”

The idea, once it appeared, was like a wild horse breaking free from its reins, expanding uncontrollably in an instant and occupying Hu Gu’s entire mind.

Plants were just the beginning. What truly excited Hu Gu to the point of being unable to contain himself was the even bolder idea that stemmed from this beginning.

Chapter 23: Roots

Waves crashed against the stone walls formed by columnar joints, then receded, only to crash again in an endless cycle. The earliest seabeds and beaches were formed through this interaction between seawater and rock over millions of years.

At this moment, an incongruous “outsider” was making its way up the crevices of the stone wall, slowly and steadily, grasping the gaps between the stone columns as it climbed.

This “outsider” resembled the root system of a plant. From the main root, countless root tendrils extended, embedding themselves at the molecular level. Even the hardest stone could not resist these tendrils, which penetrated deep into the stone columns.

Additionally, while providing stability to the main root, these tendrils could also extract inorganic elements such as calcium, magnesium, iron, silicon, and zinc from the stone columns.

With the thick stone columns serving as the primary support, the root system did not have to worry about being torn apart by the waves. The main root extended all the way below the sea surface.

The source of the main root was a tuber-like mass, which also extended numerous root tendrils, firmly anchoring itself among the ellipsoidal and pillow-shaped rocks at the bottom of the volcanic island, resisting the erosion of the seawater.

The tuber-like mass did not have just one main root. Apart from the one currently “climbing,” the other main root systems clung to the volcanic rocks on the seabed, spreading out in all directions, each extending for several kilometers, forming a vast network akin to lichen.

It was hard to imagine that these things had, not long ago, been a massive population of animal-like creatures.

“Phew… Finally, the design is complete. Now, all that’s left is the gradual ‘construction’ work.”

As his thoughts detached from the “design” work, Hu Gu felt a sense of relief, finally able to catch his breath.

If, as a human, mental labor had been easier than physical labor, now the situation was reversed.

Unable to feel physical fatigue, Hu Gu found that tedious and time-consuming mental labor had become a form of hard labor.

Everything near the volcanic island was Hu Gu’s masterpiece, transforming the entire gourd cluster into their current plant-like forms.

In the design, Hu Gu adopted the structure of Earth’s plant roots and stems. The outer layer was no longer the fragile skin that could be easily scraped by stones but a thick cocoon formed by the accumulation of dead cells.

To ensure the strength of the main root system, he used a spider-silk-like method of intertwining multiple root stems, providing strong nutrient transport while ensuring no breakage.

In the vast system arranged by Hu Gu, the tuber-like mass was the most core part, where all the sensory cells of the gourd cluster converged.

At the cost of sacrificing mobility, the radius of the life field’s influence had expanded directly to about six kilometers!

Moreover, without any relay commands, Hu Gu was surprised to find that the phenomenon of command delay had weakened significantly.

The mysterious veil of the life field had thus become much thinner.

The roots and stems laid out on the seabed were to collect enough organic materials to meet the overall consumption. The root tendrils extending from the main root could effectively capture these organic materials.

The main root on the seabed also grew a certain number of “flowers,” which were originally the “mouths” of the gourds. Hu Gu did not modify them but transplanted them directly onto the main root, making them look like grown “flowers.”

As it turned out, Hu Gu’s idea was correct. These “flowers” indeed brought him an additional batch of considerable organic materials.

What surprised him even more was that among the microorganisms, he captured a genetic sample of a microorganism with a “cell nucleus,” which was no small delight.

The importance of the development of the cell nucleus in the history of biology was comparable to the first life formed by organic macromolecules such as amino acids and proteins, or the establishment of civilization by upright apes—a milestone of great significance.

Its function was that the cell nucleus was a genetic information library, the control center of cell metabolism and heredity. In other words, it could maintain the overall coordination of cells without the need for a superconsciousness like Hu Gu.

Its existence meant that single-celled organisms had the qualification to evolve into multicellular organisms.

“But this cell nucleus is still very rudimentary…”

“It only has a simple double-layer nuclear membrane and nuclear pores, without structures like nucleoli, chromatin, or nuclear matrix.”

“From the current perspective, this cell nucleus can only play a role in defending against phage invasions to a certain extent.”

Hu Gu summarized the information obtained from the genetic sample.

With his interest piqued, his professional instincts kicked in, and Hu Gu couldn’t help but start researching this microorganism sample with a cell nucleus.

“Nitrifying bacteria…”

This made it easy to understand why such bacteria were captured nearby.

At this time, the planet was full of active volcanoes, and the oceans were filled with nitrites, especially near this volcanic island, which was still in its active period.

“Hmm? By inhaling carbon dioxide and methane, reacting with nitrites, and finally expelling oxygen to maintain life activities?”

“What the hell?”

Hu Gu once again felt that sense of discovery, as if he had found a new continent, similar to when he had found the cell nucleus.

As everyone knew, carbon dioxide was an inert gas. Even on Earth, plants that produced oxygen needed to perform oxygen-consuming respiration to maintain normal life activities.

Oxygen’s chemical properties were unstable, making it suitable as an additive for reactions rather than a byproduct.

“Wait!”

“Am I entering some kind of misunderstanding? The chemical instability of oxygen isn’t a powerful ‘attack method’?”

A sudden flash of inspiration struck, and Hu Gu, who had initially looked down on this type of bacteria, immediately changed his mind.

Oxygen itself could react with unsaturated fatty acids without enzyme catalysis, destroying the phospholipids that stored these acids. Phospholipids were the main component of cell biomembranes, ultimately leading to the death of microorganisms.

In the microbial world, the nitrifying bacteria captured by Hu Gu could be considered a terrifying “toxin.” No microorganisms wanted to approach them, especially in the current atmospheric environment, where the evolution of oxygen-consuming microorganisms was virtually impossible.

“Indeed, no organism that exists in nature is simple.”

After a moment of admiration, the sample information was added to the genetic sequences preserved by Hu Gu, and the nitrifying bacteria were digested, becoming nutrients for the entire cluster.

The law of the jungle was everywhere!

Under the transcription and expression of genes, the root core of the root-stem system, which extended for several kilometers, gained the ability to produce oxygen, aiming to kill any microorganisms that might invade the root-stem system.

Of course, this was done as a precaution, to prevent microbial invasion after the outer skin defense was breached by stones.

The possibility of microorganisms breaking through directly was negligible.

Chapter 24: Volcano

A cluster of gourds, propelled by water jets, slowly approached Hu Gu from the distance.

In truth, Hu Gu had not abandoned the gourd design just because it had a new one. After constructing the basic framework of the entire root system, it allocated some organic matter to create a new gourd cluster.

To prevent the gourds’ outer skin from being scratched by rocks again, it used the accumulated layers of dead wall cells to form a thin, somewhat flexible layer of keratin on the outside.

Now, even if the gourds were washed ashore, rocks could no longer scratch their outer skin unless they encountered a disaster like a violent wave again.

The trade-off for increased defense was reduced speed, but that was fine. The gourds’ role had shifted from “escapees” to “collectors,” serving as mobile collection platforms in the ocean.

The root system covering the seabed had its limits—it could only collect organic materials near the seabed. Unlike land, the ocean was a three-dimensional space. Relying solely on a two-dimensional plane for organic materials would be a waste.

The gourd cluster approached the nodular mass. On a part of the mass, there were dozens of cavities. The heads of the gourds connected to these cavities, completing the transfer of organic materials.

When constructing the root system, Hu Gu had considered transportation issues and decided to store materials in the “warehouse”—the compartmentalized cavities it had designed within the sensory cells.

The transferred materials underwent dehydration and condensation to form proteins, which were then separated from the aqueous solution and stored in a dedicated cavity. Other collected elements were similarly processed into pure substances and stored in specialized cavities for future use.

Everything proceeded as planned. In fact, the root system’s design was completed much earlier than the collection of organic materials.

Now, the issue was the shortage of organic materials.

Thus, Hu Gu decided to postpone the design of a more efficient, faster, and enduring cell cluster for movement in water, opting to wait for a while before reconsidering.

There was another matter Hu Gu needed to address—understanding the specific situation of this volcanic island. Having such a dangerous neighbor nearby, it needed to verify some information firsthand.

After all, this concerned its survival. It didn’t want to be caught off guard by this neighbor. Many things in the world happened suddenly, like its own “transmigration.”

Diverting some of its attention, it focused on the main root climbing the columnar joints of the stone wall. On this main root, an eye grew, allowing Hu Gu to observe the external environment.

Through the electrical signals transmitted by the eye, Hu Gu finally got a close look at the inland area of the volcanic island, far from the coast.

It was desolate, extremely desolate. Beyond the stone wall lay a vast expanse of rock, its surface covered in cracks resembling the patterns on a turtle’s shell. However, these cracks only appeared on the large rocks, not on the smaller stones.

Hu Gu guessed this was the result of rapid cooling. Even boiling water, when faced with lava flows at least seven hundred degrees Celsius, would have a cooling effect similar to cold water.

The main root bent at the edge of the stone wall and spread horizontally across the rock surface.

Meanwhile, the root hairs on the main root were not idle. They penetrated the surrounding rock surface, providing anchorage for the main root and allowing Hu Gu to understand the elemental structure of the surroundings.

The eye on the main root gazed at the island’s central peak—the active volcano still spewing large amounts of smoke and dust, like a giant factory chimney.

Soon, the main root reached the foot of the mountain, where there were many small fragments of rock and volcanic glass.

These small stones were originally from the edge of the volcano’s crater. Subject to the volcano’s heat and the relentless rain of the Hadean Eon, they quickly crumbled under the alternating heat and cold, turning into small stones and glass crystals that rolled down to the mountain’s base, forming the current landscape.

Previously, this might have been troublesome due to the sharp edges of the stones and glass.

But now, this terrain posed no problem for Hu Gu.

The main root’s movement did not rely on limb propulsion but on “growth,” similar to plants, using cell division to achieve displacement.

It was slow compared to animals, but compared to plants, it was incredibly fast, thanks to Hu Gu’s superconscious macro-control.

The main root fearlessly lay on the stones, advancing straight toward the summit.

Considering the steep slope composed of small stones and glass fragments, there was a risk of landslides, especially with the constant rain. Hu Gu dispatched another main root, which coiled around the volcano like a mountain road, heading toward the summit. This way, even if the first main root was dislodged by a landslide, the second could take its place, though it would take more time.

Fortunately, Hu Gu did not need the second main root. The first one reached the volcano’s crater at the summit.

Thick smoke billowed, and the hot air, being an alkaline volcano, had a very high concentration of metal ions. Immersed in this environment, the iron sand on the ground had all turned into magnets.

The main root could not advance any further. Moving forward would expose it to temperatures high enough to cause spontaneous combustion.

At such a close distance, without the immediate cooling effect of water, it was easy to see the bright red, glowing lava inside the volcano, occasionally bubbling.

“Well, this is an active volcano, not a dormant one. I shouldn’t have harbored any lucky thoughts,” Hu Gu resignedly mocked itself.

Ever since it had transmigrated into this form, Hu Gu had been hiding and being cautious. Now that it finally had a temporary safe haven, it unconsciously entertained the lucky thought that “maybe I’m lucky, and this volcano is dormant. The smoke rising from the crater is just steam evaporating.”

Now, this delusion was shattered. At the same time, Hu Gu felt relieved. It deeply understood that such delusions, when shattered, did not help its current situation and might even put it in danger.

In a world full of crises, there should be no room for luck. With this lesson learned, it would not make such mistakes easily in the future.

Of course, Hu Gu had not come so close to the volcano’s crater just to correct its mindset. There was another, more important matter to confirm.

The main root wrapped a small piece of volcanic rock near the crater into its interior.

Chapter 25: Decision

To establish a foothold in the field of archaeology, specializing solely in biology was far from sufficient—one also needed to expand their knowledge into geology.

Thanks to his prior knowledge, Hu Gu was not entirely at a loss in this unfamiliar place.

He had incorporated volcanic rock into the main root to analyze the approximate elemental composition of the lava inside the volcano using small stones near the crater.

He had not used volcanic rock from the coastline because seawater could chemically react with the rock, risking analytical errors.

Similarly, he had avoided using rocks from the base of the volcano. Unlike the rainy environment of the Cenozoic Earth, rainwater in the Hadean Eon was rich in various chemicals due to volcanic ash, constantly pouring down and altering the elemental composition of the volcanic rocks. Determining the original elemental ratios from these rocks was extremely difficult.

What was the use of analyzing the elemental composition of lava?

Knowing the elemental composition allowed him to infer some properties of the lava inside the volcano, such as its volatile content, viscosity, and fluidity.

These properties determined how the accumulated lava within the volcano would be released.

If the lava was rich in silica and volatiles, its temperature would be lower, viscosity higher, and fluidity poorer. When the volcano erupted, it would primarily release energy in explosive bursts, violently ejecting large amounts of volcanic ash and bombs, making it highly dangerous. If the energy was immense, it could even generate shockwaves.

On the other hand, magma with low silica content, fewer volatiles, higher temperature, and lower viscosity had greater fluidity. Such volcanic eruptions were relatively calm, resembling the effusive eruptions of Hawaiian volcanoes. Unless one was reckless enough to stand in the path of the lava flow, there would be little risk of injury.

“This is why the island’s area is so large. I had suspected this early on, so it’s not particularly surprising…”

“But the fluidity of this volcano’s lava is much higher than expected. That’s worth celebrating.”

Highly fluid lava, upon cooling and solidifying, formed extensive lava plateaus and shield volcanoes. When Hu Gu first saw the volcano’s appearance, he had been skeptical, but now, the information he had gathered provided a definitive answer.

“High fluidity means that even though this island is an active volcano, it’s not unusable. With a little modification…”

His thoughts drifted as he summarized the information transmitted by the two main roots. A three-dimensional projection of the volcano appeared in his mind. Though he lacked internal data, he could make inferences based on its external shape. With his accumulated knowledge, this was not a particularly difficult task.

After a long period of deep contemplation, he was abruptly pulled back to reality by another matter.

Climbing the mountain had taken considerable time, and during this period, he had finally gathered enough organic materials. Hu Gu knew it was time to design and create a new cellular cluster organism.

Hu Gu preferred to simplify problems and solve them quickly and efficiently.

Clearing his mind of all cluttered thoughts, he recalled the various issues the gourd cluster had exhibited when he controlled them. He distilled the core problem down to one thing—size.

Because of their small size, their defenses were fragile. Even a simple scrape from a rock could be fatal.

Their small size also meant limited load-bearing capacity, reducing the number of sensory cells they could carry. Consequently, the coverage area of the life field was smaller.

While it was possible to expand the life field’s coverage through individual relays, this method introduced noticeable delays, making it unreliable in complex and changing environments.

“Decided! I’ll design a sturdy and massive body, using that super wave as a hypothetical opponent…”

“…at least to the point where it can withstand one hit and remain unscathed!”

A long spine appeared in his mind.

To design a massive body, he first needed a sturdy skeletal system to support it. A soft-bodied design like the gourds, without any skeletal support, was clearly unsuitable.

If he designed it that way, it would just be a lump of soft flesh, difficult to move.

“Hmm… this isn’t good. This series of vertebrae is too heavy. If I add thick outer armor, it will significantly impact speed…”

“Moreover, I need to reserve as much load capacity as possible to carry more sensory cells…”

The spine in his thoughts was reshuffled, returning to the starting point, and the problems came with it.

“…so what kind of skeletal design would be better?”

Hu Gu asked himself, reconsidering his approach.

“Perhaps…”

A sudden flash of inspiration struck Hu Gu’s mind.

“If evolution is a concern, vertebrae are the best choice, but I don’t need to consider that, so I can go beyond convention…”

“In nature, the focus is on ‘who can live longer,’ not ‘whose design is more perfect.’ There are countless examples in Earth’s history where species with complex and sophisticated life systems went extinct before those with simpler systems.”

After much deliberation, Hu Gu finally made a firm decision.

“Alright, I’ll go with the ‘orthocone nautilus’ design.”

A long, slender conical shell appeared in his mind.

Like the orthocone nautilus, its internal structure relied entirely on a sturdy exoskeleton for support. While this exoskeleton did limit the evolution toward larger body sizes—the orthocone nautilus went extinct in the Cambrian explosion due to this very reason—it was not a concern for Hu Gu. He was not following the path of natural selection and evolution, so this limitation did not apply. In fact, the sturdy exoskeleton was an advantage.

Especially with this conical design, water resistance would be minimized, making it akin to an underwater torpedo.

Hu Gu thought of this design because he had just been thinking about torpedoes.

No matter how powerful a species was, it was no match for human-made tools. While some creatures could do things that human tools currently could not, that was only because humans did not yet have an urgent need in that area and thus had not prioritized its creation, maintaining a temporary advantage.

The sailfish, the fastest marine creature on Earth, had a recorded top speed of 190 kilometers per hour, roughly equivalent to over a hundred knots.

But back on Earth, even setting aside the secretly developed torpedoes by various countries, the fastest known torpedo could reach 100 meters per second, or about two hundred knots!

Chapter 26: Titanium Skeleton

The basic framework had been selected, and next came the choice of skeletal material.

“Should I go with calcium?”

Calcium was relatively lightweight, and the straight-shelled nautilus used as the design template primarily consisted of calcium-based materials. Opting for calcium would significantly reduce the workload.

The skeletal system wasn’t something that could be perfected overnight. Factors like the density of the new material, its chemical reactivity, and the difficulty of obtaining it all had to be considered. If calcium were chosen, much of the existing data could be directly applied to the design, saving a lot of trouble in re-collecting parameters.

After some contemplation, Hu Gu dismissed the idea.

“No, calcium doesn’t meet my expectations. Its hardness is too low for skeletal use. To ensure adequate protection, the shell would have to be thickened, which would take up more space and negate the advantage of its light weight.”

Calcium had a Mohs hardness of 1.75, while skin had a Mohs hardness of 1.5. This comparison clearly showed just how “soft” calcium was.

Why had Earth’s organisms chosen calcium for their skeletons? There were many reasons, but Hu Gu leaned toward the explanation that it was due to the ease of obtaining the material.

In the early Earth environment, calcium carbonate was abundant, found in large quantities in calcite and limestone. Additionally, calcium was easy to extract from calcium carbonate.

But Hu Gu needed performance—materials that were both strong and lightweight. With the cells at its disposal, it could manipulate matter at the molecular level. While it couldn’t claim expertise in other areas, in terms of element preparation, it could outperform any chemical plant on Earth. Material acquisition wasn’t a concern.

This was evident from the stockpile of various elemental substances Hu Gu had accumulated.

“But wouldn’t iron be too heavy?”

An image flashed through Hu Gu’s mind—a newly designed cell cluster resembling a straight-shelled nautilus drifting in the ocean, gradually sinking until it could only move along the seabed.

“No, no, no! What am I thinking? That won’t do!”

“I need a very light material, it has to be light enough…”

“In other words, the density must be small. If the density is high, the mass per unit volume will naturally be large.”

This was indeed beyond Hu Gu’s knowledge. Its expertise was in archaeological excavation, with a deep understanding of geology and biology, but its knowledge of physics and chemistry was limited to high school level.

And that was being generous. Before becoming what it was now, Hu Gu had been an elderly man nearing sixty. Decades had passed since its high school days, and it was uncertain how much it still remembered.

Suddenly, Hu Gu recalled something from its time at the International Aerospace Center. A colleague there had once boasted about a metal—titanium.

“Titanium… Old Tang went on and on about this metal, even saying that Earth’s first-generation space battleships would definitely use it…”

“Pfft, talking like that without a care in the world. We don’t even have a space elevator yet, and the International Space Station is just a tiny speck. Space battleships? They haven’t even scratched the surface, yet they brag in front of outsiders like me. Even a Mars excavation requires manned spaceflight…”

Thinking about this, Hu Gu couldn’t help but feel resentful. Back then, because of its age, its old bones couldn’t withstand the reaction force of rocket propulsion, which was why it had ended up at the International Aerospace Center, participating in remote command work.

If you’ve already planned out space battleships, then hurry up and build the space elevator! I want to personally participate in the Mars excavation!—If there had been a space elevator back then, Hu Gu’s aging body wouldn’t have been an obstacle to going to Mars.

After venting, Hu Gu regained its composure and began to examine titanium.

“As an aerospace metal, its resistance to high temperatures and pressure is undoubtedly excellent…”

“And then there’s the weight. Since it’s still rocket transportation, materials are developed to be as light as possible, which fits my current needs.”

“Alright, I’ll go with titanium.”

However, Hu Gu wasn’t very familiar with this metal. After all, it was just an archaeologist, and its knowledge of industrial and aerospace materials was superficial.

But that was fine. What it didn’t know, it could learn. With the actual material on hand and the ability to experiment freely, it was just a matter of time to figure things out.

With the skeletal material chosen, Hu Gu began to gather information about titanium.

First, it needed to determine whether this metal could exist stably on the planet it currently inhabited.

This was crucial. Even if titanium had excellent properties, if the environment caused it to react easily, it would be useless as a protective shell.

Hu Gu’s method was simple and straightforward. It expelled a small amount of titanium from its cavity into the ocean and observed it with the naked eye on its root system.

The titanium in the ocean was held by a root tendril, preventing it from being carried away by the current while also sensing temperature changes. Any chemical reaction would be accompanied by physical changes involving heat absorption or release.

After confirming there was no reaction, Hu Gu retrieved the titanium and created a special cavity in a segment of the main root on the seabed for experimentation.

The retrieved titanium was placed in the cavity. Hu Gu then began to introduce elements from the periodic table—hydrogen, helium, lithium, boron—one by one into the experimental cavity. After confirming no reaction, it would withdraw the element and introduce a new one, repeating the process.

After completing the experiments in a water solution environment, it would repeat the process in an air environment to observe changes… then in various pure gas environments to see how the titanium reacted… followed by experiments in strong acid or alkaline water…

To utilize titanium, a comprehensive understanding of the metal was necessary. These experiments couldn’t be skipped or rushed; they had to be conducted carefully to obtain accurate data.

Of course, other matters weren’t neglected either. Step-by-step experimentation was a tedious and time-consuming process, so Hu Gu chose to address other design issues concurrently.

Next on the agenda was designing a way to make rational use of every inch of space inside the conical shell.

Hu Gu hadn’t forgotten the original design standard—to create an individual capable of surviving super tsunamis!

Chapter 27: Titanium Snail

In the waters one nautical mile from the volcanic island, a long, slender cone lay horizontally. This was the finished product Hu Gu had designed after much deliberation.

The cone was eight meters long, and its mass far exceeded that of the previous cell cluster. Even in the surging waves, it only swayed slightly.

In the Hadean Eon, when the biosphere was still in the microbial stage, this creature could already be considered a “mythical beast.” There was nothing left to do but look up in awe.

At the end of the cone were several tentacles made of muscle cells and carbon nanofibers, each equipped with suction cups.

The function and principle of these suction cups were the same as those of cephalopod tentacles—they secreted mucus to create a vacuum inside the suction cup, allowing them to adhere to objects. They could also fix the body to an object or help steer during high-speed movement.

There were six such tentacles at the tail end of the cone.

The cone had four eyes. Three were on the sloped surface of the cone, each covering a 120-degree field of view, while the fourth was at the center of the tail, ensuring no blind spots.

To protect the eyes during high-speed movement, each was covered with a layer of silicon crystal containing a certain amount of carbon—essentially tempered glass, widely used in human civilization.

The outer shell of the cone was silver-white, with a metallic sheen. It was made of titanium alloy, lighter than iron of the same volume, with greater strength and lower density.

The shell had a three-layer structure. The innermost and outermost layers were titanium alloy, while the middle layer was a grid of carbon nanofibers. Even if the outer titanium layer was damaged, the nanofiber layer could absorb the impact, and the third titanium layer could defend against attacks capable of piercing titanium.

The front of the cone was slightly different in color—steel gray. This part was not titanium alloy but chromium, with a Mohs hardness of 9. For comparison, diamond, the hardest natural substance, has a Mohs hardness of 10. Piercing through rock was as easy as piercing soft mud.

Hu Gu did not abandon the designs previously used on the gourd but continued to apply them to this new individual.

The two pairs of “fins” on the sides of the shell were used for maneuvering or stabilizing direction during high-speed navigation. Additionally, Hu Gu modified the fin design for both the new individual and the gourd, allowing them to retract into the body, much like a turtle’s shell.

The propulsion system inside the cone had two components. The first was the original jet propulsion.

Hu Gu did not abandon this method, primarily because of its “recyclable in water” feature, so it was retained as the standard propulsion.

The second was a rocket propulsion system centered around a sodium metal column, a consumable propulsion method.

Sodium metal was highly reactive, especially when in contact with water, releasing a tremendous amount of energy.

Someone once conducted an experiment, throwing two fist-sized sodium metal chunks into a river. The resulting explosion was nearly as powerful as a hand grenade, and it wasn’t a one-time release. The explosion continued several times, with waves reaching seven or eight meters high until the sodium metal was thrown away by the reaction force, stopping the surface explosion.

The interior of the cone was divided into two sections: the front and the rear. The front primarily housed sensory cells to expand the life field.

The life field of the cone could now extend up to a radius of one nautical mile, thirty-six times larger than the original gourd.

The rear housed the jet propulsion system, designed similarly to before. There were automatically opening and closing vents on the sloped surface. During standard propulsion, it would consume microorganisms in the water, digest them in a small digestive cavity, and then use them as a propulsion medium, storing them in the water storage chamber at the rear before ejecting them.

The only difference was that the water storage chamber now occupied a much smaller proportion of the body, replaced by several small chambers providing propulsion in the water.

The rocket propulsion system was different. The sodium column ran along the central axis, spanning both the front and rear sections.

This propulsion method was a means of escape during catastrophic events, allowing for a brief burst of high speed.

Of course, there were drawbacks. How far and how fast it could go depended entirely on the amount of fuel. Compared to other elements, the production of sodium metal as a reaction fuel was painfully slow.

Thus, Hu Gu designated it as an escape propulsion method.

At the tail of the cone were six recesses corresponding to the tentacles. These were specially designed by Hu Gu to allow the gourd to ride on the new cluster individual.

Nothing was perfect. While the large size brought many advantages to the new individual, it also came with limitations.

Allowing a small individual like the gourd to ride inside the new individual and move together would complement each other, helping each other accomplish what the other could not.

“Design is complete, but I still haven’t thought of a name…”

“How should I call it?”

After solving one problem, Hu Gu found himself in another dilemma.

“The design template is the straight-shelled nautilus, and in appearance, it resembles a snail… so the name should include the word ‘snail.’”

“The shell is made of titanium alloy, which is the most significant difference from the straight-shelled nautilus, so it should also include the word ‘titanium’…”

“Putting it all together, it should be called… ‘Titanium Snail’?”

As Hu Gu spoke the name, he felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity, as if he had heard the word somewhere before but couldn’t remember where.

After much thought, he still couldn’t recall why the name felt so familiar.

Unable to figure it out, Hu Gu decided to give up. He had many other things to attend to.

“Forget it, maybe it’s the name of an acquaintance. Since it’s an acquaintance, borrowing the name shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

With that, Hu Gu shifted his attention to the volcanic island. After completing the design and creation of the Titanium Snail, the next step was the transformation of the volcanic island.

If successful, Hu Gu would have a relatively stable base. If it failed, at worst, there would be a lateral volcanic eruption, which posed no threat to Hu Gu.

Of course, preparations for an emergency escape were still necessary.

Chapter 28: Volcanic Island Transformation Plan

Thick primary roots stretched from the seabed toward the land, crossing the very beach that had once claimed the lives of the gourd cluster, advancing toward the highest peak of the volcanic island.

Soon, one by one, the primary roots converged with the two that had landed earlier at the volcano’s crater.

After the convergence, the root tendrils burrowed deep into the surrounding terrain, expanding and growing within the piles of rocks.

The microscopic structure of the rocks was not as solid as it seemed. At the molecular level, the root tendrils easily penetrated the rock layers, weaving through them without obstruction.

“Excellent, the rock layers are secured.”

Hu Gu, who had already transferred himself into the Titanium Snail, watched the progress of the root system on the volcanic island with satisfaction.

After enduring that super tidal wave, Hu Gu had been inspired. If he could achieve a physical transfer of hardware, he could indirectly allow his consciousness to transfer to other cell clusters.

This led to the development of a new type of root stem, primarily composed of sensory cells. Using this root stem, he bridged the tumor-like clusters at the seabed with the sensory region of the Titanium Snail, creating a unified system. Once his consciousness transferred to the other region, he could sever the physical connection of the root stem, completing the transfer.

“The root tendrils have established a complex web-like structure within the rock layers. Thus, the goal of reinforcing the island’s geological structure is achieved. We can proceed to the next step.”

Under Hu Gu’s command, a primary root from the seabed—noticeably thicker than the others—began growing toward the shore, advancing all the way to the foot of the volcano on the island before stopping.

Although this primary root appeared identical to the others on the outside, its internal structure was different.

It was hollow inside. Its thick exterior was deceptive; in reality, its volume was no different from a normal primary root.

This primary root played a central role in the current plan.

Unlike the other primary roots that advanced toward the volcano’s crater, this one, under Hu Gu’s command, plunged directly into the pile of volcanic rock fragments.

Through the information transmitted back from this primary root, Hu Gu could sense a powerful resistance coming from the rock layers. Clearly, this was due to the root being too thick.

“I miscalculated. The pressure from the rock layers is greater than estimated. Although it’s possible to keep pushing the root forward, at this rate, it would take an eternity to break through.”

After some frustration, Hu Gu thought of a compromise.

“If that’s the case, then divide it into three regions.”

“First, let the head shrink to the thickness of a root tendril, making it the growth zone, which will facilitate drilling through the rock layers.”

“The part behind the head will gradually grow to the normal thickness of a primary root, serving as the elongation zone, responsible for extending the length of the root stem.”

“Behind the elongation zone will be the mature zone. The root stem in the elongation zone will fully expand its internal space, forming the necessary tubular cavity for the plan.”

“Alright, let’s do it this way!”

Following the command, the root stem continued to grow forward through cell division within the rock layers, but now according to Hu Gu’s plan.

The effect was indeed significant. If the previous drilling speed could be compared to a person strolling, then now it was like an F1 race car.

Hu Gu could clearly feel the reduction in resistance.

Without a timing tool, Hu Gu wasn’t sure how much time had passed, only that it had been quite a while. During this time, he used the excess organic material to expand the number of Titanium Snails from a mere handful to over thirty, and the number of gourds also returned to around four hundred.

Since there was no light in the ground and no reference points to determine direction, it was very possible for the drilling to go off course. To avoid this, Hu Gu could only rely on the information transmitted back from the entire root system, comparing and modeling it. However, even with this method, there was still a possibility of deviation, so Hu Gu wasn’t entirely confident about succeeding on the first try.

When Hu Gu received a signal, he knew that the root stem’s drilling work was finally nearing its end.

The trigger for this signal came from an external source—the unnatural death of the cells at the tip of the root stem.

Hu Gu immediately ordered the drilling root stem to stop elongating. The entire root stem was to transform into a mature zone, expanding the internal cavity to its limit.

The cells in the elongation and growth zones began to inject carbon dioxide into their respective cavities, using the gas’s volume to expand the cavity within the rock layers.

This was the method for the mature zone to expand the cavity. The gas, not the root stem itself, resisted the rock layer’s pressure, consuming minimal energy.

Strength and size are inversely proportional; the larger the material’s size, the lower its strength.

As the entire primary root fully expanded within the rock layers, the molten lava, with a temperature of 1200 degrees Celsius, finally broke through the thin wall separating it from the root stem, coming into contact with the drilling root stem.

At such high temperatures, even the specially formulated heat-resistant cell membranes Hu Gu had created were useless. The charred tip of the primary root was instantly destroyed by the lava flow, completely exposing the internal cavity of the root stem to the lava.

Lava is also a liquid and follows the principles of pressure. Pressure is unrelated to volume; it is only related to height. The higher the liquid’s height, the greater the pressure at the bottom of the container. This is why the deep sea has such immense water pressure, while shallow seas do not.

Now, driven by water pressure, the lava surged through the internal cavity of the root stem, carbonizing and destroying the root stem cells in its path. However, due to the lava’s high temperature, the expanded cavity of the root stem remained intact.

The surging lava did not always follow the cavity’s path. The moment it left the rock layers, the cavity could no longer constrain the lava flow. The violent lava burst out, scattering in all directions like thousands of fire serpents crawling out of hell, rushing toward the sea.

Hu Gu watched all of this unfold, exactly as he had intended.

The root stem drilling through the mountain was a sacrifice, meant to pierce through the foot of the volcano and create a channel for the lava to escape.

The lava in this volcano had excellent fluidity and was not prone to blockages, as determined from prior investigations and data analysis.

Hu Gu planned to create over a dozen similar channels at the foot of the mountain to increase the lava’s release. Once a volcano’s lava could no longer pose a threat and could no longer form a pressurized, enclosed space, what danger could it possibly present?

This was Hu Gu’s volcanic island transformation plan.

Chapter 29: Infrastructure Development

The volcano, having released its lava, saw the molten surface drop to a low point, finally removing the Sword of Damocles hanging over Hu Gu’s head. The volcanic threat was no more, replaced by a safe place to live.

After the lava flow ceased, Hu Gu issued new orders, and the construction of this new “home” began in earnest.

The main roots on the island continued to extend new root tendrils, which grew along the island’s terrain, forming a thin layer of lichen.

The cells composing the lichen were a new type designed by Hu Gu, based on algal structures. This design combined wall cells and internal cells, adding organelles like ribosomes, vacuoles, and nuclei.

Ribosomes could dehydrate and condense amino acids collected by the cells into proteins, converting them into protein structures for storage.

Vacuoles served as storage chambers within the cells, holding water and proteins. This prevented resource loss from cavity leaks.

These cells could independently absorb atmospheric elements through respiration, absorb inorganic salts from acidic rain and volcanic rock, and harness heat from the volcano to produce amino acids.

Hu Gu designed these with an obvious purpose—to create a “producer” like in Earth’s ecosystem, filling the gap in the cellular population.

The Titanium Snail’s design was flawless, almost too advanced for the Hadean Eon. Even after four and a half billion years of Earth’s biosphere, the Titanium Snail would fear no top ocean predator—except humans.

However, to achieve such advanced capabilities, most of the Titanium Snail’s internal space was dedicated to speed and armor, leaving little room for resource collection.

Using the gourd as the Titanium Snail’s resource collector was a compromise, but not the best solution. The gourd only gathered resources, not produced them.

The root system covering the island and nearby waters also only collected resources, not produced them.

At the current rate of population growth, the organic resource capacity would soon reach its limit, and that day was not far off. Hu Gu had to prepare for it.

The lichen structure was simpler than the root system and grew on the surface, quickly covering the volcanic island.

Next, Hu Gu used the root system to carve out a harbor on one side of the island. The raging waves were blocked by the harbor’s breakwater, leaving the inner waters calm.

After construction, Hu Gu moved the core tumor-like cluster of the root system into the harbor and ordered it to expand, further extending the life field’s range.

Meanwhile, the island’s lichen received Hu Gu’s command to connect with the tumor-like cluster in the harbor, forming a supply chain loop.

Then came the island’s observation system. Standing tall, one could see far. At the volcano’s peak, where all main roots converged, several hemispherical objects grew. They were transparent yet solid, and when raindrops fell on them, they made a crisp “pitter-patter” sound.

These transparent objects were tempered glass made from silicon and carbon. Though not as strong as metal, they were far tougher than ordinary glass.

Inside the glass containers was a clear liquid, and an eyeball grew within each hemisphere. The nerve bundle at the end of the eyeball transmitted electrical signals and allowed the eyeball to rotate in any direction except downward.

Outside the glass container was a semicircular strip connected to muscle cells at both ends. Where it touched the tempered glass, tiny cilia were present.

Its purpose was to act as a brush, wiping away rainwater and dust from the glass surface, mimicking the act of blinking.

“Phew, finally done.”

After all this mental and physical exertion, Hu Gu could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

The volcanic island was no longer the desolate place it once was, nor did it resemble the barren lands of the Hadean Eon. The roots and lichen made the land teem with life.

However, things did not go as smoothly as Hu Gu had hoped. Some more dangerous external factors had been overlooked.

Just as Hu Gu thought it could safely explore the nearby area, a new crisis silently arrived.

First, the newly established island visual system noticed that the cumulus clouds in the orange sky were moving faster.

Hu Gu didn’t pay much attention to the cloud changes, as the Hadean Eon was already a harsh environment with fierce winds, acidic rain, volcanic eruptions, and occasional lightning. Hu Gu subconsciously believed that things couldn’t get worse.

But then, through the Titanium Snail, Hu Gu sensed changes in the ocean currents.

Normally, waves only caused slight swaying in the Titanium Snail, but now it clearly felt a pull from one direction, as if a bottomless pit had appeared, constantly devouring seawater.

The clouds in the sky bulged downward into a cone, forming a spiral shape.

A whirlpool appeared on the sea surface, but unlike ordinary whirlpools, this one was a cone-shaped vortex reaching toward the sky.

The water cone and the cloud cone faced each other, gradually elongating until their tips touched, merging into a water-vapor column connecting heaven and earth.

A term flashed in Hu Gu’s mind—tornado!

“Tornado? No, this is no ordinary tornado—it’s too big!”

With a diameter of about one kilometer, this was something Hu Gu had never heard of.

Hu Gu watched the tornado in shock and awe, unable to describe what it saw. It wasn’t focused on meteorology or geography and couldn’t accurately describe this phenomenon beyond its knowledge.

Soon after this “water column” formed, similar ones appeared in other directions. Continuous lightning arcs flashed in the sky, and the turbulent sea surface was eerily calm.

These “water columns” seemed to influence each other, their paths turning toward the volcanic island where Hu Gu resided.

Chapter 30: What… Are You?

Without instruments to measure, Hu Gu had no idea of the exact wind speed of these massive tornadoes, but one thing was certain—they were fast. Very fast. Faster than any tornado on Earth.

The howling winds arrived in an instant, giving Hu Gu no time to react. The first tornado engulfed part of the island, uprooting the lichen as if someone had casually brushed dust from a table.

After crossing the island, the danger was far from over. This was only the beginning.

Due to their mutual attraction, the tornado that had just passed over the island collided with another, altering their trajectories. Entwined, they swept along the coastline of the volcanic island.

Exposed along the shore, the main roots lost their lateral tendrils in an instant as the tangled tornado tore past, leaving only bare, stripped trunks behind.

Though anchored deep in the rock, the main roots were not spared. Their outer bark was torn away, as if scraped by a blade, exposing the central hollow tubes that transported nutrients.

After the tornado moved away from the shore, the two entwined columns of wind exhausted their energy and dissipated.

But the destruction remained. The island was in ruins.

More tornadoes were still approaching, showing no mercy to the battered island.

Hu Gu could do nothing but watch as everything it had painstakingly built was destroyed.

It wanted to stop them, but what could it do? The enemy was wind—a swirling mass of heat. How was it supposed to fight a vortex?

The third tornado struck, cutting straight through the island’s central axis. The island’s visual system, which had barely survived the first two attacks, was obliterated, and the tangled mass of main roots was violently snapped.

Lightning crackled, striking the harbor. The water’s surface steamed as hydrogen and oxygen, ionized by the bolts, were swept into the tornado.

By sheer coincidence, the tornado had reached the volcano’s crater. The heat, combined with the flammable gases—methane and hydrogen—ignited in the presence of oxygen.

A fire tornado was born.

It descended from the crater, plowing through the scarred roots, carving a chaotic, charred path across the island before fading away.

The other tornadoes, as if repelled by the fire, altered their courses, skimming the nearby waters before dissipating about three nautical miles from the island.

But the storm was not over.

Lightning flashed, thunder roared, and rain poured down. Mist rose as hydrogen and oxygen, mixed with the high concentration of methane in the air, ignited with each strike, only to be extinguished by the downpour—again and again.

The lightning was like a whip in the hands of a god, and the volcanic island was a sinner, lashed without mercy.

Hu Gu’s heart sank.

The earlier disaster of wind and fire hadn’t worried it much. At worst, it would be a painful loss of resources to repair.

The reason was simple: Wildfires cannot destroy the roots; spring winds bring new growth. The core of the entire root system was the tuberous mass. As long as that remained intact, the roots could recover no matter how damaged.

But the lightning storm was different. Lightning conducted, and the entire root system was interconnected. If struck, every cell in the system would be electrified.

A single bolt was manageable—the system was large enough to withstand it. That was why Hu Gu hadn’t been concerned when lightning struck during the tornadoes.

But it never expected that after the tornadoes passed, the occasional lightning would escalate into a full-blown storm. Ten, twenty bolts at once—the system couldn’t handle that.

It was like winning the lottery twice in a row. In Hu Gu’s case, however, instead of fortune, it was misfortune piling on.

“Didn’t I use up all my bad luck when I transmigrated? Why is there more?”

Hu Gu didn’t know how to describe the situation. Before it happened, probability could be discussed. But now, probability theory was nonsense. It saw that clearly.

“No, this can’t go on! I can’t just sit here and wait for disaster! The lightning will hit sooner or later. Now isn’t the time to worry about inconvenience—I have to sever the connection between the root system and the tuberous mass immediately!”

Hu Gu couldn’t afford to wait. It issued the command to disconnect the main roots.

But it was too late. The moment the command was given, lightning struck one of the main roots—the one whose bark had been stripped away, exposing its central axis.

The axis contained a high concentration of metal ions, giving it conductivity rivaling mineral water. The lightning surged through the system at near-light speed, reaching every root, every tendril, every cell.

To Hu Gu’s horror, the lightning overrode its command. The tuberous mass had not executed the separation order.

After the first strike, the storm intensified. The hit rate skyrocketed. Out of every ten bolts, one would strike. It was as if the lightning had a mind of its own, learning from each failure like a child.

If someone in its past life had claimed that lightning was alive, that it had consciousness, Hu Gu would have assumed they were an escaped mental patient.

It must be the isolation affecting its judgment. Lightning was just the result of positive and negative charges in the clouds—plasma. How could it be alive?

But reality didn’t care about reason. In its laws, existence was reason.

What happened next seemed to confirm Hu Gu’s thoughts.

A brief, almost imperceptible message was transmitted through the life field of the tuberous mass to Hu Gu, residing within the Titanium Snail.

What… are you?

Chapter 31: Escape

The wind swept away the remnants of the storm, and the thunderstorm, after persisting for a while, gradually subsided, as if it had never existed, returning to the usual orange-red sky.

During this time, perhaps out of cowardice, caution, or emotions even Hu Gu itself did not understand, it did not actively respond to that message, maintaining absolute silence throughout, like a stone.

The brief period from encountering the tornado cluster to the thunderstorm provided Hu Gu with an overwhelming amount of information that it could not immediately digest.

Snapping out of its daze, Hu Gu’s mind was filled with shock and engulfed by immense fear.

Humans fear the dark because darkness represents the unknown; the same logic applies to fearing abnormal phenomena beyond common sense.

During the Hadean Eon, the emergence of “intelligence” should have been impossible. The planetary environment had not yet formed the conditions for the birth of “intelligence.” Life was still in its earliest stages, and the emergence of microorganisms with double-stranded DNA as genetic material could be considered the pinnacle of life forms in this era.

Hu Gu itself could not serve as an example because it was a transmigrator; its origin was not from the Hadean Eon. Earth’s life forms took nearly four point six billion years to evolve from microorganisms into humans to nurture “intelligence.”

Unconventional events easily lead to unconventional thoughts and logic.

Aliens? Atmospheric life? Collective consciousness? Transmigrators?…

“No, now is not the time to think about these things. The current information is too scarce to make an accurate judgment.”

Immediately calming down, Hu Gu dismissed the wild thoughts in its mind. The existence of the other party was undeniable. The problem Hu Gu now faced was how to handle this situation.

After the thunderstorm dissipated, Hu Gu did not receive any similar messages again. The other party seemed to think that Hu Gu did not have the ability to communicate and chose to leave.

Of course, it was also possible that they were hiding in the dark, observing. This possibility was much higher than the former. Earth’s field biologists often did such things.

Regardless, Hu Gu could not stay here any longer. Although it had exhausted its efforts to build this “home,” this “home” was being targeted by an unknown entity—whether good or bad, with an unclear identity, capable of controlling wind and thunder at will, and extremely terrifying.

In Hu Gu’s memory, the little white mice in Earth’s laboratories never had a good ending, even if they had never wronged anyone.

“I must leave, no hesitation. Any lucky thoughts are stumbling blocks!”

After self-warning, Hu Gu issued a command to the Titanium Snail, instructing it to carefully agitate the water storage chamber, gradually drifting from the harbor into the open sea.

Due to the Titanium Snail’s own mass, this process was extremely slow. Fortunately, this drifting method, akin to floating wood, consumed negligible biological energy. Even without nutrient supply, it could maintain the life activities of the entire cell cluster.

With great difficulty, it bypassed the harbor reef that resisted the impact of the waves. At the same time, Hu Gu regretted building such a long harbor reef.

The next process was much faster. Riding the surging waves and borrowing this force, it could quickly leave this sea area.

The sea outside the harbor was not entirely visible. The gourd clusters that were previously collecting organic materials were now like robots that had lost their signal, motionless, half-floating and half-sinking in the water.

The presence of these gourds could provide cover for the Titanium Snail’s departure. During this time, it only needed to disguise itself as another “disconnected” robot.

The waves were chaotic, and ocean currents could only be seen as directional on a planetary scale.

As time passed, the number of gourds drifting alongside the Titanium Snail gradually decreased. They were all pulled away by the currents, leaving the main drifting group and heading towards unknown seas.

Hu Gu had no intention of correcting their course, fearing it would expose its own existence.

Drifting aimlessly for who knows how long, Hu Gu had also left the main drifting group under the influence of the currents. At this point, it was quite far from the volcanic island, and no matter how Hu Gu adjusted the visual range of the glass body, it could no longer capture the island.

Hu Gu arrived in a new sea area and began using the Titanium Snail’s visual system to observe the surrounding environment.

There were still volcanoes, but they were slightly different from the previous conical volcanoes. A fissure-type volcano provided material flow to this sea area.

The shape was different, and the smoke columns erupted were also different from what had been seen before. The smoke columns rising from the underwater volcanoes were stretched, like curtains hanging vertically from the sea surface to the seabed.

Hu Gu was delighted; wasn’t this environment perfect for hiding?

Cautiously using the visual system to observe the surroundings, and confirming there were no abnormalities, the Titanium Snail’s long-unused water storage chamber began to agitate, and in the blink of an eye, it plunged into the underwater maze constructed by the volcanic smoke columns.

After entering, Hu Gu carefully slid its side fins, carefully avoiding the curtains, trying not to come into contact with them. These underwater curtains contained a large number of bubbles. Within the range covered by the curtains, the buoyancy of water was similar to that of air. If Hu Gu carelessly entered, it would fall into the volcanic vent in an instant, becoming a roasted snail.

While moving carefully, Hu Gu began to analyze the lava flow of this volcanic group. If the lava had poor fluidity, it was prone to eruptions, and the strong currents produced could push it into the curtains. Therefore, it needed to investigate first.

In this maze-like area, Hu Gu found a towering underwater rock, which should have been formed by the rapid accumulation during a lava eruption.

With the help of the side fins, the Titanium Snail slowly descended onto this towering rock, and Hu Gu’s nerves relaxed. During this time, it had been on high alert.

“Speaking of which, what exactly was that thing?”

“Was it a single entity or multiple?”

“What kind of life form could so freely control natural disasters in the environment?”

“Reality, can you be a little more reasonable? Even if you like to joke, there should be a limit.”

Hu Gu grumbled to itself, needing a way to vent the pressure in its heart.

“Wait, in the other party’s inquiry, it referred to ‘me,’ not ‘us.’ That means, from the beginning, it knew of my existence, rather than treating the cell cluster as a single intelligent life…”

“So the question is, how did the other party obtain this information?”

“Or, was my transmigration caused by the other party’s meddling?”

Hu Gu recalled what it had said on the television show—if transmigration really happened one day, it would be more inclined to believe it was a man-made event, triggered by the subjective actions of an unknown civilization in the universe.

Chapter 32: Reason

Hu Gu dismissed the thought almost as soon as it arose.

“No, that message was asking about my identity. If my transmigration was truly orchestrated by the other party, they wouldn’t need to ask such a redundant question—they should have known my identity from the start.”

As his thoughts gradually cleared, Hu Gu’s intelligence, dulled by fear, finally recovered. His burning curiosity drove him to focus more energy on analyzing the true nature of the other party.

“So, what is ‘it’?”

Hu Gu muttered to himself, followed by a surge of irritation at the violation of common sense.

“Impossible! No matter how I think about it, it’s impossible!”

“Right now, this planet is in the Hadean Eon, the stage where oceans are forming. The atmosphere is primarily methane, carbon dioxide, and nitrogen—there’s no room for giant creatures to develop. How could an intelligent being capable of causing natural disasters exist in this era?”

Even if it were a mutated evolution, it had to follow basic laws. Evolution progressed from simple to complex, starting with single-stranded RNA, then the more stable double-stranded DNA, allowing for more complex forms. Then came the transition from single-celled organisms to multicellular ones, seeking macroscopic expansion, giving rise to macroscopic life forms. Next came the brain and intelligence, which birthed civilization. Beyond that was a question mark, as humanity hadn’t reached that stage yet, so no one knew.

The early stages of life were extremely difficult. Taking Earth as a reference, it took three billion years for single-celled organisms to evolve into multicellular ones. This wasn’t something a simple mutation could achieve.

This was the anomaly!

“Hmm?”

The Titanium Snail’s visual system inadvertently scanned its own silver-gray metallic titanium alloy shell. In that instant, the dark clouds in Hu Gu’s mind seemed to be split apart by a swift bolt of lightning.

“Perhaps… the other party is like me, also a transmigrator, and has become a collective consciousness, or perhaps an individual, an independently evolving superorganism.”

Hu Gu was excited by his own analysis, feeling as if he was on the verge of uncovering the answer. But soon, the excitement sank back into the depths.

“No, it still doesn’t hold up.”

“If the other party is like me, they should have a basic understanding of ‘transmigration.’ Asking ‘What are you?’ is too far-fetched. Normally, they should ask, ‘Are you a transmigrator?’ or ‘Are you like me?’”

“The fact that they asked such a question confirms that I and it—or they—are two completely different entities on this planet.”

Having reached this conclusion, Hu Gu felt a chill. The other party might have obtained this information by conducting a thorough scan from the inside out without him even realizing it.

A wave of dread surged through him.

“Calm down, Hu Gu. You must stay calm. Right now, we just don’t know the other party’s true identity. Once we do, there’s nothing to fear.”

Forcing himself to calm down again, Hu Gu began to think of countermeasures.

“There’s no doubt that the other party is a living being, and it possesses a certain level of intelligence.”

“Hmm… to be safe, let’s assume its intelligence is on par with the human brain.”

Human-level intelligence was the highest level Hu Gu knew of. He had no experience with higher levels of intelligence, so he couldn’t incorporate them into his judgment. Before his transmigration, humanity had just begun developing artificial intelligence technology, but it was still in the “artificial idiocy” stage.

“Since it’s a living being, it should follow the logical rules of normal organisms. For now, let’s assume it’s an individual.”

“So, that thing probably didn’t notice my existence at first. Otherwise, the ‘question’ should have come right away, not now.”

“This leads to a new conclusion: on the volcanic island, I must have unknowingly met some condition that caught its attention.”

“So, what could that condition be?”

Hu Gu began to recall the situation on the volcanic island, deleting all memories before the gourd cluster landed. Among them were also the memories of the Titanium Snail, but judging from the example of the gourd, the cellular cluster’s design wouldn’t alert that mysterious entity, so it could be ruled out.

What remained were the memories of the massive transformation of the volcanic island.

They could be listed in five categories: the extensive root system coverage, the discharge of volcanic lava, the island coverage by the lichen system, the construction of the harbor, and the construction of the island’s visual system.

“So, which one could it be? Or could it be all of them?”

The destruction on the volcanic island was quite shocking. Apart from the non-living harbor, the root system, lichen system, and island visual system were all completely destroyed.

If it wasn’t to provoke the other party, why would they destroy these?

Hu Gu’s mood was heavy. This meant that in the future, he might have to live a nomadic life at sea.

“I’m not willing! Just because I’m afraid of being harmed by that thing, I have to live in fear?”

“Since it’s a living being, there must be a way to deal with it…”

As images of the torn lichens and the main roots snapped by the storm flashed through his mind, Hu Gu felt a pang of pain, and a hint of anger unconsciously seeped into his thoughts.

“Since you like destruction so much, I’ll cover every corner of this planet with roots and lichens. You destroy one, I’ll cover two. Let’s see if you have the power to destroy all the roots and lichens on the entire planet.”

It was an impulsive outburst, but then Hu Gu realized with delight that this was actually a brilliant idea.

“That’s it! This is it!”

“As long as it reacts to the outside world, it can be misled. If I cover the entire planet, I won’t have to worry about being homeless anymore because the whole world will be ‘home’! I can live wherever I want!”

It was a rational yet insane idea. Although Hu Gu was an archaeologist and didn’t want to interfere too much with the evolution of the planet’s ecosystem, the situation now threatened his own survival. As the weaker party, if he didn’t respond, he would truly be at the mercy of the other.

Far away on the volcanic island, the dissipated thunderclouds gathered again, and the giant tornado pillars formed once more.

However, unlike before, the tornado pillars seemed to have truly become pillars supporting the heavens, rotating in place without moving an inch from their positions.

The lightning in the sky continued to weave together, as if it might strike at any moment, just like last time.

In the end, no lightning fell.

This strange weather persisted for a while before disappearing as mysteriously as it had appeared.

Chapter 33: Establishing the Base

With a clear objective in mind, one of the gourds nestled in the tail of the Titanium Snail cautiously left the range covered by the seabed curtain.

As it moved through the water, it stayed close to the ocean floor, following the current as much as possible. Even military sonar-equipped submarines would struggle to detect the gourd’s presence in the water.

Hu Gu wasn’t sure if the unknown entity would discover it, but this was the most covert approach it could manage.

Propelled by the current, the gourd reached a spot one nautical mile from the Titanium Snail’s location—the edge of the Titanium Snail’s life field. Beyond this point, Hu Gu could no longer issue commands to the gourd.

The area where the gourd arrived was a sandy seabed, devoid of large rocks. This was the result of repeated scouring by ocean currents. It would take much longer for this planet to develop fine sand like Earth’s beaches.

The division began. Under Hu Gu’s command, the gourd’s cells split, increasing from one to two.

The original gourd, after completing the division, sank into the sand to minimize interference from the current. Covered in carbon nanofibers, it didn’t need to worry about the coarse seabed sand scratching its surface.

The gourd flapped its side fins, using the sand to bury itself and hide.

The newly divided gourd continued its journey, venturing farther away.

Along the way, if it encountered underwater volcanoes or islands, it would slightly adjust its course. Overall, it didn’t strictly maintain a straight line, but no matter how it changed direction, it always moved away from the Titanium Snail’s hiding spot.

After a considerable amount of time—Hu Gu wasn’t sure exactly how long, but it felt like it—the command chain had extended hundreds of nautical miles, and the delay in commands became increasingly severe.

“This distance should be enough… Even if humans deploy satellites, without understanding the life field, they would never be able to trace back to me.”

Though Hu Gu said this, it still extended the distance by another hundred nautical miles out of caution.

The farthest gourd no longer split like the previous ones. Instead, under Hu Gu’s command, it altered its gene expression sequence.

This gourd sank to the seabed, an area strewn with rocks and rubble, not far from an underwater volcano.

Once it settled on the lakebed, it no longer maintained its gourd shape. It transformed into a fleshy ball, continuously expanding and pulsating like an independent heart.

The sphere grew larger and larger. Inside, it was no longer filled with solid matter but had become a liquid environment. At the very center of the sphere, a small embryo could faintly be seen through the membrane.

To maintain its strength, the expanding sphere instinctively thickened its structure. The embryo inside developed in this stable environment, shaping its form and growing its internal organs.

Finally, the fully developed creature used its titanium alloy fangs to pierce the sphere from the inside out.

The creature stretched its body, revealing something that was both biological and not quite biological.

This massive lifeform, resembling a small hill, was cone-shaped. Its base had a radius of ten meters and a height of fourteen meters. Six enormous mouths lined its base, pressing against the seabed, while another large mouth sat at its apex. Its conical body was covered in countless tiny holes and rows of titanium alloy spikes.

The core sensory cells were buried underground. Hu Gu had never intended for this large creature to move through water.

A titanium alloy skeleton provided sufficient strength, resisting the pressure of the deep sea while supporting its massive frame. Its outer layer was a composite skin made of carbon nanofibers and proteins, with an additional layer of titanium alloy scales.

Under command, this monstrous creature pulsed its body. The large mouth at the top frantically sucked in seawater, which was then expelled through the six mouths at the base.

This simple process allowed it to collect a large amount of protein.

Roots began to grow from the base of this creature. Unlike the roots on the volcanic island, these had no main root. They were all uniformly thick and intertwined in a net-like structure, covering the seabed.

If one could observe the cellular structure, they would see that these roots were composed of countless smaller roots. The core of each small root was a carbon nanotube, and each small root had different resource affinities. This meant that while strength was further enhanced, this new root system could process all types of resources.

Most importantly, these roots constantly produced oxygen, harvesting heat energy from volcanoes or the water’s temperature, and reacting with acidic and alkaline elements in the water.

This design was to prevent microbial attacks on the root system.

High concentrations of oxygen could destroy cell membranes, making it a powerful weapon in this era dominated by anaerobic microorganisms. Moreover, it was easy to produce, as carbon dioxide was abundant in the atmosphere.

Microorganisms killed by oxygen would sink and be collected by the root system.

Of course, this was a secondary function. Its primary purpose was to absorb compounds in the covered area and transport them to the conical creature. The two were mutually reinforcing.

Under the nourishment of the conical creature’s protein, the expanding root system advanced rapidly, covering a six-kilometer radius around the conical creature.

During this time, the conical creature also used the remaining organic materials to produce a large number of gourds. Under Hu Gu’s command, the gourd cluster would head to the edge of the life field, where they would “bury” themselves and transform into conical creatures.

The covered area expanded geometrically. If they encountered a volcano, the root system wouldn’t let it go. Except for extremely high-temperature areas like volcanic craters, the entire area would be covered.

Hu Gu had considered sustainable development from the beginning. If it acted too recklessly, the planet’s fledgling ecosystem might collapse prematurely—something it certainly didn’t want to see.

As a researcher of ancient life, learning to respect them was the most basic moral principle.

The new root system’s metabolism was faster than the previous generation. Individual cells had very short lifespans. After death, they would gradually accumulate, forming organic matter similar to sludge, which was a highly nutritious feast for microorganisms.

When this covered area expanded to over two hundred nautical miles, it once again caught the attention of the unknown entity.

Chapter 34: Annihilation

“It’s here!”

Hidden beneath the ocean’s depths, Hu Gu observed through the visual system of the covered area as massive whirlpools, each spanning miles in diameter, appeared on the water’s surface.

Clearly, these were the effects of colossal tornadoes forming over the sea.

“So, it was attracted by the large-scale engineering project after all…”

Hu Gu issued commands, and the scattered gourds within the covered area began to rise toward the surface.

The sea was now turbulent, with waves averaging over twenty meters high. The wind speed was astonishing, and the orange-red sky had darkened slightly. Lightning flashed within the storm clouds, accompanied by explosive thunder, creating a grand spectacle. Occasionally, bolts of electricity reaching up to one billion volts would strike the sea.

“Where is that thing?”

Using the gourds’ vision on the surface, Hu Gu scanned the sky, searching for the unknown lifeform that could control wind and lightning.

Unfortunately, nothing was found. There was no trace in the clouds either. After the visible light visual system failed to locate anything, Hu Gu switched to infrared and ultraviolet perspectives, but still found no hidden presence.

In other words, the enemy either wasn’t nearby or had no physical form.

This situation reminded Hu Gu of the sprites from Western mythology—beings without physical bodies, whose very existence represented certain phenomena. Wherever they went, those phenomena would occur.

“But that’s just mythical superstition!”

“Life is a phenomenon that feeds on negative entropy, actively absorbing it from the environment to maintain its state. Therefore, where life exists, entropy changes become more pronounced.”

“Setting aside the energy required to form tornadoes, just the lightning alone, with voltages ranging from one hundred million to one billion volts, would require consuming even higher energy levels to sustain a lifeform. But how could such a thing exist on this planet?”

After pondering for a long time without answers, Hu Gu stared blankly at the storm clouds.

“I don’t believe in myths. After all, I’m a materialist. It must be some kind of technology…”

“…Could it be that the enemy is controlling the planet’s environment from a much greater distance?”

Hu Gu thought of Earth’s satellites. A friend who worked at the International Aerospace Center had once mentioned that in a few years, they would be able to control global weather. They could bring rain to drought-stricken countries, create dry seasons in flood-prone areas, and even customize weather, like artificially creating rainbows for city celebrations.

“If that’s the case, the enemy might be in outer space, though we can’t rule out the possibility of ground-based stations.”

“For now, let’s not overthink it. Continue expanding the coverage of the root system. Maybe we can find the enemy’s ground station.”

Hu Gu shifted focus from the surface gourds to controlling the entire underwater cluster.

Time passed quickly. The root system’s coverage beneath the sea expanded from two hundred to four hundred nautical miles. During this time, the expected attack did not occur. The tornadoes remained in their original positions, and lightning continued to strike the sea.

However, water is an electrolyte. Although seawater can conduct electricity due to impurities, there is a significant distance between the seabed and the surface. The electric current from the lightning is absorbed by water molecules before reaching the seabed, breaking down into hydrogen and oxygen.

This situation had persisted from the beginning, making Hu Gu suspicious.

“Could it be that the enemy doesn’t actually have the means to interfere with the deep sea?”

This would mean Hu Gu no longer needed to hide. If the enemy’s capabilities were limited to this extent, there was no need to fear.

Indeed, controlling the weather was a powerful ability, but if it was confined to the surface, Hu Gu could simply avoid going ashore. During the Hadean Eon, what was considered land was merely islands above sea level. The vast majority of the planet was covered by water.

After some time, the wind and lightning on the surface subsided, as if a mischievous child from next door had tired of playing and gone home.

Is it over?—Seeing the sea’s climate return to calm, Hu Gu subconsciously thought.

“No!”

Vibrations transmitted through the surrounding water to the cellular cluster’s body. The entire underwater cluster was shaking.

Hu Gu could sense the source of the vibrations—it was coming from beneath the ground. In other words, this was an earthquake, occurring on the seabed. Clearly, the enemy had made a move.

“How is this possible?!”

Hu Gu was filled with shock and doubt.

Cracks appeared on the seabed, and scarlet lava erupted. Volcanoes within the root system’s coverage released even greater power. Large amounts of steam formed underwater, constrained by water pressure into small bubbles. Any creature that entered these bubbles was instantly cooked.

Volcanoes within a four-hundred-nautical-mile radius seemed to go mad, releasing even more power. The original volcanic vents were forced open by the pressure, and lava flowed like water across the seabed.

Large amounts of gas were released, reducing buoyancy. The floating Titanium Snails and gourds fell into the seabed’s lava, burning to ashes.

“Damn it! I won’t let you do as you please!”

Hu Gu quickly issued commands before the relay chain broke. All the Titanium Snails activated their escape propulsion.

Sodium metal came into contact with water, causing a powerful explosion. The Titanium Snails shot out like arrows, unaffected by the reduced buoyancy in the sea.

Hu Gu, within the curtain, also commanded the Titanium Snail it inhabited to join the fleeing army.

From high above the sea, a white ring was expanding at a speed of one hundred and fifty knots. This was the “tail flame” created by the fleeing Titanium Snails as sodium metal reacted with water.

Inside the ring, the dark red seabed continuously surged, creating fountain-like waves that released far more steam than other waters.

The entire scene looked as if a large pot had appeared on the seabed, boiling a delicious soup.

It seemed that some entity felt the soup needed more seasoning and added a small change.

“Hmm?! Something’s coming!”

In the midst of fleeing, Hu Gu’s sense of danger spiked. All its senses were operating at full capacity, allowing it to keenly detect changes in the water flow even in this chaotic environment.

Ahead of the fleeing Titanium Snails stood a “white pillar.”

“That is…”

“A whirlpool?! A sea whirlpool!”

Terrified, Hu Gu quickly issued a turn command, but some Titanium Snails were still caught by the whirlpool and perished.

After fleeing for some distance, just as Hu Gu thought it had escaped, a powerful force of attraction emerged beneath the Titanium Snail it inhabited.

Hu Gu’s heart skipped a beat, followed by a dizzying sensation.

Chapter 35: The Underground Cavern

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The Titanium Snail’s shell collided violently with the tunnel walls, the sound of metal striking rock echoing through the swirling currents. The turbulent waters made it impossible for the snail to maintain balance, leaving it at the mercy of the flow, drifting helplessly.

The whirlpool had formed because an underground cavern had opened a passage to the ocean. Now, Hu Gu and the Titanium Snail it inhabited were inevitably being dragged into the depths of the earth.

Splash!

The sound of falling water. The rushing seawater that had flooded in earlier provided enough cushioning for Hu Gu.

“Talk about bad luck. Good thing I chose titanium alloy for my skeleton, or I’d be starting over from scratch as a microbe again.”

“Speaking of which… where is this?”

Hu Gu looked around, but the darkness was so thick it couldn’t see its own hand in front of its face.

“…Guess I need to adjust my visual sensors.”

Following the command, one of the Titanium Snail’s eyes replaced its chlorine-based visual receptors with water molecules that decomposed under infrared light. The perspective shifted from visible light to infrared, and the pitch-black surroundings suddenly came into view.

“So big?!”

Hu Gu marveled at the sight before it—a massive underground cavern, hundreds of meters high, supported by thick stone pillars that held up the enormous structure.

“Incredible…”

“How did this even form?”

Hu Gu surveyed the area and quickly understood the reason.

The cavern floor was riddled with countless cracks, each continuously spewing small jets of steam, like a boiling kettle.

This underground cavern had once been filled with liquid water, but the early planet’s extreme heat had turned the water into vapor, which escaped through the tiny fissures, shaping the landscape.

Pulling its attention back from the surroundings, Hu Gu began to think about its own situation.

“Alright, I should be safe now… right?”

Hu Gu glanced around uncertainly before letting out a sigh of relief.

“Seems like I am.”

Recalling what it had just endured, Hu Gu felt a chill run down its spine. The disturbance had affected an area hundreds of nautical miles wide—720 kilometers on land. In terms of sheer destructive range, it was roughly a quarter of the Tsar Bomba’s power.

Hu Gu had prepared for many possibilities and had overestimated its opponent’s strength, which was why it had chosen a location hundreds of miles away as the starting point for its root system.

But it had still underestimated.

Such large-scale tectonic shifts had happened on Earth before, each time accompanied by mass extinctions. Fortunately, this was still the Hadean Eon, and the planet’s ecosystem consisted only of microbes well-adapted to volcanic environments.

“Sigh… I just wanted to live a stable life in a relatively safe environment. How did I end up provoking that mysterious entity?”

Humiliation and frustration welled up inside Hu Gu, but more than that, it felt powerless—utterly helpless against an opponent with overwhelming strength.

Fight?

With what?

It didn’t know the enemy’s true form or location, so targeted attacks were impossible. The destructive power was on par with nuclear weapons.

And Hu Gu?

It was just an ordinary, flesh-and-blood creature—weak, pitiful, and helpless. Forget nuclear weapons; even a regular volcanic eruption would kill it if it didn’t escape.

“I just want to surrender…”

“Hmm?”

Hu Gu snapped out of it, excitement filling its mind as it took in its surroundings.

“Wait… isn’t this exactly the kind of stable, safe environment I wanted?”

“In this underground cavern, there are no strong currents or pressure, and I don’t have to worry about drifting into a volcano while resting. The only downside is the lack of light.”

“Since that thing hasn’t pursued me further or tried to wipe me out completely, does that mean it can’t detect life deep underground?”

So why not live out its days here?

“No… that’s not right. That’s no way to live. If I do that, I’m no better than a sewer rat.”

“Granted, between dignity and survival, I’d choose survival. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try to preserve my dignity while staying alive.”

“And as long as that thing is still trying to attack me, I’ll never have peace. Even if it can’t detect me now, what if it can later?”

“…”

“For now, I should focus on gathering organic materials and developing myself. That’s the priority.”

“Gourd, start setting up the root system.”

The gourd carried by the Titanium Snail’s tail emerged, attaching itself to the seabed not far from Hu Gu. It pulsed, growing into a conical organism.

It began absorbing water, just like its kin, but with a difference—the upper mouth had become an outlet, while the six lower mouths served as intakes.

There was no choice; its massive size meant the upper mouth was already above the waterline, so it had to reverse its function.

Occasionally, debris from Titanium Snails, gourds, and root systems would wash down from above, accelerating the collection of materials needed for the root system.

Soon, the root system sprouted from the base of the conical organism, growing from the water onto the shore.

It spread across the cavern walls, floor, and stone pillars, covering everything in a web of vine-like tendrils. Though the cavern was vast, it was still dwarfed by land-based islands.

“Huh? This underground cavern is connected to other places.”

To Hu Gu’s surprise, several tunnels leading to unknown areas were found in the cavern walls.

“Where do they lead?”

Suddenly, through the root system’s visual sensors, Hu Gu noticed a peculiar rock near one of the tunnel entrances.

It stood like a tribal guardian totem, silent and imposing. At first glance, it resembled a statue, but upon closer inspection, it looked like a natural rock formation—somewhere between artificial and natural.

This made Hu Gu unconsciously think of… subterranean people.

It quickly dismissed the absurd notion.

“What’s going on with me? Why am I having so many unrealistic fantasies lately? This is the Hadean Eon—an environment where large organisms can’t survive. So…”

Hu Gu trailed off, its gaze fixed on the suspicious rock-like artifact near the tunnel.

“…I should probably go in and check it out.”

Chapter 36: Exploration

The root system spread into the newly discovered caves. Hu Gu thought that since they were exploring these caves, they might as well explore the others at the same time.

These caves were deep and winding, filled with mystery. The walls were adorned with colorful, glowing crystals that looked otherworldly.

Of course, this was only the case for humans with ordinary eyesight.

Hu Gu was no longer human.

“Oh, so that’s how it is. This must have been a lava tunnel. The high temperatures refined the silicon, mixing it with trace radioactive elements in the ground.”

“The strongest evidence is that the rock walls are made of pyroxene, rich in metal elements…”

As Hu Gu analyzed the surroundings, it suddenly froze, staring in horror at the crystals on the cave walls as if they were demons crawling out of hell.

“Holy shit! This place has nuclear radiation?!”

“Root system, thicken the epidermis of the roots in the cave.”

Hu Gu issued the command and searched the area covered by the root system for elements like lead that could absorb radiation, incorporating them into the outer layer of the roots in the cave.

After a flurry of activity, the exploration continued, with the roots pushing deeper into the cave.

“Hmm? The tunnel is widening?”

“Never mind that for now. Let’s keep going deeper.”

The roots continued to advance. Unlike when they first entered, where the tunnel had grown narrower, it was now expanding.

It seemed they had reached the end of the tunnel. Through the roots, Hu Gu could clearly feel a gentle breeze brushing against the surface, which meant this place was either connected to the outside world or was an internal space vast enough to create airflow.

Since Hu Gu was exploring downward, it was clearly the latter.

“No way… Could there really be an underground world?!”

The roots extended beyond the tunnel, and Hu Gu’s vision left the confines of the passage, revealing the landscape at its end.

It was enormous—so vast that the end couldn’t be seen ahead, to the left, to the right, or above. It was like stepping into a netherworld. Compared to this, the underground cavern Hu Gu had fallen into from the sea was nothing more than a small room.

“How… how did this form?”

Hu Gu suspected it might be a hallucination. The scene before it once again defied its knowledge. Theoretically, such an environment should be extremely difficult to form, and even if it did, it should collapse under the weight of the mass above it after some time.

But this was clearly not a newly formed underground cavern!

At this moment, the other caves had also been explored to their ends, each leading to an underground cavern. However, compared to this one, they were like ants next to an elephant.

Now, Hu Gu had two choices: to continue deeper or to stop here.

“Hmm… There’s no water in these underground caverns. If the distance continues to extend, the difficulty of transport will increase.”

Unlike human rubber pipes, Hu Gu’s biological pipes, constructed from cells, required water for “maintenance” in every part. In other words, as the transport distance grew, the amount of water delivered would decrease.

“The other underground caverns haven’t been explored yet. Maybe I should pause the exploration of this massive underground space and first set up a non-biological pipe to transport water. I can also see what’s in the other caverns.”

“Alright, that’s the plan.”

With a determined mind, Hu Gu shifted its perspective to the other underground caverns.

After the shock of the colossal cavern, these caverns, which were only two to three times larger than the one it had initially fallen into, no longer stirred any waves in Hu Gu’s heart.

Compared to the outside, the caverns were extremely “barren.” Without liquid water or lava to provide materials, the bacteria that could thrive were pitifully few, and the cost of exploration with the root system was enormous.

Hu Gu quickly discovered an embarrassing fact—it had run out of organic materials.

The underground caverns were too vast, and the materials that could be collected were too scarce. In truth, the organic materials should have been exhausted long ago. The only reason it had lasted this long was because remnants of roots, or gourds and Titanium Snails caught in the whirlpool, had been recycled by Hu Gu.

“What should I do? Even if the root system grows fast enough, the pace of exploration will still slow down.”

Hu Gu’s gaze fell on the cave mouth that continuously spewed seawater—the only known passage connecting to the ocean above.

“Go out?”

“No, no, no! That’s absolutely not an option!”

The thought had barely formed before it was rejected in terror. The unspeakable entity outside had left a psychological shadow on Hu Gu so vast it could probably cover the entire planet’s surface.

Without sufficient power to resist it, Hu Gu would not consider appearing in that thing’s line of sight.

“If… it were other creatures, would that thing attack them?”

This thought occurred to Hu Gu precisely because of the current shortage of organic raw materials—microorganisms—and the inspiration they provided.

From the beginning, that mysterious entity seemed to be fixated solely on Hu Gu, ignoring the microorganisms in the ocean.

This suggested it could distinguish Hu Gu from other life forms. Because of this ability to differentiate, it targeted Hu Gu while ignoring other creatures.

Thinking about it in reverse, the solution was simple. Hu Gu could use this to create some autonomous creatures, have them gather organic materials in the ocean, and then deliver them into the whirlpool.

At this thought, Hu Gu hesitated. Creating true life was different from making biological tools like gourds or Titanium Snails. These creatures would have a sense of “self.”

This raised many concerns for Hu Gu, which was why it preferred delayed commands over designing truly autonomous macroscopic creatures with intelligence.

“Once these creatures are designed, will I still be able to control their cells?”

“Will they still obey my commands? Or will they turn against me?”

“Restrictions are impossible. Life always finds a way. If one day these creatures develop intelligence and learn of my existence, how will they view me?”

“……Judging by human nature, they’d probably chop God to pieces in the street.”

It sounded distant, but Hu Gu was immortal. A few hundred million years were just a snap of the fingers. What seemed like a distant problem was actually right in front of it.

For those who don’t understand, think of it this way: summer vacation seems long, with two whole months, but before you know it, it’s the last day, and you haven’t even started your homework.

Chapter 37: The Will to Survive

After deep contemplation, Hu Gu made its decision—it would create a true macroscopic lifeform!

The root system began to grow and spread toward the passage connected to the ocean. This process was much slower compared to growth in other directions. The resistance caused by the surging seawater was the greatest obstacle to upward growth. Each root had to sprout numerous tendrils, embedding itself deeply into the rock walls to prevent being washed back by the waves.

Hard objects swept into the vortex also hindered the spread of the roots—gravel, stones, glass shards, and even the occasional fallen Titanium Snail. Accelerated by the vortex, these objects struck the rock walls at speeds of fourteen kilometers per hour. The root’s outer layer was as defenseless against them as cheese against a hot knife.

To counter this, Hu Gu had no choice but to thicken and reinforce the roots.

Meanwhile, Hu Gu began constructing a conceptual model for the macroscopic lifeform within its mind. First, it needed to establish a core—like the foundation of a skyscraper or the keel of a steel ship—an indispensable component.

What was the core of a macroscopic lifeform?

It was the vessel of thought—the brain, the dwelling place of life, that phenomenon which feeds on entropy.

Of course, it wouldn’t be as complex as a human brain, capable of one septillion calculations per second or storing a hundred trillion pieces of information. It would be the most primitive, simplest intelligent organ, capable of autonomously responding to changes in the external environment.

In essence, every cell and microorganism already possessed this self-regulating function. Though they lacked neurons, they could still subjectively respond to the outside world through ion channels formed by proteins within the cell.

Ion channels were also the key method by which neurons communicated and transmitted signals. This was somewhat like electrical charges traveling through a wire—every reaction the brain made was based on this form of communication.

In a sense, neurons were an upgraded version of these ion channels, capable of transmitting information-carrying electrons over a given distance at exponentially higher quantities—like upgrading from standard broadband to fiber-optic.

Hu Gu’s task was simply to enlarge the cellular template, transferring microscopic structures to a macroscopic scale to form organs while enhancing their original functions. Aside from minor adjustments, this was the general process.

But things weren’t that simple. Right now, Hu Gu faced an insurmountable problem.

“An intelligent organ is fine, but… how do I make the designed macroscopic creature understand the concept of ‘I’?”

The concept of ‘I’ was the foundation of thought. From it stemmed emotions like fear, hunger, anger, affection, and joy—the beginning of understanding and reasoning. Even the most primitive beasts possessed this.

However, making an artificial macroscopic lifeform grasp the concept of ‘I’ was extremely difficult for Hu Gu. It had no knowledge in this area, and neither had the humans of old. The concept of self-awareness was still in the research phase.

Clearly, this path was a dead end.

Hu Gu reorganized its thoughts, searching for a new design approach.

“Life is a phenomenon. To sustain this phenomenon, it must absorb entropy from the outside, keeping its internal entropy constant or nearly so, while increasing external entropy…”

“From this, we can derive the concept that ‘life will do anything to survive.’ This explains why life fears death—it is the root of the ‘will to survive.’”

“This desire surpasses all other emotions except the concept of ‘I.’ It is instinct within instinct. Because of this, life on Earth has endured for billions of years.”

After sorting through these points, Hu Gu suddenly realized something. The driving force behind life’s persistence—those two words rapidly expanded in its mind: desire.

“…Perhaps I don’t need to make them aware of ‘I’ first. Even if they can’t meet the most basic needs like eating raw meat, it doesn’t matter. Fundamentally, I need them to work actively, not to engage in intellectual ‘intelligence.’”

“So, I can use desire… the will to survive…”

The idea became clearer. Hu Gu began incorporating this logic into its design.

“Exactly. Like a symbiotic relationship, I can weaken the stomachs of the organic material collectors, making them only able to digest a specific type of amino acid. This way, the collected organic materials become useless to them.”

“The production of this specific amino acid will be handled by the root system. Thus, to survive, the collectors must continuously provide organic materials to the root system.”

“This is highly feasible. There are many examples on Earth, like bees. While collecting nectar, they also pick up pollen, facilitating cross-pollination between flowers.”

For the organic material collectors, Hu Gu chose the gourd as a template. The brain was placed in the original sensory cell region, while other functional components remained unchanged. However, a stomach was added to the front of the water storage cavity, and the absorption of the internal cell membranes was restricted and filtered.

The moment the design was complete, Hu Gu was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of guilt. Its actions seemed eerily similar to those of slave owners from feudal times…

Hu Gu quickly dismissed this terrible thought.

“No, how could I be that kind of villain?”

“This is at most a corporate management model—you work to get paid. The boss isn’t a god who can create something from nothing. At least slave owners didn’t care if their slaves lived or died and even used them for entertainment. I provide medical insurance. If any of them get injured or sick, I’ll give them the best medical care. Even human society doesn’t have such benefits. How can they be the same?”

Though it knew no one else could hear, Hu Gu still defended itself.

The first collector specimen was squeezed out from the conical creature’s flesh cavity.

The newly emerged collector was tiny, about one-tenth the size of an adult’s palm, and remained motionless, as if Hu Gu’s design had failed.

Hu Gu wasn’t worried. It released a small amount of the special amino acid into the water. The collector, sensing the amino acids, immediately sprang to life.

It clumsily flapped its side fins, exerting all its strength to complete its first act of feeding.

The collector’s behavior confirmed that Hu Gu’s design was correct.

Chapter 38: The Beginning of Inheritance

After the special amino acids in the water were fully absorbed, Hu Gu introduced other types of amino acids and proteins into the water, guiding the collectors to complete the tasks of “gathering organic materials” and “delivering them to the root system for absorption.”

Once these tasks were completed, the collectors would receive special amino acids from the root system. Under the temptation of food, they quickly learned the process, even though they had not yet awakened to the concept of “self.”

To put it bluntly, it was like the animal training techniques used in a circus—not some high-end skill.

The collectors gradually adjusted their cognition under Hu Gu’s guidance, recording this as experiential knowledge in their brains—namely, that as long as they delivered strange substances to those vine-like structures, they would receive delicious food.

After being raised in the water for a period of time, the collectors would understand that only the root system could provide them with food. Then, an equation would form in their minds: the root system equaled food security, and the destruction of the root system meant hunger. Thus, driven by desire, the concept of “protection” would emerge.

Throughout the process, Hu Gu closely monitored the changes in the collectors’ brains. The memories they recorded were learning memories, which theoretically should not be hereditary. Hu Gu planned to modify them into hereditary memories so that every newly born collector would know what to do. This was why it went to such great lengths.

Additionally, Hu Gu tested its control over the cells of the collectors. The result was that there was indeed a weakening of control. Although the connection still existed, it could no longer achieve complete domination like it had with the gourd. It was as if something had weakened the control.

Time passed, and the root system climbing toward the seabed finally spread to the edge of the underwater cavern, intertwining and blocking the cavern.

A dozen gourds were created by the root system. Under Hu Gu’s instructions, they used sand and gravel from the seabed to conceal the root system that had spread to the seabed.

Then, they attached themselves to the root system, transforming into cocoons and reincubating themselves.

Hu Gu directly overlaid the collector information it had gathered during this time into the cocoons, allowing the gourds’ genes to express themselves in the form of collectors.

Before long, one collector after another emerged from their shells, becoming the first macroscopic multicellular organisms to appear on this planet.

They had the same appearance as the gourds but were different. They no longer had restrictions on their range of movement and were no longer constrained by the life field, allowing them to move freely. They had been upgraded from tools to laborers working under a contractor.

The collectors turned their eyes, unaware, observing this new world they had never seen before. The vast environment of the seabed was different from the narrow “world” in their inherited memories. The discrepancy between reality and memory made them somewhat at a loss.

However, driven by hunger, they began their collection work in the ocean.

At first, due to their inability to adapt to their bodies’ abilities and the ocean environment, the collectors struggled to navigate the waters. Compared to the stable water environment of the underground cavern, the currents in the ocean were “turbulent.” The collectors often lost control of their speed and direction, frequently colliding with each other.

Fortunately, the nutrient-rich environment of the Hadean Eon caused microorganisms to proliferate. Even with such inefficiency, they collected enough organic materials to barely fill their stomachs.

Of course, there were also a few collectors who gathered very little. They could not adapt to the turbulent environment of the seabed and repeatedly collided with underwater reefs, requiring Hu Gu to spend a significant amount of organic materials to repair them.

As Hu Gu had initially decided, it could not be as ruthless as a slave owner who discards workers after use. After all, they were working for it. If there was no medical assistance, that would be too unreasonable.

Unable to endure hunger any longer, the collectors went to those who were eating, hoping to share some food. In response, all the collectors showed little reaction.

Newly born, they were like blank sheets of paper, with no concept of public or private, no concept of theft, and no possessiveness. Therefore, no collector expressed opposition.

But Hu Gu could not stand by and watch. The rules were set by it—“The supplies a collector receives depend on the amount of organic materials it can gather.”

Moreover, if left unchecked, would “lazy collectors” emerge? Those who specialize in seizing food from other collectors, like carnivores preying on herbivores.

Concerned, Hu Gu could not allow these substandard collectors to eat the food of others. The root system drove away the approaching collectors and restricted their mobility.

The collectors tried to break free from the root system’s restraints, but the root system was incomparably thick compared to them. It was like a baby arm-wrestling a weightlifting champion—the possibility of winning was never higher than zero.

“Strange… what is this odd heartache?”

Watching the collectors struggle in vain, Hu Gu inexplicably felt uncomfortable, as if seeing them hungry made it feel hungry too.

“Empathy? Or something else?”

Hu Gu dismissively waved away this feeling and gathered all the substandard collectors, making them reattach to the root system and transform into cocoons.

It was not to recycle resources but because Hu Gu intended to copy the experiential memories of the most skilled collectors and transfer them into the brains of these collectors who could not adapt to the ocean environment.

Although Hu Gu’s authority seemed weakened, the connection still existed. The collectors were designed by it from the inside out, so copying memories was not difficult.

If there were still those who did not meet the standards, only then would it consider the option of recycling resources.

During the collection period, Hu Gu also kept an eye on the surface of the sea. If that mysterious entity appeared again, it would immediately sever the connection to the seabed root system—physically.

Soon, the second collection activity began. The previous batch of collectors who had not adapted to the seabed environment did not disappoint Hu Gu. They collected far more organic materials than the untransformed collectors and completed the collection work earlier, allowing them to enjoy a hearty meal.

Of course, there was an exception. One collector who had transformed into a cocoon still did not meet the standards. However, Hu Gu did not intend to pursue the matter because that collector was simply too unlucky. During the collection process, it was trapped in a ring-shaped reef by a sudden strong current in the sea, unable to escape. It was an accident. More importantly, Hu Gu, who had inexplicably traversed, found some resonance with that unlucky collector.

This second collection fully demonstrated the advantage of Hu Gu adjusting experiential memories as hereditary memories. Many collectors knew what to do and how to do it better from birth.

This was a completely different ability from Earth’s organisms. Experience accumulated continuously, like a rolling snowball, growing larger and larger. Even the creator, Hu Gu, did not know what lay at the end of the snowball.

Chapter 39: The Excavation

As the collectors beneath the sea gradually adapted to the underwater environment, the spread of the root system within the underground cavern resumed its former efficiency.

Hu Gu observed the collectors’ work through the root system. Once he was certain they would no longer encounter any major issues, he finally turned his attention to exploring the underground cavern.

The root system quickly covered half of the previously discovered cavern. This cavern brought Hu Gu considerable surprise. Within it, he found a fissure where seawater continuously surged in, along with scattered gourds and Titanium Snails. Clearly, this fissure was another passage leading to the seabed above.

With this, Hu Gu’s water supply route could be doubled, eliminating the need to widen the original passage.

Of course, if this were the only discovery, it wouldn’t have been enough to truly “surprise” Hu Gu, who had experienced so much. At most, it would have been an unexpected stroke of luck. What truly astonished him was something else he found in the cavern.

It was a regular triangular pyramid, not very large—only a few centimeters in size. The pyramid extended deep into the rock layer, making it easy to imagine that this was the sharp tip of some object buried within the rock.

The root system’s tendrils discovered this object. The root system required tendrils to anchor its position, and as they burrowed into the rock, the triangular pyramid, being much harder than the surrounding rock, caused the tendrils to form a ‘V’ shape in the rock, successfully catching Hu Gu’s attention.

While it wasn’t uncommon to find minerals harder than rock, such a perfectly regular shape was extremely rare.

Without overthinking, Hu Gu, driven purely by curiosity, began excavating the area. Unexpectedly, he unearthed something that left him stunned.

Examining the triangular pyramid exposed from the rock, Hu Gu suppressed his excitement and spoke his thoughts aloud, incredulous.

“Man-made?”

The reason was simple—its shape was too regular to be natural.

Hu Gu used a tendril to scrape off some molecules from the pyramid and analyzed its composition.

“Iron?”

“No, there’s carbon in it too. Is it steel?”

“Not quite. There’s also potassium, titanium, silver, lead…”

One by one, over twenty elements were identified. However, Hu Gu still couldn’t draw an immediate conclusion. The cavern had once been a gathering place for basic magma, so the presence of various metal elements was normal.

To further verify his hypothesis, Hu Gu directed the root system to do what it did best—archaeological excavation.

Excavating with the root system’s tendrils was far more efficient than humans using small brushes. Moreover, with precision down to the molecular level, the damage caused to the artifact was minimal compared to traditional methods.

To Hu Gu’s slight disappointment, the part of the triangular pyramid extending downward was no longer as regular, though it still had edges and angles.

This suggested that the artifact was more likely a natural formation.

Though his enthusiasm was dampened, Hu Gu still decided to excavate the entire artifact. Perhaps it was due to his obsessive-compulsive tendencies or his professional instincts as an archaeologist.

The tendrils were incredibly powerful, and with Hu Gu’s expertise, the excavation proceeded smoothly. Any potential accidents were preemptively avoided, and the work progressed rapidly. Soon, the full artifact was revealed before Hu Gu.

It was a metal plate, thirty meters long and eighty-two meters wide, with a slight curvature. Its edges were irregular, as if torn haphazardly by a mischievous child.

The thickness of the plate varied—earlier measurements showed six meters, but other parts measured eight, seven, or five meters, ranging between five and eight meters.

At first glance, it seemed like a natural formation. However, Hu Gu keenly noticed a striking feature on the artifact.

One side of the metal plate, though not perfectly flat, had gentle undulations like a plain or hillside. The other side, however, was pockmarked with craters of varying sizes, some even piercing through to the other side, resembling the surface of the moon.

“Could it be…”

Hu Gu felt as if he had grasped something, his shock mingling with disbelief as he murmured to himself.

“No! It’s too early to conclude. First, I need to determine how long this metal plate has existed.”

The root system’s tendrils penetrated the metal plate—an easy task for them. Though the plate was harder than rock, it was still composed of molecules. As long as the tendrils could find the gaps between them, they could easily pass through.

A sample of the artifact was taken by the tendrils and drawn into the root system. Hu Gu analyzed the proportion of half-life atoms in the metal plate to calculate its age.

Soon, the result appeared.

“Eight hundred million years…”

The number left Hu Gu speechless. Even dinosaur fossils were only over two hundred million years old. Now, he could roughly understand why the metal plate had uneven thickness. Over such an immense timespan, chemical reactions within the strata would have eroded the plate, causing the irregularities.

But this still didn’t explain why one side was pockmarked while the other was smooth.

Hu Gu once again considered the possibility of it being “man-made,” but without decisive evidence, he couldn’t be certain. Nature wasn’t without the conditions to form such a metal plate.

For now, the matters in this cavern were concluded. Hu Gu continued exploring other caverns, but he found nothing similar to the metal plate.

An indescribable emotion—whether disappointment or something else—lingered in Hu Gu’s mind. Perhaps, deep down, he had been hoping it was a man-made object.

“Next is the exploration of the large cavern.”

“I hope to find something.”

The root system, which had been hesitating at the entrance of the large cavern, finally began moving again. The water transportation issue had long been resolved, and under Hu Gu’s command, the roots spread rapidly.

Through the root system’s perspective, Hu Gu once again marveled at the vastness of the cavern. If not for the wall behind him, he might have thought he had returned to the surface—a surface where one couldn’t see their own hand in front of their face.

“My goodness, how was this cavern formed?”

Hu Gu’s curiosity about the cavern’s formation resurfaced once more.

Chapter 40: Artificial Construct

The root system was expanding at full force—upward, leftward, rightward, forward—now stretching nearly ten kilometers in all directions.

Along the way, Hu Gu had not seen anything resembling support pillars, which only fueled his curiosity further.

“The air composition is primarily oxygen, making up sixty-seven percent…”

This was an astonishing ratio. Even during Earth’s peak oxygen levels, the concentration had never exceeded thirty-five percent.

Fortunately, Hu Gu could adjust his cells accordingly. Any other organism entering this environment would suffer immediate oxygen toxicity from inhaling such high concentrations.

Surveying his surroundings, Hu Gu found the sheer flatness of this colossal underground cavern defied his expectations. Up close, the terrain appeared uneven, but from a distance, it stretched into an unnaturally smooth plane—nothing like what natural forces could produce.

Even as his attention shifted elsewhere, the root system continued its relentless expansion. Soon, Hu Gu noticed a pillar-like structure ahead.

A support column?

The thought crossed his mind.

After some hesitation, he decided not to slow the root system’s advance, though he remained on high alert, ready for battle at any moment.

His caution wasn’t unwarranted. In this unfamiliar environment, encountering such strange phenomena—especially after being chased into the underground cavern by an unidentified creature—meant he could no longer assume this planet’s Hadean Eon mirrored Earth’s.

As time passed, the distant vertical line resolved into a slender column. Hu Gu adjusted his ocular lenses, focusing on its true form.

To his disappointment, the pillar wasn’t solid—it was liquid. A column of water, cascading from the ocean above, pooling below. In the water, he spotted a few motionless gourds and Titanium Snails, their autonomy lost.

“Though these organic materials aren’t a lifeline, they’re still a welcome bonus. And with this water source, future supply logistics will be far less burdensome.”

A cone-shaped organism quickly took residence in the pool, harvesting organic matter from the seawater, while the roots pressed onward.

The expansion continued until, at last, the root system reached the cavern’s boundaries—not ahead, but above and to the sides, extending roughly one hundred kilometers before hitting the edges.

The roots paused upon contact, collecting samples of the boundary materials for analysis. The results left Hu Gu conflicted.

The left and right walls were composed of standard andesite, trachyandesite, trachyte, and alkali feldspar trachyte—typical neutral volcanic rocks. But above was an enormous metal surface, its appearance matching the metal plates unearthed in other caverns, though far rougher, as if weathered by eons.

Hu Gu immediately ordered the roots to break through the volcanic rock. Sure enough, after penetrating about a meter, the same metal surface appeared.

“Analyze the metal’s composition and half-life.”

Repeating the process from another underground cavern, he received the answer—eight hundred million years. The same age as the metal plate.

Not just the age, but the composition was identical, with only minor variations in elemental ratios.

“It seems that metal plate was part of this metal wall.”

“Perhaps this really is an artificial construct…”

After a moment of contemplation, he added:

“…Or maybe a comet that struck this planet.”

He recalled observations of comets largely covered in metal. If such a comet had entered the planet’s atmosphere, the metal would have melted from friction, encasing the comet entirely. If it had been spinning rapidly during descent, the result could easily be this circular cross-section.

This explanation seemed plausible—until further discoveries undermined it.

As the root system pressed forward, it soon encountered something peculiar about one hundred kilometers ahead.

A cube-shaped object, as if carved by hand, yet seamlessly integrated into the ground with no visible gaps.

Nearby, a mound of earth held what appeared to be wheel-like circular objects.

Vertical to both the cube and the mound stood three stone pillars, unconnected to any canopy, each about half a meter in diameter and three meters long, resembling inverted test tubes.

Nothing else.

Hu Gu zoomed in, examining each object in detail. He was now certain—none of this was natural. The underground cavern itself was the work of intelligent life.

The roots analyzed the materials—identical to the metal walls and the unearthed plate, with the same half-life. It was this durability that allowed them to endure hundreds of millions of years, presenting themselves before Hu Gu now.

At the cube, the roots cleared away the accumulated dust and rock that had fused over time, making the structure appear as one with the ground.

After carefully removing the debris, Hu Gu found geometric patterns on the cube’s sides. He then cleared the other dust-covered objects.

Upon examining the mound, he concluded it had once been a vehicle-like transport, now reduced to earth by the passage of time.

The three stone pillars, he speculated, were some kind of machine. Hollow inside, with silicon making up half their composition, they bore no geometric markings like the cube.

Hu Gu could guess their purpose—man is iron, rice is steel; without food, there is death. In such a desolate, isolated place, what else could these machines be for but ensuring food supply, allowing intelligent life to survive?

As for the cube, he first thought it might be a coffin or a stasis pod. But the roots found no seams or lids, dismissing that theory.

The roots continued their advance. Hu Gu wouldn’t stop until they reached the cavern’s edge.

Thirty kilometers from the strange site, an enormous array of cubes appeared before the root network—millions of them, arranged in formation.

Chapter 41: The Array Book

“How does this give me déjà vu of the Terracotta Army…”

The root system spread relentlessly, weaving through the gaps between the cubes. The roots extended their tendrils, skillfully embedding themselves into the cubes, carefully secreting connecting proteins to reinforce the cubes while clearing away the dust and rocks covering their surfaces.

The root system continued to grow and spread, cleaning the “artifacts” as it went.

After clearing away the dust and rocks, the true appearance of the cubes was revealed to Hu Gu. Each was two meters long, half a meter wide, and three meters tall. These measurements weren’t absolutely precise—each cube varied by about one to three centimeters in edge length. The material was the same as the metal walls, which might explain how the array had remained intact for hundreds of millions of years.

It was clear that the contents of this cubic array were different from the cubes Hu Gu had seen before. In terms of appearance, these array cubes resembled tombstones.

On the surfaces of these repaired cubes were countless patterns. These weren’t natural formations, nor were they the result of Hu Gu’s experienced hands making a mistake. They were patterns inherent to the cubes themselves.

These patterns on the cube surfaces formed geometric shapes of similar sizes, each occupying about four square centimeters of the cube’s surface. They were neatly arranged in rows, with scattered dot-based symbols mixed among the geometric shapes.

Clearly, this was writing—a completely alien script, unlike any human language.

“This doesn’t seem related to tombstones. It’s more like those stone tablets used in burials to record important information. In other words…”

Hu Gu looked out over the array, which stretched as far as the eye could see. Even adjusting his vision, the scale far exceeded any burial site on Earth.

“…This is a book?”

How could information be preserved for longer?

This was a rather difficult problem. In this universe, entropy was everywhere, and natural erosion would inevitably turn readable information into indecipherable noise. The only difference was the time it took.

On Earth, the only method that could preserve information for hundreds of millions of years was to carve words into stone.

It wasn’t literally using stone as the medium, but a metaphor—“recording information on an extremely stable solid.”

Clearly, the intelligent beings who had carved these words into the cubic array had thought the same as humans on Earth, which was why they had created such a massive “Array Book.”

“Too bad. I’ve never been good at deciphering languages.”

Hu Gu gazed longingly yet regretfully at the writing on the cubes. Though he had studied archaeology, his focus had been on improving his excavation skills. If it were ancient Earth scripts, he might have been able to make out the general meaning, but with an alien language he had no foundation in, he was truly powerless.

Deciphering a completely unknown language required a dedicated linguistic research team and state-level supercomputers.

For now, Hu Gu set aside the matter of the cubic array and turned his attention to the root system, which had finally spread beyond the array. He roughly calculated the area the array occupied—one hundred square kilometers, equivalent to fourteen thousand football fields.

Farther ahead, beyond the cubic array, Hu Gu could see two thin lines in the distance, like ropes hanging between heaven and earth.

“More water pillars?”

Hu Gu checked his current distance from the last water source. Though it was still within an acceptable range, and he could increase the supply to compensate, having additional supply points to ease logistical pressure wasn’t a bad thing.

To conserve organic material, Hu Gu directed the root system to prioritize growth toward the two distant lines.

But this time, the lines puzzled Hu Gu. As they grew thicker in his vision, their forms remained blurred, as if they were still far away. Both lines were like this.

This anomaly caught Hu Gu’s attention immediately.

“Strange. Could the cracks in the upper layer be larger, making these two water pillars thicker than the last one?”

The answer would soon be revealed. The roots continued to spread, covering about forty kilometers before finally reaching the two pillars.

These weren’t water pillars, nor were they related to water at all. They were the massive support pillars holding up this giant underground cavern, each with a diameter of one kilometer.

Farther ahead, Hu Gu could see similar vertical lines on both sides, likely more support pillars like the ones he was currently near.

“These pillars seem to appear frequently in my field of vision. But why didn’t I see any support pillars along the way before?”

So far, Hu Gu had traveled about three hundred and seventy kilometers, yet along this distance, he hadn’t seen any giant support structures like these.

Given the structure of the underground cavern he had observed, there should have been support pillars along the path he had taken. So where had those massive pillars gone?

As Hu Gu pondered, he glanced at the cubic array, now completely overtaken by the root system, and suddenly understood.

Clearly, constructing such a massive cubic array would require a vast amount of alloy capable of enduring hundreds of millions of years. But where had this material come from?

The metal walls couldn’t be dismantled—they were underground, and back then, the planet might still have been in a molten state, essentially a giant lava ball. Dismantling the metal walls would have been suicidal.

That left only the support pillars made of the same material. At that time, the planet might have been completely molten or semi-molten and semi-solid, so the pressure wouldn’t have been as great as in the depths of a solid planet. This made sense.

“So, what exactly is this underground cavern?”

Intelligent beings usually created things with a purpose. The technology behind the underground cavern Hu Gu was in was beyond even human capabilities—this was a civilization-level megaproject. It couldn’t have been the product of some bored individual with too much time on their hands.

And that wasn’t even considering the one-hundred-square-kilometer “Array Book.”

So what was the original purpose of this place?

Chapter 42: Extraterrestrial Remains

Hu Gu pondered for a moment but found no clues about the massive underground cavern in the information he had gathered.

Eight hundred million years—time enough for even the most dazzling objects to decay into dust.

The only thing of value Hu Gu had found so far was the Array Book spanning one hundred square kilometers. The problem was, he lacked the ability to decipher its vast contents, leaving him helpless.

Over the following period, the root system extended through twelve supporting pillars and thirty-two seawater columns formed by cracks in the lower layers, finally covering the entire floor of the underground cavern.

“Finally done.”

Controlling the root system had drained Hu Gu’s energy. The cavern was vast beyond comprehension, and monitoring every segment of the root system had been exhausting.

Freed from mental labor, Hu Gu shifted his gaze upward.

“The upper layer…”

“…No, better not. The root system has its own weight. If it spreads there, it might disrupt the stress balance, leading to a catastrophic collapse.”

A massive breach in the upper layer could trigger a chain reaction, causing the entire structure to crumble. After all, it had stood for eight hundred million years.

Did that mean the exploration of the underground cavern was over?

Not quite. Hu Gu turned his attention downward and backward. Since the left, right, top, and front were all metal walls, the other boundaries were likely the same. In other words, a significant portion of the cavern was buried beneath rock layers.

This was probably the result of early damage, allowing molten lava to seep in.

From what he could tell, neither the builders nor the structure belonged to this planet.

In the planet’s early molten state, there were oceans, but they were seas of lava with temperatures exceeding 1,500 degrees Celsius, along with other extreme conditions.

Moreover, the early period wasn’t just about the planet itself but the entire planetary system. Millions of rogue asteroids drifted through the system, leading to frequent meteorite impacts—space traffic accidents, so to speak.

To put it bluntly, it was like a Tsar Bomba detonating somewhere on Earth every few days. Since lava was fluid, shockwaves could easily spread globally, varying only in intensity.

If hell existed, it was probably something like this.

Even if intelligent life had somehow thrived in lava seas and developed a civilization, they wouldn’t have needed to build such structures. Based on the traces found in the cavern, the building had originally been empty; the lava had entered only after damage occurred.

Why would a civilization born in lava seas need to construct something so different from their environment?

Perhaps for large-scale scientific experiments, but given the cavern’s scale and quality, that theory held no weight.

Following Hu Gu’s commands, the root system delved downward, easily pushing through solid volcanic rock as if it were tofu. Soon, it discovered something.

But Hu Gu wasn’t pleased. It was just another metal plate, identical to the first one he had found.

Disappointed, he ordered the root system to continue exploring downward. He was convinced he would find something.

His confidence wasn’t baseless. Rock layers often preserved things remarkably well over long periods, like dinosaur fossils.

A man-made cavern of this size couldn’t have housed just one intelligent being. If the damage had been sudden, the area beneath the cavern’s floor might contain the fossilized remains of its builders.

After some time, the root system reached the cavern’s boundary—not the downward-exploring roots, but those extending backward.

With rock layers for support, Hu Gu didn’t worry about collapse. The roots spread rapidly, covering the entire rear area, including the upper layer, where they found several breaches in the rear metal wall.

This confirmed Hu Gu’s earlier theory about lava flooding in through the holes, prompting him to search the underground rock layers even more thoroughly.

His efforts paid off. The roots, expanding recklessly, uncovered a large cluster of fossils that had slept in the rock for eight hundred million years.

After injecting stabilizing proteins to reinforce the fossils’ structure, Hu Gu focused intently, using the roots to carefully separate the skeletal remains from the surrounding rock and lift a sample upward.

As the fossilized skeleton emerged, Hu Gu finally laid eyes on the remains of an extraterrestrial being.

Unlike human skeletons or the extraterrestrial fossils discovered on Mars, this one was entirely reddish-brown, composed mainly of iron oxide. Hu Gu deduced that these beings used iron, not calcium, for their skeletal structure. Over eight hundred million years, the iron in their bones had oxidized, resulting in the current iron oxide composition.

Perhaps due to the sudden lava flow, the skeleton was relatively intact, with only minor cracks and no significant damage.

The skull had a pair of curved horns resembling a goat’s, and the back featured bat-like bone wings. Standing about three meters tall, its spine was similar to a human’s but extended into a tail at the lower end.

It had four limbs—two arms and two legs—with six fingers on each hand and six toes on each foot.

The bones were hollow, like those of birds, suggesting that the wings on its back were indeed functional for flight.

“This creature reminds me of the evil demons from Western mythology,” Hu Gu mused.

“Good thing this isn’t an international excavation. Otherwise, some terrorist might blow up the skeleton and the cavern.”

At the International Aerospace Center, religious interference had been a major headache. Proving the existence of extraterrestrials meant humans were a product of nature, not divine creation. Who would still believe in ‘God created man’?

“But why were these intelligent beings on this planet?”

“And why did they come here when it was still molten?”

Eight hundred million years was too vast a span; Hu Gu couldn’t begin to imagine the circumstances.

Amid his swirling thoughts, his mind flashed to the mysterious entity that had driven him from the ocean depths into the underground.

Chapter 43: The Plan

“Judging from the brutality of that unknown entity’s attacks on me, this possibility is extremely high…”

Reflecting on his past experiences, Hu Gu became increasingly convinced of his theory.

To be honest, Hu Gu felt somewhat disappointed with the results of his exploration of the underground cavity. He had hoped to find some clues about the true identity of that unknown entity. After all, neither the underground artificial structures nor the mysterious lifeforms capable of manipulating natural disasters were anomalies that should have existed during the Hadean Eon. It was hard not to draw connections.

Now that the root system had fully occupied the underground cavity, it was time for Hu Gu to formulate his next plan.

“While it’s true that I could survive by hiding underground, I can’t accept living like that. This isn’t arrogance—it’s the dignity every human should possess. Besides, this isn’t a long-term solution. If one day, the enemy gains the ability to detect underground, I, who thought I was safe and unprepared, would undoubtedly meet a gruesome end…”

“Even if I take ten thousand steps back, staying in the underground cavity isn’t an option. The massive volcanic eruption last time caused cracks that allowed seawater to flood into the cavity. The already eroded space, which could barely maintain balance with the lower layers, is now further destabilized. Collapse is inevitable.”

“…Returning to the surface means facing relentless attacks again. It seems I have no choice but to fight and eliminate the enemy.”

Negotiation was impossible. Hu Gu wanted to negotiate, but the enemy had no such intention. Apart from the brief message received during the first contact, everything else had been natural disasters with destructive power equivalent to nuclear weapons.

However, having made up his mind, Hu Gu now faced a new problem—how to fight?

Hu Gu’s thoughts began to race.

Attacks are sequential. This sequence must exist in the universe, like how one plus one equals two. Perhaps by analyzing these sequences, he could deduce the location of that mysterious entity…

“First, an attack must be based on the existence of one or more targets; otherwise, it doesn’t hold.”

“Second, the prerequisite for an attack is that the attacker can obtain basic information from the target; otherwise, it’s ineffective.”

Based on these two points, he began to apply the enemy information he had gathered so far…

“On the island and in the sea, I was attacked, but after falling underground, the attacks stopped. According to the second point, this means the enemy is in a position where they can directly observe land and sea but cannot observe underground.”

“Early on, I didn’t encounter any attacks from that unknown entity. According to the first point, it can be inferred that the enemy’s observational capabilities have limitations—microscopic individuals won’t attract attention.”

“A creation with such technology likely isn’t weak in other abilities. This limitation is probably due to interference from their location.”

Does such a position exist?

Of course! That place is the outer space beyond this planet. The cloud cover during the Hadean Eon was so dense that even sunlight couldn’t penetrate—this is a strong observational interference. Additionally, only from outer space can one achieve global surveillance.

“Good, this confirms the enemy’s location.”

The scattered information collected during his previous encounters gradually became organized. Many things shifted from vague to clear. Hu Gu’s “automated climate satellite” hypothesis now had solid support.

Since aliens had appeared, the existence of something that could control the weather was no longer just a fantasy.

“However, a climate satellite being able to trigger crustal activity is completely beyond my expectations.”

A climate satellite is just a satellite. The satellite’s mass determines that its maximum capability is only suitable for manipulating weather. Interfering with crustal activity, a high-mass phenomenon, would have an almost negligible effect.

Hu Gu could only attribute this to “mysterious technology that humanity has yet to develop or understand.”

The expected information summary was complete. Next was the battle plan against the enemy.

“From the current attack methods, the enemy possesses natural attack capabilities such as lightning, tornadoes, volcanoes, earthquakes, and tsunamis. Once I return to the surface, I will inevitably face these again.”

“To strike an enemy in space, I must also send cellular matter into outer space. Only then can I lock onto the target and destroy it. Moreover, it must be in real-time, which means the life field must expand sufficiently. From the land to outer space, there can’t be too many relay command individuals.”

“A vast life field requires a massive cluster of sensory cells to generate, along with a complete nutrient supply system to maintain these sensory cells. It must also resist cosmic radiation and the harsh vacuum environment. This means the cellular cluster sent into outer space must be further increased in size.”

“The mass-energy required for the deployment and the resulting commotion will increase exponentially with size. The enemy won’t fail to notice and will certainly interfere with the deployment…”

Hu Gu froze. To send a cellular cluster into space, it would inevitably cause a huge commotion, which would attract the enemy’s attention. The enemy wouldn’t sit idly by—they would interfere. Given the enemy’s current destructive power, the success rate of interference would be almost ninety percent.

This created a paradox.

“Method…”

“Hmm, a feint. First, establish a sturdy target to completely divert the enemy’s attention, then unexpectedly complete the deployment into outer space from another location…”

But how could he ensure the enemy’s attention was completely diverted to find an opportunity?

“…A feint alone isn’t enough. Before the feint, I can add a ‘dark crossing’—make the enemy realize I know their location and am approaching it. At that point, they will surely try to stop me from getting closer, and their attention will be successfully drawn to the target I’ve set up. Then…”

“Yes, the battle plan should be like this—strike when they least expect it.”

After finalizing the battle plan, Hu Gu immediately began intense preparations. The materials required to execute this plan were astronomical. If he were on the surface, he wouldn’t be able to hide from the enemy’s eyes. Fortunately, Hu Gu now had a massive underground cavity for strategic storage.

Chapter 44: Preparation

“Ugh, I have to design something again…”

Hu Gu grumbled to himself, though he didn’t stop working. He was just venting his anxiety to calm himself down.

Hu Gu didn’t want to be nervous, but he couldn’t help it. In his past life, he had been a scholar specializing in archaeological excavation. He had never even touched a rocket, let alone designed one!

“I regret it so much…”

“Why didn’t I memorize the blueprints from the International Aerospace Center back then? They were right there on the table when I was chatting with Old Li…”

Hu Gu stared at the cluster of cells curled up at the bottom of the water, his mind blank with deep regret.

This cell cluster was a crucial tool for striking the enemy. It had to be flawless—success had to come in one shot.

If it failed, the enemy would become more vigilant and launch a crazier counterattack.

Hu Gu wasn’t afraid of counterattacks. At worst, he’d be reduced back to a microbial state. The planet was vast—there was no way the enemy could search the entire ocean with a microscope, right?

But if it failed, the next attempt would be much harder. The attack relied heavily on the element of surprise and the advantage of striking from the shadows.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just shoot it out like a cannon…”

“…”

Hu Gu suddenly snapped out of his daze, carefully considering the feasibility of his careless remark.

“Shoot… shoot…”

“That’s it! I’m a genius!”

Compared to the complex structure of a rocket, a cannonball was simple to the extreme. He didn’t need an advanced, intricate design—just something that could explode internally and launch the payload.

“Since there’s no one inside and no precision instruments, why should I base the design on a rocket? I can just make it like a cannonball, using an explosion to blast it into the outer layers of the planet’s atmosphere…”

“The launch tube should be tilted at a 45-degree angle to better enter the planet’s low orbit…”

“Right, right. The cell cluster can be designed entirely like a cannonball. The hard outer shell can be made of titanium alloy, and the launch tube can be the same…”

“Should I add rifling to the barrel?”

Hu Gu tried to recall his knowledge of rifling…

“Rifling keeps the projectile spinning during launch, which stabilizes its trajectory. It seems necessary. Even if it reduces the initial velocity a bit, the cost-benefit ratio is still worth it.”

With the method of launching the cell cluster into outer space decided, Hu Gu didn’t feel any lighter. There were still other problems to solve.

“Cosmic radiation—alpha, beta, gamma rays… I don’t know many radiation-shielding materials, only lead. But that would make it too heavy…”

After some thought, Hu Gu had no choice but to accept it.

“Fine, I’ll use lead. I’ll create a sandwich layer in the titanium alloy shell to store the lead.”

Increasing meaningless weight meant decreasing meaningful weight. In other words, the amount of other materials they could carry would be reduced.

But there was no alternative. The cells couldn’t adapt to an environment full of radiation. This was directly related to their low exposure to radiation. During the Hadean Eon, the cloud cover was thick, and while solar radiation wasn’t absent, it was far less than on Earth. Because of this limited exposure, the cells had poor adaptability and were prone to mutations.

After solving the radiation problem, the next issue was the vacuum of space.

Though not completely devoid of gas, the density was so low it was almost negligible—about one atom per cubic meter.

The strength of titanium alloy was more than sufficient. Although it hadn’t been tested in space, Hu Gu had conducted tests under deep-sea pressure and doubled the strength requirements. Following the principle of caution, he didn’t rely solely on titanium alloy. He also added a carbon nanofiber mesh in the sandwich layer to improve overall deformation resistance.

However, even with these reinforcements, there was still one part of the cell cluster that Hu Gu couldn’t stop worrying about—the eyes.

The eyes were covered with thick tempered glass, with layers inside filled with nitric acid solution. The nitrogen dioxide in the nitric acid could effectively absorb all ultraviolet light and some visible light, preventing excessive ultraviolet radiation from damaging the eyes.

Next was the ability to move in outer space. In a zero-gravity environment, changing position and reaching a desired location was quite troublesome. Hu Gu had no good solution, so he designed six thrust ports on the cell cluster, each facing a different direction. Fine adjustments would be handled by gas thrusters.

For propellant, Hu Gu decided to use liquid hydrogen, with liquid oxygen as the oxidizer. Producing them wasn’t difficult—first, generate oxygen and hydrogen, then use artificial water pressure to compress them into liquid form and store them in pre-made titanium alloy gas cylinders.

There was also the issue of temperature. Space was near absolute zero—extremely cold. Although the vacuum could block heat dissipation, temperature would still be lost through thermal radiation.

“So, I need to add an insulation layer inside the ‘cannonball’…”

Were the problems solved?

No, there was still a critical issue—the weapon that could be used in space.

A pair of limbs with a titanium alloy framework were installed inside the cell cluster. These weren’t simple claws but sci-fi-inspired monomolecular blades, constrained by electromagnetic forces generated by bioelectricity.

For Hu Gu, who could work at the molecular level, creating such a weapon wasn’t difficult—it was like an ordinary person building a house with bricks.

The advantage of a monomolecular blade was obvious, but so was its drawback—it consumed a massive amount of energy.

Even if all the bioelectricity in the cell cluster was used, it could only maintain the monomolecular blade state for four seconds. Moreover, it couldn’t be used in an atmospheric environment because charged particles would be attracted to the blade’s electromagnetic field, gradually dulling it.

If the enemy was a large mechanical body, the limbs could break through its armor, allowing the cell cluster to infiltrate and destroy it from within.

Another weapon was a live round, filled with sodium metal. A special sandwich structure ensured that the sodium and water reacted fully, and a chromium metal warhead could easily penetrate a ten-centimeter-thick steel plate—this was the result of testing.

The worst-case scenario was if both weapons failed to destroy the enemy. Then, the cell cluster in outer space would act as a booster engine, pushing satellites out of orbit and crashing them to the surface. This was Plan B.

Although the cell cluster was a biological tool, Hu Gu’s values didn’t allow for disposable use. So, Plan B would only be activated if Plan A failed.

Chapter 45: The Colossal Structure—The Regular Octahedron

Some seven hundred kilometers from a small underground cavity, the root system that had been steadily advancing forward suddenly ceased its growth. Over time, the tip of the root swelled, forming a spherical structure.

Inside the hollow sphere, a fist-sized, organ-like mass pulsed rhythmically.

After a while, the organ-like mass continued to throb, though with less vigor than before. The amplitude and frequency of its contractions diminished, and six evenly spaced protrusions emerged from the undulating flesh, each pointing in a different direction.

Before long, the organ ruptured from within, revealing a regular octahedron nestled in the hollow space carved out by the root system.

The octahedron was as clear as glass, its interior crisscrossed with intricate pathways. It had fifteen edges—twelve visible on the surface and three internal, mutually perpendicular diagonals.

The slight undulations on its surface hinted that this was a living creature—a perfect fusion of solid geometry and organic life. Far from seeming out of place, it exuded an otherworldly beauty.

The root system continued to function as usual, pumping vast quantities of material from afar through biological pumps composed of muscle cells, delivering them steadily to the octahedron.

The octahedron absorbed these materials rapidly. Its internal biological pumps distributed them throughout its body, causing it to expand proportionally without altering its shape. The transparent surface gradually darkened, replaced by a sleek, black metallic armor.

Soon, the hollow structure formed by the root system could no longer contain the growing octahedron, and the internal space of the root sphere burst apart.

Under remote commands, the shattered roots quickly repaired themselves, and countless tendrils extended, embedding themselves into the octahedron to continue their task of transporting materials.

The octahedron began to reveal its power to the world. The underground space expanded as the octahedron’s muscle cells resisted the pressure of the surrounding strata.

This struggle was entirely one-sided—the octahedron dominated effortlessly.

Normally, an increase in size would lead to a drastic decrease in strength. Even the most durable metals would become fragile if scaled up indefinitely.

Yet, despite the mounting pressure from the strata, the octahedron remained unmoved, expanding at a steady, unhurried pace.

This was all thanks to its internal structure. The skeletal framework was entirely composed of interconnected triangles, providing absolute stability. The octahedron’s diagonal design allowed the pressure from the strata to be dispersed and shared across its entire body.

Relying solely on the skeleton would have been impractical. The true “powerhouse” was the octahedron’s vast number of muscle cells, which constantly consumed methane to provide the primary force for its structure, thereby mitigating external pressure.

Corresponding to the octahedron’s underground expansion, the planet’s sea level began to drop, as if an invisible, planet-sized beast had lowered its head to drink. Global water levels fell by one to twenty meters.

Following its instructions, the octahedron tirelessly expanded. Soon, a new adversary emerged.

It was magma—the fiery dragons of the Hadean Eon, both a disaster and a treasure. Even on Earth, they were forces humanity dared not provoke.

Now, the expanding octahedron had intruded into their lair. How could they tolerate this?

Magma, ranging from seven hundred to twelve hundred degrees Celsius, surged forth, determined to annihilate the foolhardy intruder.

The octahedron’s black scales glowed red under the magma’s heat, but soon, the redness faded, returning to its original dark hue.

Inside the octahedron, accelerated by biological pumps, rapidly flowing liquid water carried away the heat. The increased temperature sped up its metabolism, and the octahedron’s size surged further—it was the magma that ended up being “consumed.”

After a period of expansion, the seafloor began to rise. At first, it was an almost imperceptible curve, gradually forming a small, visible mound. Now, it was only three kilometers from the ocean surface.

When the surging currents washed away the mud and debris covering it, the octahedron was finally exposed to the surface environment. The process was surprisingly quiet, a stark contrast to its unstoppable force underground, like a retired master who had withdrawn from the world.

The octahedron continued to expand, its internal skeletal structure growing increasingly complex. Countless triangular stabilizers maintained local structural integrity, while the fifteen primary bones that had formed earliest grew thicker and stronger.

Upon contact with the ocean, the octahedron’s expansion accelerated, and the sea level dropped even faster.

The roots that had been lurking underground emerged from the seabed, connecting with the octahedron and increasing the flow of organic and other materials.

Soon, the octahedron reached the surface, expanding at a rate visible to the naked eye.

…One meter… ten meters… a hundred meters… a kilometer…

The top of the octahedron rose higher above the water. A nearby volcanic island was slowly dismantled in this upward surge, like a bulldozer scattering a pile of sand with irresistible force.

Hu Gu observed all of this through the root system, a small sense of satisfaction welling up within him.

“If it weren’t for the real-world example of the giant underground support pillars, I wouldn’t have been able to design such a high-strength skeletal structure with the knowledge I had…”

Of course, the support pillars alone wouldn’t have been enough. The later-discovered fossilized alien skeletons had also helped. Otherwise, Hu Gu wouldn’t have been able to design such a self-consistent, integrated iron skeleton in such a short time.

Skeletons weren’t like alloys—you couldn’t just toss them into a furnace, hammer them into shape, and call it done. On a microscopic level, bones had even finer structures, which was why they could grow wider and thicker as a living organism matured.

Hu Gu’s perspective shifted from the base of the octahedron, rising to its peak, then turning to the orange-red sky, thick with clouds.

“It seems it won’t be long before I can settle these troublesome matters…”

Not long after, when the octahedron had risen to about five thousand meters above the average surface level, that all-too-familiar and infuriating tornado column appeared once more.

Chapter 46: First Clash

The familiar tornado column remained the same familiar size—one kilometer in diameter, churning the heavens above and whipping the seas below into towering waves, like a living, breathing dragon unleashing its might.

Yet now, this colossal, terrifying force seemed utterly insignificant before the octahedron created by Hu Gu.

The octahedron now spanned fifty square kilometers, dwarfing the tornado’s mere one square kilometer by fifty times. From the octahedron’s perspective, the tornado was no more than a rope dangling from the second floor to an adult standing below.

Hu Gu watched the abruptly appearing tornado with a cold gaze, a storm of emotions surging within, all forcibly suppressed. What was needed now was only one state—calm.

“Accelerate growth. Increase methane absorption. Prepare all muscle cells. Reinforce the precision of the scales…”

Hu Gu issued commands methodically. Meanwhile, the tornado, seemingly enraged by the octahedron’s indifference to its presence, launched a sudden attack after a few probing strikes.

The tornado engulfed part of the octahedron, its winds reaching speeds capable of inflicting physical damage. The lower half of the tornado, like a living drill, tore into the octahedron despite Hu Gu’s preparations, leaving a grotesque, kilometers-long scar that exposed the dark skeletal structure beneath.

Throughout the assault, Hu Gu observed with cold detachment before issuing new orders.

“Increase methane absorption. Raise body temperature to accelerate metabolism. Adjust tendon thickness. Strengthen bones. Enhance load-bearing capacity…”

Under Hu Gu’s commands, the octahedron adjusted itself, rapidly healing the wound without leaving a trace. The dark scales on its surface took on a faint reddish hue, and steam billowed out.

“One must return a favor. You should accept this ‘gift’.”

“Fire!”

At the command, over twenty Titanium Snails lurking in the nearby ocean surged from the water, propelled by liquid oxygen and hydrogen toward the upper reaches of the tornado.

The tornado towered over ten thousand meters high, and even the Snails, moving at speeds that caused sonic booms, took half a minute to reach their target.

With lightning speed, the Snails plunged into the storm clouds at the tornado’s peak. The dense, crackling arcs of electricity within the cumulonimbus clouds, like sharks scenting blood, immediately locked onto the intruders.

Strikes of lightning rained down. The Snails, swift as they were, were no match for the near-instantaneous lightning. The bolts detonated their internal liquid hydrogen and oxygen, painting the storm clouds with bursts of explosive color.

Yet on the ground, upon receiving the signal of the Snails’ annihilation, Hu Gu showed no disappointment. Instead, anticipation filled its gaze as it watched the tornado—it knew the objective had been achieved.

The distant tornado swayed like a drunken cripple, teetering as if on the verge of collapse, ready to crash heavily to the ground. It was unstable, and within minutes, the terrifying column dissipated from top to bottom.

When warm, moist air from the equator pushes toward the poles while cold, dry air invades from above, a vortex forms, creating thick cumulonimbus clouds. The latent heat within these clouds is continuously heated by the static electricity-generated lightning between the cloud layers, producing powerful air currents—the tornado.

Hu Gu had long anticipated that the Snails would be struck by lightning upon entering the upper storm clouds of the tornado. Whether it was their pointed, sharp heads or their metal shells, lightning had no reason to spare them—it was the nature of lightning, governed by the physical laws of corona discharge and arc discharge.

The lightning detonated the Snails, igniting their liquid hydrogen and oxygen fuel. However, these explosions were incomplete. Only a small portion of the fuel participated in the exothermic reaction; most was scattered by the shockwaves into the far reaches of the storm clouds.

Freed from their containers, the liquid hydrogen and oxygen quickly reverted to gaseous states within the cumulonimbus clouds—a process that absorbed heat.

Tornadoes rely on the thermal energy provided by the clouds to maintain their structure. During the Hadean Eon, cloud temperatures rivaled those of steam boilers, which is why their power was so immense.

Hu Gu exploited this, forcibly lowering the temperature within the cumulonimbus clouds. Without sufficient heat, the tornado could no longer sustain itself.

Natural phenomena require all conditions to be met; missing even one link makes them impossible to occur.

The octahedron did not slow its expansion. Its directive was to continuously grow, and nothing else mattered.

This relentless growth seemed to provoke the unseen enemy. Lightning rained down from the clouds like a storm, and over a dozen new tornadoes formed.

Unfortunately, the lightning was no more than a drizzle to the octahedron. At least a drizzle made noise when it hit the scales, but the lightning was simply conducted away by the scales or bones into the earth. To an outsider, it might have looked dangerous, but in reality, it posed no threat.

The only real danger to the octahedron came from the massive tornadoes connecting heaven and earth.

Now, the giant tornadoes were closing in on the octahedron.

“How could I let you succeed?”

Hu Gu issued another command. This time, hundreds of Titanium Snails burst from the water, launching a surprise attack on the tornadoes. No longer the prey hiding in fear, they were now predators baring their fangs!

Suddenly, as the Snails reached high altitude, the cumulonimbus clouds unleashed a thunderstorm. Countless arcs of electricity, each carrying billions of volts, struck down.

The enemy was no fool. Having learned from the previous encounter, they were prepared. Repeating the same trick would not yield the same results.

The tornadoes completely enveloped the octahedron, seemingly intent on using their terrifying wind speeds to tear the massive structure apart.

But they were wrong—dead wrong.

“Too bad, you’re a step too late. You took precautions, but did you think I wouldn’t do the same?”

Far different from the last encounter, this time, the octahedron emerged unscathed from the combined assault of the tornadoes!

Chapter 47: The Hidden Path

The enemy had gathered information during their last probe—how could Hu Gu not do the same?

To resist the tearing force of the tornado, Hu Gu had embedded a massive net woven from intertwined roots within the skin layer of the cube. Within the small squares of this net, smaller nets made of carbon nanofibers were added. Additionally, the transcription of gene chains produced a large number of connecting proteins, increasing the adhesion between the skin and the scales and bones.

Thus, the current scene unfolded—the octahedron stood firm like a mountain, unaffected by the violent vortex.

The tornado columns continued their assault for a while, but as if realizing the futility of their attack, they gradually weakened and dissipated into the air, as if they had never existed.

“Giving up?”

“…Or are they planning to bring me another surprise like last time?”

As if in response to Hu Gu’s mockery, the earth trembled violently. Seismic waves surged from the depths to the surface.

The underground cavities collapsed one after another due to this crustal movement. Seawater flowed downward, and countless whirlpools appeared on the sea surface. The molten lava from the depths came into contact with the boiling liquid water. Every sea area affected by the earthquake was churned into chaos, with ocean currents reversing.

The octahedron standing on the surface was naturally affected. Its massive body swayed with the tremors, but due to its enormous mass, the swaying was not severe. The greatest impact on the octahedron was probably the slight sinking of a few centimeters.

However, this tremor was merely a prelude. A large amount of lava seeped out from the underground cracks, enveloping the lower half of the cube.

“What’s this? Scared me for a moment. It’s just lava… Such a big commotion, I thought something else was going to come out of the ground.”

Mere lava was no match for the current octahedron. While the octahedron was still in the ground, it had come into close contact with lava numerous times. These once invincible “fire dragons” from the Hadean Eon had all become the octahedron’s prey.

But there was one thing Hu Gu needed to pay attention to—the root connections that supplied organic materials had been cut off by the surging lava.

To prevent damage from lightning and tornado columns and to avoid the octahedron from toppling over, Hu Gu had half of the octahedron’s volume buried underground. Then, from the ground, materials were supplied to the octahedron, allowing it to continue expanding rapidly.

However, now that this connection had been severed by the lava rising from below, the octahedron’s expansion rate immediately began to slow down.

The larger a life form’s size, the more energy it required to maintain its life activities. For a giant life form like the octahedron, which relied on chemical energy, the amount of material consumed every moment was astronomical. If it weren’t for Hu Gu’s accumulation of nearly an entire giant underground cavity’s worth of organic materials as a reserve, the octahedron’s growth would have been limited to a size of about ten kilometers. The growth rate would have been just enough to balance its own consumption, making it impossible to expand further.

“We need to restore the supply of materials as soon as possible…”

Hu Gu murmured, gazing at the octahedron. With a thought, a new command was issued to the root system—restore the supply to the octahedron as quickly as possible.

With a large amount of organic materials as a reserve, the roots recovered quickly. Before long, they reconnected with the octahedron.

However, not long after, the lava from the ground surged again, cutting off the newly established material connection.

Hu Gu tried a few more times, but the lava always surged immediately after the root system and the octahedron established a connection, blocking the connection.

A coincidence?

In the blink of an eye, Hu Gu immediately dismissed this thought, coldly staring at the sky.

“No, this is inevitable. No coincidence could have such high repeatability.”

To verify this idea, some roots hidden in the ground layers emerged from the seabed, attempting to connect with the upper half of the octahedron.

This time, the roots had only reached the vicinity of the octahedron, not even making contact, when they were suddenly shredded by a small but powerful vortex.

“As expected, we’ve been discovered…”

“It seems the time is ripe. We can proceed to the second step of the plan.”

Hu Gu issued the command, and a large number of roots from the root system advanced toward the octahedron, determined to restore the connection with the octahedron at any cost.

The enemy was not to be outdone. Lava sprayed from the ground cracks, sealing off the lower half of the octahedron, while wind and lightning sealed off the upper half. Moreover, Hu Gu noticed that the octahedron was gradually sinking.

Hu Gu speculated that the enemy intended to forcibly pull the octahedron into the upper mantle, using the sea of lava to continuously burn and completely destroy the octahedron.

Realizing this, Hu Gu felt both relieved and solemn. Clearly, the enemy’s control over the planet’s layers exceeded his expectations. He was relieved because he could be prepared and not caught off guard in important matters. He was solemn because he realized that the enemy probably still had a great deal of power that had not been used, far more than what was currently visible.

Vaguely, Hu Gu felt as if he had missed something, but now was a time to race against the clock. He didn’t have time to ponder what he might have missed.

He had to complete the launch before the enemy shifted its attention away from the octahedron. The opportunity was fleeting!

About ten thousand kilometers away from the octahedron, roots that had been in a state of suspended animation within the ground layers were activated.

The roots moved quickly and carefully, breaking through the crust with minimal noise and growing toward the sea surface, rapidly and quietly constructing a pipeline from the ground layers to the sea surface.

“Launch!”

Boom!

A muffled sound echoed through the ground layers within hundreds of miles, and the ground trembled slightly. The long-prepared projectile, under the force of a violent explosion, entered a state of high-speed motion. Following the patterns on the titanium alloy inner wall of the pipeline, it spun at an astonishing speed of 8 km/s.

Boom!

This was the sound of the second explosion. The object’s speed increased further, emitting a piercing hum from the pipeline and expelling a large amount of gas—the air displaced by the high-speed projectile.

Boom!

The third explosion. This time, the speed reached its peak. A streak of fire tore through the sky, looking like a meteor slowly rising from the distance. The sound of friction with the air could be heard clearly even from several kilometers away.

“Success or failure depends on this.”

Hu Gu watched the gradually disappearing streak of fire, his heart filled with mixed emotions.

Chapter 48: Absence

The terrifying speed made the air wail in agony. In an instant, a streak of fire flashed across the sky, leaving a massive circular hole in the thick, layered clouds high above.

As the air grew thinner the closer it got to space, the projectile finally revealed its true form from the trail of fire.

It was a perfect cone, strikingly similar in appearance to the Titanium Snail, yet different. The tentacles at its tail and the cavity that once carried the gourd had been replaced by a tail flame and liquid hydrogen and oxygen fuel.

At this moment, one side of the projectile began to emit a column of flame. The combustion of liquid hydrogen and oxygen provided the reaction force, propelling the projectile into the planet’s orbit, completing the orbital maneuver.

Thanks to the initial angled launch, the cell cluster, now in outer space, only needed a slight adjustment to its trajectory to enter the planet’s orbit.

A small hole on the side of the projectile slowly protruded an object—a tiny glass dome, only half a centimeter in diameter. Inside this dome was an eye.

Now, this cell cluster, not yet named by its creator, had become the first life form from this planet to reach space.

The only slight regret was that there were no suitable “audiences” to feel pride or cheer for this historic moment on the planet.

As the creator, Hu Gu was entirely focused on the war on the planet, while the unknown entity opposing Hu Gu was also focused on destroying the octahedron. Even the cell cluster that had personally reached space showed no reaction to “reaching space” because it was merely a tool.

Meanwhile, as the ground-based communication station, the four sensory cell clusters hidden in a state of false death were activated one after another by the vast life field.

Each sensory cell cluster was enormous, which was why the life field they emitted could cover the planet’s outer space.

If the bioelectricity of these clusters were converted into household electricity, it could easily power several neighborhoods without any strain.

Through the eyes of the space-based cell cluster, Hu Gu gazed upon the world beyond its planet for the first time. Just as it had seen in videos before, the universe was mysterious and vast. Even though the universe had revealed its true face to all who were willing to look up at the stars, it only seemed to grow more mysterious.

However, Hu Gu had no mind to appreciate this now. At the top of its action principles was the elimination of the enemy.

Hu Gu shifted its perspective, searching for targets to attack in outer space. It only hoped to end this exhausting battle as soon as possible.

Searching for an object in outer space was extremely difficult. Even if the object was as large as a villa, at a distance of tens of kilometers, it would appear no larger than a speck of dust in the observer’s view.

But Hu Gu had come prepared. It had anticipated this situation long ago and devised a solution, which it had installed in the cell cluster.

After finding nothing in the visible light spectrum, Hu Gu immediately switched to the ultraviolet perspective to begin the search.

This method used the light of the star to search for targets hidden in outer space.

In outer space, there was no atmosphere to weaken ultraviolet rays, nor was there any air refraction. Ultraviolet rays could easily make contact with objects in space and reflect in all directions.

This ultraviolet reflection, in the ultraviolet perspective, was like seeing a torch burning brightly in the endless darkness—it couldn’t be more obvious.

Hu Gu continued the search in this perspective, but the result was the same as before—nothing was found.

“Why is this happening?”

Reality couldn’t be wrong; only the theory could be.

Hu Gu pondered in confusion. It had thought that once it reached space, results would come quickly, but it seemed that wasn’t the case. The enemy had hidden itself well.

“Could it be…”

“That thing can completely absorb ultraviolet rays, so in the ultraviolet perspective, it shouldn’t emit any light at all.”

The more it thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. Hu Gu issued a command, changing the perspective once again—this time to infrared.

Infrared rays were electromagnetic waves with wavelengths between microwaves and visible light, ranging from 1 millimeter to 760 nanometers. Any substance above absolute zero, -273.15°C, could produce infrared rays, also known as heat rays. Generally, anything with heat would continuously emit infrared rays.

Energy had a tendency to dissipate. Even if not used, simply storing it would have the same result—energy would continue to leak until the storage material reached a balance point.

Energy couldn’t disappear into thin air, just as it couldn’t appear out of nowhere.

If the star’s ultraviolet rays were indeed being absorbed, then the hidden enemy should be continuously emitting infrared heat radiation.

“Where is it?”

Hu Gu looked around with the infrared perspective. The background temperature of the universe was close to absolute zero, so any object with even a slight heat source would stand out in this environment. The vast emptiness of space no longer provided any cover.

But Hu Gu still found nothing, just like the previous searches. It repeatedly circled the equator or randomly selected a meridian, adjusted its orbit, and searched along that meridian around the planet.

Still, nothing was found—not even a rock.

This wasn’t normal, and Hu Gu knew it. It desperately tried to recall any information about the unknown enemy, hoping to find some clue.

But this method didn’t work. Instead, it made Hu Gu’s already anxious thoughts even more chaotic, with countless possibilities bursting into its mind.

Time passed minute by minute. By now, the enemy had noticed the anomaly. Globally, there were massive lightning storms and tornadoes, and the planet’s crust was shifting, clearing away the network of roots covering the planet.

Hu Gu watched all of this, feeling urgent but helpless. Natural forces in the enemy’s hands were like a club, swung at will. What could a small life form like itself do to fight back?

Anxious emotions began to surface uncontrollably, even though Hu Gu knew that staying calm was the best way to solve the problem.

“Strange, why is there nothing?”

“It should be there. If it’s not in the universe, then how can the enemy manipulate the global climate?”

Hu Gu anxiously scanned the empty outer space around the planet, hoping to find some clue.

“Hu Gu, calm down and think carefully. Where is the mistake? Theory is based on reality, and reality can’t be wrong. The only thing that can be wrong is the theory, or the person who proposed it…”

“So there must be a critical error in your initial reasoning. Think carefully—where is that critical mistake?”

Chapter 49: Doubts

Hu Gu repeatedly reviewed his previous deductions, quickly noticing several anomalies that defied common sense.

First, based on the enemy’s demonstrated power in previous encounters, they should have been able to extend their influence deep underground and probe the earth’s layers. This would explain how they could use lava to sever the supply lines between the root system and the octahedrons.

At the time, the situation had been urgent, and Hu Gu hadn’t given it much thought. But now, as he reflected, a wave of unease washed over him.

This was a major oversight. If he had known from the beginning that the enemy could detect underground life, he never would have pursued his current plan.

The current strategy was designed under the assumption that “the enemy has the power to influence the underground but lacks the ability to detect it.”

If they wanted to kill him, why hadn’t they used their full strength from the start?

This was the first point that puzzled Hu Gu.

Even a lion uses all its strength to catch a rabbit—a truth understood even by primitive beasts. Could the enemy not grasp this?

Even if they had been careless and made such a basic mistake, why had they repeated it in the ocean?

Was the enemy brainless?

Clearly not, or Hu Gu wouldn’t be in his current dire state.

Of course, this could be explained by the metal walls in the underground cavity blocking the enemy’s ability to detect underground activity.

But this explanation was weak. If the metal walls could block detection, why would the enemy allow such a “blind spot” to exist in their territory?

The giant underground cavity was no small structure—it occupied a space measured in the hundreds of millions of units.

For an enemy capable of using lava to precisely target the root system within the rock layers, there was no reason they wouldn’t have noticed it.

If they couldn’t affect the underground, that would explain leaving the cavity alone. But the problem was that the enemy did have this ability, with incredible flexibility, accuracy, and destructive power. Moreover, the giant underground cavity was an ancient relic from eight hundred million years ago, fragile enough to collapse at the slightest touch.

The second issue was the question asked during their first encounter, followed by the unprovoked attack.

If the enemy had been hostile from the start, there would have been no reason for them to ask that question. In other words, the enemy had only become hostile after asking it…

“No, I was attacked by tornadoes and lightning even before that question was asked.”

“So, the enemy is inherently aggressive toward any intelligent life…”

“But that doesn’t make sense either. I never responded to them, so how did they know I was an intelligent being, different from other microorganisms?”

“Which means, the enemy isn’t hostile toward intelligent life in general—they’re specifically hostile toward me.”

“Why do they harbor such intense hostility toward me? Did I unknowingly do something to make them so furious?”

After some thought, Hu Gu couldn’t find any useful information in his memories to explain this. It was another unsolvable question—one that would require asking the enemy directly.

The third issue, which Hu Gu had only just noticed, concerned the octahedrons.

From what he had observed, the octahedrons seemed to provoke an extreme reaction from the mysterious enemy. Initially, Hu Gu had assumed the enemy was hiding in the outer space of the planet, which would have made such a reaction understandable.

But now, the truth was that the enemy wasn’t outside the planet at all. So, their reaction to the octahedrons had become highly suspicious.

If the enemy’s violent attacks on the octahedrons were because they were part of Hu Gu’s cellular network, then comparing this to another event made that explanation shaky.

The cannon fire had been extremely loud. Hu Gu needed to create a powerful explosion to give the projectile enough initial velocity to escape the planet’s gravity.

The shockwave from the explosion could be felt even a hundred li away, along with a faint hum.

The initial force behind the projectile had come from a nuclear explosion—a concept Hu Gu had learned in middle school, and one that had left a deep impression on him.

He had dug out a cavity underground and lined its outer layers with dozens of explosive packs—it didn’t matter what kind, as long as they could produce a conventional explosion.

At the very center, he had placed metallic uranium. If the cavity was large enough and the conventional explosives sufficient, even low-purity uranium—ten or fifteen percent—could serve as nuclear fuel.

However, the amount of uranium determined the power of the nuclear explosion. If the purity was too low, the explosive force might weaken.

Under the simultaneous conventional explosion, the uranium would instantly exceed critical mass, unleashing the terrifying power of nuclear fission.

The other two explosions had also been nuclear, though their methods differed slightly from the first.

Given that these nuclear explosions were happening at regular intervals, they should have been a major concern. But the reality was the opposite.

Even after the projectile escaped the planet’s gravity, the enemy’s attention remained fixed on the octahedrons. They completely ignored the nuclear explosions Hu Gu had set off elsewhere—not a single tornado or bolt of lightning appeared. This was strange.

At first glance, it seemed incomprehensible, but with a different perspective, it made perfect sense.

“Could it be that the octahedrons pose a greater threat to the enemy than nuclear explosions, so they prioritize destroying them?”

“After that, the enemy focused more on damaging the root system rather than investigating the source of the explosions. Either they already knew what was causing the explosions, understood the principles behind them, and realized there was nothing left to investigate…”

“Or, they knew that compared to the octahedrons and the root system, those things posed almost no threat to them…”

Hu Gu felt as though he was on the verge of uncovering the enemy’s true identity.

But something in the universe interrupted his thoughts, pulling him back to reality.

The cellular network in the planet’s low orbit had never stopped collecting electromagnetic waves. At the moment the enemy was dismantling the root system, ultraviolet and infrared radiation suddenly spiked in a certain location.

Hu Gu adjusted his focus and captured the source of the electromagnetic waves—it was a comet!

Chapter 50: Ice

The comet rapidly expanded before Hu Gu’s eyes, then streaked past the cell cluster at a distance of nearly ten kilometers.

By the time Hu Gu reacted, the comet—dozens of kilometers in diameter—was only three hundred kilometers from the planet.

At its current velocity, it would, without intervention, strike the planet’s surface at a grazing angle within minutes, pulled in by the planet’s gravity.

Up to this point, everything had been normal. The comet’s appearance was only slightly unexpected, a result of Hu Gu’s focus on hunting the unknown enemy, leaving no room for distractions.

But in the next second, the world turned abnormal.

A powerful gravitational source appeared out of nowhere—sudden, without warning.

At the same moment, the cell cluster slipped from its orbit, no longer bound by the planet’s gravity.

The source was invisible, but its presence was undeniable. Through the deformation of the titanium alloy shell’s internal cells and comparisons with planetary data, Hu Gu could roughly deduce its nature—the gravitational pull matched the planet’s, yet its position in space was different.

To an outside observer, it was as if the planet’s center of mass had suddenly leapt beyond its own boundaries.

This gravitational shift lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough. The comet, which should have struck the planet at a grazing angle, barely skimmed past the boundary between the troposphere and stratosphere—just over twenty kilometers above the surface.

As it passed, the comet disintegrated. With an average density of only 100 kg/m³, it had exceeded the rigid-body Roche limit between itself and the planet, shattering into five fragments ranging from ten to five kilometers in diameter.

However, since its velocity far exceeded the planet’s escape velocity, the fragments did not fall to the surface. Instead, they brushed past the planet and scattered in different directions.

For a long moment, Hu Gu stood as if in a daze, unsure how to describe what had just unfolded.

Its gaze shifted between the planet and the location where the gravitational source had appeared. A terrifying thought took shape.

“That thing couldn’t possibly be…”

“No good! The altitude is dropping!”

The gravitational disturbance had knocked the cell cluster out of its orbit, sending it plummeting toward the planet.

The mystery of the gravitational source would have to wait. Hu Gu needed to address the immediate crisis.

Commands were issued. The conical cell cluster reoriented itself, its sharp tip pointing toward the void of space, its base toward the planet’s surface. The balancing fins on either side of its shell extended.

Since the enemy was not in space, Hu Gu saw no need to remain there—but first, it had to recover the cell cluster that had been launched into orbit.

Hu Gu had no intention of abandoning it. That went against its principles, even if the cluster was merely a biological tool.

The descent accelerated. Friction between the air and the titanium alloy shell enveloped the cluster in a long, fiery plume—just as it had when it was launched into space. Only this time, it was returning to the surface.

When the cluster was still over thirty kilometers above the ground, its rear thrusters ignited, drastically slowing its fall.

Then, a gas bag deployed from the top of the cone. The other end was connected to liquid hydrogen fuel, which rapidly vaporized into hydrogen gas in the atmosphere, inflating the bag to its limit.

The descent slowed further. At this reduced speed, the titanium alloy shell was in no danger. Hu Gu could now turn its attention elsewhere.

Hostile whirlwinds, lava, and lightning still ravaged the planet, destroying the root system.

The unknown entity had been attacking the root system for a long time, even without Hu Gu’s interference.

The original plan had been meticulously prepared, covering an enormous area with billions of units of organic material in reserve. Every possible attack had been anticipated, and countermeasures had been devised.

Hu Gu did not react immediately. It simply observed. Based on the accumulated information, it had formed a rough idea of the enemy’s true nature.

But the idea was so absurd that even Hu Gu, its proposer, struggled to believe it.

Moreover, the theory left some questions unanswered—such as the enemy’s hostility toward the root system and the octahedron, both massive biological constructs.

As Hu Gu pondered how to design a new test to verify its hypothesis, an anomaly on the planet caught its attention.

First, the rain stopped. The thick rain clouds dispersed in an instant. From then on, the planet’s days were no longer a formless blur without reference—now, they were divided into day and night.

During the day, the system’s dominant star rose slowly into view.

At night, without a trace of light pollution, the starlit sky made the darkness feel less desolate.

This marked the end of the planet’s Early Imbrian period.

At the same time, global temperatures began to plummet.

The cause could be traced back to Hu Gu’s struggle with the unknown enemy and the comet that had escaped, torn apart by tidal forces after exceeding the Roche limit.

The octahedron, to maintain its massive form, constantly consumed vast amounts of methane from the atmosphere through its muscle cells. This caused a sharp decline in methane levels, the very gas that had kept the planet warm. That was the root cause of the cooling.

While carbon dioxide was also a greenhouse gas, its properties allowed it to dissolve in water or be converted into oxygen by photosynthetic microorganisms. Thus, it could not fully replace methane’s role in maintaining warmth.

Though the comet had only grazed the planet, its low temperature acted as a catalyst. The “cause,” triggered by this catalyst, transitioned into “effect,” like a row of dominoes—once the balance was disrupted, the collapse spread rapidly, becoming unstoppable.

But none of that was the main concern. The real issue was the planet’s transformation, which was unfolding at an unnatural speed—as if someone had pressed fast-forward on a recording. Day and night flickered like a child playing with a light switch, shifting with alarming frequency.

After a long while, Hu Gu dismissed the notion of trying to understand what was happening—its perception of time was slowing.

Temperatures dropped further. In Hu Gu’s vision, ice formed across the ocean’s surface like spreading weeds, quickly claiming dominance over both sea and land. Icebergs rose from the frozen expanse as if in a virtual game world.

The last thing Hu Gu saw was a world cloaked in silver and white, buried beneath ice and snow.

Then, darkness swallowed it from behind, as if it were falling into a bottomless abyss.

Chapter 51: Contact

“The speed of an individual’s thought is not solely dependent on brain performance; it is also significantly linked to the energy a biological organism can obtain.”

“If we consider the brain as a computer, it’s easy to understand. To power a supercomputer, a massive amount of energy is required, and the prerequisite for this energy is that the environment must contain such an energy source.”

“Therefore, on a planet completely covered in ice and snow with extremely low temperatures, if life were to emerge and evolve a brain, the speed of thought would generally be very slow. This is the result of natural selection. In regions where energy resources are scarce, evolving a brain that consumes the least energy is the most correct choice.”

“Conversely, on a celestial body like a star, abundant in energy, if life were to emerge and possess a brain, their thought speed should be on par with that of a light-based brain—a super life form. Even if, due to their biological nature, their performance cannot match that of an artificial light brain designed specifically for computation, it would only be slightly inferior.”

“The difference between the two would be like that between an early mobile phone and the Sunway TaihuLight supercomputer in Wuxi…”

Hu Gu rambled on like this, analyzing the previous situation as if muttering in a dream.

When the analysis ended, a long silence followed.

After a while, Hu Gu finally vented his frustration in self-pity.

“What’s the use of all this analysis now? It’s just hindsight. If I had noticed earlier instead of focusing all my attention on that guy, or if I had let that cell cluster in planetary orbit stay in the star’s orbit, I wouldn’t be in this predicament now.”

Hu Gu was the collective consciousness of the entire cell population. If anything happened to Hu Gu, all the cells would inevitably be affected, and vice versa.

At the time, Hu Gu hadn’t anticipated that global cooling would slow down thought processes. He had only altered the permeability of the cell membranes to adapt to the cooling environment.

It wasn’t his fault for making such a mistake. He had never encountered anything like this before, whether during his human period or after becoming a collective consciousness. It was unheard of.

Currently, Hu Gu was in a very passive and disadvantageous state. In this state, the only thing he could do was wait.

Hu Gu could interfere with reality because he had a group of cells completely under his control. The bond between them was ‘commands.’ The cells would faithfully execute the commands they received.

However, with Hu Gu’s current state of thought slowed to the extreme, even a simple turn command might take decades to fully transmit to the cells.

“This fall was too hard…”

“You ask me how I… Sigh… Although it’s said that life is full of disappointments, I understand that, but this is really too…”

In fact, the method to avoid slowing down thoughts was simple: maintain temperature. This was an easy task for Hu Gu. In other words, if he had just been a little more careful, he wouldn’t have had to suffer like this.

Every time he thought about it, Hu Gu was filled with regret. If this was an unavoidable disaster, he could accept it calmly. But the problem was that this was a preventable disaster, caused by a mistake, which was the fundamental reason why Hu Gu couldn’t let it go.

[Is it that bad? I think this state is still manageable. At least it can temporarily keep many troubles away.]

“You understand nothing! There’s a crazy guy who always wants to kill me. What can I do? Being like this now is like telling that guy, ‘Come and kill me quickly,’ isn’t it?”

Already anxious and restless, Hu Gu instinctively retorted with a series of rhetorical questions. Having maintained high-intensity combat for this period, his words were filled with anger.

Think about it. Being constantly suppressed by someone, and now someone else is making sarcastic remarks. Who wouldn’t be furious?

However, the unknown speaker didn’t seem to be angered. Instead, he was piqued by Hu Gu’s words.

[Huh? How did you provoke the other party? Can’t you just communicate and ask for forgiveness?]

“I didn’t do anything! The whole process was that guy acting crazy for no reason! And the key problem is that the guy has no intention of communicating at all. Every time we meet, it’s full of hostility, and we start fighting immediately. If it were you, what would you do? Just obediently get killed?”

“And also, let me tell you…”

Having not communicated with anyone for a long time, Hu Gu suddenly opened up, his words pouring out like a bursting dam, completely uncontrollable.

The unknown speaker considerately didn’t interrupt Hu Gu’s words, quietly listening as a listener to Hu Gu’s various grievances.

No one knew how much time had passed before Hu Gu finally finished pouring out his heart’s bitterness.

[Mmm, so it’s such an unreasonable guy. I feel sorry for you…]

“That’s right! Which unit of the International Aerospace Center are you from? I’ll talk to Old Tang later and give you some connections…”

Hu Gu, speaking as if he had found a kindred spirit, suddenly choked up. After the intense emotional outburst, only calmness remained in his thoughts.

The two remained silent. The other party seemed to be patiently waiting for Hu Gu to finish what he wanted to say, while Hu Gu only now realized that he was communicating with a completely strange and unknown person.

After a long time, the seemingly very patient unknown speaker also showed some impatience.

[Why aren’t you talking anymore?]

Hu Gu was about to answer, but the words caught in his throat again. After some consideration, he replied to the other party’s inquiry.

“Who are you?”

[Hmm? Why are you asking this question now?]

“Er…”

Hu Gu was momentarily speechless. The other party’s question made him feel a bit embarrassed. He couldn’t say that he had been under great survival pressure for a long time and wanted to find a place to vent, could he?

However, the other party didn’t intend to dwell on this and still gave Hu Gu an answer.

[Actually… I don’t know who I am. I’ve never known, so I can’t answer your question.]

“Hah? How is that possible?”

Hu Gu immediately felt that the other party was trying to fool him.

[It’s true!]

This time, the speaker, who had shown an extremely good temper from the beginning, finally showed a more intense emotional fluctuation.

[Well, since you don’t believe me, you must already know who you are, right? Then, you tell me first.]

[You… what are you?]

Chapter 52: Planetary Life

At this point, even if Hu Gu were a fool, he could deduce the true identity of the speaker from their words. And he was far from foolish.

“Unfortunately, like you, I don’t know who I am.”

This was a lie. How could Hu Gu not know his own identity?

He responded this way out of prudence. He still wasn’t clear on why the other party wanted to know his true identity, so naturally, he wouldn’t reveal it willingly.

Claiming ignorance not only allowed him to deflect the question without provoking the other party but also created a sense of camaraderie.

Even if the other party’s previous answer was a lie, a similar response would make it easier for them to accept.

Hu Gu wasn’t sure if the other party had the means to attack directly in this state. If the condition for launching an attack was knowing the other’s true identity, then handing over that information to an enemy who wanted him dead would be like asking for a quicker death.

Moreover, using verbal tactics to extract information from the enemy was also an option.

[Hmph! I knew it…]

From their exchange, Hu Gu could faintly sense the other party’s frustration.

He wasn’t sure if this was genuine emotion or a deception to lower his guard.

If it was genuine, Hu Gu could use it as a breakthrough to gather information about the enemy. If it was fake, it was likely a ploy to make him let his guard down.

Perhaps he could use this…

Hu Gu steadied his emotions, trying not to dwell on the fact that he had been thoroughly beaten by the other party earlier. He pretended to trust them completely.

“So why are you so obsessed with knowing such things?”

“Isn’t it good the way things are now? Carefree, without worries.”

[It is good, but as a being distinct from other material entities, this meaningless existence will eventually bring negative consequences. And I want answers to some questions.]

[Existence has meaning, but I don’t know what my own meaning is.]

Hu Gu’s heart stirred, and he feigned confusion. “Meaning?”

[Yes, since my birth, this question has plagued me. I can see many things, but I can’t see myself. Every moment, I have to revolve around a giant fireball. I don’t know why.]

[Every gust of air, every stone, every volcano—they don’t seem to be like me. They can’t know, can’t change. There’s a fundamental difference between them and me.]

[Those large spheres nearby, I once thought they were my kind. I greeted them, but they ignored me. Maybe I’m the only special one…]

[This isn’t good. It’s like everyone is excluding me.]

[To be honest… I’m a little afraid.]

Hu Gu listened carefully to the other party’s words, discerning the emotions within.

If the other party wasn’t lying, then his guess was correct. The enemy he had been fighting all along was the planet itself.

The other party was a planetary-level lifeform!

The confession continued, as if the other party, like Hu Gu at the beginning, had been suppressing their emotions for too long, and once they started talking, they couldn’t stop.

[Fortunately, this fear has an end. A group of similarly special beings, hiding in a large metal shell, came near me.]

[At that time, I was shocked. It turned out I wasn’t the only special one; there were so many others. Let me tell you, I was overjoyed at the time.]

[Although they were all smaller than me.]

“…So, you pulled them onto yourself? To keep them?”

The other party was likely referring to the massive cavity Hu Gu had discovered in the mantle. If that thing was an interstellar spaceship, it would explain how it could exist for eight hundred million years without collapsing. A giant vessel capable of interstellar travel would need to be incredibly sturdy; otherwise, it would be suicidal.

However, the next moment, the other party denied this.

[I did have that thought, but before I could act, the large metal shell ejected a small metal shell toward me, containing many special beings.]

Hu Gu pretended not to know about the underground cavity and asked, “So? What happened next?”

[At first, I thought it was a gift for me. I prepared the best spot, wanting to place that small box in the most conspicuous place.]

[But then, those special beings, for some unknown reason, stopped being special.]

[I was afraid. How could they do this? Or did I do something wrong, making them want to isolate me?]

[I didn’t want that. I wanted to keep them, so I opened the box…]

So, nearly three-quarters of the massive cavity was covered in volcanic rock. Hu Gu could imagine the disaster that must have unfolded.

Thick metal walls could defend against many threats, but it depended on the opponent. Against a planetary-level threat, metal walls couldn’t provide much protection. Thus, the metal walls were breached.

The alien lifeforms still alive inside the metal walls were all buried in the overwhelming tidal wave of lava.

“They all… died. Your actions brought unimaginable consequences, turning them all from life to death.”

Hu Gu chose his words carefully, trying not to provoke the other party.

[Death? Is that what that state is called?]

“Yes. So, what happened next?”

Hu Gu wanted to know the subsequent situation. Theoretically, the massive cavity shouldn’t have any remaining space, and that remaining quarter shouldn’t exist either.

[Later…]

[I saw things going wrong and stopped immediately. There was still one special being that hadn’t… turned from life to death.]

[After that, I didn’t dare touch that thing again, afraid that the special beings inside had also died, returning to that lonely state.]

[But those special beings gave me inspiration. Maybe I could try to make some ‘dead’ things ‘alive’ again.]

The other party mentioned the creation of life on the planet.

This made Hu Gu pause slightly. The implications of the other party’s words made him think, but he quickly dismissed the terrible notion.

No, no, no. Earth couldn’t possibly be like this thing. Only this thing was special…

[Because I didn’t know the method, I kept experimenting, failing, experimenting, failing… repeating this for a long time until I finally summarized a method to ‘turn death into life.’]

Chapter 53: Exchange

Hu Gu continued to play the role of the listener, silently listening, remaining on guard and suspicious. However, these precautions seemed to be excessive and futile, as the other party was completely immersed in their own world, rambling on to Hu Gu about the events that had once occurred on the planet, going on and on for a very long time.

They repeated the events that had happened, but this time, the roles had been reversed.

[Now that I think about it carefully, it was really tough back then…]

[There were small creatures everywhere, and they kept bumping into me for no reason, as if I had done something to offend them. But I didn’t do anything! I was always bound by that big fireball, only able to move along a single path. They were just like that guy you mentioned earlier—all a bunch of lunatics… Hmm, what does ‘lunatic’ mean?]

“Uh, it roughly means someone who does things that don’t make sense, someone who acts strangely.”

Hu Gu gave a vague response to the inquiry. Now, it was somewhat confused about the other party’s intentions. From initial distrust to now being half-convinced, if the other party had some ulterior motive and wanted to gain its trust, there was absolutely no need to tell it all these things.

It couldn’t possibly be that the other party genuinely didn’t realize that when it said “lunatic,” it was referring to Hu Gu itself, right?

But Hu Gu immediately dismissed this thought. As a planetary-level lifeform, how could it be so foolish? That was impossible!

In other words, the reason the other party was chatting with it like this was to shake its doubts. It had already seen through Hu Gu’s suspicions, so it wanted to shake them, thereby gaining its trust. The most compelling proof was that Hu Gu was now thinking about such things…

Terrifying! What a terrifying being!

Amid its fear, Hu Gu became even more resolute in its previous thoughts, not daring to have any doubts.

The cross-channel conversation between the two lifeforms continued.

[Do you know? That feeling was really uncomfortable. I didn’t like it. Although there was no actual harm, every time something hit me, it felt like it was going to shake me out of my body. It was super unpleasant. If it weren’t for something I wanted to do, I wouldn’t have willingly subjected myself to that kind of suffering.]

“Mhm, I understand. Meteors are the enemy.”

Hu Gu responded perfunctorily—what was being described now was likely the very early stages of the planetary system. Most planets had only just formed into spherical bodies and were still in a molten state. At that time, meteors were as numerous as ants and scattered like loose sand throughout the planetary system, unlike the solar system, where most meteors were concentrated in a specific orbital range, forming an asteroid belt.

After receiving this acknowledgment, the planetary lifeform seemed quite pleased.

[Exactly! Those things were super annoying, super disgusting…]

[After that period, I just kept enduring it, and eventually, I got used to it… I don’t know when it started, but those small creatures disappeared. My exterior was no longer just a simple fluid but had become a three-layered structure of solid-liquid-gas.]

Hu Gu understood what the other party meant—this was the formation of the crust, as well as the early stages of the Hadean Eon on the planet.

“So what happened next? Tell me quickly!”

The other party’s information had successfully piqued Hu Gu’s interest. For an archaeologist, this was invaluable information—information that couldn’t be seen in the geological layers because, at that stage, the layers didn’t yet have the function to “record” information.

Although Hu Gu had no intention of telling the other party anything more about itself, that didn’t mean it couldn’t accept the information the other party was providing. Learning about the early formation of a planet from the mouth of a planetary lifeform was undoubtedly highly valuable for reference.

It was like having an alien appear in front of Einstein just as he was about to research the mass-energy equation and explain E=MC² to him—how could that not be exciting?

[Wait, don’t be in such a hurry. I’ll tell you right now.]

Hu Gu’s reaction genuinely startled the planetary lifeform, but it was still happy that someone was interested in what it was saying.

[Back then, what happened with that little metal box made me decide to try creating some special bodies, but I kept failing. Not a single attempt succeeded.]

[What I needed were structural information and materials—two things. Materials weren’t a problem; I had plenty, more than I could count. If calculated by volume, I could make tens of billions of special bodies without any issue. After all, I’m that big.]

[Structural information was also easy to solve. When I entered that little metal box, I carefully examined the structure of those special bodies. The basic units were extremely tiny particles, connected by electromagnetic forces. It was very complex, but it was still possible to create them.]

[All the preparations were complete, so I got to work, continuously creating them, but I kept failing.]

[I didn’t really understand where the problem was, but I didn’t plan to give up, so I kept at it, believing that one day I would succeed. After a very, very long time, continuing even after my exterior had become that three-layered structure, I finally succeeded.]

[Although to this day, I still don’t understand why…]

“Probably because of the temperature…”

It was a completely instinctive response. Perhaps due to occupational habit or some other reason, Hu Gu had originally not intended to reveal any extra information to this dangerous being after that previous outburst.

However, even though Hu Gu quickly stopped itself, it was already too late. The other party had been hooked by Hu Gu’s words.

[Temperature? What temperature? Does that affect the special bodies? If so, why didn’t I feel it? Speak! I’ve told you so much; you should explain clearly!]

Why did I have to open my mouth?—Hu Gu fell into regret. Now, it only had two choices before it: speak, or not speak.

Speak—reveal as little of its knowledge as possible without involving itself.

Not speak—find an excuse to brush it off, as it had done before.

After much deliberation, Hu Gu decided to choose the first option. After all, Hu Gu was currently in a state where it was completely at the other’s mercy, unable to do anything. So it had to deceive the other party, making the planetary lifeform believe that it had completely gained its trust.

If it continued to find excuses to brush it off, it was very likely that the other party would notice that it hadn’t been fooled.

“Actually… the reason you failed was because your exterior was molten lava at the time, and the temperature was too high. So those, uh, special bodies that came to you died because lava kills them.”

“Later, when you succeeded in creating them, it was because the environment was suitable. The temperature of liquid water was just right for the existence of special bodies based on amino acids.”

[So that’s how it was…]

Chapter 54: Accusation

Hu Gu had intended to keep the explanation as concise as possible, skimming over many details, but it hadn’t anticipated the other party’s relentless pursuit of new knowledge. The questions kept coming, one after another, rendering Hu Gu’s attempt at brevity utterly ineffective.

Knowledge was interconnected, a tangled web of roots. Once the questioning began, it inevitably unearthed a cascade of related information. Even though Hu Gu often claimed ignorance or dismissed certain points as mere speculation to avoid answering, the other party still managed to deduce or uncover numerous insights—whether through Hu Gu’s accidental slips or their own reasoning.

[Wow—you’re so clever. It’s wonderful to exchange ideas with you…]

As the conversation deepened, Hu Gu couldn’t help but sense the vast disparity in their cognitive levels, despite its efforts to conceal the truth. Unconsciously, this realization fostered a sense of reverence in the other party toward Hu Gu.

It was akin to how an ordinary person might look up to scientific giants like Einstein, Tesla, or Schrödinger.

Yet, while this might have been the perspective of a planetary lifeform, for Hu Gu, the situation was entirely different.

You may be fine, but I’m not!—Hu Gu grumbled inwardly, though its outward response was far more diplomatic.

“Of course, I’m also honored to engage in this exchange with you.”

[Then, what is the function and advantage of the DNA double helix? Why can’t it be a triple or quadruple helix structure?]

“I don’t know. The double helix structure is knowledge I obtained by observing other special entities. I’m not sure why they chose this particular structure.”

Hu Gu had long anticipated this question and was ready with a prepared deflection.

[Oh, that’s a shame. Then, regarding…]

“That’s enough questioning for now. There’s something I’d like to ask you.”

Hu Gu abruptly cut off the planetary lifeform’s inquiry, redirecting the conversation before the other party could react, thus avoiding the risk of revealing more information.

[Hmm? What is it?]

Hu Gu pondered for a moment before asking.

“…If I recall correctly, you played a significant role in this planet-wide ice age, didn’t you?”

There was an undertone of blame in the question. Hu Gu wanted to gauge the other party’s perspective on the matter, even if it was a lie or evasion. From the response, Hu Gu could infer something about the planetary lifeform’s way of thinking.

This question left the planetary lifeform, which had come to admire Hu Gu, in an awkward and embarrassed position. After all, this entire debacle had been caused by its own actions—and those of another lifeform.

[…Well, it’s not entirely my fault. There was a troublemaker who kept stirring things up. I was just trying to stop it from causing chaos…]

[Yes, exactly! The real deciding factor was that troublemaker!]

While the planetary lifeform’s understanding of ‘lifeforms’ was limited, it had a solid grasp of basic chemistry. If it didn’t, it would have wasted its long existence. After all, it had been observing the planetary environment since its inception, learning for far longer than humanity ever had.

It knew full well what had caused the global ice age. But from its perspective, it had done nothing wrong. Its actions had been for the sake of the other creatures on the planet. It simply hadn’t anticipated how troublesome the other party would be, preventing a swift resolution.

Thus, the planetary lifeform felt a sense of responsibility—if it had dealt with the ‘troublemaker’ sooner, the global ice age might have been avoided.

“Hah? What makes you call the other party a ‘troublemaker’? What exactly did it do to ‘stir things up’?”

The ‘troublemaker’ was clearly referring to Hu Gu. It felt a surge of indignation—how had it, the one constantly on the run, become the villain in the eyes of the very culprit?

[It did stir things up! All special entities are born with great difficulty, but it just doesn’t understand! It can’t tolerate the existence of other special entities. At that rate, it would have wiped out all of them soon. The other special entities know how to coexist peacefully, so why can’t it?]

From the tone, it was clear that both Hu Gu and the planetary lifeform shared a mutual disdain for each other—each seeing the other as an infuriating nuisance.

“You’re saying the troublemaker harms other special entities? Isn’t that normal? As a special entity, it must consume to maintain its state. No matter what kind of special entity it is, it should follow this rule.”

“…Or are you saying you don’t need to consume anything to maintain your state?”

Faced with such accusations, Hu Gu couldn’t simply accept them. Without revealing itself, it posed a counter-question from the perspective of an outsider.

[I understand the necessity of consumption. I get that special entities fight each other for resources. But the troublemaker doesn’t understand. It keeps expanding its demands endlessly, regardless of need. It harms other special entities just because they exist. Countless species of special entities have vanished because of it.]

[I just don’t get it—why can’t we all live together in harmony?]

Hu Gu more or less understood. As the creator of this planetary lifeform, it wanted all life to exist forever. But alas, it couldn’t defy the laws of the universe. Survival of the fittest was a brutal reality, even among microorganisms.

Thus, the creator set itself a minimum standard—not ensuring that every microorganism lived, but ensuring that no species went extinct.

For thousands of years, since life first emerged on this planet, the creator had maintained this balance.

But then Hu Gu appeared, shattering that balance and deeply provoking the other party.

At first, the planetary lifeform hadn’t paid much attention. Hu Gu was merely a microbial-level host, still within normal parameters.

Later, the gourd appeared, but the planetary lifeform still wasn’t overly concerned. Though the efficiency of microbial slaughter had increased, it was still within the bounds of the planet’s ecological competition—barely acceptable as the ‘apex predator of the planetary ecosystem.’

The situation persisted until the emergence of the root system. That was when the planetary lifeform could no longer ignore the issue. The system’s efficiency in slaughtering microorganisms was simply too high.

To draw an analogy, it was like a handcrafted workshop seamlessly transitioning into an industrial assembly line, entirely managed by AI, with over a dozen lines operating nonstop, day and night.

“…Regarding what you said, why not just discuss it with the other party? Do you really need to fight to the death? Proper communication could have prevented the worst-case scenario.”

In response to Hu Gu’s question, the planetary lifeform replied in a frantic tone.

[I did try! I’ve been trying all along, but it never responded. Not once. It’s as if its sole purpose was to make my life difficult. If it’s not a troublemaker, then who is?]

“Tried?”

Hu Gu was taken aback. Apart from the first time, it had never received any messages. How could there have been any ‘attempts’?

Suddenly, Hu Gu recalled the circumstances of the first message it had received.

Chapter 55: Clarification

The message had appeared abruptly, directly in Hu Gu’s mind, unrelated to any other senses. It was as if the brain had received the information directly, not through hearing or sight—it had simply manifested.

Honestly, Hu Gu had no clue how the message had appeared, which was why it had initially assumed it was the work of extraterrestrial beings.

The ability to communicate directly with the brain, bypassing all other senses, was a technology not even human civilization had mastered. Yet here it was, on a planet still in the Hadean Eon. How could one not suspect alien involvement?

But now, based on the other party’s description and Hu Gu’s own experiences, it had a rough idea of this mysterious “alien technology.”

No matter how advanced the technology, it still had to follow the fundamental laws of the universe. Information and energy could not exist independently in spacetime without matter.

After that first message, Hu Gu had not received any new ones. But the other party had been sending messages all along, and now they were engaged in normal communication. The answer was obvious.

To confirm its suspicions, Hu Gu asked directly:

“How exactly do you transmit your messages to others?”

[By using the friction of clouds to generate electricity. That “boom!” of lightning is super fast, and I arrange my thoughts into electronic signals to send them out.]

Hu Gu was not surprised. This matched its suspicions. After the first incident, Hu Gu had more or less “lightning-proofed” all its cellular clusters. When struck by lightning, they could channel the terrifying current into the ground. Since then, it had not received any more messages.

The sudden lightning strikes upon meeting now made sense.

But some things still didn’t add up. Hu Gu chose its words carefully and asked again:

“So… when the other party was expanding its territory in the ocean, you wanted to completely eliminate that ‘troublemaker,’ right?”

If the desire was for contact, the lightning made sense. But why the whirlwinds, earthquakes, and volcanic eruptions? Had the “troublemaker” refused to listen, thoroughly enraging the other party?

Unexpectedly, the planetary lifeform gave an answer Hu Gu had never anticipated.

[Eliminate? What does that mean?]

It was like the innocent response of a child who had never encountered the concept.

Hu Gu was momentarily stunned but quickly recovered. Considering the other party had never interacted with other intelligent beings, its naivety was understandable. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t develop such thoughts—the two weren’t mutually exclusive.

“It means you want that troublemaker to disappear completely.”

[Disappear? Where would it go?]

Hu Gu didn’t know if the other party was genuinely clueless or pretending. After some thought, it patiently continued:

“…Alright, let me explain it differently.”

“Do you want that troublemaker to die, like those normal entities that don’t actively react to the outside world?”

[No, I never thought of that. ‘Death’ is a terrible thing. I don’t want it to happen more often.]

“Then how do you explain the massive crustal movements spanning hundreds of kilometers in the ocean?”

At the mention of this again, the planetary lifeform’s tone carried clear embarrassment.

[Oh… that was a mistake. I didn’t expect it to turn out like that…]

[At the time… I just wanted to lift the troublemaker out of the water to ‘talk,’ but I forgot that place was special—right above that small metal box from before.]

[Anyway, it was an accident! An accident! Yeah, that’s right, an accident!]

“And the whirlwinds? Those terrifying whirlwinds packed with kinetic energy—how do you explain those?”

“You attacked the ‘troublemaker’ first when you made contact, didn’t you? The sending of messages came later. Don’t you think your initial provocation led to the current situation?”

Hu Gu’s tone had unknowingly become aggressive.

Seeing the other party dismiss every past event as mere accidents, Hu Gu couldn’t help but feel annoyed. If that were the case, then all its previous efforts, caution, fear, and vigilance had been meaningless.

It was like a hero hacking through thorns to reach the demon king’s palace, only for the demon king to suddenly say, “Stop fooling around, we’re family…”

[I was just curious and ‘touched’ it a little. I didn’t expect the troublemaker to be so fragile…]

“Touched?”

Hu Gu was taken aback by the word, taking a moment to process it.

“You mean the wind is an extension of your body, right?”

[Yes, when I saw such a large special entity, I couldn’t control myself and wanted to touch and observe it. Who knew it would shatter at the slightest touch…]

Judging by its tone, it seemed like the one wronged. But Hu Gu felt no sympathy.

I don’t believe this nonsense! The wind speed of a tornado can cause physical harm, and you call that a touch?! By your logic, anything you touch would shatter!—Hu Gu roared internally.

[Don’t just blame me! That thing was worse—it destroyed all the special entities I painstakingly created by circling the great fireball eight hundred million times! It was way worse!]

Hu Gu seized the moment and asked:

“Hmm, that was indeed terrible. So, if it came here, would you beat it up?”

[…I can’t do that. I’d love to, but I can’t. The global freezing has affected me too.]

The planetary lifeform expressed regret, but Hu Gu perked up.

“I’ve thought about it, and I should tell you two things…”

“First, don’t worry about the special entities you created. Many died, and many went extinct, but there will still be survivors.”

[Really?!]

Hearing this, the planetary lifeform was overjoyed.

“Really. Life—special entities—are the most peculiar phenomena in this world. They’re far tougher than you imagine.”

“The planet’s freezing is the best proof of that, isn’t it?”

[…Seems so. Then I can rest easy. What’s the second thing?]

The first piece of news had delighted the planetary lifeform, and it instinctively felt the second would be equally good.

“Second… that troublemaker—me—I regret the mass extinction caused by the planet’s freezing, but I’m not sorry.”

[Huh? Huh—?!]

Chapter 56: Candid

This… how is this possible…?

“You must have guessed this long ago, haven’t you?”

Hu Gu’s tone remained unchanged, as if he were utterly certain of some fact.

“From the moment I first lost control of my emotions and shared part of my information with you, you should have realized—I am it, that ‘troublemaker’ you despise so much.”

Without waiting for the other to defend themselves, Hu Gu continued to lay out his reasoning.

“It’s easy to figure out. A special entity constantly gathers information from the outside. Perhaps its self-learning function isn’t very good, but once you stretch the timeline to hundreds of millions of years, even the worst function will show results—unless your intelligence has some fundamental flaw.”

“To determine whether your intelligence had any flaws, I took the initiative to communicate with you. Clearly, your intelligence mechanisms are flawless and perform exceptionally well, both in logic and in absorbing new knowledge. So the answer is as obvious as one plus one equals two.”

“But you didn’t reveal it because you desperately wanted to communicate with another special entity. Since your birth, this is the first time you’ve had the chance to interact with another intelligent being. Even if your previous opponent was someone you despised, you couldn’t bear to let go.”

“So you pretended there was a third party and reached out to me, using this communication to express your goodwill.”

“Am I right?”

From the beginning, Hu Gu never thought the other was as foolish as they appeared. This was an entity over eight hundred million years old. Even a pig, if it lived that long, might become a celestial marshal. And the other was far, far smarter than a pig.

After Hu Gu finished his explanation, silence fell. The other also fell into the same silence. At this moment, the two sides shared an unexpected understanding.

After a long while, it was the planetary lifeform who couldn’t endure the silence any longer and spoke first.

[You… do you still want to continue as opponents like before?]

The tone made it clear—the planetary lifeform’s attitude was: if you want to keep fighting, I’ll keep you company to the end.

From its perspective, Hu Gu’s reckless exposure of hidden truths meant he no longer wanted to maintain this peaceful exchange.

If not peace, then what relationship did he want to maintain?

If not ‘harmony,’ then it could only be ‘conflict.’

After the other sent the message, Hu Gu also stated his position.

“Not at all. There’s no need. Only fools with broken brains engage in meaningless struggles.”

“The reason I laid everything out is to ensure we can continue this peaceful exchange. Deception is never the foundation for a good relationship.”

Many conflicts born of misunderstanding could be easily resolved once the truth was spoken. With no conflicting interests between them, the two sides reached an understanding.

[You win…]

The implication was clear—an acknowledgment of the other’s strength, a gesture of goodwill to maintain friendly relations.

Hu Gu responded in kind.

“Don’t feel regret. Your intelligence foundation surpasses mine. It’s just that you’ve had too little communication and harbor an urgent desire, which is why you fell into my trap.”

[Hmm? So does that mean there are others like you inside me?]

The planetary lifeform clearly noticed a detail in Hu Gu’s careless words.

Hearing the question, Hu Gu paused for a moment before answering.

“No, there aren’t.”

“Never mind, let’s not dwell on that. The urgent matter now is to break the ice seal. You don’t want to remain frozen forever, do you? Otherwise, your creations will stay frozen as well.”

The topic shifted successfully. The planetary lifeform was indeed more concerned about those frozen microorganisms.

[There’s nothing I can do. The great fireball dictates my path, and in the weightless environment outside, I can’t actively change my distance from it. I’m sorry.]

While the core’s temperature fluctuated within a certain range, it was essentially fixed. The planetary lifeform couldn’t actively raise it to heat the surface, nor could it approach the external heat source—the star—to increase sunlight on the surface.

“It’s fine. I understand. After all, I’ve been outside once.”

“But can you still control the air masses like before?”

The difficulties the planetary lifeform faced were nothing to Hu Gu, but the current situation had trapped it in a deadlock. To warm the surface, the cells needed to thaw, but to thaw the cells, the surface needed to warm.

What Hu Gu needed most now was some external factor to break the stalemate.

[It’s difficult. The temperature is too low. Some gases have frozen into solids and piled up on the surface. The air is already thin. I can only barely control a little.]

The planetary lifeform spoke tactfully, but Hu Gu didn’t mind. He even ignored the problem the other had raised without any emotional fluctuation. With the previous “touch” as a reference, Hu Gu didn’t think the other’s “barely” would be a small matter.

“As long as you can control it, that’s enough. Choose a part of the root system above the surface. Use the thin air to blow away the surface ice crystals. Then, through atmospheric refraction, focus the sunlight, gather the heat in one spot, and thaw that part of the root cells. It won’t work all at once, but if you keep at it long enough, it’s completely possible to succeed.”

[What’s the point of doing this?]

The planetary lifeform didn’t understand Hu Gu’s intention. Even if a small part thawed, what could it do? It was just a tiny individual. How could it change the entire surface of such a vast planet?

It wasn’t that the planetary lifeform looked down on Hu Gu, but years of observing microorganisms had caused a cognitive bias. To a planetary-level lifeform, microorganisms were truly too fragile—so fragile that sometimes it didn’t dare to get close to observe them.

“Of course it has meaning. Once a single cell thaws, my mental deceleration will stop. Once I break free from this state, the planet’s ice seal can be resolved.”

After some thought, the planetary lifeform finally agreed to Hu Gu’s plan.

[…Alright, I’ll trust you this once.]

Suddenly, Hu Gu thought of something and asked.

“By the way, you can’t use lightning to transmit messages anymore. How are you establishing this connection with me?”

Lightning required clouds to form, and clouds shouldn’t exist after the planet was frozen. So the question arose—how had the planetary lifeform, without lightning as a transmission method, been communicating with him for so long?

[I don’t know. When I came to, I could just do it. I don’t understand why.]

“So that’s how it is…”

Hu Gu fell into deep thought.

Chapter 57: Thawing

A biting cold wind swept across the endless expanse of white, while above it, the sky hung like a dark curtain, with only a single dazzling sun suspended high—brilliant yet devoid of warmth.

It was inevitable that things would turn out this way, though Hu Gu’s actions had only accelerated the process.

This planet was too far from its star, receiving insufficient light to maintain surface temperatures. Previously, during the Hadean Eon, liquid oceans had existed due to the planet’s geothermal heat and a methane-rich atmosphere that trapped most of the warmth near the surface.

But now, with both factors diminished, the planet had become a massive snowball.

Yet, from Hu Gu’s perspective, the scene was strangely mesmerizing.

The sun rose swiftly from the horizon, reached noon in moments, then set on the opposite side. As darkness fell, stars emerged, and the true night began—only to pass just as quickly. The cycle repeated endlessly.

The white frost, condensed by the cold, surged along the latitude lines like tides, flowing from where the sun rose to where it set.

This phenomenon was a consequence of thought deceleration—when time slowed to a crawl, the world appeared this way.

[Carbon dioxide has mostly frozen into dry ice, mixing with the snow. The atmosphere is too thin to refract and focus light properly, so we’ll have to use ice crystals instead. What do you think?]

“It should work, but adjustments are needed. The closest root remnants are still at least two thousand five hundred meters below the ice. The current focus won’t be enough to melt through such a thick layer.”

“Try lifting the tectonic plate a few kilometers, raising the root remnants above the average ice level. That way, we can focus the thawing from the side.”

[Understood.]

From deep within the planet’s core, an unusual change occurred. Subsonic waves rippled outward, disrupting the mantle’s regular cycles…

The chain reaction in the mantle caused molten rock to gather in one area…

As heat accumulated, pressure rose naturally. The process was similar to a steam boiler—under immense pressure, the planet’s tectonic plates shifted. The only difference was determining how much pressure was needed to move each continental plate.

[This is exhausting. I used to do this effortlessly, but now it’s taking so much energy without results…]

The planetary lifeform, straining against the weight of the continental plate, complained. Before the ice age, this much effort would have been enough to trigger large-scale crustal movements across one-thousandth of the planet’s surface.

“This is normal. The massive ice sheets exert tremendous pressure on the crust, causing it to sink. The crust’s density has increased significantly.”

[That doesn’t make sense. The ocean was already pressing down before—why is this happening only now? Has the mass increased? Where did the extra mass come from?]

The planetary lifeform was confused. Even if liquid water had frozen, that was just a change in state—how could the mass change?

“It hasn’t. The mass was always there. When the water was liquid, tidal forces helped distribute the weight. Now that the ocean is frozen, that distribution no longer exists.”

Finally, the crust could no longer withstand the pressure and began to rise slowly.

From Hu Gu’s decelerated perspective, the sight was breathtaking.

The pristine, almost flawless ice cracked open, revealing an ugly, jagged fissure that marred the snowy landscape.

The crack stretched for hundreds of kilometers, visible even from outer space.

The ice on one side rose under subterranean pressure, while the other remained at its original level. The two sections met at a near-vertical slope, creating a stark contrast.

The sight was awe-inspiring—perhaps comparable to witnessing Moses parting the sea.

Of course, this was Hu Gu’s perspective, still under the effects of thought deceleration.

To an ordinary observer, the ice would rise at a glacial pace—about one meter per year—hardly noticeable.

Once the ice reached a certain height, it stopped. There was no need to raise it further.

The planetary lifeform then used the wind to sculpt the ice.

Just as water could wear away stone, wind could do the same. By altering wind patterns, the frozen root remnants were isolated, and reflective concave ice formations were carved around them.

[Done. Now we just wait.]

“By the way, I don’t know what to call you. I’m Hu Gu. What about you?”

[…A name? What’s that?]

“You asked me before who I was. Now I’m answering that question directly.”

After a moment’s thought, Hu Gu rephrased it in a way the other could understand.

“I am a special entity called ‘Hu Gu.’”

[I… I don’t know my designation. I never had a name.]

Hu Gu didn’t even need to think before offering a solution.

“That’s easy. If you don’t have a name, you can choose one. I didn’t have one at first either—I picked it later. You should do the same. It’ll make communication easier.”

The planetary lifeform fell silent. Hu Gu knew it was pondering.

But after a long time, it still couldn’t decide on a name.

[…Can you give me some suggestions? I have no experience with this.]

Hu Gu considered for a moment.

“…Alright.”

“We met during the Hadean Eon—quite a few years ago. Maybe we could include the character for ‘Hadean’… No, that doesn’t sound right.”

“…The global freeze is a significant event. Maybe we could add ‘sun’ to symbolize warmth, making it ‘Míng.’ What do you think?”

[Míng? Alright, I’ll be called ‘Míng’ from now on.]

Hu Gu was slightly taken aback. It hadn’t expected the other to take the suggestion so literally—now the meaning was completely different.

“Wait, that was just a suggestion. Using only one character… Well…”

Perhaps influenced by its past as a human, Hu Gu felt compelled to advise further.

The planetary lifeform, however, was confused.

[Aren’t names just for convenience in communication? From what I understand, complicated titles would be inefficient. A single word works best.]

“…Fine, if you’re happy with it.”

At this point, what else could Hu Gu say?

Chapter 58: Cold Resistance

Míng: Hu Gu, is this plan actually going to work? Why isn’t there any effect yet?

“You’re being too loud. I need to concentrate.”

The plan had gone smoothly up until the point of focusing sunlight on the frozen root remnants. But after that, obstacles arose.

They waited for a long time, yet saw no sign of the ice melting.

Even with their thought deceleration, they felt as though they had been waiting for ages.

“The temperature still isn’t high enough. The star is too far away.”

Míng: So it failed, didn’t it?

“No, there’s still a way…”

With that, Hu Gu focused its attention on the root remnants.

“Unwind, transcribe, replicate. Target gene: photoreceptor cells.”

The perspective stretched to the microscopic level. Photons from the star traveled to the planet’s surface, passing through a refractive mirror that redirected them into the ice crystals encasing the root remnants.

After countless refractions through tiny crystals, a few photons finally struck individual cells in the root system, delivering energy.

For ordinary microorganisms, this energy would be insufficient for revival. But for cells with Hu Gu’s collective consciousness, it was different.

Hu Gu couldn’t create energy out of nothing, but it could gather the energy collected by the root remnants through its neural network, concentrating it to awaken a single cell from hibernation.

This awakening was brief, but it was enough. Hu Gu timed it perfectly, issuing a division command to the revived cell.

A new cell was born within the transparent ice, inside the root remnants.

This cell was entirely black—a color excellent for absorbing both light and heat, providing a slight boost to sunlight absorption.

It was a photoreceptor cell, but unlike those in the visual system, it had extraordinary cold resistance.

Its cell membrane contained cold shock proteins, allowing it to remain active in such low temperatures instead of entering hibernation.

The cytoplasm was filled with a high concentration of hydrochloric acid, making up about 23.89% of the internal cellular solution. This mixture lowered the freezing point to -79.5°C, more than enough to withstand the planet’s surface temperatures.

Once these cold-resistant cells gathered sufficient energy, they followed Hu Gu’s instructions, dividing to create new individuals, increasing their numbers and expanding the surface area for light absorption.

Materials were sourced from the root remnants and the ice crystals themselves. As condensed seawater and atmosphere, the ice crystals weren’t as pure as they appeared—filled with impurities and various elements.

Using the hydrochloric acid solution, the freezing point of the ice was lowered, causing it to melt back into liquid.

Slowly, the space occupied by the cold-resistant cells within the ice expanded, creating larger transparent cavities.

After some time, a small hole finally broke through the ice, and a black tendril formed from the black cells emerged.

Sensing the timing was right, Hu Gu introduced a new type of cell to partner with the cold-resistant cells.

This cell had one function: using photons to break down hydrochloric acid, producing heat and nutrients for the new low-temperature root system.

With the two cell types working together, ice pillars and mirrors that could focus or refract light were created, increasing the root system’s photon absorption.

The great thaw, under Hu Gu’s command, proceeded vigorously. Soon, the planet would be freed from its icy prison.

Logically, with the plan going so smoothly, Hu Gu should have been happy. But…

Míng: Look…

Míng: It’s…

Míng: Going…

Míng: To…

Míng: Succeed…

Míng: …

Each word from Míng took an agonizingly long time. The sky no longer shifted rapidly, and the snow on the ground no longer surged like tides from the star’s rise to its setting horizon.

This was because the effect of thought deceleration was gradually fading. As the new root system’s energy cycle stabilized, Hu Gu was being pulled back into normal time perception.

But Hu Gu wasn’t satisfied. After all, it had lost someone to talk to.

If it had been stranded on a deserted island from the beginning with no one to communicate with, that would have been one thing. But having someone to talk to, only to lose the ability due to circumstances, was undeniably frustrating.

Thinking that their communication would soon return to how it was during the Hadean Eon, Hu Gu decided it would be best to discuss things beforehand to avoid any misunderstandings.

Of course, calling it a discussion was generous—it was more of a one-sided notification. Given how fragmented Míng’s messages were now, it was unlikely they could properly discuss anything before Hu Gu restored the entire planet’s environment.

“Míng, my time perception has returned to normal. Messages from your side are now experiencing delays. So, before the delay becomes severe, I need to clarify a few things with you.”

“Once you’re restored, you’ll use lightning to send messages. I’ll erect many towering, cloud-piercing metal cones on the surface. You can use these as targets to strike with lightning. Don’t worry about whether I’ll receive it—the entire root system is interconnected. Striking any one of them will get the message to me.”

“Regarding those special entities you created, I’ll be careful not to act as recklessly as I did during the Hadean Eon. If there are any extraterrestrial meteors or comets, I’ll destroy them for you to ensure global freezing doesn’t happen again. You can rest easy.”

After a moment’s thought, Hu Gu added:

“Also, be especially careful not to use tornadoes or cause crustal movements in areas where the roots are spread. Doing so will cause me significant trouble.”

Míng: Good…

Míng: …

Perhaps Míng also considered the message delay, as the response was extremely brief.

After this exchange, Hu Gu felt something was off. It was as if it were writing its own last will and testament or delivering a farewell speech at a friend’s funeral.

Shaking off the strange thought, Hu Gu focused entirely on expanding the new root system.

Emerging from the gap created by Míng’s wind blades, the root system spread across the elevated ice plains.

The flat ice plains were perfect for collecting photons.

Under Hu Gu’s command, the root system eagerly began spreading across the ice.

Ice pillars capable of refracting or reflecting light rose one after another, with the cold-resistant cells at their core collecting photon energy.

After some time, seeing that enough materials had been gathered, Hu Gu ordered the roots to spread downward.

The second phase of the plan began.

Chapter 59: The Great Transformation

The roots grew vertically downward, extending all the way to the molten lava region of the mantle, where they could absorb more thermal energy. This was the second step of the plan.

Originally, there shouldn’t have been a first step, but the previous battle had left molten lava scattered throughout the strata. Most of the roots in the ground had been burned away, leaving only those in the seawater intact.

The downward-growing roots advanced rapidly. After all, the only obstacle in their path was ice. When a certain amount of hydrochloric acid was added to the ice, its freezing point would drop, causing it to liquefy. This was the same principle as sprinkling salt on icy roads—essentially, the temperature didn’t change, only the freezing point of the liquid.

During the excavation, the roots frequently encountered organic debris left behind from the battle with Míng, as well as microorganisms that had not died in the ultra-low temperatures but had instead entered a state of self-induced dormancy.

This was an unexpected boon.

Recovering the organic debris could provide Hu Gu with more organic materials in this barren environment. The dormant microorganisms could be temporarily preserved and then released across the planet once the temperature recovered. After all, Hu Gu had promised Míng to help take care of its creations.

“Not even close to the bottom yet…”

After a long period of excavation, the roots continued to grow downward. Hu Gu turned back to estimate the distance—they had dug nearly four thousand meters below the ice surface.

Digging through the ice layer presented another challenge besides the ice itself: the low temperature.

The cold no longer affected the cells under Hu Gu’s control, but it still impacted the transport of organic materials.

Fortunately, there was a solution. By adding a certain proportion of hydrochloric acid to the pipelines transporting organic materials, the liquid inside would not freeze.

The only downside was that the hydrochloric acid would react with the proteins being transported, breaking them down into more basic amino acids. By the time they reached the end of the roots, recombining them into proteins would be quite troublesome.

Finally, at a depth of over eight thousand meters below the ice surface, the roots encountered resistance—far stronger than that of ice. Hu Gu knew this was the ground, buried beneath thick layers of ice.

Breaking through the ground would be difficult. The pressure from the ice above had altered the density, making it different from the Hadean Eon.

However, even though the resistance had increased, progress was still possible—just at a much slower pace.

Time passed swiftly. Thanks to finally being able to see the sun, Hu Gu now had a fixed unit of time measurement.

By the time the excavation of the strata was complete and the roots had reached the area above the molten lava, the planet had rotated 25,462 times, experiencing 25,462 cycles of day and night.

Hu Gu couldn’t determine the exact time spent, as it wasn’t sure if this planet’s rotation period was 24 hours.

Starting from the surface, the roots extended approximately 523 kilometers underground.

“Surprisingly, this is 490 kilometers deeper than the last time I reached the molten lava region. The core temperature has dropped so much…”

“It seems Míng didn’t fare much better in our last encounter.”

Now that it had reached a heat source, Hu Gu switched back to the original version of the roots, which had better heat resistance and stronger performance.

Using the original roots, Hu Gu quickly spread a vast network through the strata. While collecting necessary materials, new roots began to grow toward the surface at the network’s nodes.

The roots that had delved deep into the ground broke through the surface. The tips of the roots stopped growing and swelled into a spherical shape. Countless root tendrils extended from the sphere’s exterior, breaking down and collecting the thick ice covering the surface. After liquefaction, the water was channeled into underground cavities for storage.

The area where the surface met the ice layer was quickly hollowed out. Freed from the constraints of the ice, the pulsating sphere rapidly expanded. In a short time, its diameter grew from one meter to ten meters, and it continued to swell until it could no longer contain the life within—then it burst open.

What emerged was the conical organism Hu Gu had designed in the Hadean Eon’s ocean.

This creature had been designed to expand the life field, process and separate matter, and store materials. After further optimization, Hu Gu named this biological unit the “Hive.”

The name was inspired by the creature’s functions, which closely resembled those of a beehive.

From underground, the roots used biological pumps to transport large amounts of calcium carbonate to the Hive. The Hive processed these materials, separating them into carbon dioxide and calcium.

The liquefied water then reacted with the calcium, forming calcium hydroxide. This chemical reaction released a large amount of heat, boiling the liquid water and turning it into steam.

Thus, a new heat source appeared on the ice-covered surface.

After the reaction, the calcium hydroxide was directed to a new area where numerous neural projections existed. These neural synapses connected to the cold-resistant photoreceptor cells above the ice. Under sunlight, these cells generated large amounts of H+ ion clusters, which combined with calcium hydroxide to form calcium oxide and liquid water.

This established a heat cycle.

Where there was one Hive, there would soon be more. The roots expanded in all directions, and whenever they sensed the temperature dropping below freezing, they would establish a new Hive outpost to release heat.

Since this process relied on the light of the star, the planet’s core temperature remained unaffected.

If someone could observe the planet from outer space, they would see a black region appearing on the pristine white ice, rapidly expanding into a vast area.

These were the cold-resistant photoreceptor cells collecting sunlight. Beneath the ice they covered lay the Hives, diligently releasing heat.

This expansion wasn’t aimless; Hu Gu had a plan.

The Hives primarily covered the equatorial, northern temperate, and southern temperate zones, an area of approximately 467 million square kilometers.

The reason for this approach was that Hu Gu wanted to preserve the polar ice caps.

The existence of the North and South Poles created atmospheric thermal circulation, which regulated the climate and, to some extent, evenly distributed heat. In simpler terms, they acted like a giant mixer, dispersing heated air masses and increasing atmospheric activity across the planet.

The atmospheric environment also influenced the oceans, making the marine environment more stable. This way, the planet’s environment would resemble Earth’s.

It wasn’t that Earth’s environment was the only option, but Hu Gu’s knowledge was limited. Among all the known planets, Earth’s ecological environment was the mildest and most comfortable.

Chapter 60: Rivers, Lakes, and Seas

The melting of the glaciers began from the bottom up. As the Hive clusters heated the planet’s surface, the process was occasionally accompanied by the collapse of ice sheets. Fortunately, the Hive’s structural strength was exceptionally high, rendering such events inconsequential.

Trickles of water seeped from the cracks in the glaciers, droplets gathering on the outer edges of the Hive before being heated into steam by the high temperatures.

When the ground-based Hive coverage reached one-third of the planet’s surface, the first cumulus cloud since the ice age appeared.

However, this thickening cloud did not bring rain.

The Hive turned water into steam, and the continuous vapor, after melting a path through the upper ice layers to the surface, rose further to form clouds.

The heat-rich clouds released vast amounts of warmth at high altitudes, condensing into ice crystals that fell back to the ground.

Thus, the first precipitation after the thaw was not rain, but hail.

This was a cycle of alternating cold and heat. The hail brought cold air masses down to the surface, while warm air remained above. At this point, the roles of the North and South Poles became prominent.

Atmospheric circulation began to operate.

The warm air, divided into countless portions by atmospheric circulation, scattered across every part of the planet.

At first glance, it seemed as though the Hive’s heating had become meaningless. The falling hail thickened the ice layers, and the warm air masses, dispersed by atmospheric circulation, spread across the entire planet, making the warming effect negligible.

But some things couldn’t be viewed so simply. A change in perspective was needed. This might not be the fastest way to see warming effects, but it was the gentlest.

The existence of atmospheric circulation allowed the planet’s warming to have a buffer period, rather than an abrupt completion that could trigger catastrophic natural phenomena.

The Hive’s heating was a continuous process. No matter how much hail fell, it would be reheated into steam, and this cycle would repeat. Thus, the planet would achieve overall warming in the most peaceful manner possible.

More and more ice sheets were collapsing. The ponds around the Hive had become lakes, gradually expanding into large bodies of water.

The water level rose continuously, soon submerging the Hive entirely.

Everything was developing in a positive direction.

Seeing that the time was almost right, Hu Gu activated the primordial microorganisms that Míng had created and released them one by one.

Among these microorganisms were autotrophs and heterotrophs, but Hu Gu treated them all equally, without any distinction. What they would develop into in the future was of no concern to it.

Days turned into weeks, and Hu Gu was not idle. It constantly monitored the operational processes of various large biological systems to prevent any unexpected situations.

The warming continued, but the expansion rate of the circular lake centered around the Hive had slowed significantly. Although it was still growing year by year, the rate of expansion was clearly decreasing.

Hu Gu had noticed this but wasn’t particularly concerned.

This was an illusion of efficiency reduction caused by the increasing area of the circular lake.

Each Hive had a limit to the heat it could produce, and the amount of ice melted each year was fixed. If calculated carefully by area, the Hive’s ice-melting efficiency had not actually decreased.

The reason it appeared to be decreasing was due to the extension of the lake’s radius. Each time the radius extended by a certain distance, the area of the circle increased geometrically.

However, there were still things that Hu Gu paid extra attention to.

At some point, the pitch-black sky finally showed a slight change, with hints of blue appearing.

This change was subtle, but it did not escape Hu Gu’s visually optimized organs, which were far more sensitive to spectral color gradients than human eyes.

Clearly, the atmosphere had gained some new components. These unidentified substances interfered with the light reaching the surface, causing this phenomenon.

“Good, it’s almost time.”

The root system’s visual sensors locked onto a small black dot in the sky, which was rapidly growing larger. Something was hurtling toward the Hive.

Soon, the unknown object had descended to a certain distance.

“Structure is rather fragile. Better to be careful during descent.”

“Deploy.”

The command was given, and the object released a membrane-like structure from its tail, resembling a parachute. Its speed rapidly decreased before it plunged into the water a few meters from the Hive.

The roots waiting beneath the water engulfed the object into the root system.

This object was a biological sample collector, with a simple internal structure resembling a hollow bamboo stalk. Its strength relied entirely on its titanium alloy shell, specially made by Hu Gu for collecting air samples.

Not long ago, to investigate the reason for the sky’s color change, Hu Gu had launched this biological sample collector into the sky, just as it had done before, to gather samples of the current atmosphere.

Based on Hu Gu’s experience, the color of the sky depended mainly on the atmospheric composition at the time. For example, during the Hadean Eon, the sky was orange-red, and Earth’s sky was blue.

Tendrils of roots entered the bottle, beginning to analyze the composition of the air sample inside.

The first thing noticed was carbon dioxide, as it had the highest proportion in the sample.

“Hmm, as the glaciers melt, some of the carbon dioxide trapped in the ice, as well as the dry ice, are being reintroduced into the planet’s atmosphere…”

“A certain amount of methane… seems to be survivors from the last competition…”

Hu Gu wasn’t surprised by this. Although the octahedrons were major consumers of methane, it was impossible for them to deplete the planet’s methane reserves all at once.

“Huh? Oxygen?”

“No! This molecular structure is… ozone?”

Ozone was a pale blue gas with a distinctive odor, formed when oxygen was subjected to an electric charge.

This explained the gradual change in the sky’s color. It was precisely because of this ozone that the sky’s hue was shifting.

Hu Gu understood what the appearance of ozone signified. This phenomenon indicated that, after some time, an ozone layer would form.

The ozone layer could absorb 99% of the ultraviolet radiation from sunlight, and this energy would remain in the upper atmosphere, heating the air masses. Moreover, ozone itself was a greenhouse gas.

Once the ozone layer reached a certain scale, the pressure on Hu Gu would lessen. The ozone layer would also contribute to the planet’s environmental temperature, further accelerating the planet’s warming.

Time flew by. After this period, except for the North and South Poles, the glaciers completely disappeared, and the lakes became seas.

Chapter 61: Vitality

Hu Gu had transformed the planet, and with that, the oceans had reappeared. And now, something hidden beneath the ice was revealed to Hu Gu’s gaze.

A vast expanse of land…

According to Hu Gu’s rough estimate, it covered about fifty percent of the planet’s total surface area.

The cause was something Hu Gu could roughly guess—it was the result of the frequent volcanic activity that Míng had deliberately created long ago.

Heating land was an extremely troublesome task because the primary component of the land environment was not water, but air. This meant the Hive could not directly absorb moisture from the surrounding environment.

After all, whether it was each individual cell or the heating process, none could function without water.

Fortunately, there was a way to solve this problem. By carving out a depression in the area occupied by the Hive to collect water, the entire Hive could carry out its heating work normally.

The source of the water would be drawn from the ocean, transported over several kilometers via pipelines, as well as natural precipitation once the planet’s climate was restored.

Of course, the primary method would still be the first one, as the main source of water for the continental Hive. The landmass was simply too vast, preventing oceanic climate from reaching deep inland, and thus, natural rainfall was impossible.

It could be predicted that after some time, as the moisture in the continental soil was gradually evaporated by Hu Gu, the area would become a desolate desert.

But none of this mattered to Hu Gu now. It had long since ceased to be human, so naturally, it no longer considered things from a human perspective.

Over the span of millions of years, this massive continent would eventually split apart due to the thermal circulation deep underground, just like the continents on Earth. And after that, the desert in the central region of the continent would fall within the range of the oceanic climate, naturally transforming back into fertile soil.

What truly concerned Hu Gu was something else—the microorganisms it had once scattered.

Those microorganisms, not long after being dispersed, began a brutal ecological competition.

Initially, the numbers of autotrophs and heterotrophs were roughly equal. But to obtain nutrients, the heterotrophs launched a large-scale attack on the autotrophs.

The outcome was obvious. The heterotrophs, with absolute dominance, devoured the vast majority of the autotrophs, leaving only a few to survive by sheer luck.

At this point, the mindless heterotrophs naturally did not consider sustainable development. As long as they accumulated enough biomass, they would immediately replicate and split into new individuals.

But due to the sharp decline in autotroph numbers, the heterotrophs had no choice but to turn their targets to other heterotrophs. Thus, the second great microbial war began—heterotrophs against heterotrophs.

Survival of the fittest. The defeated heterotrophs, like the autotrophs before them, were driven to more distant places, while the victors of the war earned the right to remain in their original positions.

Then came the third, fourth, fifth wars…

Life, in this way, screened for superior genes. The surviving microorganisms of these wars became more aggressive, more capable of easily killing other microorganisms.

So, did the losers of these microbial wars have no chance of survival? Not at all.

After the first microbial war, the autotrophs fled to a place far from the microbial battlefield and thrived.

Freed from the suppression of their heterotrophic predators, the autotrophs unchecked drew energy and matter from their surroundings, transcribing and replicating themselves, increasing their numbers exponentially.

This increase continued until the losers of the second microbial war arrived.

They suppressed the autotroph population, allowing their own numbers to grow. Forced to retreat, the autotrophs moved to even more distant, uninhabited areas to proliferate.

Then, in this new region, the same events repeated. Batch after batch of losers fled to places where autotrophs were thriving and where there were no victorious warriors.

This was the cycle. It was this cycle of “chase and escape” that allowed microorganisms to quickly occupy every corner of the planet’s oceans.

Then what? When every part of the planet was covered by microorganisms, would the autotrophs have no chance of survival?

Not necessarily. In subsequent microbial wars, the victors had never encountered autotrophs.

For this very reason, as microorganisms fully occupied the oceans, a rather dramatic situation emerged. The victors would specifically attack the losing heterotrophs, ignoring the far weaker autotrophs.

Thus, a balance was established in the microbial world.

So, did microbial evolution stop here?

Obviously not.

Life was wondrous. Each act of self-replication could be considered a vote in the path of evolution.

When these votes accumulated to a certain extent, evolution occurred.

This paved the way for the emergence of various strange microbial abilities, such as cell walls, nuclei, organelles, and more.

Although the goal was always survival, different ideas led to different plans.

Some microorganisms evolved their offensive capabilities—perhaps an acid that could easily rupture cell membranes, or protein spikes, or simply enlarging their bodies to engulf and dissolve their opponents.

Others evolved their reproductive abilities, seeking victory in numbers—if they couldn’t beat you, they could outbreed you.

This type of microorganism would drastically reduce the length of their gene chains. The shorter the chain, the less time it took to replicate genes, and the faster their numbers grew.

However, in Hu Gu’s view, this method was a matter of perspective.

On Earth, the microorganisms with the shortest gene chains were viruses. And what type of microorganism were viruses? Heterotrophs.

This precisely proved that having a numerical advantage as autotrophs was meaningless.

Some microorganisms would go to great lengths to expand into new living spaces, evolving their abilities in this direction.

Taking this opportunity, the first batch of native organisms to land on the surface after the ice age appeared.

They lived near the water’s edge, breaking down hard rocks and gravel, processing them, and thus giving birth to fertile soil.

Among these, what caught Hu Gu’s attention the most was a certain autotrophic microorganism that dominated a stretch of water in this heterotrophic-dominated planet.

This organism, Hu Gu had seen before on Earth—cyanobacteria.

Once the most primitive microorganisms on Earth, now, they were the most powerful autotrophs on this planet.

Chapter 62: Self-Production

As a semi-biologist, the world of microorganisms was undoubtedly fascinating. Unlike the last time during the Hadean Eon, Hu Gu’s life was no longer under threat. With no external pressure and the global monitoring capabilities provided by the root system, it became completely immersed in the microscopic world, losing all sense of time.

When it finally came to its senses, the planet had already rotated over three thousand times—three thousand days and nights had passed on the planet.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this relaxed…”

Hu Gu sighed in self-mockery. Ever since its transmigration, it had been under constant survival pressure. Now that the pressure was gone, it couldn’t help but indulge a little.

“Hmm, the planet’s warming has more or less stabilized. It’s about time to establish a contact point and get in touch with Míng. Otherwise, it might be getting anxious…”

Hu Gu suddenly realized something was off. Its sense of time and Míng’s should no longer be aligned.

“From my perspective, a lot of time has passed, but for Míng, it should only have been a short while.”

“In that case, when we establish contact, won’t there be a situation where thousands of days have passed for me, but Míng has only just finished speaking a single sentence? And if I speak too quickly, Míng won’t be able to understand me at all?”

Hu Gu fell into deep thought, increasingly convinced that this scenario was highly probable. Recalling the global battle that had erupted due to a misunderstanding, it realized that the incident hadn’t been a coincidence but an inevitable result of this very factor.

Míng’s situation was unique. Though the ice age had passed, the current environment wasn’t the high-temperature one of the Hadean Eon. Hu Gu’s thought deceleration had returned to normal, but Míng’s thought deceleration effect persisted.

“It seems necessary to undergo thought deceleration again and discuss this with Míng.”

“But before that, there are a few things I need to take care of…”

Just moments ago, as Hu Gu emerged from its observation of microorganisms, it noticed a problem.

It had no way to completely separate itself from the planet’s ecosystem. It still had to rely on the planet’s organic material reserves to expand its individual numbers. If it left this planet’s environment and went somewhere else, like a small asteroid, it would be helpless.

This might seem far-fetched, but as the saying goes, “A man who does not plan for the distant future will find trouble at his door.” This implied a kind of upper limit, like suddenly learning that the highest level your character can reach in a game is only one hundred.

If the game’s maximum level was set at one hundred, that would be one thing. But the problem was that the game’s level cap wasn’t officially defined at all. In other words, it could be as high as you wanted. Who knew when disaster might strike out of the blue, and you’d encounter a terrifying boss at the billion-level mark? At that point, your life or death would be entirely at their mercy.

Don’t say this problem was too distant. Hu Gu was now an immortal being, with a reserved seat to witness the end of the universe.

“I must first master the technology to produce organic materials.”

Driven by this sense of crisis, Hu Gu delved into its deeper thoughts and began designing.

Calming its mind, Hu Gu spread out its thoughts and knowledge completely.

“Though there are many types of organic materials, if you ignore all the various functions, types, and structures, the basic and simple things will become apparent…”

“That’s right, it’s you, functional groups.”

In its thoughts, the three-dimensional view of organic molecules was dismantled, forming scattered atoms and atomic clusters of varying sizes.

Functional groups were the atoms or atomic clusters that determined the chemical properties of organic compounds.

In truth, knowledge about functional groups was beyond Hu Gu’s expertise. Those who specialized in studying such substances were typically biotechnological scholars hidden away in laboratories, researching species improvement.

But with actual specimens and a microscopic perspective, Hu Gu could observe the structure and function of functional groups directly.

Hu Gu first selected two types of organic compounds as targets: organophosphorus compounds and organosulfur compounds.

There wasn’t much reason behind the choice—it was purely random.

After listing them out, it found that there were eleven types of phosphorus and sulfur-containing functional groups. This was the information Hu Gu obtained after thoroughly examining all its organic materials.

The other types of functional groups were nitrogen-containing, oxygen-containing, halogen-substituted, and hydrocarbon groups—four major categories.

Next came the design process. A cell appeared in Hu Gu’s thoughts. This cell was simple: a nucleus and a mitochondrion. This mitochondrion could absorb atoms and process them into phosphorus and sulfur-containing functional groups.

Designing a mitochondrion that could combine functional groups wasn’t difficult. Functional groups, in essence, were combinations of atomic bonds. For Hu Gu, with its microscopic perspective, it was like a snake without hands trying to figure out how to put two bricks together.

However, the output of a single mitochondrion was far from satisfactory. What was high-speed on a microscopic scale was slower than a snail on a macroscopic one.

So, Hu Gu filled the cell with these mitochondria that could process phosphorus and sulfur-containing functional groups.

But this didn’t work.

While the production goal was achieved, the transportation routes within the cell became complex, making it extremely prone to congestion. If transportation was restricted, production would decrease, contradicting the original purpose of having so many mitochondria in the cell.

“So, what should I do?”

“How can I increase the number of mitochondria without causing congestion?”

“Ah! I’ve got it!”

A bold idea emerged in Hu Gu’s mind.

It was designing a tool, not a real organism. In that case, whether it was alive or not became irrelevant.

First, the environment was safe—that was the premise. This meant that the role of the cell membrane would be minimal, even non-existent in terms of protection. All that was needed was to maintain the osmotic pressure inside and outside the cell.

Under this premise, Hu Gu could completely integrate the mitochondria and the cell membrane, forming a new structure that was both an organelle and a cell membrane.

Thus, a fully miniaturized processing plant appeared before Hu Gu.

As long as the surrounding environment contained atoms that could form functional groups, it would absorb them. The process of taking them into the cell was also part of the processing. Only processed functional groups would exist inside the cell.

The functional groups would then be transported through connecting tubes to another cell. That cell would follow the same design, using organelles as the cell membrane, but it would process the functional groups into organic materials. Once the exocytosis process was complete, Hu Gu would obtain the organic materials.

A microscopic assembly line was thus born.

After establishing this basic template, subsequent designs became much easier.

Cells that could process other functional groups and cells that could turn functional groups into various organic materials were designed one after another by Hu Gu.

Hu Gu named this type of cell—work cells.

Chapter 63: Preparations

Hu Gu began preparing to enter a state of thought deceleration.

Based on the information Hu Gu currently knew, the prerequisite for entering thought deceleration was that all the cell clusters under its control must be affected by low temperatures.

However, whether it was the Hive that warmed the planet or the root system that covered the entire globe for supply and transport, both could be considered cell clusters completely under Hu Gu’s control.

If these massive cell clusters were simultaneously exposed to low temperatures, the planet’s surface might once again experience a surface freezing event, and all of Hu Gu’s hard work up to this point would vanish in an instant—this was something it absolutely could not accept.

Therefore, for this reason, during the period of entering thought deceleration, it had to relinquish control.

Of course, this relinquishment did not mean creating an intelligent life form and then handing over control to them. Setting aside whether Hu Gu had the courage to do so, even if it did, its current level of knowledge would not allow it to create such a being.

The so-called relinquishment was akin to entrusting—allowing the massive biological cluster of cell clusters to operate independently and autonomously.

The principle was not complicated. In fact, it was simply borrowing the bodily mechanisms of macroscopic multicellular organisms. For example, when a person runs, energy is consumed, and the body heats up. Once the heat becomes excessive, the body’s system automatically secretes sweat to cool the entire body.

The link connecting the entire system was biological hormones.

After the brain confirms the body’s state, it secretes specific biological hormones, which act as signals. When the concentration increases, cells respond; when the concentration decreases, cells return to calm.

The only difficulty in the entire system was the control center—the brain. However, Hu Gu could ignore this part; maintaining the status quo was sufficient.

With this design approach, the thinking became straightforward. Each cell cluster could be roughly divided into two parts: the nourishing part and the vigilant part.

The nourishing part consisted of the tiny individuals that maintained the normal operation of the entire cell cluster, while the vigilant part was the defensive and disease-clearing inspector cells.

The inspector cells were armed to the teeth by Hu Gu, ensuring they could resist any microbial attacks. Additionally, they continuously inspected, and if a normal cell underwent genetic transcription errors leading to mutation, they would immediately kill the mutated cell.

It wasn’t that these inspector cells were equipped with tiny brains capable of performing complex behaviors like “inspection.” Instead, it was a relationship of use and being used. Normal cells provided sustenance to the inspector cells to maintain their life activities. When a cell could no longer provide sustenance, the inspector cells would mercilessly launch an attack.

Simultaneously, when the sustenance in a part of the cell cluster decreased, the inspector cells would send a signal to the entire cell cluster system.

The inability to provide sustenance meant that the cells in that area were damaged. Thus, the damage reporting and self-repair biological mechanism was completed.

After several trials, Hu Gu could finally rest assured and allow this massive biological system covering the entire planet to operate autonomously.

It transferred itself to a central hub constructed by sensory cells and then, through the life field, transmitted instructions to place this pond.

This pond was only ten meters away from the sea, with its water level below sea level. It relied on a chimney-like vertical shaft to separate the seawater from the pond, and the walls of this shaft had excellent insulating properties.

Several root tendrils carefully placed the central hub where Hu Gu resided into the pond. A large amount of dry ice was poured into the vertical shaft, and within a few blinks, the pond began to freeze.

This also signaled that Hu Gu was about to enter a state of thought deceleration once again.

Hu Gu issued the final command.

The top of the vertical shaft was sealed by the root system. Several kilometers of the root system began transcribing the genes of autophagosomes, self-decomposing into a vast number of amino acids and proteins. Within just one day and night cycle of the planet, the seawater within a radius of several kilometers became extremely nutrient-rich.

This was the method of delegation. Hu Gu’s control over the cells was obtained through the intertwining of the life field. Similarly, when Hu Gu no longer intertwined its life field with those cells, it meant losing control.

Once this connection was severed, they were them, and Hu Gu was Hu Gu—neither side would influence the other again.

The effect of thought deceleration became increasingly apparent. Hu Gu could see the speed of molecular movement in the microscopic world, gradually increasing from a snail’s pace to the point where only a line was visible. Countless fine lines appeared before Hu Gu, as if the entire world was originally composed of countless fine lines.

“Míng, can you hear me?”

[What’s wrong?]

Míng was very surprised that Hu Gu had returned again. Although the difference in time perception meant it could no longer communicate smoothly with Hu Gu, it had always been paying attention to the various developments on the planet.

The planet’s average temperature, although not as high as during the Hadean Eon, was still above freezing. Míng had thought that Hu Gu might still be somewhat affected by thought deceleration due to insufficient temperature, but it had never considered the possibility that the other party would return to the same time perception as itself in such a short time.

The first thing Míng thought of was that the warming plan had encountered some unexpected event, causing the temperature where Hu Gu was located to drop sharply.

As the planet’s entity, Míng easily found the vertical shaft where Hu Gu had sealed itself.

[Don’t worry, friend, I’ll help you out right away. This thing isn’t very sturdy.]

Although it didn’t understand how Hu Gu had gotten trapped inside this tubular structure, Míng was still very willing to help its friend correct this accident.

“No, absolutely not. I went through a lot of trouble to come back. Don’t push me back again, or I’ll be really upset with you.”

“Míng, I have something to discuss with you.”

[What is it?]

Hu Gu informed Míng of its concerns about the communication barriers caused by the difference in time perception…

“In short, that’s the situation. We should unify our time perception to avoid any future misunderstandings…”

[I see, that’s indeed necessary…]

Míng had never encountered the concept of a chain of suspicion, but that didn’t prevent it from understanding. In fact, it didn’t take long. After Hu Gu introduced this concept, Míng quickly grasped it.

As Hu Gu had said before, it was very intelligent. Sometimes, it might seem “clumsy,” but that was only because it hadn’t had the means to absorb more knowledge before.

[So, what should we do to bring my time perception to the same level as yours?]

Chapter 64: Tantrum

“Increase the planet’s internal energy.”

Hu Gu provided the answer in an extremely concise message.

[What’s the method?]

“By using meteors from outer space to strike the planet, converting kinetic energy directly into internal energy, which the planet will then release as geothermal energy.”

“The rise in geothermal energy means the surface environment won’t need to rely on the Hive for heat. Instead, it can be maintained directly by your energy.”

“In that case, the surface warming plan can be concluded.”

The prospect Hu Gu described made Míng slightly tempted, something Hu Gu could hear in the other’s tone.

However, Míng’s thoughts seemed to contain more than just temptation; other emotions were mixed in as well.

[Sounds good, but you should know the devastating impact of direct meteor strikes on the surface. If this causes localized displacement within the planet, I’ll be very uncomfortable.]

“Don’t worry, I’ve already considered that. As long as the size is appropriate, it will only mildly affect the internal energy. The planet’s interior, especially the core, will experience at most a slight vibration.”

“For larger meteors, I’ll specifically break them into smaller pieces. I’m not good with timing, but when it comes to distance and scale, you don’t need to worry.”

Míng thought for a moment, then raised a new question from another angle.

[But Hu Gu, you should also consider the special entities I created on the surface. Meteor strikes will inevitably cause drastic changes in the surface climate and environment for a period. At that time, both of us will be too busy to intervene, and who knows how many species will go extinct because of it.]

“What you say isn’t entirely unreasonable. So, before the meteor strikes, I’ll specifically collect individual microorganisms and temporarily seal them away. Once everything is over, if any species have indeed gone extinct due to the meteor strikes, I’ll release the sealed individuals back into the surface environment.”

Hu Gu thought for a moment, then added a counter-question.

“Additionally, I’ll specifically monitor them for a period. This will be their time to adapt to the new environment, and during this time, I’ll protect them the whole way. What do you think, Míng?”

[Uh, good, that’s very good…]

Faced with Hu Gu’s determined attitude, Míng felt immense pressure.

[But you should know that this might hurt you. After all, you’re so big now…]

“Alright, let’s be honest. Beating around the bush really isn’t my style.”

“Míng, what are you hiding?”

[Nothing, I’m not hiding anything…]

Completely caught off guard by Hu Gu’s sudden question, Míng’s speech rhythm was disrupted.

Míng had never communicated with any intelligent beings other than Hu Gu, which made its speech awkward. Even normal communication was difficult, let alone the higher-level act of lying.

Hu Gu had noticed Míng’s intentional concealment early on but had been hesitating whether to expose it.

Perhaps out of curiosity, or fear of the chain of suspicion, after much deliberation, Hu Gu decided to ask for clarity.

“Míng, you’re really not good at lying. Don’t you think so?”

[…]

The atmosphere between them became awkward. This silence lasted for a while until Míng, unable to bear it any longer, spoke first.

[Actually… it’s like this…]

Míng’s explanation was very vague, even when listened to carefully. However, Hu Gu patiently listened to every word until the end, maintaining silence.

“So that’s it?”

After hearing the reason Míng wanted to hide, Hu Gu didn’t know what emotion to use to vent the huge sense of disappointment in its heart.

It had thought it was some significant reason. For this, it had even prepared itself to use far more organic material than in the last battle. It never expected it to be such a reason.

The reason Míng had been opposing the meteor strike plan from the beginning was simple: it disliked being hit by meteors.

Being hit by meteors was uncomfortable, though not fatal. It was like a person’s finger being pricked by a needle or scalded by boiling water.

In essence, the emotion Míng harbored was similar to a child’s fear of getting a shot at the hospital.

What could Hu Gu say about this?

Nothing!

“I say, didn’t you say before that you were already used to being hit by meteors? How come you’re so afraid now?”

[It’s not fear, it’s dislike. I got used to it before because I had no choice. With my large size, I couldn’t avoid the dense meteors. Now that I’ve finally cleaned up all the meteors in orbit, you’re asking me to go and hit other meteors in different orbits? Don’t you have any compassion?]

Do you deserve sympathy?—Míng’s attitude made Hu Gu inwardly scoff.

“Don’t put it that way. Good medicine tastes bitter but is good for the illness. Some things might be unpleasant, but they’re only beneficial to you. Why not endure it a little?”

[I won’t endure it! No matter what, I refuse meteors!]

Unable to argue with Hu Gu, Míng resorted to throwing a tantrum. This sudden behavior left Hu Gu a bit stunned. After all, in its memory, the other was a relatively rational being.

“Alright, Míng, what do you suggest? Since you say it’s not possible, you should have a plan to replace my meteor plan, right?”

[…No, I just refuse meteors. How about you think of another way, Hu Gu?]

“……Are you trying to make fun of me? We’re having a serious discussion here. I don’t have time for jokes. I’m very busy, you know?”

Thinking about how it had been in a hurry to prepare for thought deceleration, Hu Gu felt a surge of frustration. In the end, this was what it got.

Seemingly sensing Hu Gu’s hidden anger, Míng, who had been making a fuss, suddenly lost its momentum.

[…Fine, I… I’ll endure it a little. Just be quick about it, got it?]

[Huh? What’s that…?]

Amid Hu Gu’s confused bewilderment, Míng fell silent for a moment before asking.

[…Hu Gu, did you leave some strange thing in the surface ecosystem before entering the thought deceleration state?]

“Are you trying to blame me for something again?”

[Didn’t you say I’m not good at lying? Can’t you tell if what I’m saying is true?]

“……That’s impossible. This is just a setting entrustment. Even if there’s an error, it would only cause the cell cluster system to collapse, leading to another freezing event.”

[That’s interesting. We can put the matter of increasing the planet’s internal energy aside for now. Let’s figure this out first. To be honest, I’m a bit worried.]

Chapter 65: Chance

Chance is a defining feature of this universe. It arises unexpectedly, yet remains bound by reason. It may seem absurd and ridiculous, but upon closer examination, no trace of irrationality can be found.

Some argue that chance does not truly exist—it is merely the inevitable outcome of countless inevitable events, unfolding beyond human expectation.

When a die lands on six, is that chance? Or inevitability?

Under Hu Gu’s control, the Hive and root system worked in tandem to melt the ice and snow blanketing the globe. Though the poles remained untouched, they were not entirely unaffected.

Towering glaciers fractured and collapsed, one after another, merging into the sea.

At this very moment, certain unremarkable individuals awoke from their frozen slumber, tumbling into the ocean alongside massive chunks of ice.

Compared to the subzero ice, the liquid seawater above freezing was warmth itself.

As if guided by some unseen force, all life seemed to ask itself the same question—Who am I?

A question without beginning or end. Some humans, prone to overthinking, might spend their entire lives searching for an answer. But this small being was different—it already had its answer.

Your species differs from the ‘gourds.’ Though similar in appearance, you are fundamentally distinct. A new name is needed…

…You were designed to gather sufficient organic materials. From this day forward, you shall be called ‘collectors.’

This was a memory etched into its genes, not something easily forgotten.

Before the small being could even observe its surroundings, a vast tide of genetic memories surged into its fledgling mind.

Proceed to the fourth underwater volcano to gather materials. Avoid the rising plumes of smoke…

Good. Your collection efficiency has reached the required standard. You may now join the main collection force…

…

The main force’s efficiency has declined. In response, it will be divided into countless smaller teams, distinguished by numbers. From now on, your team is designated 74634…

Near the 182nd underwater volcano, team 96564 is trapped by rocks. Team 74634, you are the closest—proceed immediately to assist…

Storm conditions detected near the 63rd volcanic vent. All nearby collection teams must evacuate at once…

Abnormal water currents near the 32nd underwater volcano indicate an impending waterspout. Descend to the ocean floor immediately to avoid disaster…

Large-scale lightning strikes detected at the surface near the 265th volcanic vent. Volcanic activity is increasing…

The enemy has taken notice of you. Your team’s presence is too conspicuous. From now on, operate individually to avoid detection…

…

Material collection is nearly complete. The massive underground cavity has only seven percent of its space remaining. Soon, this relentless labor will end…

…If the octahedron is discovered before formation, the consequences will be dire. Current intelligence suggests the enemy cannot detect underground activity, but caution is warranted. A distraction is needed to divert their attention…

Collectors, assemble into a large cluster and travel to the waters two hundred thousand kilometers from here. Conduct large-scale organic material collection…

…Collectors, do not resent me. Only the victorious have the luxury of mercy. To survive, anything can be sacrificed.

…

The flood of genetic memories continued unabated, persisting through three full cycles of day and night on the planet. It was not until the fourth day at noon that the deluge finally ceased.

Throughout this time, the collector remained motionless, its gourd-like body drifting lifelessly in the water.

Emerging from the overwhelming memories, the collector finally had the capacity to observe this newly thawed world.

The water was not as warm as before, but it was far better than the subzero temperatures…

The ocean teemed with microorganisms, meaning an abundance of organic material awaited collection…

All in all, the collector preferred this new environment. It was more stable than the Hadean Eon—no treacherous volcanoes to plummet into, no violent storms to contend with.

The collector let itself be carried by the current, actively pumping its water chambers to increase propulsion. Its memories told it this was the fastest way to travel.

After nearly four to five hundred kilometers, the collector had lost count of how many days and nights had passed. Its limited mental capacity could not retain such information, and its genetic memories did not record anything beyond essential knowledge.

Finally, it reached the planet’s temperate zone, where its life field intersected with the vast system enveloping the planet.

We lost, the collector concluded. It could no longer sense the supreme will that once dominated everything.

After the great battle, the supreme will had vanished. Was the answer not obvious?

But such thoughts could not occupy its mind for long—its mental capacity was simply too small.

Just as in the Hadean Eon, it gathered organic materials and delivered them to the root system in exchange for specially formulated amino acids it could fully absorb.

The long journey had been sustained by the sparse amino acids it collected from the ocean, but their density was too low to meet demand. The collector’s condition deteriorated with each passing moment. In truth, it had reached its limit.

Finally, this suffering will end, it thought.

But reality brought disappointment. The root system showed no response. The work cells that could synthesize organic materials had emerged, eliminating Hu Gu’s need to harvest microorganisms from the ocean—a practice that, if prolonged over millennia, could disrupt evolutionary processes.

Moreover, Hu Gu, unable to detect the collectors’ presence, assumed they had gone extinct. Once the organic material supply was secured, the root system had severed the now-unnecessary mechanism.

The collector’s brain was too small to comprehend why the root system refused it sustenance. It could only repeat the futile act of delivering organic materials, again and again.

Death loomed closer. Signals of hunger pulsed through its mind.

At last, the weakening collector collapsed onto the vast root system, futilely opening and closing its mouth…

All seemed lost.

The closer it came to death, the more it cherished life—and with that came fear, an overwhelming desire to survive. This emotion was called the will to live.

Call it a miracle of life or a stroke of chance—it mattered little.

The shackles binding the collector… had been broken.

Chapter 66: Palpitation

The sea surface rose and fell, bathed in the not-quite-scorching sunlight. A gourd-shaped object bobbed up and down with the currents—it was the collector, now freed from its shackles.

No longer plagued by hunger, the unlocking of its restraints had granted it a new ability—control over its own cells.

It sounded impressive, though not as exaggerated as Hu Gu’s power. It wasn’t a complete domination over all cells, just a slight adjustment to its biological structure. The six digestive cavities, originally meant only for collecting organic material, could now also supply its body—restoring them to the gourd’s original design.

In the end, even without Hu Gu, the collector couldn’t gain full authority over the entire cell population. At most, it could only influence its own bodily cells…

But even that was powerful enough in this world where large macroscopic life had yet to evolve naturally.

Its petal-like mouth, with almost negligible biting force, opened and closed, bringing countless deaths. Like a black hole, it devoured the tiny microorganisms swimming nearby.

This allowed it to gain more energy.

More energy meant it could bring its body to the fullest, most perfect state—something it had never experienced before. It was like comparing a skeletal beggar to a muscular warrior. Though of the same kind, their physical capabilities were almost incomparable.

The enhancement of its physical abilities provided a foundation for higher intelligence. Its energy-consuming brain could now operate freely.

Building upon its survival instinct, it developed more complex thoughts and emotions.

Now, a premise and a question lay before it.

The supreme will had vanished—meaning they had been defeated. That was the premise.

Did the enemy still exist? That was the question.

From this question arose two possibilities.

First: the supreme will had vanished, and the enemy had died—mutual destruction. Though the collector didn’t yet know the phrase “mutual destruction,” it understood the logic.

Second: the supreme will had vanished, but the enemy still lived—meaning the threat to survival remained.

The first possibility meant safety; the second, danger. Perhaps influenced by the supreme will, which had never directly contacted it, the collector discarded hope. It subjectively assumed the worst-case scenario and chose the second possibility.

This was why it now drifted on the sea’s surface like a rotting log—it was disguising itself. Its meager brain capacity had devised a plan to survive in this dangerous environment.

Drifting along, it unknowingly reached a more distant place.

Along the way, it saw countless pillars of smoke rising from the seabed. The massive Hive tirelessly carried out the work assigned by its creator, its thick roots constantly supplying nourishment.

Of course, some had failed. Errors might have occurred in their genes, in the transport of materials, or due to invasions by highly threatening microorganisms.

Mountain-like figures stood motionless on the seabed—lifeless corpses, now being consumed by swarms of microorganisms.

The collector watched this scene of nature’s survival of the fittest, a faint palpitation rising in its heart. But before it could grasp the feeling, it vanished.

After much thought, it still couldn’t find that sensation. Since it wasn’t knowledge, it must be something unimportant. That was the collector’s conclusion.

Without further thought, it followed the current, not knowing where it would lead. But it was in disguise, and the water was growing warmer—something it preferred over the cold. So, it saw no need to change course.

After many days and nights, the current carried it from temperate to tropical waters. The collector disembarked from this “public transport.”

Arriving in the new environment, it felt lost. The Hives and roots here were much larger than any it had seen before.

If it had to describe the feeling, it was like a villager from a poor mountain town seeing the skyscrapers of a metropolis for the first time.

For many life forms, size often brought a sense of security and intimidation. But combined with another fact, it could instead inspire greater fear.

That fact was: Even with such power, the supreme will had perished.

The collector felt that palpitation again, but still couldn’t grasp what it meant.

Confused, it continued to survey its surroundings. Map information could be recorded as knowledge. Though terrain changed, without map data, the concept of “location” couldn’t exist. Many things couldn’t proceed—where to deliver collected organic material? Where was a specific area? How to describe its current position or where to go next?

For these reasons, Hu Gu had originally classified “map information” as knowledge.

What the collector was doing now was what it had often done in the Hadean Eon—before doing anything, it first confirmed the surrounding map data.

Suddenly, its constantly adjusting pupils captured a floating figure in the water—another gourd-shaped being, just like itself.

Joy. It had found its own kind. The collector felt immense joy, so much that it forgot its earlier principle of “disguise” and actively approached the other gourd-shaped figure.

…So I’m not the only one left… a companion…

It extended a tentacle from its tail and touched the other gourd.

Pop!

Even the slightest touch caused an unexpected collapse. The collector saw countless microorganisms pouring out from the gourd-shaped shell. In truth, this individual had long been a lifeless organic mass.

The palpitation returned, heavier than before.

But the collector still couldn’t grasp the feeling…

After that, more and more corpses of its kind appeared in its vision. They were collectors who had awakened from the ice but, without sustenance, had died one after another, carried here by the currents.

In reality, Hu Gu hadn’t had time to give the collectors cold-resistant abilities. Their survival after being frozen was already a miracle, and this collector, freed from its shackles, was an even greater miracle among miracles.

Its pitifully small brain capacity made it forget what had happened before. It still approached with hope, only to face the shattering of its illusions, again and again.

Finally, it caught that palpitation—a feeling deeper than fear, more advanced than survival, more fundamental than reason… “I” was born.

Who… am I?

Chapter 67: Enlightenment

When that question arose, the collector completed its sublimation, bidding a final farewell to its past.

It transformed from a mere ‘tool’ into a true ‘lifeform’ existing within this universe.

The difference between the two was that ‘life’ continuously perfected itself, while a ‘tool’ could not.

The benefits of self-sublimation were evident—it allowed the collector to ‘mislead’ its own body into treating useless memories as knowledge, thus achieving long-term memory.

Long-term memory laid the foundation for association and more complex thought, enabling the collector to intuitively grasp its circumstances.

But this heightened awareness also brought heightened fear, pressing down on it like a crushing weight.

Whether it was the supreme will that held absolute authority over its cells, with life and death at its whim, or the unknown enemy that had annihilated that supreme will, both were beings the collector could only look up to in awe.

It was in this moment of crisis that its potential was fully unleashed.

Life always found a way. Even insurmountable obstacles could be bypassed, and new paths could be forged—given enough time.

It lay motionless, carried by the waves into unknown waters, like a true corpse, just like its kin. If this were an act, its feigned death would be indistinguishable from the real thing without instruments.

But this time, it wasn’t pretending. It was forging a new path.

Its thoughts delved into every tissue, every organ, every cell.

To perfect itself was to change itself, but the supreme will’s commands were absolute—unchallengeable. The two were in conflict.

The collector understood this, but it also knew that conflict and harmony could coexist as long as they weren’t diametrically opposed.

Fortunately, its remaining directives from the supreme will were not in absolute opposition.

Since the conflict was only partial, it could perfect itself while coexisting with those commands.

The tangled genetic chains within its cells, like strands of instant noodles, unraveled and aligned neatly in the sample cells.

This was the blueprint of its biology. The collector’s goal was self-improvement—to defeat the unknown enemy that had erased the supreme will. So it began here, aiming to surpass even the supreme will.

What should I do?

It hesitated, lost in thought, its consciousness drifting through memories—the colossal octahedron blotting out the sky, the earth-shattering disasters…

Snapping back to reality in terror, the collector immediately abandoned the idea of growing larger, stronger, more powerful.

No, the supreme will proved that path leads nowhere. A direct confrontation is not the answer…

After a long silence, still without a solution, the collector stared blankly at the unraveled genetic strands in its sample cells.

Finally, in desperation, it began to murmur a prayer.

Supreme Will, with your wisdom, tell me—what should I do? What method will let me cross that insurmountable divide…?

As it prayed, a memory suddenly surfaced.

Countless collectors had been sent into a specific sea as bait, facing dozens of towering tornadoes stretching into the sky. Even from kilometers away, the writhing columns where sea met sky were visible.

The collector shuddered at the memory—it had experienced that terror firsthand.

Its fear was absolute, but ‘I’ forced it to confront the memory to answer its earlier question.

Such terror…

And yet, so many of us survived…

Unbelievable…

It made sense. Even the colossal octahedron had been torn apart by those winds. How could fragile collectors withstand them? Without sufficient knowledge of force, the collector assumed they couldn’t.

Then, as if a fog lifted, a spark of insight struck.

I… I understand now.

I know what to do. Follow your will.

The collector brimmed with confidence, as if it had grasped some profound truth.

The genetic strands in the sample cells began to move. Enzymes capable of cutting genes appeared, slicing the strands into segments.

Countless fragments recombined, sorting into dozens of new genetic chains, which then formed ‘X’ shapes.

Fundamentally, this wasn’t altering genes—it wasn’t even a change, since the genes still expressed the collector’s form.

Time passed—how many days and nights, it couldn’t say. If not for the ocean’s abundant food, drifting straight into its mouth, the collector might have starved.

Finally, it’s done.

The collector sighed in relief, but there was no time to rest. It needed to verify whether its modified genes would function as intended.

Unraveling, transcribing, replicating—all in one fluid motion.

The cells first formed an individual, growing in size, gradually combining into a fleshy mass with a few eyes.

Over time, the mass took on the shape of a gourd.

Soon, a miniature collector existed within the larger one’s drainage cavity, fully capable of controlling its senses.

If Hu Gu had been nearby, he would have recognized this as ‘reproduction’—simple asexual reproduction, but such things shouldn’t be judged by their current state. The significance behind this act was like a spark in a vast grassland—soon, it would ignite a wildfire.

With the success of the first sample cell, the collector produced countless more, and the population began to grow exponentially.

One became two, two became four, four became eight…

This was the truth the collector had realized. Since it couldn’t defeat the enemy alone, and couldn’t match the supreme will’s power, it wouldn’t even consider victory or defeat. Instead, it would accept inevitable defeat and survive by mass-producing its kind, increasing the species’ chances of survival.

Chapter 68: Names

Without any natural predators, coupled with vast, boundless space and nearly limitless resources, the number of collectors had swollen to unprecedented levels. Even from outer space, one could see the murky stain on the ocean’s surface, a stark contrast to the azure blue.

In terms of sheer numerical expansion, the original collector’s goal had indeed been achieved.

The reproducing collector individuals possessed both reproductive capabilities and long-term memory—the former a result of genetic optimization into chromosomal structures, the latter encoded into genetic memory as inherited knowledge.

Most importantly, they had inherited the original individual’s concept of “I.”

But this was not the end. It was merely the simplest of beginnings, like the first mathematical equation: one plus one equals two.

Evolving from “tools” to “lifeforms” meant confronting problems that tools had never faced. And as the number of collectors exploded, these problems became increasingly apparent…

Though the pattern was visible from space, zooming in revealed that the distance between collectors was quite spacious.

The gaps between them ranged from one hundred meters to fifty meters.

This loose distribution ensured that each collector could secure enough organic matter in its respective waters to sustain its life.

Two collectors, roughly seventy-three meters apart, communicated through their life fields. This was the first true exchange between them, and both struggled with the unfamiliarity of speech.

“Who are you?”

“I am a collector. Who are you?”

“I am also a collector.”

The conversation was utterly devoid of substance, yet neither seemed to notice the awkwardness, continuing their halting exchange.

At that moment, a new individual mimicked the two, using its life field to join their discussion.

“No, I am the collector…”

“And who might you be?”

The two collectors instantly shifted their attention to the third, resuming their stilted chat.

One imitation led to another, then another… until all individuals possessed this ability.

This was “learning.” With “I” as their foundation, they could now subjectively absorb knowledge from the outside world and make it their own.

More and more collectors joined the conversation, forming a bustling network channel based on their life fields.

The only downside? The topics were utterly uninspired…

“You’re all wrong. I am the collector.”

“No, you’re wrong. I am the collector.”

“Why do you all insist on being me?”

“What even is a collector? Can you eat it?”

…

The noise persisted until one individual could bear it no longer—the original collector, the first to awaken from the ice with the concept of “I.”

“Enough!”

Its life field, far stronger than the others’, overwhelmed all signals, reducing them to indecipherable static.

Faced with this absolute display of dominance, every collector trembled in silence.

Seeing the entire channel fall quiet, the original collector was pleased with its influence.

But the issue of mutual address was real. The uproar in the channel wasn’t without cause, and the original collector understood this well.

First, it needed to clarify the definition of “collector.”

“Let me answer your questions…”

The original collector organized its thoughts before responding.

“‘Collector’ is the name of our species. It refers to all of you, to me, to our entire kind. It is the meaning bestowed upon us by the Supreme Will. It is not, and can never be, an exclusive name for any single individual. Do you understand?”

No collector replied. After the original finished speaking, the channel fell into a deathly silence.

“What? No one has anything to say?”

Only when the original prompted them did the collectors muster the courage to respond.

“U-understood…”

“But how do we solve the naming problem?”

“Do you already have a solution?”

“If we can’t use ‘collector,’ what should we use?”

Faced with the barrage of questions, the original collector provided its prepared answer.

“So, we can each give ourselves a name—a unique identifier to distinguish our individual wills from others of our kind.”

This proposal was revolutionary. It was like introducing arithmetic to a world that still counted with knots.

To a group of collectors whose intelligence barely surpassed that of children, the original’s idea was nothing short of “science fiction,” an unprecedented revelation.

“Wow, that’s amazing!”

“The problem is solved just like that! So smart!”

“Incredible!”

The channel erupted once more, this time with praise for the original collector. Enjoying the admiration, it didn’t silence the noise as it had before.

“So, who should go first?”

A collector suddenly asked, instantly silencing the channel—though only temporarily.

“I’ll go first.”

“No, it’s my turn.”

“Wait, I should—”

The bickering resumed. The original collector knew it was time to intervene again.

“Enough. Stop arguing.”

“Since I proposed the idea, it’s only right that I go first.”

The channel fell silent once more as all collectors awaited the original’s next words.

“I am the second thinking entity after the Supreme Will’s disappearance. I should inherit its responsibility—to find a path of survival for our kind…”

“I know my abilities are limited. I have no massive body or unmatched strength. So I chose this path: the more of us there are, the greater our species’ chance of survival…”

“We don’t know when the enemy will come to destroy us. Right now, it seems peaceful, but that day will arrive. I believe this. We are ‘doomed to lose.’ I hope my kind can endure forever, even in that ‘inevitable defeat’…”

“Therefore, from this day forward, I shall be called ‘Eternal.’”

Chapter 69: The Intelligence Entity

With the collector named “Eternal” setting an example, other members of the same race followed suit, and the naming movement spread like wildfire, reaching a near-frenzy.

Some collectors gave themselves names that, if each character occupied one square meter, would stretch around the Earth’s equator. Others chose names that were onomatopoeia, numerical codes, or random strings of characters.

If that were all, it might have been manageable. But worse, some collectors named themselves things like “What do you like to eat?”, “I want to sleep”, “Don’t want to talk”, “Quietly watching you show off”… and other phrases that were extremely confusing and disruptive to the communication network.

To address this, Eternal issued restrictions on naming:

[First, names must have meaning. Violations will be rejected.]

[Second, to avoid disrupting normal communication, names must be short. Violations will be rejected.]

[Third, any names that are direct speech will be rejected without exception.]

With these three rules in place, the channel became much quieter, and nearly ninety percent of the names were rejected.

The collectors had never received any formal education, and their intelligence was not much higher than that of children. Coming up with a name on their own was already pushing their limits, and making those names proper and meaningful was simply too difficult.

However, many things can be forced into existence. Over time, more and more collectors submitted name applications. Those whose applications were rejected would seek help from those whose applications had been approved.

Thus, a good atmosphere of communication was formed.

Eternal keenly noticed a phenomenon: when several collectors in the channel discussed a problem together, they could accumulate experience more quickly and shorten the time it took to find a solution. The rapid progress of the naming movement in its later stages was the most powerful proof of this.

Soon, after more than twenty days and nights, when the last collector’s name application was approved, the grand naming movement came to an end.

The collectors’ days returned to normal, chatting idly in the channel. The only difference from before was that they could now accurately express who they were talking to, rather than chatting away without knowing which collector they were conversing with.

This achievement was all thanks to the emergence of names, which represented the same significance as the invention of writing in human civilization.

Eternal didn’t understand what significance meant, but it could feel that what it had done was correct, even though it still didn’t understand why it felt that way.

Then, it immersed its thoughts in the allocation of the collective. As the number of individuals increased, new territories needed to be divided for the new members, and the workload was undoubtedly enormous. In the past, it had been the main leader, with dozens of individuals assisting, barely managing these trivial matters.

But now, it no longer needed to work so hard, thanks to the phenomenon it had discovered earlier.

That is, the more individuals involved in discussing a problem, the faster experience could be accumulated, and the faster conclusions could be reached.

The channel constructed by the life field was a good thing. It allowed collectors to communicate over long distances, and this communication did not weaken with distance, as spoken communication did. Because each collector could serve as a relay station in the life field, just as Hu Gu had once issued commands through relays.

This provided the foundation for Eternal to connect the vast majority of collectors into a whole, constructing a super brain, which Eternal named the “Intelligence Entity.”

First, the collectors were a whole, and the life field connected them at the information level.

When a collector encountered a problem it couldn’t solve, it would upload the problem to the channel, where the Intelligence Entity would receive it.

The Intelligence Entity was composed of a certain number of collectors and had a hierarchical information structure: lower, middle, and upper layers. The lower and middle layers had the same number of individuals, while the upper layer had only one.

The entire Intelligence Entity first encountered problems at the lower layer. Although the number of individuals was the same as in the middle layer, the role of this layer was mainly to solve easy problems.

Thus, the large group in the lower layer also simultaneously contained countless small groups solving problems, somewhat like research teams. This information structure could quickly solve easy problems but was of no help with difficult ones.

Next was the middle layer. When all the small groups in the lower layer couldn’t solve a problem, it would be sent to the large group in the middle layer. This layer had no small groups, only one large group dedicated to solving difficult problems, with every collector in this layer participating in the discussion of the problem.

Finally, there was the upper layer, managed by Eternal. However, the upper layer was not responsible for solving problems; its existence was only to put the brakes on the Intelligence Entity.

Some problems had no answers, or they temporarily lacked the ability to know the answers. Therefore, Eternal was responsible for reviewing these unanswerable questions. If it could solve them, it would output the answers; if it couldn’t, it would pass the questions to the group of collectors responsible for memory, to be preserved.

The only drawback of the Intelligence Entity was that due to relay delays, once the number of collectors reached a peak, efficiency would actually decrease. This was the answer Eternal obtained after repeated testing.

“I have a question: why does rain fall from the sky?”

A collector floating on the sea surface, drenched by the rain, posed the question to the Intelligence Entity. Through the transmission of the life field, the lower layer of the Intelligence Entity quickly received the question.

Next came the intense analysis. Naturally, the knowledge reserve of the lower-layer collectors was absolutely insufficient to handle this question, as it involved concepts like gravity and weather, which the collectors did not yet have a clear understanding of.

After all the small groups in the lower layer had reviewed the question and failed to solve it, the question was passed up to the middle layer of the Intelligence Entity.

Now, the question was presented to the large group. Although none of them had the relevant knowledge, their experience gave them a slight, almost negligible advantage over the lower layer.

In the sea of thoughts, the question brightly appeared in the minds of every middle-layer collector, awaiting their answers.

“My answer: There is an ocean in the sky, so water falls from the sky. The evidence is that the sky is blue, and the ocean is also blue.”

“When a certain change occurs in the sky, water falls from the sky.”

Chapter 70: The Theory of the World

The “Sky-Ocean Theory” gained widespread acceptance as soon as it was proposed. In the collectors’ understanding of the world, the world was an ocean, filled with water, while the areas above the sea surface filled with gas were outside the world.

Soon, this theory was further refined. After all, the discovery of a new world was quite a sci-fi concept for collectors whose average intelligence was at the “mentally challenged” level.

The structure of the world was refreshed, changing from a three-dimensional plane with thickness to a structure resembling a mille-feuille, composed of two types of three-dimensional planes.

These were the “Ocean Plane” where they lived and the “Gas Plane.”

“But how do we explain why the ocean doesn’t fall down entirely?”

A collector from the middle layer of the Intelligence Entity raised an objection to the “Sky-Ocean Theory.”

Everything tends to sink downward—this was an axiom the collectors of the Intelligence Entity had derived after dealing with numerous problems.

This axiom applied to all matter. If this new world model were to incorporate the “sinking axiom,” the infinitely stacked “mille-feuille” would collapse under the excessive weight.

“Perhaps the world isn’t stacked layers but a giant bubble, just so large that we perceive it as a plane.”

This world model was proposed as soon as it appeared, but it was immediately refuted by a supporter of the “Sky-Ocean Theory.”

“How do you explain the ocean floor?”

“And how do you explain lava?”

Since it was genetic memory, every collector possessed information records of Hu Gu and Míng fighting fiercely during the Hadean Eon.

Based on these memory records, they knew that beneath the earth’s crust lay lava hot enough to carbonize them instantly.

Hearing the refutation, the proponent of the “Bubble World Theory” calmly provided an explanation.

“First, we know that when water and lava come into contact, they form stone.”

“So, it’s evident that our ocean floor was created by the contact between the ocean and lava.”

“In the early stages, our world was a pure water sphere, enormous in size. Outside this water sphere was an ocean, but different from ours—it was an ocean of lava…”

The proponent of the “Bubble World Theory” confidently introduced their envisioned world model to the middle-layer collectors. However, the other middle-layer collectors did not forget their duty—they needed to solve problems and provide answers.

“Get to the point. Our question is why the sky rains.”

Hearing the urging from other collector individuals, the proponent of the “Bubble World Theory” realized they had digressed and responded.

“Alright, alright, don’t rush. I’ll explain…”

“Comparing the current environment to the environment during the time of the Supreme Will, we can conclude that when water reaches a certain temperature, it changes its original form and becomes gas, which separates from water.”

“The initial large water sphere came into contact with lava, and thus a rocky sphere appeared. It was hollow because the water inside the water sphere did not come into contact with lava, so it did not form rock, and the interior was not solid.”

“But the temperature of the lava still existed. The water was heated by the lava, turned into gas, rose to the inner wall of the rocky sphere, and accumulated. When it reached a certain point, it fell, becoming the rain we see.”

When the proponent of the “Bubble World Theory” finished introducing their concept, a new model was established.

However, this model still failed to convince all the middle-layer collectors.

“The Bubble World Theory is indeed brilliant, but how does this model explain the great ice age we previously encountered?”

As the skeptic pointed out, if the outside of the world was all lava, it would be impossible for low temperatures to cause freezing.

“This…”

The proponent of the “Bubble World Theory” was at a loss for words, unable to provide a convincing explanation.

The skeptic continued.

“And how does the ‘Bubble World Theory’ explain the twinkling lights in the night sky and the large fireball during the day?”

If the previous question only shook the foundation of the Bubble World Theory, this second question completely overturned the theory.

The skeptic expressed their views to their peers.

“Comparatively, I find the first world model more credible…”

“But I don’t entirely agree with the first world model either.”

“The infinitely stacked world model seems impossible. So, I think the world has two layers. The one we are in now is the lower ocean, and above it is the upper ocean, separated by a layer of gas.”

The new speculation naturally led to new questions.

“So, how do you explain why the upper ocean doesn’t fall down from above?”

The proponent of the “Dual-Layer World Theory” provided an explanation.

“Because something is supporting it. That thing is solid and very sturdy, holding up the entire upper ocean.”

“A thing? What kind of thing could have such power?”

“How could there be such a thing? This is an ocean…”

This explanation caused a commotion because it was too incredible.

In the collectors’ minds, the limit of biological evolution was the octahedron, and the octahedron was negligible compared to the ocean, at least not covering even one percent of the ocean’s area.

Now, someone was suggesting that something could support this massive entity. Was that possible?

“Don’t rush. The thing I’m talking about, you see it every time day turns to night.”

“So? Are you referring to…”

“It’s the sky. The sky is a massive solid entity that holds up the entire upper ocean.”

“This explains why the twinkling lights and the large fireball maintain fixed trajectories in the sky. Due to the influence of the upper ocean’s currents, we know that currents are fixed with only minor deviations, no major ones. This perfectly matches the behavior of the sky’s lights and fireball, as their falling positions always have slight deviations.”

This world model did not provide a reasonable explanation for the existence of lava and the great ice age. However, the middle-layer collectors did not delve deeper because the main topic of this discussion was the reason rain falls from the sky.

Thus, the collector who had casually asked why the sky rains got their answer, and the entire collector population accepted the “Dual-Layer World Theory” as the world model.

Chapter 71: Confusion

The sea breeze swept across the ocean, stirring up rolling waves.

A collector surfaced from the water. Compared to the vast, endless sea, its individual form was almost negligible, easily overlooked.

The collector skillfully flipped onto its side, letting its single eye scan the surface of the sea.

Generally, collectors did not casually rise to the surface, as the sun’s ultraviolet rays could burn their skin, and prolonged exposure to air would cause them to lose moisture.

But the collectors tasked with surveillance were an exception. Their duty was to surface and observe the situation above the sea. Every hundred sea miles, there would be a collector assigned this role.

“Nothing again today…”

The surveillance collector, as usual, finished observing the surface and transmitted the information through the channel.

This information would pass through several collectors as relay stations before being received by Eternal.

By now, thousands of days and nights had passed since the last naming campaign. The collectors had completely covered the ocean.

Logically, the enemy should have struck by now, but nothing had happened.

This left Eternal utterly perplexed. The expected ‘enemy’ had not appeared, and the world-ending attack had not materialized. Eternal had prepared for the worst, strengthening its reproductive abilities to ensure the survival of its kind.

Yet, the outcome increasingly pointed to the first possibility—Supreme Will and the enemy had perished together.

This was the only explanation that made sense. Eternal had transitioned from firm belief in an impending attack to a state of doubt.

It wanted to believe that Supreme Will and the enemy had destroyed each other, meaning safety, no more threats to life, and no need to live in constant fear. But deeply influenced by Hu Gu’s lingering will, it dared not be too optimistic.

Thus… Eternal hesitated.

“In the memory genes, there is no record of the final outcome of that battle. The Great Ice Age descended immediately after.”

“That means Supreme Will awakened after the thaw and engaged the enemy in the final battle, ending the prolonged war.”

“Then… we must at least find the location of that battle.”

After all, two terrifying beings clashing in a final battle could not possibly leave no trace. The cataclysmic events before the Great Ice Age were proof enough.

Eternal made its decision and broadcast it through the collector channel, ensuring all collectors understood its intent.

The collectors covering the planet’s oceans stirred. Unlike the cunning commoners of Earth, their limited brain capacity meant their thoughts were simple. If a fellow collector needed help, they would do what they could.

They began thoroughly observing their surroundings, sending the information to the Intelligence Entity.

Sending it directly to Eternal was impossible—the sheer volume of data would be overwhelming. Instead, the Intelligence Entity, a collective, had to serve as the receiver.

After processing the information, the Intelligence Entity would publish the organized data on the channel.

However, even Eternal, the most intelligent individual among the collectors, could not have anticipated the shock this action would bring.

When the final piece of information was processed and published, all the collectors saw a sphere—a model of their world.

Since their birth, they had unconsciously believed in a flat world. Now, that belief was shattered!

The Dual-Layer World Theory evolved from a layered structure to a spherical one, with the sky as a physical entity enveloping the sphere beneath, forming a dual-layered spherical world model.

Even Eternal was startled—it had been a supporter of the flat world theory.

But there were more pressing matters. For now, it set aside this revelation.

“Strange… if there was a battle, there should at least be a location…”

Eternal was confused by the summarized information. It could not find the theoretical battleground. While there were many large craters on the ocean floor, they paled in comparison to the colossal battles of the Hadean Eon.

Eternal had expected, if there were craters, they would be at least thousands of kilometers in diameter.

Puzzled, Eternal sent the question directly to the Intelligence Entity. Since its individual capabilities were limited, it would rely on the collective wisdom.

“Could natural evolution have erased the traces of the battle?”

A mid-tier collector in the Intelligence Entity proposed.

“No, the geological data was checked countless times by lower-tier groups before reaching us. Even if there were oversights, they shouldn’t all be overlooked.”

The mid-tier collectors’ thoughts surged. One theory was dismissed, and another quickly took its place.

“I have an idea. Tell me if it makes sense.”

“In reality, the traces of that battle have always been in our sight. Look at this world model—nearly fifty percent of the area is not underwater…”

“We all know the early world was covered in water. When water meets lava, it forms rock. And the enemy could use lava. What does that suggest?”

One collector pondered before answering.

“You mean Supreme Will and the enemy battled there, causing the ocean floor to rise above sea level.”

“Exactly. That must be it.”

The proposer answered decisively.

After a series of discussions, this theory gained widespread acceptance among the mid-tier collectors. They reorganized the logic and sent the answer to Eternal.

When Eternal received it, the answer was described as follows: After the Great Ice Age ended, Supreme Will awakened before us and discovered the enemy. It engaged in a final, massive battle that caused fifty percent of the world’s ocean floor to rise above sea level. The current landmass we have never set foot on is the battleground of that great clash.

Eternal’s heart settled. It accepted the answer from the mid-tier Intelligence Entity. The tension that had gripped it for so long finally eased.

Immersing its thoughts in the world model, Eternal gazed at an irregular black shadow covering nearly fifty percent of the sphere’s surface. That was the land the collectors had never explored, hence the darkness.

After a long moment, Eternal prayed with utmost sincerity.

“Supreme Will… we will forever remember your sacrifice.”

“I, Eternal, promise you—we will carry on your legacy and lead our kind to greater heights.”

Chapter 72: The Challenge

Eternal surfaced from its hiding place to the ocean’s surface, followed by collectors emerging one after another. They had all received Eternal’s message and been summoned.

However, this operation was somewhat mysterious. Eternal had not directly revealed the purpose of their surfacing.

Through the channel, Eternal sensed that all the collectors scattered across the world’s oceans had surfaced. It began its speech.

“The battle of annihilation has ended. The Supreme Will, before we awoke, engaged in a decisive battle with an enemy whose true face we still do not know. It ended itself and prolonged us.”

“But that is not the main point of my announcement today.”

“I want to ask you all, even though the threat no longer exists, what do we have left without the Supreme Will? What remains?”

Faced with this question, not a single collector made a sound. Even the Intelligence Entity members, who engaged in mental activities, understood what the Supreme Will meant to them.

Eternal continued its speech.

“You all remain silent, don’t you? Then I will speak for you.”

“The Will determined our evolution, our abilities. Everything we are revolves around the Supreme Will as the center. Now, that center is gone!”

“What will our future be like? I have thought about this for a long time and now understand. If we let things take their course, our final fate will be the same as those little creatures we see as food. Do you think this is the outcome the Supreme Will wanted to see?”

“Sacrificing itself, only to prolong a group of useless, incompetent wastes? The Supreme Will would not allow it, and I absolutely will not allow such a thing to happen!”

All the collectors in the channel were deeply stimulated by Eternal’s speech. Almost simultaneously, they expressed their attitudes in the channel.

“Absolutely not allowed!”

“Absolutely not allowed!”

This channel communication had an unprecedented intensity of life field fluctuations. If the channel’s dialogue were converted into voice communication, it could probably be heard clearly several kilometers away.

All the collectors gave the same answer, which made Eternal very satisfied. The expected opposing voices did not appear, meaning that the entire race was now completely united.

And unity was the key element for the next activity Eternal was about to undertake.

“Very well, then let us get to the main topic. Let us prove to the Supreme Will that we are worthy of inheriting its will.”

In the channel, Eternal fully disclosed the information about the cell’s various organelles, cell membranes, and the internal chromosomes to its kin.

For the first time, the collectors saw the more microscopic structure inside the basic units that made up their bodies. What each cell looked like inside was crystal clear.

Previously, because it was unnecessary and there were concerns about causing uncontrollable changes that could affect organization, especially with the threat of enemies, chaos in the face of enemies was not a good thing. Therefore, Eternal had not chosen to immediately disclose this knowledge to its peers.

Similarly, the collectors began to wonder about the purpose of Eternal’s call this time. Even with their simple minds and limited brain capacity, they understood that the importance of this activity organized by Eternal was far beyond the previous naming campaign.

The disclosed information was not only about the internal knowledge of cells but also about the structure of the Intelligence Entity, with the functions of the lower, middle, and upper levels explained in detail.

“The Supreme Will has disappeared, but the instructions still exist. We all know that they are no longer the catalyst for our evolution but an obstacle we must overcome to move forward.”

“Today, we will find a path of evolution to compensate for the loss of the Will on this ocean surface!”

The collectors, quickly regaining their senses, followed Eternal’s arrangements and began to form Intelligence Entities.

There were limitations to the Intelligence Entity, but those were speed limitations. Too many relay stations would cause information delay, leading to a decrease in overall thinking speed.

However, Eternal had already thought of a solution. Since a single Intelligence Entity had limitations, why not form multiple Intelligence Entities, using a single Intelligence Entity as a unit? This way, all collectors could be fully mobilized.

Although delays still existed, it was at least much faster than direct connections. Moreover, more collectors joining the thinking process for a single problem could find the key points of the problem more quickly.

“Our goal is to take the right to modify and adjust genes from the hands of the legacy instructions. Do you understand?”

“Understood!”

One by one, the Intelligence Entities formed by the collectors began to discuss the aspect of genes.

This time, Eternal did not participate in the discussion because the upper end of the Intelligence Entity group needed a reviewer to check whether the conclusions discussed by the Intelligence Entities were feasible, effective, and practical.

This responsibility was too important. Eternal did not believe any other collector could handle this responsibility, so it had to take on the role of reviewer itself.

Conclusion after conclusion was sent to Eternal. The number was so vast that it received them every minute and every second. However, to its disappointment, none of the conclusions were reliable.

It was impossible not to be affected, even though it had anticipated this.

But Eternal did not give up. It was willing to wait. If one day was not enough, then two days. If two days were not enough, then four days. Even if it had to wait until the end of the world, it would find the new path of rebirth to break free from the shackles of the legacy instructions.

Time passed day and night. Like the monkey typewriter, the collectors, who were not very intelligent, finally proposed a plan beyond their wisdom. Although the number of seemingly reliable plans compared to the total number of plans was less than one in ten thousand.

【By controlling on a macroscopic scale, artificially creating enzymes that can interfere with genes, mimicking the Supreme Will to cut and splice genes, completing species transformation】

This was a completely out-of-their-knowledge-range answer, yet they proposed it. It could be called a miracle. Even more fortunately, Eternal keenly recognized the practical effectiveness of this plan.

This seemed like a fantastical idea. How could they propose such a plan without the knowledge?

However, reality was not like the data on paper. The essence of the universe was chaos, which cleverly blended order and disorder and coexisted harmoniously.

In the early 20th century, the French mathematician Borel proposed such an idea—let an infinite number of monkeys randomly type on an infinite number of typewriters for an infinite amount of time, and at some point, they would inevitably produce all of Shakespeare’s works.

Of course, he was not the first to propose this idea. Borel could only be considered a promoter. The first person to propose this thought experiment was Aristotle, namely, ‘an infinite number of people and an infinite amount of time can produce anything/everything.’

Chapter 73: Enzymes

Now that the path had been laid out, all that remained was the journey itself.

Though the collectors knew nothing about enzymes, they could experiment. Tens of thousands of collectors joined the research effort. Their method mirrored how Eternal had once integrated genetic chains into chromosomes within cells. Using individual cells as test subjects, they manipulated the genetic chains inside, then introduced enzymes from outside, allowing them to penetrate the cell membranes and observing the reactions.

Time flowed like worthless water, slipping away unnoticed. Countless days and nights passed, and finally, the collectors began to make sense of enzymes.

Through gradual experimentation, Eternal compiled the research findings on enzymes, categorizing them into six major types: oxidoreductases, transferases, hydrolases, lyases, isomerases, and ligases.

Oxidoreductases, in simple terms, were enzymes that promoted and catalyzed oxidation and reduction reactions. These could be further divided into oxidases and reductases.

Transferases catalyzed the exchange or transfer of functional groups between compounds.

Hydrolases catalyzed hydrolysis reactions—proteins breaking down into amino acids relied on this type of enzyme.

Lyases catalyzed reactions where a group was removed from a compound in a non-hydrolytic manner, leaving behind a double bond, or its reverse reaction. This type of enzyme could dehydrate and condense amino acids to form proteins.

These were merely the side dishes of their enzyme experiments. What truly excited Eternal were the last two types.

Isomerases catalyzed the interconversion of compounds with the same chemical formula and bonds but different atomic arrangements. Among these, certain enzymes could even sever genetic chains.

Ligases catalyzed the joining of two molecules into one. DNA ligase belonged to this category.

The collectors were retracing the path Hu Gu had once walked, step by step, personally experimenting, understanding the functions of various enzymes, and applying them.

The research continued, but not on enzymes—the study of enzymes was complete. Now, they turned their focus to their own genetic chains.

The codons of the genetic chains were gradually deciphered. With their experience in enzyme research, the collectors tackled this task with ease. Soon, the decoding of the genetic code was declared complete.

Their knowledge had expanded unprecedentedly. Their innocence remained unchanged, but their worldview had transformed entirely.

A deeper understanding of genes revealed possibilities. Whether it was the lightning-fast Titanium Snails from before the Great Ice Age or the colossal octahedrons, they were no longer objects of awe but potential futures.

Their confidence and pride swelled to unprecedented heights. Like Europe during the Renaissance, nearly every individual no longer doubted whether their kind could inherit the mantle of the Supreme Will.

With the genetic code deciphered, Eternal once again rallied its kin. The work of genetic modification began.

Far from fearful, the collectors were exhilarated. They had long awaited this moment. Countless collectors had fantasized during the research phase about one day possessing the indescribable power of the Supreme Will.

Unknowingly, the collectors had learned to crave something beyond life itself.

First, they selected a host—a vessel to carry the experimental cells.

Eternal was reluctant. If the experiment went wrong, the host’s life would be at risk. They couldn’t conduct the experiment outside the body, as the omnipresent, mindless microbes in the ocean would instantly kill the experimental cells.

Death—how distant the concept had become. Since the end of the Ice Age, not a single collector had perished. They could control their bodies to some extent. Cell replacement was limitless, and organs never aged. Unlike humans, whose cell division slowed in old age and whose bodily functions deteriorated, the collectors remained eternal.

Eternal assumed no one would volunteer as a host. Yet, the reality was the opposite. Almost every collector clamored to be chosen, catching Eternal off guard.

After some thought, Eternal understood. Three successive triumphs in large-scale data inference had instilled unparalleled confidence in the collectors. Their reverence for the Supreme Will had waned, replaced by a burning desire to become like it.

Who could refuse the chance to become a ‘god’?

Eternal repeatedly emphasized the dangers of being a host, but the volunteers kept coming.

A collector was randomly selected, and the experiment began.

The first challenge arose immediately. The collectors could control their bodies to some degree, but not with the absolute dominance Hu Gu had possessed.

They could unravel the genetic chains within their cells and accelerate cell division, but they couldn’t perform actions outside normal cellular mechanisms—like stopping cellular respiration or sealing the cell membrane to commit suicide.

Forcing cells to release restriction enzymes to destroy their own genetic chains was impossible. Restriction enzymes could recognize their own genetic chains through methylation and would only target and destroy foreign genes.

Hu Gu had succeeded because it had absolute control over its cells, allowing it to remove the methylation markers that identified its own genetic chains, thus enabling gene modification.

This was beyond the collectors’ capabilities, as it wasn’t part of normal cellular functions.

However, there was a compromise: external enzymes.

The host collector swallowed a round, fleshy sphere—a hollow ball Eternal had formed through cell division, filled with experimental enzyme solution. It resembled a water-filled balloon.

The enzymes were extracted by killing microbes, not from the collectors’ own cells, so they could affect the collectors’ cells. Preparing these enzyme solutions had taken considerable effort from Eternal.

The sphere passed through the digestive cavity into the drainage chamber. By then, the outer protein layer had been corroded away, and the sphere burst, flooding the chamber with enzymes.

The enzymes entered the experimental cells through respiration, penetrating the cell membranes and reaching the interior.

Inside the cells, the genetic chains had already been unraveled into single strands under the host’s will, ready to receive the enzymes.

Chapter 74: Big Fool

Since this was the first preliminary attempt and involved the life safety of the experimental mother, Eternal elevated caution and care to the maximum level.

However, Eternal hesitated for a long time. All its kin were waiting for its command, but it couldn’t decide which aspect of the genes to adjust. With its current overly cautious mindset, any genetic modification seemed extremely dangerous.

It realized its state wasn’t right, but couldn’t adjust. Like a student about to enter the exam hall, knowing that nervousness might lead to poor performance, yet unable to suppress it.

Finally, Eternal spoke.

“So, regarding the genetic attributes to modify, what do you all think would be best?”

Since it couldn’t decide, it thought it might as well let the others make the decision.

“Shoot lightning!”

“Spit wind blades!”

“Create earthquakes!”

“Sharp horns!”

…

“Lightning is best! Fast speed, great power. Remember the terrifying lightning when we fought the Supreme Will? The entire sea was evaporated into mist! That’s a force that can change the world!”

“If you say that, then wind blades are good too! Look at the tornado that sent seawater surging to the top of the sky. Can lightning do that? When it comes to changing the world, wind power isn’t much worse than lightning!”

“You’re all amateurs! Earth-shaking is the true world-changing power! Back then, the enemy couldn’t have forced the Supreme Will into a corner with just wind and lightning. The octahedron never feared wind and lightning. If it weren’t for the lava from beneath the sea, the octahedron wouldn’t have lost!”

“Horns! Horns are the best…”

The noisy opinions instantly filled the entire channel, the chaos being the worst since the ice layer melted. This made the already nervous Eternal even more anxious.

“Enough! Can you be more realistic?”

“Wind and lightning? Earth? Please use that pebble-sized brain of yours to think. Are these things we’re qualified to handle now? The Supreme Will hasn’t even mastered them, right? Otherwise, why didn’t it use them when fighting the enemy?”

“And horns, that dangerous thing, how can it be the first genetic modification we attempt? What if there’s danger? The mother isn’t you, so safety doesn’t matter, right?”

Eternal’s hysterical rebuke silenced the entire channel.

After calming down, Eternal asked again.

“So, is there no reasonable suggestion? It doesn’t need to be too advanced. As long as we can clearly see that there’s a change, and the change is successful, that’s enough.”

“Uh… how about making it bigger?”

“Bigger?”

Eternal pondered for a while and felt this suggestion was somewhat acceptable, at least compared to the previous ones.

So, Eternal sent the gene adjustment steps to the collector acting as the mother, letting the mother control the experimental cells.

The enzyme destroyed the single strand of the cell’s unwinding gene. No foreign genes were grafted; it was just a rearrangement of the existing gene sequence. Compared to the original collector genes, there wasn’t much change—just some recessive genes becoming dominant.

The experimental cell’s embryo took shape after several day-night cycles and was expelled from the mother’s drainage chamber.

It was a life form with the same appearance as the collector.

The reason the experimental body looked like the collector was that the experimental cells came from the collector’s species. The gene sequence Eternal modified was the size limit originally set by Hu Gu.

After more than ten day-night cycles, the experimental body grew to twice the size of a collector at an astonishing speed.

“Hello.”

Eternal took the initiative to greet the experimental body.

Previously, the experimental body had shown signs of low intelligence, which Eternal thought was due to its recent arrival in this world and unfamiliarity with many things. So, it had been unilaterally feeding information.

Now, it felt the time was right. The other should have adapted to its identity and accepted this world, so it decided to start a conversation.

However, the experimental body’s response puzzled it.

“…hungry… so hungry… want to eat more…”

As it spoke, the experimental body continued to eat non-stop in its assigned sea area. Every time it swam quickly, a long area devoid of microorganisms appeared.

Like an insatiable black hole, it constantly craved external matter.

Undoubtedly, its intelligence was still as low as at the beginning, with no improvement.

Eternal watched all this, feeling even more confused. According to the data, theoretically, only the size should have increased. Why was the intelligence so low? Why did it constantly show insatiable hunger? Could there be a mistake in the gene modification?

At the same time, a sense of guilt arose. The experimental body looked like a collector, just larger, which made Eternal inevitably see it as kin. Thinking that its kin had become so foolish due to its experiment, when it could have lived normally like the others, Eternal, who had always seen the group as something to protect, felt distressed.

“You can’t even name yourself. From now on, I’ll call you ‘Big Fool’.”

“Just… observe for a while, sigh…”

“…hungry… eat…”

Big Fool’s response was the same as before.

Eternal didn’t know that this decision would make itself and its kin pay a heavy price after nearly a hundred day-night cycles, to the point where it couldn’t help but fantasize about traveling back in time to kill its current self.

Time passed quickly, and nearly a hundred day-night cycles flew by in the blink of an eye.

“Everyone run! Big Fool is coming! Direction southeast! Run!”

The collectors’ life field channel was filled with terrified alarms.

Countless collectors, like startled birds, immediately fled northwest, their previous confidence and arrogance in challenging the Supreme Will’s authority nowhere to be seen.

The entire channel was filled with sorrow, but they couldn’t blame anyone. It was their own mistake, daring to challenge ‘God,’ and this was the punishment for failure.

Among the fleeing collectors, none were more distressed than Eternal. It now deeply regretted not having its kin destroy that experimental subject.

Chapter 75: Escape

The collectors had overlooked one crucial point from the very beginning—the fundamental difference between themselves and Hu Gu. Why should the beings he created obey their commands?

None of Hu Gu’s creations would ever rebel against him because they were essentially mindless tools. Even those with minds, under Hu Gu’s absolute dominion over cells, would never dare to raise a flag of defiance. For Hu Gu, causing the death of any creation was as trivial as a passing thought.

But the collectors?

The reason they obeyed Eternal was not because of any power it possessed, but purely because it was the most intelligent individual among the entire collector species. Their group was entirely built upon the sheep herd effect, and the life field channel further amplified and stabilized this effect.

The situation was roughly equivalent to the mindless netizens on the internet who blindly follow trends.

Under such a ruling structure, if the experimental subject did not consider the collectors as its own kind and had no sense of Eternal’s intelligence, what would happen?

Reality provided a vivid answer.

The petal-shaped mouth opened, and seawater surged backward. The collectors lagging at the end of the fleeing group were sucked in one by one, then gradually dissolved by the digestive fluids in the digestive cavity.

The entire channel echoed with the wails of the collectors not yet fully digested, further amplifying the terror of those who had successfully escaped.

At this point, Big Fool’s size had grown to nearly a thousand times that of a collector. All its organs had scaled proportionally. The reason was that Eternal had modified the original genetic structure, altering the size limit Hu Gu had initially set.

The fragile outer skin had thickened due to the increase in size, and the muscles had become strong and powerful.

Although it lacked fangs or claws, compared to the collectors, Big Fool was absolutely dominant in every aspect except intelligence.

In fact, Big Fool did not take long to catch up with the fleeing collectors, devouring them mouthful by mouthful.

This situation had persisted for some time.

When Eternal first heard that Big Fool was devouring its own kind, it realized things were going wrong. A sense of dread, like falling into an ice cellar, instantly enveloped it. Only then did the idea of destroying this experimental subject occur to it.

But by then, it was too late. Big Fool had already grown to hundreds of times the size of a collector, far beyond what the soft-bodied collectors could resist.

The tragedy unfolded. The number of collectors distributed globally began to plummet. Deaths, which had not occurred for countless years, now happened in large numbers in such a short time. After devouring these collectors, Big Fool’s size grew from hundreds of times to nearly a thousand times, and its appetite became even larger—Eternal and the other collectors had created a god of death capable of burying their entire species.

“Split up! Don’t stay together! Divide into several groups and flee in different directions!”

“Whether we live or die doesn’t matter, but we cannot let our species end like this!”

Eternal’s shouts echoed through the channel, like a guiding light in the darkness. All the panicked collectors seemed to find their backbone.

The fleeing group split into several smaller clusters, scattering in different directions.

This tactic was indeed effective. In fact, the reason the collectors had not been completely wiped out by now was because of this method of escape.

Big Fool hesitated for a moment before deciding to pursue the leftmost fleeing group of collectors. There was no special reason; it simply saw that the food cluster on the left was larger.

After several days and nights of continuous running, and confirming that they were not being pursued, the group of collectors with Eternal finally dared to stop and rest.

“It seems we are safe for now…”

“How terrifying. What should we do in the future?”

“I don’t want this. If I had known this would happen, I would have rather…”

The channel was filled with fear and regret. However, this time, Eternal had no heart to comfort them. As more and more of its kin were devoured, it was gradually overwhelmed by self-blame.

Following the normal trajectory, it would eventually be completely crushed by this self-blame, leading to total withdrawal.

“Something’s happening!”

The collector on lookout duty shouted through the channel.

“Northwest direction! It’s Big Fool!”

“No, that’s impossible. It’s still pursuing the other groups. How could it come from that direction?”

Although Eternal said this, it still went to the lookout’s position. Sure enough, in the distance, there was a gourd-shaped creature smaller than Big Fool but still far larger than a collector. It was clearly another Big Fool that had not yet fully developed!

This visual information was immediately relayed by Eternal to every member of its group. All the collectors in the group were stunned.

“Dive! Dive!”

The collectors, as if grasping the last straw in water, began swimming toward the seabed by the thousands.

Seeing the food start to escape, Big Fool followed closely, chasing the collectors toward the seabed.

Another chase ensued. However, due to its size, the not yet fully developed Big Fool could not immediately catch up with Eternal’s group. It could only gradually close the distance.

The Big Fool eagerly opened its blood-red mouth. The meat walls of the digestive cavity were clearly visible to the collectors. The petal-shaped mouth seemed like the scythe of the god of death, and the collectors’ lives were counting down.

They gradually moved from the shallow sea to the deep sea, approaching the bottom. Near them, a white smoke pillar rose from below.

But now was not the time to ponder the origin of the white smoke pillar. Big Fool was already very close. It seemed that a large number of collectors were about to be devoured by the blood-red mouth. Unfortunately, Eternal was within the range of this blood-red mouth.

“It’s over.”

Eternal sadly closed its eyes. Despite always leading its kin to do various things and even boldly attempting to usurp the Supreme Will’s authority, it was fundamentally no different from its kin—a coward.

Memories flashed backward like a lantern show, and time seemed to slow down. Faintly, some strange sounds could be heard.

“Míng, can you do it or not? Help me get out of here.”

[Hu Gu, isn’t this because the container you made is too hard?]

“Don’t talk nonsense. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you’ve done.”

“Since you say it’s impossible, then explain how you used a vortex to tear my titanium alloy shell to pieces back then. How about that?”

[That was because the surface environment temperature was high enough at the time. Now the temperature is too low. At most, it would just make a sound.]

“So how should I… Hmm?”

A surge of force rose from the seabed. When Eternal came to its senses, a silver-white spike had pierced the once-arrogant Big Fool like a skewered fish.

The source of the silver-white spike was none other than the titanium alloy cone spike on the Hive, which maintained the surface temperature from the seabed.

Chapter 76: Counterattack

“Saved… saved…”

Eternal slowly recovered from its shock, feeling the relief of still being alive. But beyond the joy was sheer terror—it had sensed the Supreme Will, which should have perished with the enemy. How was this possible?

“An illusion?”

“No, this is definitely not an illusion.”

Eternal’s gaze locked onto the titanium alloy spike protruding from the Hive at the ocean floor. The confusion and fear that had clouded its mind dissipated, replaced by unshakable confidence.

The Eternal that had been willing to sacrifice itself to protect the entire species had returned!

“Wait a moment. Let me deal with those damned test subjects, and then I’ll come rescue you.”

“You… what are you doing?”

Just as Eternal was about to share the good news with its kin—that the Supreme Will still existed—it noticed the collectors around it bowing in reverence.

After a moment’s thought, Eternal understood.

“I am not the Will. The Supreme Will still exists. It did not perish as we thought. We are not at the end of our rope. Instead, hope has arrived—the hope to avenge our fallen kin!”

“But we can’t defeat Big Fool. They are stronger, larger, faster, and they can increase their numbers just like us. We have no—”

A collector tried to remind Eternal of the overwhelming disparity between them and their enemy.

“But they are stupider than us. That alone ensures their defeat.”

Eternal’s eyes fell on the titanium alloy spike that had pierced Big Fool. Its gaze was no longer lost.

“The Will has shown us the path. All that remains is to walk it.”

“Come, my kin. The time for vengeance has come. When our vengeance is complete, we will welcome the return of our Supreme Will!”

Big Fool had devoured the group of collectors it had been chasing and now looked around, still hungry.

“…Hungry… so hungry…”

“…Over there…”

Through its life field, Big Fool detected another fleeing group of collectors and gave chase.

Eternal thought Big Fool was dim-witted, but it was wrong. Big Fool simply didn’t bother thinking because every cell in its body demanded energy. The brain, being a high-energy organ, remained in standby mode unless necessary—like now, when it needed to hunt for more energy.

This was all a result of the enlargement experiment. While its body had scaled up proportionally, its cells—the basic units—had not grown larger but multiplied in number.

This was the root cause of Big Fool’s insatiable appetite. More cells meant more nutrients were needed to sustain them. Its enlarged body required more energy to move, and the collectors’ inefficient design only worsened the energy drain.

When it was small, it could survive on microorganisms. But now, at this size, what else could sustain Big Fool’s energy needs?

Only the collectors, who looked so similar to it.

This slaughter was not about evil or justice. The only law was survival.

“…Found them…”

At full speed, Big Fool quickly closed in on the location marked by its life field. Sure enough, a group of collectors panicked at its approach.

Big Fool’s brain returned to standby mode. The outcome was already decided. From the moment it detected them, they were as good as in its mouth.

Its massive jaws opened wide, the dark digestive cavity like a black hole, hungry to devour everything.

“Dive!”

A signal flashed through the life field channel. All the collectors suddenly plunged downward.

They barely dodged the gaping maw. The turbulent current Big Fool created did disrupt their descent, but their overall direction remained unchanged.

Due to its massive size, even with reverse thrust, Big Fool slid hundreds of meters before stopping.

The prey was right ahead. How could it let them go? It chased after the diving collectors.

The collectors used Big Fool’s braking time to pull far ahead, nearing the ocean floor. The light dimmed, darkness replacing brightness.

To the collectors, this distance was vast. To Big Fool, it was nothing—a single sprint would cover it.

The drainage chamber pulsed, shooting out a powerful jet of water. Big Fool shot forward like a cannonball, rapidly closing in on the fleeing collectors.

Suddenly, a new signal appeared in the life field channel.

“Scatter!”

The collectors dispersed, revealing the Hive they had been shielding. The spikes on the Hive loomed large in Big Fool’s vision.

Braking was too late. Its massive body couldn’t make such a maneuver. Still, it tried desperately—no creature willingly gave up its life.

But it was too late. The titanium alloy spike from the Hive pierced Big Fool’s side as it tried to dodge.

…Pain… fear… hunger…

Big Fool’s body sent damage alerts through waves of agony. Its brain finally reactivated in this life-or-death crisis. Its ignorance of the Hive amplified its fear, and all of this accelerated its energy consumption.

Soon, the brain shut down again, overwhelmed by hunger signals.

“…Hungry… eat…”

Big Fool lunged at the Hive, biting down fiercely—it didn’t care what it was, as long as it provided nutrients!

“Oh no, what do we do now?”

The collectors panicked. If the Hive was devoured, Big Fool would absorb so much mass that it would grow even larger.

“We can’t let—”

Eternal, equally panicked, was about to rally its kin to deliver the final blow to the severely wounded Big Fool. But the next moment left it stunned.

Big Fool’s biting was useless, of course. The Hive, having endured the catastrophes of the Hadean Eon, was no ordinary biological structure. Its composite carbon nanotube exterior couldn’t be pierced by something as crude as a fleshy mouth.

Big Fool’s futile struggle only hastened its demise. Soon, it lay completely still.

Eternal and the other collectors were deeply shaken by the sight. There was a time when they had thought themselves close to the realm of the Creator…

Now, they wanted to strangle their past arrogant selves with their own tentacles!

Chapter 77: The Foolish Old Man

“…Hungry…eat…”

Since the first two Big Fools were impaled by titanium alloy spikes, another had fallen victim to the collectors’ repeated trap tactics. Thanks to the life field’s constructed channel, the method for killing Big Fools spread rapidly, and other collector clusters quickly learned it. The already small global population of Big Fools began to dwindle sharply.

The collectors’ plan was so effective for two main reasons.

First, Big Fools disliked using their brains. Normally, they relied on instinct, and though they could receive information from the life field, they only used it to locate the nearest collector group. They were too lazy to read the channel’s messages, as that would consume more energy.

Second, their massive weight meant that after charging, they needed a significant braking distance to stop. By the time they realized a trap was there, it was already too late.

“How many Big Fools are left?” Eternal asked in the channel.

“Twenty-three individuals remain.”

“Finish them off quickly. The Supreme Will needs your strength—for the sake of our kind.”

“Understood. For the sake of our kind.”

After ending the call, Eternal turned its gaze toward the towering cliff across from it. Wave after wave crashed against the rocks, sending up sprays of foam, while the reefs stood unmoving.

At that moment, Eternal was in the coastal region of the planet’s only continent, with thousands of collectors behind it.

“Eternal, what should we do? Is there a way?”

Instead of answering directly, Eternal countered with a question of its own.

“Have the Intelligence Entities come up with any solutions?”

“No, they don’t have any good methods either. The environment up there is completely different from the ocean—no water, and the air will gradually dehydrate us.”

“But with our current physical abilities, forcing our way onto that seabed is no different from suicide. And that unexplored region covers fifty percent of the world. Even if we weren’t afraid of sacrifice, finding where the Supreme Will is trapped would be nearly impossible.”

“That’s why I always tell you to think more…”

Eternal approached a reef near the cliff and lightly tapped it with a tentacle.

“See this? This is what supports the seabed. That unexplored region exists above the sea because of these underwater foundations. If we move this part, the area above the sea will naturally sink.”

Eternal spoke as if this were the most ordinary thing in the world, explaining its idea to its kin as if it were moving a small mound of earth rather than the very foundation of a continent.

“Understand? Let’s begin now. The sooner we start, the sooner we can welcome the Supreme Will’s return.”

“Understood. For the sake of our kind.”

“For the sake of our kind.”

One by one, the collectors began their work, choosing a relatively flat shallow area to start their relocation project.

Soft tentacles picked up small stones and carried them to distant places, filling in the high areas and leveling the low ones. No collector questioned the meaning of this action—they trusted Eternal.

Time flew by. The battle between the Big Fools and the collectors came to an end, and the number of collectors participating in this massive project gradually increased.

For sand, the collectors used a sticky secretion to bind it into clumps before carrying it away.

For large, solid rocks, they chiseled at them with smaller stones. After billions of strikes and the erosion of seawater, the rocks would crack. If the broken pieces were still too large, they would continue chiseling them into smaller, more manageable sizes for transport.

However, as the number of participants grew, problems became more apparent—namely, food.

More workers meant more mouths to feed. The high concentration of collectors in the construction zone caused a sharp decline in the number of microorganisms in the area.

Additionally, transporting sand required the use of their sticky secretion, which also consumed energy.

Eternal had no choice but to temporarily halt construction and first organize an Intelligence Entity meeting to tackle this problem.

During this discussion, the collectors learned the concept of “division of labor” for the first time.

Just as humans first developed steam engines to replace manual labor, sparking a series of technological innovations, the collectors underwent a revolution through “division of labor.”

This division brought specialization. Many tasks in the land-reclamation project now had dedicated collectors handling them.

For example, teams of collectors specialized in chiseling large rocks. As the number of rocks they worked on increased, their knowledge of which parts were weakest and how to break them more efficiently improved, and they applied this to their work.

Transportation became a specialized role. Collectors formed long “conveyor belts,” their tentacles easily hooking onto one another to pass objects quickly. Since they were spread out in a line rather than clustered together, the number of microorganisms in the water didn’t drop as drastically as it did at the construction site.

The food problem at the construction site still existed, but with the introduction of division of labor, a solution emerged: a dedicated fishing team to catch microorganisms and process them into transportable food.

Thus, not only did construction progress not slow down, but it actually accelerated.

The collectors reproduced, increasing their numbers, and new construction zones were expanded. If someone could observe from a god’s perspective, they would see the ocean encroaching upon the land.

The fishing team was led by Eternal, not because it wanted an easy job—given the collectors’ fanatical devotion to the Supreme Will, participating in construction was what they truly desired.

Eternal led the fishing team because it was the smartest among them. It could easily infer the overall number of microorganisms in a sea area based on small details, making the fishing team’s work more efficient. After all, there were so many collectors at the construction site that needed food.

“Eternal, how’s the food in this area?”

“Hmm… it seems a bit scarce, but the surrounding areas are even worse. The food density is very low. We’ll make do here today.”

“Understood.”

Just as the fishing team was about to begin their usual work, a message came through the channel from the construction site.

“Eternal, this is the newly opened Construction Zone 347. We’ve found something strange here.”

Chapter 78: Convergence

“What is this?”

The project was of utmost importance to the Supreme Will, so Eternal dared not be negligent. After issuing some necessary instructions to the harvesting team, Eternal hurried to Construction Zone 347 without delay. There, it saw the object before its eyes.

The object was cylindrical in shape, enormous in size—at least from the perspective of a collector. Sunlight filtered through the seawater, casting a silver-white metallic sheen upon it.

The cylinder lay horizontally in the water. It seemed that during the excavation process, its foundation had been dug away, causing it to lose balance and collapse.

“Is anyone injured?”

“No, though it did give us quite a scare.”

“That’s good.”

After asking, Eternal approached the cylinder for a closer inspection.

Such a perfectly regular object was clearly not a natural formation. Having participated in excavation work before, Eternal had accumulated some experience in distinguishing artificial objects from natural ones.

The silver-white luster of the cylinder quickly reminded Eternal of the Hive’s titanium alloy spikes.

It must be something left behind by the Supreme Will—Eternal made a bold guess based on its experience.

“All of you, stay back. If something happens to me, treat this as an absolutely dangerous object that must not be approached. Understood?”

“Understood.”

The collectors retreated to a distance of several hundred meters, hiding behind reefs while cautiously peering at Eternal’s location.

Eternal’s tentacle carefully extended, slowly approaching the cylinder. Under the concerned gazes of the collectors, the tentacle made contact with the cylinder.

At that moment, Eternal’s tension reached its peak, and it instinctively closed its eyes.

But soon, it opened them again, quickly retracting its tentacle to examine the skin, savoring the lingering cool sensation from touching the metallic cylinder.

Then, realizing something, Eternal looked around its surroundings.

“…No injuries… and no unusual activity…”

“Hmm, it’s safe.”

Only after receiving Eternal’s signal did the collectors dare to approach the mysterious cylinder.

“What is this thing, Eternal?” one collector asked.

Eternal waved its tentacle.

“I don’t know, but I suspect it’s something left behind by the Supreme Will. It looks similar to the horns on those massive creatures at the bottom of the sea that constantly emit heat and helped us defeat Big Fool. It might be a broken piece.”

“So what do we do next? Leave it here?”

Hearing the question, Eternal didn’t respond immediately. Instead, it picked up a stone and struck the cylinder’s surface. The metallic clang echoed through the sea.

After the strike, Eternal showed the collector the stone wrapped in its tentacle—the stone was shattered, while the cylinder didn’t even have a scratch.

“This thing is very hard, much harder than stone. Smashing it with rocks won’t work. Moving it would require many of our kin, which would delay the project.”

“The project continues. This thing isn’t dangerous. Just work around it and keep digging.”

“Good, as long as it’s not dangerous.”

With the ‘expert’s’ explanation, the collectors finally set their minds at ease and returned to work. The incident with Big Fool had left them with a deep psychological shadow regarding unknown, massive objects.

What Eternal and the collectors didn’t know was that the ‘Supreme Will’ they were desperately searching for was actually right before their eyes. The cylinder was the container that had frozen Hu Gu.

Switching perspectives to Hu Gu, it was still in a daze. Just moments ago, it had suddenly seen a petal-like, blood-red maw lunging at it. Though it was only for an instant, Hu Gu had reflexively counterattacked, much like how someone would instinctively punch an ugly monster charging at them.

By the time it reacted, the bizarre vision had already vanished.

A hallucination? Can someone like me even experience such things?—Hu Gu thought oddly.

[What just happened to you?]

“Nothing. Oh, where were we?”

[We were talking about how the surface temperature isn’t high enough for me to create a cyclone strong enough to cut through your titanium alloy. Speaking of which, Hu Gu, why did you make it so hard? Aren’t you just making things difficult for yourself?]

“Míng, I didn’t want to end up being sliced into pieces by you the moment I leave the container. If you could improve your fine motor skills, I wouldn’t have needed to make the container so sturdy.”

[So? Any other methods? Or should I melt the shell with lava? Though the core’s heat is running a bit low, helping you out shouldn’t be a problem.]

If Hu Gu still had a human body, it would have broken out in a cold sweat at this suggestion. It hastily sent a message to Míng.

“Whatever you do, don’t do that. The container is filled with dry ice. If the lava melts the outer insulation and comes into contact with the inner metal, the dry ice will expand rapidly from the heat, causing an explosion. And I’d be right at the center of it with no way to escape.”

[…What a hassle. So, Hu Gu, do you have any way to break open that container or not?]

Hu Gu fell into thought. It was quite familiar with the properties of titanium, having spent a long time personally experimenting with its various characteristics during the Hadean Eon.

“Hmm… Can you cause a tsunami and submerge the container in seawater?”

“Chloride ions can corrode most metals, including titanium alloy. We can use corrosion to damage the container.”

“Actually, I chose a location near the sea and below sea level as my hibernation spot specifically to prevent you from being unable to open the container.”

[…So you were deliberately toying with me? You had a method all along.]

Sensing Míng’s subtle anger, Hu Gu quickly explained.

“No, no, no, how could I? Am I that kind of person?”

“Chloride ions can corrode titanium alloy, but it’s very corrosion-resistant, so… it’ll take a long time.”

“But we’re in a bit of a hurry right now. We need to check the situation on the surface, so I didn’t mention it earlier.”

Míng felt a wave of discouragement and didn’t bother arguing further with Hu Gu.

[So, when can that container of yours be destroyed?]

“…It’s hard to say. It depends on the concentration of chloride ions in the seawater and the water temperature.”

Hu Gu’s vague answer to Míng’s question was based on the container’s performance and the chloride ion concentration. It would likely take thousands of years for the container to corrode to the point where it could no longer maintain the internal dry ice.

[Sigh, what a pain… Huh? This…]

[Looks like we don’t need to check what’s happening on the surface anymore.]

“What’s wrong?”

The strange tone in Míng’s voice left Hu Gu puzzled.

[The surface temperature is dropping. Ice sheets are forming across large areas.]

[The second ice age is about to descend.]

Chapter 79: First Encounter

The onset of another ice age stemmed from the Hive at the ocean floor. After enduring the erosion of time, it finally showed signs of exhaustion.

Life systems were intricate machines, with each component interlinked. A small issue in one part could trigger a chain reaction, like dominoes, leading to the collapse of the entire system.

Of course, this collapse wasn’t instantaneous. Over time, small problems accumulated, eventually culminating in a major crisis. If unresolved, the life system would collapse. Even if resolved, the collapse would only be delayed, not prevented, as small problems would reappear, repeating the cycle.

Hu Gu had considered this before sealing itself away and had taken preventive measures against potential issues. However, it had overestimated its design. The Hive and root system were failing much sooner than anticipated.

The ice sheets at the North and South Poles were expanding, yet the collectors, busy with their land excavation and sea creation project, remained unaware of the impending global disaster.

The first to notice the climate anomaly were the fishing teams, who frequently traversed various sea regions.

“Strange, I don’t remember seeing these ice floes here last time. Did I forget?” A collector from the fishing team gazed at the ice floating on the sea, puzzled.

“You didn’t forget. There wasn’t any ice here last time.”

“This is the fourth icy sea we’ve encountered, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I think we should inform Eternal. The temperature here is too low for fishing, and staying too long could be dangerous.”

“Alright, let’s leave quickly.”

Meanwhile, Eternal was leading other fishing teams in the equatorial waters.

“Huh? Again?”

“Why are so many icy regions appearing lately?”

This wasn’t the first time Eternal had received such reports from the fishing teams. Similar messages had been pouring in over the past few day-night cycles.

This system had been established to bring more food to the construction sites in a shorter time. Clearly, this situation was abnormal. Eternal needed to find the source of the anomaly. If it couldn’t resolve the issue, food collection would be affected, and the project would undoubtedly suffer—a scenario the collectors dreaded.

“We must find the cause as soon as possible.”

Eternal immediately accessed the world model, using this method to visually observe what was happening in those sea regions.

Then, Eternal saw the scene—the ice coverage at the poles was slowly expanding. At this rate, the planet would soon be covered in ice and snow again.

Fear instantly gripped Eternal’s heart.

“This is trouble…”

“Fellow collectors, we have a big problem! The Great Ice Age is about to return!”

Eternal’s anxious warning echoed through the channel, stirring unrest among the entire collector population.

On Hu Gu’s end, Ming showed it the current changes on the planet. From their current temporal perspective, the glaciers at the poles appeared like weeds, spreading from the poles toward the equator.

“It’s over, all over. All that effort was for nothing. Why didn’t I think through the possible problems more carefully?”

The current environment on the surface was something Hu Gu had built piece by piece, spending an enormous amount of time. Imagine working tirelessly on something for ten years, finally achieving results after an unknown length of time, only to watch your hard work crumble before your eyes…

Honestly, if this hadn’t been Hu Gu’s own doing, it would have wanted to flay the culprit alive.

[Cheer up. If worst comes to worst, we can start over. With the experience from the first time, we’ll handle it much faster next time. Just relax.]

“Ming, you’re right, but I’m still furious. How could I… I’m so useless.”

Hu Gu knew it couldn’t blame anyone, but it was still frustrated. Watching the white ice gradually cover the brown land and blue oceans, its heart felt like it was shattering.

Soon, the ice and snow completely covered the surface, and the planet’s transformation was complete—a pristine snowball.

Ming, unable to bear Hu Gu’s distress, began to console it.

[Don’t be so disheartened. Look, there are still some holes on the surface, meaning some of your Hives have preserved things. And some Hives are just frozen, which is actually good. Frozen, they won’t rot, and the foundation is preserved. Once you leave the container, you can just reheat the surface, right?]

[Getting upset with yourself won’t solve anything, will it?]

Hu Gu stared at the planet’s surface for a long time before sighing softly.

“Alright, Ming, stop trying to comfort me. I understand the logic. I’ve lived half my life; I have some experience. I just can’t accept this outcome right now.”

“But thank you for trying to console me.”

[What are you talking about? We’re friends.]

As Hu Gu and Ming were conversing, a strange message suddenly interrupted their exchange.

“Uh… hello? Where is this?”

[Newcomer?!]

Ming and Hu Gu were both startled.

“Who are you?” Hu Gu asked, suspicious and alarmed.

Up until now, there had only been the two of them on the planet. The sudden appearance of a third party was bound to be shocking.

At this moment, Hu Gu and Ming were unaware of the collectors’ existence. From their current temporal perspective, the objects on the planet appeared as mere lines.

[Yes, quickly identify yourself, or don’t blame me for taking drastic measures.]

Hearing Hu Gu’s interrogation, Ming chimed in, its tone serious, as if it truly had the power to erase the other party.

“Wait, please don’t be alarmed. I’m Eternal, and I…”

Eternal, who had inexplicably entered the exchange, was also startled. Upon hearing that one of them was ready to take action, it hurried to identify itself. However, sensing an extremely familiar mental fluctuation, Eternal nearly burst into tears—if it had tear ducts.

After searching high and low, it turned around, and there it was, in the dim light!

“Will… Will, I’ve finally found you!”

“???”

[???]

Chapter 80: What is Civilization?

Like a long-lost traveler finally reuniting with their elders, Eternal paid no heed to Hu Gu and Míng’s repeated interruptions, completely immersed in his own world as he poured out the hardships he had endured.

“Tsk, the most troublesome thing has happened. One problem after another, indeed.”

Through Eternal’s account, Hu Gu and Míng roughly understood what had transpired.

Hu Gu was not surprised that the collectors had developed “intelligence.” He had anticipated this possibility during the Hadean Eon. What truly shocked him was that the collectors had managed to evolve from nothing to possessing intelligence in such a short time.

After all, it had taken two million years for the terrifying upright apes to transition from the stage of southern apes to developing intelligence.

Could it be that the surface had actually experienced a span of a million years?

Hu Gu was startled by his own speculation, but he quickly dismissed the idea. A million years would have been enough to erode and destroy the container that sealed him. He didn’t believe the container he had made could withstand such a long period. Since he was still trapped, the surface couldn’t have experienced a million years.

[Hu Gu, I want to discuss something with you.]

“What is it?”

[How did you create this special entity capable of communication?]

“…… What do you want to do with that?”

Hu Gu immediately became alert. Intelligent beings were no joke, especially for them, the long-lived. To be honest, Hu Gu had already started considering eradicating the collector population from this planet once he escaped his container.

Initially, if it weren’t for dealing with Míng, an enemy of unknown origin, he wouldn’t have considered creating intelligent life in the first place. It was too dangerous. Intelligent beings could give rise to civilization, and that alone was enough to make Hu Gu abandon the idea of creating intelligent life.

Who knew if one day, his own creation might suddenly want to verify “what the internal structure of the creator is like” and dissect Hu Gu.

Perhaps Hu Gu was thinking too poorly of the collectors, but science was rigorous. There was no room for luck, only reference to actual data. And the only intelligent beings Hu Gu knew of were humans. Given human nature, the probability of them doing such a thing was a hundred percent.

Even in theology, Jesus was nailed to the cross. What irony.

Hu Gu could already imagine himself being nailed to some bizarre geometric frame, worshipped and prayed to by countless collectors. The mere thought sent shivers down his spine.

Perhaps there really were gods among humans once, but they were scared away—Hu Gu speculated with a mix of shock and suspicion.

While Hu Gu was lost in thought, Míng replied with a hesitant tone.

[Well, I also want to create some, because it’s really…]

[Cool!]

[I really want to experience this ‘coolness’ myself, so please…]

“But I refuse.”

Before Míng could finish, Hu Gu cut him off with a firm refusal.

“Life is not a game, especially when it comes to ‘intelligence.’ They can form ‘civilizations.’”

“Míng, remember my words—never underestimate your creations. Otherwise, one day, you will pay a terrible price, one that you cannot bear.”

Hu Gu’s tone was unusually grave, a side Míng had never seen in their time together.

Given their current state, it was easy to intuitively sense the emotions of the speaker. Through their conversation, Míng sensed the fear hidden beneath Hu Gu’s gravity.

This made him both curious and afraid. Even back then, he hadn’t been able to make Hu Gu feel such fear.

[…Fine, I won’t ask.]

Míng was somewhat disheartened. He really wanted to create special entities like the collectors that could communicate. After hundreds of millions of years, he still hadn’t forgotten his initial obsession. Although he now had Hu Gu as a companion and was no longer alone, obsession and need weren’t always opposing forces; sometimes they could coexist in parallel.

Hu Gu sensed Míng’s emotions and realized he had misunderstood, so he explained.

“You don’t need to be disheartened. You’re already on this path. The special entities you created on the surface will eventually give birth to those with ‘intelligence.’ It’s only a matter of time; ‘birth’ is an inevitable event.”

“But I’m worried about you, Míng. Your mindset is wrong. You’re completely unprepared. This will eventually lead to your downfall. The existence of ‘civilization’ far surpasses you and me.”

In the latter sentence, Hu Gu emphasized the terrifying nature of ‘civilization,’ which only piqued Míng’s curiosity further.

[So, what exactly is this ‘civilization’ you’ve been talking about?]

“It’s not that I don’t want to explain, but it’s hard to explain. Only when you come into contact with ‘civilization’ will you intuitively understand what I mean by ‘civilization.’”

Hu Gu was also helpless in the face of Míng’s complaint. ‘Civilization’ was a concept. It could refer to a specific race, a specific creature, or a specific group, but none of these could represent it. It had never had an accurate definition, which was why Hu Gu couldn’t give Míng an accurate answer.

Míng and Hu Gu’s conversation ended, but Eternal’s monologue was still ongoing. The endless stream of words made Hu Gu feel as if he were back in school, listening to a leader’s long, uninspiring speech.

After a long time, much longer than Hu Gu and Míng’s first conversation, Hu Gu was fine, but Míng had started to question his life.

“Done?” Hu Gu asked.

“Er… done.”

Having said everything he wanted to say, Eternal, facing the Supreme Will he had always admired, suddenly didn’t know how to start a conversation.

“Then, could you explain how you established contact here?”

“I already explained that…”

The atmosphere between them instantly became awkward. Indeed, Eternal’s endless chatter had made Hu Gu unconsciously tune it all out, ignoring everything.

Ignoring someone’s words and then being called out on it made Hu Gu more embarrassed than Eternal. However, Hu Gu’s vast experience wasn’t for nothing. He naturally suppressed this embarrassment.

“Your speech was too fast. I didn’t catch it. Could you repeat it?”

“…Yes, as you will.”

Chapter 81: Reverence

Eternal recounted to Hu Gu the general situation in the Hive region. Due to the limited range of the heat source, it could not accommodate all the collectors. Thus, some collectors would inevitably have to make sacrifices.

Getting the collectors to make such a decision was extremely difficult. There was no concept of aging, nor any significant knowledge gap. Whether they themselves survived or others of their kind did, the species could continue.

In such a situation where everyone was more or less equal, why should they be the ones to die for the sake of others?

Life was selfish, and collectors were no exception. It was only because the life field constructed channels that reduced unnecessary misunderstandings that this selfishness had not surfaced. Now, for the first time, they had become aware of a new concept—selfishness.

Even though they could sense each other’s feelings, it still sparked conflict. The so-called “more understanding avoids conflict” spouted by Earth’s self-righteous do-gooders was nothing but a joke. The unity of the collectors crumbled in that moment.

Fighting broke out. No one knew who started it, but by the time Eternal noticed, their kin were already slaughtering each other, vying for positions within the Hive’s heat source area.

The Land Excavation and Sea Creation project had taught the collectors how to use stones. They wielded sharp-edged rocks with their tentacles, surging water currents to slash open their opponents’ skin as they passed by.

Or they would block the path of charging foes, using their momentum to impale them with long, spear-like stones.

Míng was startled by the scene Eternal described. Though it was far stronger than any collector, Míng had never been in a group fight. The most intense battle it had experienced was a one-on-one with Hu Gu, even if the scale had been global.

“So, you mean you were killed by your own kind before coming here?”

Hu Gu was slightly surprised. It had assumed the other was like itself, frozen in time and then entering this temporal realm.

But Eternal’s subsequent answer confirmed that its assumption wasn’t entirely wrong.

“No, no, no, Will. I didn’t die, nor did I join the battle. I voluntarily sacrificed myself to free up more space in the heat source for my kin.”

“Ah, I see…”

“Then what about your other kin? Were any of them frozen?”

“Yes, I was frozen along with the defeated.”

Eternal’s answer made Hu Gu feel something was off. If other collectors had also been frozen, why was Eternal the only one it could converse with?

So Hu Gu asked again.

“Were there any collectors like you who intended to sacrifice themselves for the sake of others?”

Hu Gu felt it might have grasped the key to how collectors entered this temporal realm.

“Er… it seems there weren’t any.”

Eternal felt a bit embarrassed. After all, this wasn’t something to be proud of. It could already imagine the Supreme Will’s disappointment in them. In their most desperate hour, the collectors had chosen not to unite but to turn on each other.

It seemed only those who truly dedicated themselves to their race could enter this place after being frozen—this was Hu Gu’s conclusion after piecing together the information.

“Then, noble and great Supreme Will, could you tell me what this place is? Were you trapped here after that great battle, unable to leave?”

“I don’t know exactly what this place is. You should ask Míng about that; it should know. Also, could you not call me ‘Supreme Will’? It sounds awkward.”

“That won’t do. A will is a will. To us, you are the supreme existence.”

Hu Gu took this suggestion as the Supreme Will testing its loyalty. On this point, Eternal was absolutely confident. Among all collectors, if its loyalty to the Supreme Will was second, then no other collector deserved to be first.

Seeing how insistent Eternal was, Hu Gu didn’t press further. It knew what fanatics were like. As long as the other didn’t interfere with its own affairs, it didn’t matter what they thought.

“Will, who is this Míng you speak of?”

[So, after all this time I’ve been here, you’ve just been ignoring me, huh?]

“…Who are you?”

Eternal was startled by this message. Mainly because it had been too focused on Hu Gu, it had subconsciously chosen to ignore Míng.

However, Eternal didn’t show much remorse. Its reverence was reserved solely for Hu Gu, as that was “loyalty.” Its interactions with other collectors were more like those of early primitive tribes, a simple give-and-take with no formalities.

But this behavior deeply offended Míng, creating a psychological disparity—a more straightforward feeling of “who do you think you are?”

[You… Hu Gu, it’s clearly provoking me, and you have nothing to say?]

“Cough, this one isn’t as sensible as you, and it’s only the third visitor here in all this time. Can’t you give it a chance?”

“Besides, it wasn’t unaware of your existence before, was it?”

Hu Gu didn’t outright reject the idea but instead skillfully skirted the issue, cleverly defusing the awkwardness. It wasn’t foolish; such misunderstandings arising from communication were best resolved by making a big deal small and a small deal nothing. A planet’s worth of trouble was enough to give Hu Gu a headache.

“Eternal, let me tell you, you must show Míng the same reverence you show me. Understand?”

“Why?”

“Because you and your kin rely on it for everything—food, drink, waste. Strictly speaking, without it, I couldn’t have created you, as there would be no materials. It is, in a sense, your creator.”

Hu Gu’s words weren’t baseless. Without Míng’s sudden inspiration to use lightning’s high temperatures and water to create so many amino acids, there wouldn’t have been a microbial ecosystem in the Hadean Eon. And Hu Gu might have just died without becoming the collective consciousness of a cellular population.

In a way, Míng had saved Hu Gu.

“So, its true form is…”

Hearing “creator,” Míng perked up, though it also felt incredulous. It hadn’t known there was a Supreme Will, which seriously challenged its sense of loyalty.

“That’s right. Míng is the world you inhabit—the oceans, the atmosphere, the seabed. Everything within that range is what I call ‘Míng.’”

[That’s right. Now you know how amazing I am.]

“Cough!”

Though Hu Gu had no throat, it still felt like Míng’s sudden boast had caught it off guard. It had praised Míng to ease the tension, but Míng’s self-praise turned it into narcissism.

Fortunately, Eternal didn’t mind this. Neither Míng nor Eternal had complex human thoughts; their minds were still in simple stages.

Chapter 82: Public to Private

Eternal, now frozen in ice, had no way of knowing what had become of the collectors who had placed their hopes in it and earned the right to live in the Hive’s thawed zone.

“Hurry up! Dig faster! Work harder! We have to break through all this ice today! No work, no food—more work, more rewards! Do you understand?”

Several collectors, their tentacles gripping stone daggers, flapped the fins on their sides to steady themselves in the frigid water. They barked orders at the other group of collectors, who clutched smooth, rounded stones. These laborers endured the cold, chipping away at the ice. At the shouts of their overseers, they redoubled their efforts, striking the ice with even greater force.

This shift in their society traced back to the war among the collectors. The victors of that conflict had not only learned the concept of “self-interest,” which should have been nearly impossible for them to grasp, but had also secured the right to reside in the Hive’s thawed zone.

Yet they soon realized that even with their new privileges, the number of collectors was still too great. The thawed zone’s food supply couldn’t sustain all the victors.

Faced with this dilemma, the victors had two choices: continue fighting to reduce their numbers, or find another way.

Fresh from battle, the victors knew their triumph had been a stroke of luck. The survivors were the most skilled fighters among the collectors. Another round of elimination battles would offer no guarantees—no one could be certain of victory.

Those who had come closest to death were the ones who valued life the most. This truth applied to the collectors as well. None dared risk another all-out war, knowing it would invite immediate retaliation from the group.

So they chose the second option: find another way.

By chance, one collector shattered the ice surrounding the thawed zone. A flood of high-density microorganisms poured in from the broken ice.

The Hive had established a peculiar ecosystem beneath the frozen surface. It wasn’t limited to the microorganisms thriving in the thawed zone—new types of microorganisms also existed within the ice layers at the edges of the thawed area.

Just as the aggressive microorganisms had expanded their territory across the planet by slaughtering the autotrophic microorganisms, the collectors’ mass hunting had forced some microorganisms to take refuge in the ice to survive.

These new microorganisms sustained themselves on the minuscule heat from the thawed zone. Without natural predators, they multiplied rapidly.

The collectors had found a new food source.

But a new problem arose: who would break the ice at the edges of the thawed zone?

Smashing through the ice was backbreaking work, but the collectors, now acquainted with “self-interest,” had no desire to exert themselves. As victors, they believed they were entitled to the thawed zone’s food. This was the crux of the conflict.

Then, they devised a compromise.

The victors deserved the food, so the non-victors should do the laborious work. This way, everyone’s interests were balanced.

New collectors were asexually reproduced, their numbers matching the victors. But this wasn’t for expanding the population—these new collectors were their “slaves,” while the victors became the slaveholders.

These new individuals had no inherited memories from their progenitors, a consequence of Eternal’s earlier leadership, which had expanded the collectors’ microscopic achievements.

From the moment they were born, the victors told them they existed solely to serve.

Thus, the concept of a “god” was forgotten. A privileged class emerged among the collectors, and the notion of “rights” was unlocked.

The victors imposed a rule on the laborers: more work, more food; less work, less food; no work, death.

“More work, more food” meant that if a laborer collected enough microorganisms from the broken ice to feed two or more collectors, they would receive a full meal.

“Less work, less food” meant that if the amount collected fell short of that standard, the laborer would only get half a meal.

Tasting hunger for the first time, the laborers worked harder to break the ice and gather enough microorganisms to fill their stomachs.

“No work, death” was self-explanatory. Refusal to labor meant immediate execution.

“Self-interest” wasn’t something that could be dissolved through mutual understanding. The life field channel only made it difficult for “self-interest” to emerge among the collectors—it couldn’t eradicate it entirely.

The victors could sense the laborers’ exhaustion, but they felt no pity. They watched from a distance, thinking, Thank goodness I’m not one of them. I don’t have to endure that suffering.

The laborers could also sense the victors’ comfortable lives. They envied them, but any individual who tried to rebel and seize power was swiftly crushed. Compared to the laborers, who had no combat experience, the victors—hardened by battle—knew exactly where to strike to kill their kin quickly and efficiently. Their weapons were sharper than the laborers’ smooth stones.

After several failed rebellions, the shared channel function further solidified the victors’ class rule. The laborers, too, had their own self-interest—they didn’t want to die.

This small society within the thawed zone persisted for a long time.

As time passed, the victors noticed something strange: the food supply had become excessive. This surplus came from the portions withheld from the laborers. The microorganisms harvested from the ice were more abundant than the victors had estimated—they couldn’t consume it all.

One victor proposed distributing the excess food to those in need.

But the victors faced a dilemma: if they gave food to the laborers, they risked disrupting the long-standing rules. No one could predict what changes that might bring.

Would well-fed laborers rise up in rebellion again?

The victors weren’t without losses, but their numbers were far fewer than the laborers’.

After much deliberation, the victors reproduced another batch of collectors, though this group was small. They were assigned a specific task: overseeing the laborers’ work. When necessary, they were permitted to use force.

Thus, a middle class was born—tasked with drawing the laborers’ hatred—while the upper-class victors retreated into the background, serving as the enforcers when rules were broken.

Similar situations arose in the thawed zones of other Hives. The vast distances prevented the channels from connecting, leaving each thawed zone an isolated island. Yet, by coincidence, the same patterns emerged in all of them: the strong oppressed the weak, the strong exploited the weak, the strong dictated the rules for the weak.

Perhaps… this was inevitable.

Chapter 83: Astonishment

Hu Gu, still unable to fully shake off the despair of the planet’s freezing, suddenly received this message from Míng.

Hu Gu replied irritably, “What good news could there be? So far, I haven’t received a single piece of good news.”

“Huh? The glaciers are melting. Isn’t that good news?”

“You think that’s—”

“What did you say?”

“The surface glaciers are melting.”

Míng repeated the message.

“That’s impossible. It’s completely frozen. Without a new heat source, why would the glaciers melt?”

Suddenly, Hu Gu thought of something, and his tone became slightly serious.

“…Míng, you didn’t use the core’s heat, did you?”

Although Hu Gu didn’t know the exact internal structure of Míng, this planetary lifeform, since it existed in this universe, it must follow the laws of the universe.

Life is a low-entropy body, feeding on entropy reduction, and entropy reduction requires energy to produce. In other words, life needs energy to maintain its low-entropy state.

Planetary lifeforms should be no exception. Their massive bodies require a tremendous amount of energy to maintain entropy reduction. This energy source can only come from two places: the core or a star.

Clearly, a star as an energy source was impossible, so only the core remained.

If this were the Hadean Eon, the planet’s heat would be in excess, and squandering it wouldn’t matter. But now, in the Snowball stage, the Hadean Eon had passed, and the battle with Hu Gu had dissipated too much heat.

To put it bluntly, it was like a frozen person continuing to disperse their last bit of warmth—without body heat, they would be dead.

Míng sensed Hu Gu’s concern and understood his misconception, so it explained.

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m not foolish enough to squander the core’s heat at a time like this. In fact, the rise in surface temperature has nothing to do with me. I just noticed it.”

“Not you? Then where is the heat melting the glaciers coming from?”

“I’d like to know too.”

After thinking for a long time, Hu Gu couldn’t make sense of it. With the lack of information, he decided not to dwell on it for now. The melting glaciers were good news, meaning he had a chance to escape.

Now, he just needed to communicate with Eternal, telling it how to open the container sealing it after the thaw. Then, Hu Gu could see the light of day again.

“Eternal.”

“Eternal?”

“Hu Gu, it seems that guy has already thawed.”

“…”

The atmosphere instantly froze.

At this moment, Eternal was in distress. As Míng had said, it had returned to normal time perception, but this wasn’t what it wanted. In normal time perception, there was no ‘god,’ and Eternal once again felt that initial sense of helplessness.

“So terrible…”

“How do I go back?”

Eternal gently touched the ice beside it with its tentacle. Through the tentacle, it could feel the intense cold and the hardness of water freezing below zero.

“No, it’s rare to come back. If I go back like this, the Will will definitely be very disappointed.”

In the time perception of thought deceleration, Eternal knew Hu Gu’s desire to return to the surface. Since there was a chance to come back, it would do its best to fulfill the Will’s wish to break free from its shackles.

Eternal made up its mind.

Looking around, it saw a world where ice and water met.

Thanks to Hu Gu’s initial design, the collector’s visual system could obtain environmental information even in places without sunlight by capturing infrared and other weak electromagnetic waves.

“First, determine my current location, then contact the nearest kin, connect to the channel, integrate the power of all kin, and break open that container…”

“What is that?”

Just as Eternal was planning how to free the ‘god’ from its shackles, the infrared vision captured an anomaly in the distant waters.

A large number of heat sources were moving and intersecting in the water. Clearly, there was a large amount of life activity there.

Eternal was overjoyed. The kin it was looking for had appeared, meaning it could save a lot of time and rescue the Supreme Will sooner.

It eagerly swam over.

However, at the moment it touched the life field and entered the channel, it regretted it.

“Kill! Seize their heat source! We will be the ‘victors,’ obtaining endless food there. No one will go hungry again!”

“Victors, slaughter these wretched trash! Laborers should act like laborers! Anyone who dares to break the rules deserves to die!”

The dark-colored collectors and the original-colored collectors clashed in close combat. Large groups armed with stone weapons swung with all their might, each trying to kill the other first.

They knew that only dead enemies were truly safe.

Both sides were completely immersed in the fight, their attention so focused that they ignored a completely unfamiliar collector joining the life field’s channel network.

Eternal hid to the side, watching. It would be a lie to say it wasn’t shocked—it was truly frightened.

The number of collectors in the two groups was similar, but the weapons they held were slightly different. One side had round stones, while the other had sharp stone daggers, which made a decisive difference.

Since collectors had no bones and were soft-bodied creatures, as long as the force wasn’t great enough, the damage wasn’t severe. But stone daggers were different. Their sharp blades could easily slit a collector open.

The large-scale battle quickly came to an end.

The original-colored collectors won, and the dark-colored collectors were all killed without exception. Even as the defeated begged for mercy, the victors showed no mercy.

“Gather the remains. These are precious food. We must not waste them.”

The leader of the victors gave the order, and the ‘remains’ it referred to were naturally the corpses from the battle.

“Understood!”

The victors responded in unison, and this included Eternal. It naturally joined the victors’ ranks without attracting any attention, as if it had always been one of them.

Carrying a dark-colored collector’s corpse, it followed the main force of the victors on the path back.

At the same time, it was secretly shocked by the changes in the collector species during the time it had been frozen.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Eternal’s heart tightened. Collectors communicated through channels, and the downside was that it was easy to sense each other’s state and emotions.

If exposed, Eternal would likely end up like those dark-colored collectors.

Now, it had to cover up, but lying was difficult for collectors. Since the other party could sense your emotions and state, lying would be like openly telling them, ‘I’m lying to you.’ Even if the other party was a fool, they would probably realize Eternal was abnormal.

Fortunately, Eternal had learned a few linguistic tricks from Hu Gu, even though Hu Gu’s original intention was to prevent another awkward situation with Míng.

“I’m just a little surprised…”

As it spoke, Eternal patted the dark-colored collector’s corpse it was carrying with its tentacle.

“…They lost so quickly.”

It wasn’t lying. All of this was true. Eternal was indeed surprised that the dark-colored collectors had lost so quickly. Even though the numbers were similar, the original-colored collectors had cut them down as easily as chopping vegetables.

A perfect evasion!

Chapter 84: The Great Settlement

The collector who had noticed Eternal didn’t think much of it, assuming that Eternal, this ‘companion,’ simply thought too highly of those who tried to challenge the victors—foolish laborers who didn’t know their place.

“Hah, just look at what they’re using. Those rounded stones for smashing ice can’t possibly hurt us. Our skin isn’t as hard as ice. It’s the sharp, jagged stones that pose a real threat, but those idiots just don’t get it. That’s why they lose every time. They’ve rebelled so many times, yet they never learn.”

“True. After all, they’re just inferior laborers. The only thing they’re good for is work. How can they compare to us, the noble victors?”

The contempt in the collector’s words stirred a faint ripple in Eternal’s thoughts, like a subtle wave on a calm lake. But by the time Eternal realized it, the feeling had already faded, leaving no trace.

One thing was certain, though—Eternal didn’t like these so-called ‘victors’ who looked down on their own kind as worthless.

Soon, the victors returned to their warm paradise—the Hive’s ice-melting zone.

As Eternal entered the waters of the melting zone, it felt a noticeable warmth. The temperature had risen by at least ten degrees compared to the previous area.

“We’re back, Great Settlement!”

The triumphant victors announced their return in unison through the channel, declaring their presence to all the collectors in the melting zone.

A large number of dark-skinned collectors rushed out from various parts of the melting zone, startling Eternal, who thought it might be an ambush. It readied itself for battle.

But things didn’t unfold as expected.

These dark-skinned collectors didn’t attack. Instead, they formed two lines, creating a ‘welcoming corridor’ to greet the returning victors.

Beyond them were a few scattered gray collectors, each holding a stone dagger similar to those of the victors.

The victors’ procession marched through the corridor formed by the dark collectors, each carrying one or two corpses of their dark-skinned kin. This grotesque sight left Eternal with a sense of absurdity.

But it quickly realized that such a reaction might expose it. It suppressed the emotion and carefully observed the other collectors’ reactions.

Fortunately, the victors were too distracted by the greetings from the dark collectors to notice anything unusual about the ‘extra’ member in their ranks.

Eternal could sense that the returning victors enjoyed this welcoming ceremony. It guessed that this had been arranged by the victors themselves before they left.

Relieved that it hadn’t been exposed, Eternal finally had a chance to observe the environment of the Hive’s melting zone.

Adjusting the curvature of its eyes, its gaze passed over the dark collectors lining the corridor and fell on the area beyond.

Not all the collectors in the melting zone had gathered here. Some were still busy with their own tasks.

Eternal saw many dark collectors still at work, holding rounded stones and polishing a large stone slab.

The gray collectors, meanwhile, were urging the dark ones to work faster. Though they carried sharp stone daggers, they seemed to prefer using their tentacles to drive the dark collectors, occasionally lashing out at those polishing the slabs. Under this threat, the laborers worked even harder.

At the same time, Eternal noticed victors patrolling the area. Unlike the gray collectors, they didn’t bother to urge the dark ones to work harder. Instead, they carried themselves with an air of arrogance, paying no mind to either the gray or dark collectors.

If the gray collectors saw the dark ones as tools, then to the victors, both types were nothing more than ants, weeds, or insignificant specks.

Eternal quickly understood the relationships between the different types of collectors in the melting zone.

Just then, it saw a stone slab that seemed to be finished. The dark collectors were struggling to lift it. Following their gaze, Eternal saw the vast central area of the melting zone, filled with countless stone slabs.

As it watched the collectors lying on the slabs, Eternal immediately understood their purpose.

In this icy age, warmth was the most precious resource. And this resource couldn’t be taken away—it radiated from the Hive itself.

The closer to the Hive, the warmer the water and the more comfortable the environment. Combined with the established hierarchy, this created the scene Eternal was witnessing.

At the very center were the victors’ perches. They placed the stone slabs on the Hive’s spikes, like coffins suspended on cliffs, stacked in layers. Whenever the victors wanted to rest, they would lie on these slabs, enjoying the high vantage point and the warm, comfortable temperature.

Next was the area surrounding the base of the Hive, where the gray collectors resided. They enjoyed a reasonably comfortable temperature, though without the victors’ lofty view.

Beyond that was the territory of the dark collectors. The temperature wasn’t as good as the first two areas, but it was still warmer than the edges of the melting zone. The stone slabs here were scattered haphazardly, like a chaotic graveyard, giving the area a somewhat desolate appearance.

The ‘corridor’ formed by the dark collectors soon ended. The returning victors, having enjoyed their moment of glory, dispersed.

Most headed toward the Hive, exhausted from their long journey and eager to rest.

A few went in other directions, their mouths opening and closing as if they were planning to eat first. The previous battle had drained much of their energy.

Eternal, not wanting to stand out, also made a show of eating and separated from the main group heading to the Hive.

It was already considering whether to leave this place. Here, it couldn’t sense the life field channel that once covered the entire world. That meant these collectors had no connection with the rest of their kind.

Moreover, given the danger displayed in the previous battle, Eternal had no intention of making direct contact with any of the three types of collectors in this melting zone, let alone revealing itself.

Chapter 85: The Chief

Eternal wandered aimlessly, just like the other victors, strolling leisurely. But upon closer inspection, one would notice that it was gradually moving farther away from the Hive at the center of the melting zone.

Indeed, after learning that it could not rely on its kin for assistance, it had decided to slip away from the melting zone in this unobtrusive manner.

However, just as it was about to leave, Eternal was suddenly called out in the channel.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“I was just planning to go out for a bit.”

As Eternal had expected, the one who called out to it was another victor, equally idle and wandering.

Normally, no gray or dark collector would dare to block or speak to Eternal—only those of the same tier, the victors, would do so.

At that moment, Eternal was only a short distance from the edge of the melting zone. A single sprint would take it outside.

Eternal hesitated. If it forced its way out, it would seem suspicious.

The collector who had called out to it could sense Eternal’s hesitation, but it didn’t think much of it. Venturing out alone was dangerous, and perhaps Eternal was simply deliberating whether to go or not.

As for questioning why Eternal wanted to leave the melting zone? Well, the average intelligence of collectors wasn’t high enough to consider that.

“There are many dangers outside. Why don’t you join me and a few others from my kin to form a team and go out together?”

“Er…”

The other’s suggestion made Eternal even more conflicted. It wanted to leave this place for good, but if it went out as part of a team, wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?

One plan failing, Eternal thought of another—agree first, then find an opportunity to slip away once outside.

But while the idea was good, reality was cruel. It seemed fate was against it. A new message came through the channel, this time broadcast to everyone.

“All victors, assemble at the sacred grounds of the Great Settlement.”

This message completely thwarted Eternal’s escape plan. The urgency implied in the message meant that insisting on leaving now would be highly suspicious.

“Hurry up, or we’ll be stuck on the outskirts.”

Hearing the urging, Eternal had no choice but to reluctantly follow the other collector toward the Hive in the melting zone.

The so-called “sacred grounds” naturally referred to the Hive of the melting zone.

Under guidance, Eternal soon arrived at the top of the Hive, where a platform made of stone slabs stood, supported mainly by the titanium alloy spikes on the Hive’s surface.

A massive column of smoke rose from the opening at the top—steam from heated liquid water, forming a cloud pillar. This was how the Hive warmed the planet.

When Eternal arrived, a group of victors had already gathered here, surrounding the steam column in a circular formation, all silent, as if waiting for something.

Soon, Eternal found out what they were waiting for.

From the edge of the opening at the top of the Hive, a tentacle wrapped around one of the titanium alloy spikes, and a collector climbed out from the opening.

“This can’t be…”

Honestly, Eternal was genuinely shocked. The high temperature of the steam column wasn’t the issue—during the Hadean Eon, boiling water was everywhere, and collectors could adapt. The problem was the cavitation effect caused by the steam column. Within its range, conditions were almost like land, with no buoyancy. Eternal didn’t understand the principle, but it knew this well.

In other words, the other had climbed up from inside the Hive using only its tentacles!

It was like an ordinary person watching a strongman lift a nearly one-ton object—truly mind-blowing.

The collector climbed out nonchalantly and spoke in the channel.

“Today, I’ve called you all here for something important.”

“Cameron Great Settlement has issued a notice to us at Masaka Settlement, demanding that we hand over all our food as a tribute for our first meeting, to show submission. Subsequent tributes will be the maximum amount of food the melting zone can provide after meeting our own needs.”

“This is too—”

Before the victor could finish, something pierced through it, killing it cleanly.

The collector who seemed to be the chief of the Great Settlement maintained its throwing posture.

“Didn’t I say there are rules? Why do some always cross the line?”

“I’ll say it again—no interruptions until I’m done speaking. Understood?”

The chief of Masaka seemed to think this was perfectly normal, not feeling any guilt. The tone in the channel was as if mocking some trivial household matter.

Eternal felt its fur stand on end—if it had any.

But this reaction didn’t draw attention, because it wasn’t the only one showing such emotions. Almost all the observing victors were displaying fear.

This was exactly what the chief of Masaka wanted—to maintain absolute rule through fear. It scanned the crowd, confirmed the desired effect, and continued speaking.

“The folks at Cameron don’t take us at Masaka seriously. This is suicidal behavior. They must pay the price. I’ve decided—we will kill all the victors there and seize their heat source.”

“I’m done. You may speak now.”

The chief’s words opened the floodgates. The channel erupted into chaos.

“Prepare your weapons! Kill those foolish idiots and show them the glory of Masaka!”

“Seize! Seize!”

“This way, we’ll have a new heat source! Exciting!”

At that moment, the chief spoke again.

“Silence!”

Instantly, the channel fell silent once more. The chief’s authority was not to be challenged—the temperature of the recently deceased victor hadn’t even cooled yet.

“I want meaningful discussion—things that will help in the upcoming battle. Use your lazy brains. Any nonsense, keep it to yourselves.”

The chief’s words brought order to the channel. The victors began discussing the attack on Cameron Great Settlement.

“The melting zone at Cameron is ten times larger than ours, supporting far more victors. Plus, they have several subordinate settlements. The number of enemies we’ll face will be many times greater.”

“Mmm, that’s true.”

The chief of Masaka agreed with this point. Raw strength alone wasn’t enough to hold the position of chief—one needed a well-functioning brain and sufficient self-awareness.

The chief knew exactly what Masaka Great Settlement was capable of.

Encouraged by the chief’s acknowledgment, the speaker continued.

“So, to defeat Cameron, we need to gain an advantage in other areas—erode their strengths, level the playing field, or even create a gap that favors us.”

Chapter 86: Farewell

“Kill!”

Masaka and Cameron, the victors of the Great Settlement, clashed fiercely, each swinging their weapons with all their might.

Masaka’s attacking force had anticipated Cameron’s route and set an ambush along the way. They struck from the flank, disrupting Cameron’s formation. Meanwhile, the frontal assault pressed forward, splitting and isolating the already panicked Cameron forces, leaving them surrounded and unable to mount a strong counterattack.

Though Cameron’s victors outnumbered Masaka’s, the battle’s casualty ratio had reached ten to one, evening the odds and locking both sides in a stalemate.

“Your strategy was effective.”

The Masaka leader, standing outside the battlefield, couldn’t help but praise the one who had proposed the ambush.

“Not at all, it was just a small suggestion. The key is whether the leader approves it. If not, it’s just empty talk.”

Eternal replied cheerfully, subtly flattering the Masaka leader.

Sure enough, the flattery pleased the Masaka leader, and Eternal could sense the other’s joyful emotions.

Eternal had been the one to propose this plan. It had thought that while both sides were fully engaged in battle, it could slip away unnoticed. Indeed, as it had predicted, the two sides were locked in a fierce struggle, leaving no attention for Eternal to quietly leave the collector’s channel.

But the plan had a flaw. The Masaka leader, who should have joined the battle, had not. Instead, it remained with Eternal, watching the battle from afar.

The Masaka leader wasn’t entirely uninvolved. It would occasionally hurl small stones found on the seabed, killing Cameron’s victors from a distance.

With another forceful throw, a Cameron collector was pierced by a stone and fell dead on the battlefield.

“By the way, why don’t you join the battle?”

The Masaka leader, as usual, showed no emotion after killing its kin.

Eternal had grown somewhat accustomed to this, though it still felt a chill at the other’s cruelty.

Hearing the question, Eternal didn’t dare to be careless and quickly replied.

“I’ve already contributed enough with my brainpower. This strategy alone has balanced the numerical disadvantage, which is more than enough to make up for my absence on the battlefield.”

“Besides, chaotic battles are dangerous. Even the strongest of our kin could be threatened. Even someone as powerful as you, leader, is no exception.”

During this time, Eternal had been secretly observing the Masaka leader. After all, the other had shown such dangerous behavior—how could it not be cautious?

Soon, it discovered that the Masaka leader wasn’t as dangerous as it seemed. Its weakness was obvious: low defense. It could still be injured by a stone dagger. After this, the Masaka leader’s refusal to enter the battlefield only confirmed Eternal’s suspicion—the Masaka leader was, at most, a collector with exceptional arm strength.

“Hmm, you’re right. No one is invincible. On the battlefield, being struck by an unexpected blow isn’t strange. That’s why I usually don’t enter the battlefield.”

The Masaka leader openly admitted to Eternal’s words, showing no displeasure at the bluntness. This relieved Eternal.

“Oh, come with me for a moment. There’s something I need you to do.”

Calling Eternal over, the Masaka leader turned away from the battlefield and walked in the opposite direction. Eternal followed cautiously.

They arrived at a small ice cave, just large enough for one collector to enter.

“Go inside.”

As it spoke, the Masaka leader brandished its stone dagger, making its intentions clear—refusal meant death.

Entering the ice cave was also an act of malice. Eternal could sense the hostility in the other’s emotions.

Exposed?!

Eternal’s heart grew cold. It didn’t dare make any unnecessary moves. It had no doubt that if it did, the Masaka leader’s stone dagger would pierce it in an instant.

“I want to know why. I haven’t done anything to harm the settlement. Leader, at least let me die knowing what I did wrong.”

The Masaka leader was silent for a moment before answering.

“You’re too excellent, too clever.”

Since the battle wouldn’t end for a while, it didn’t mind answering a few questions for someone who was about to die. It was a decent way to pass the time.

“You played an undeniable role in this battle—even a major one. Your prestige in the settlement will rise greatly.”

“But that makes you a threat to me, especially since you no longer fear me. That’s too dangerous…”

“You’re no longer of any use to the settlement. You’re an obstacle that needs to be removed.”

Eternal was slightly surprised. It had thought its identity had been exposed, but it turned out to be this. Still, knowing the reason didn’t lighten its mood. No matter the justification, the Masaka leader’s intent to kill it remained unchanged.

The Masaka leader continued, seemingly enjoying explaining the failure to the defeated under its absolute advantage. This gave it a great sense of accomplishment.

“Originally… I planned to have you die in battle from my ‘accidental’ throw, but I didn’t expect you to see through everything so clearly, even understanding my battle strategy all along.”

“You’re too clever, and too foolish. Go inside. I don’t feel like doing it myself. After all, for so long, I’ve only killed those who break the rules. Making an exception would be a pity.”

“Later, I’ll tell the settlement that you died in battle, and to avenge you, we’ll wipe out Cameron.”

Eternal hesitated, looking at the ice cave and then at the stone dagger in the Masaka leader’s hand.

“What are you waiting for? Or do you want to die by my hand?”

Faced with such a blatant threat, Eternal had no choice. In terms of pure combat power, the battle-hardened victors were indeed much stronger than it, let alone the elite among them.

Eternal entered the ice cave. The Masaka leader then sealed the entrance with ice. This wasn’t difficult, as the cave’s entrance was small, and sealing it was no challenge for the incredibly strong Masaka leader.

Shouldn’t we find a way to bring Eternal back?

“No, it should know what I want it to do. We just need to wait.”

Hu Gu rejected Míng’s suggestion. If Eternal was preparing to unseal it at this moment and Míng intentionally created a cold current to reseal it, that would be a huge blunder.

I hope so.

“Sorry, Will, I’m back.”

Chapter 87: All Deserve to Die

Eternal recounted its return to the surface and the subsequent events to Hu Gu in detail.

Hu Gu wasn’t particularly surprised by this turn of events. After all, time on the surface could have passed by thousands, tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands of years. Not to mention, no human regime in history had ever lasted a thousand years, so Hu Gu didn’t feel much about it.

“So, what do you think about your kin turning out like that?” Hu Gu asked.

“I… I’m very sorry,” Eternal replied, clearly distressed. It couldn’t accept that the once-united collectors had become like that—physically unchanged, but their minds…

“All collectors except me are already extinct. Those are no longer kin but other creatures wearing the shell of collectors,” Eternal said.

Hu Gu remained silent for a moment before offering some advice. “Time changes everything. This isn’t something you can decide. It’s inevitable. Nothing remains unchanged forever. After all, ‘entropy’ is always increasing.”

“But your situation is simple. As long as it’s not a large ice sheet, I can help you a little in a small area.”

As he spoke, Hu Gu sent over some information, which left Eternal stunned.

“What is this…?”

“Monofilament blades. They can violently break open the titanium alloy container sealing me, but the consumption is high. For you, the limit should be about two seconds. Don’t overuse it, or you might starve to death.”

“Thermal body. Accelerates metabolism, consuming nutrients to restore body temperature. When using it, pay attention to nutrient reserves, or you might end up starving yourself to death.”

“Four powerful limbs and a stronger internal biological pump. Breaking through the ice layer blocking the entrance of the ice cave shouldn’t be a problem. And when you encounter those collectors using stone daggers, you’ll have some self-defense capability.”

“Additionally, I’ve upgraded the collector’s design structure, using the same composite design as the Hive’s outer layer. The toughness is no longer something that stone daggers or rocks can harm.”

Hu Gu introduced the effects and precautions of the genetic blueprints he had sent to Eternal one by one.

Eternal was completely baffled, listening in confusion. Only after Hu Gu described them in detail could it understand how much these blueprints could arm it.

“This… this is too precious…”

“Don’t feel burdened. I’m giving you these blueprints because I need you to break open that titanium alloy container. If you’re still restricted everywhere after returning to normal time perception, when will I get out?”

“I’ve already left instructions with you. The global root system and the Hive will provide you with assistance. Don’t disappoint me.”

Hu Gu had long anticipated that Eternal might not be able to bear this, so he had prepared this speech in advance.

Sure enough, these words made Eternal less resistant.

“Understood. I will follow your will.”

Eternal began to transcribe these blueprints within its cells. The collector’s shell, which had entered a semi-dormant state due to the low temperature, slowly revived.

The shell expanded into an oval shape, resembling an egg. Under the influence of the surrounding low temperature, the egg, which had some warmth, quickly cooled down and turned into a hard shell.

A crisp sound echoed through the ice cave—the sound of the powerful limbs piercing the eggshell.

When the eggshell was torn apart, several creatures, each about one-tenth the size of a collector, appeared in the ice cave.

“Consumed a lot of nutrients…”

“…But it was worth it.”

Eternal’s confused gaze became sharp and filled with killing intent.

It had also been changed, to some extent, by its kin.

“Let’s get out first.”

Eternal swam to the blocked entrance. The four powerful limbs moved like pile drivers, breaking through the ice layer blocking the entrance. Under this assault, the ice layer couldn’t hold for more than a few seconds before collapsing.

Eternal immediately opened its mouth, drawing in microorganisms to replenish its nutrients. The previous exertion had consumed a lot of its already limited nutrient reserves.

The consumption of microorganisms continued for a long time, and Eternal’s body returned to its original normal size.

At the same time, Eternal unknowingly drifted into the melting zone of the Cameron Great Settlement.

“Stop! What are you?” The Masaka victors guarding the Cameron melting zone immediately noticed Eternal’s arrival. This time, it couldn’t blend into a great settlement like before—those four powerful limbs were too conspicuous.

The limbs moved, and Eternal moved with them, so fast that these battle-hardened victors couldn’t react.

They only felt pain in their bodies before everything went black, unable to even realize how they had died.

The limbs shook off the stains, gathered strength, and then charged forward.

In the blink of an eye, Eternal approached the victors who were still at a distance.

The dance of the limbs was like the scythe of death, swiftly reaping the lives of the victors. Their stone daggers were now nothing more than laughable toys, utterly useless.

Eternal’s gaze locked onto the remaining collectors who were trying to escape.

The thermal body provided enough warmth, allowing Eternal to ignore the cold and become more agile, both physically and mentally.

The biological pump, at the cost of consuming nutrients, provided a stronger driving force for the body, which was also the reason for Eternal’s swift movements.

When the last fleeing dark collector was torn apart by the limbs, Eternal finally stopped.

It discarded the corpses of these collectors onto the roots connected to the Hive. The roots absorbed the bodies, converting them into nutrients and delivering them to Eternal.

Due to psychological reasons, Eternal still couldn’t bring itself to directly consume its kin, even if it no longer considered them kin.

One by one, new types of collectors were asexually reproduced. Like Eternal, they had four conspicuous powerful limbs.

“Increase numbers. Move full force toward that giant metal object we once excavated. If there are obstacles, dig through them. If there are obstructions, kill them. Liberating the will is the primary goal.”

“Also, if you encounter any settlements of those who have brought shame to our kin along the way, destroy them all. Leave no survivors. Understood?”

“Understood!”

One by one, the new collectors grew rapidly under the nourishment of the roots and their own abilities.

“Oh, there’s one more thing you must remember. Carve it deep into the depths of your minds.”

“Any act of betrayal against the will, no matter the reason, no matter the cause, all deserve to die!”

Eternal revealed an unprecedented ruthlessness.

Chapter 88: Heat Source

“Míng, do you have any leads on the unknown heat source causing the surface thaw?”

[No, there’s nothing unusual on the surface. It’s strange.]

“Speaking of which, Eternal mentioned that while the ocean has thawed, it seems only the lower layers have melted—the upper layers are still frozen… Is the temperature still rising?”

[No, the surface temperature has stabilized.]

Unknown phenomena always stirred unease, and Hu Gu was no exception. Identifying the source of the surface heat would put its mind at ease.

Hu Gu fell into deep contemplation—there were only a few possible heat sources capable of affecting the planet’s surface. One was the core, but Míng had already ruled that out. That left only…

“Oh, Míng, can you observe conditions outside the planet?”

[Of course. Didn’t I tell you before? I’ve been orbiting a giant fireball.]

With that, Míng transmitted an image of the planetary system—a single-star system where a brilliant white fireball stood out starkly against the black void of space.

Since the observation point was from the planet’s perspective, Hu Gu couldn’t see the entire system. The starry expanse held no interest for it either; it had no patience to pick out other planets in the system one by one.

First, it filtered out the starry background, leaving only the incandescent fireball, Míng’s physical form, and the endless darkness devoid of starlight.

Hu Gu asked again.

“Míng, do you have records from before? I need those.”

[Alright, hold on. Let me find them.]

Soon, new information arrived. Hu Gu imported it, and a crude three-dimensional model of the planetary system sketched out an arc—the trajectory of Míng’s physical body.

Using this arc, Hu Gu easily mapped out the elliptical orbit Míng followed around the star.

“As expected…”

Hu Gu’s expression revealed understanding as a certain suspicion solidified into certainty.

[You know the reason now?]

“It’s the star—the giant fireball you’ve been orbiting.”

[…Hu Gu, I think I should remind you that this didn’t happen during the last freeze.]

Hu Gu explained.

“Of course I know that. But you’re forgetting one thing—I hadn’t set up the global warming system covering the surface, composed of the Hive and root system, back then.”

“White is the color that absorbs the least heat, and ice-covered surfaces reflect light. A significant portion of the star’s light would be reflected away by the icy surface, preventing heat from accumulating on the surface. It would quickly dissipate into space, keeping the ice frozen for a long time.”

“But now it’s different. The root system is efficiently absorbing energy, and the Hive is releasing it back onto the surface in chemical form. So the heat is staying on the planet, especially with the emergence of the ozone layer.”

[But didn’t your surface contraptions break?]

“No, only some of them broke. Back then, you were far from the star. Now you’re passing through the perihelion—the closest point in your orbit to the star. The number of photons you’re receiving has increased, so naturally, the output of the warming system has gone up.”

Míng pondered for a moment. This was the first time it had encountered such knowledge, but with its aptitude, it quickly grasped the concept. Then, it noticed a problem—if it was moving in a circular orbit and was now at its closest to the fireball, then moving to the farthest distance would mean…

[So this thaw is only temporary, and the surface will freeze again, right?]

“That’s correct.”

[Then Eternal…]

[…]

“…”

Hu Gu and Míng exchanged meaningful glances.

On Eternal’s side, the battle couldn’t really be called a battle—it was more of a one-sided slaughter. The stone daggers couldn’t pierce the new type of collector’s skin, which directly utilized the Hive’s structure. There was no way a stone dagger could cut through it; the outcome was predetermined from the start.

“Calm down, calm down.”

“I’ll give you the Great Settlement’s location. Can you spare me a path to survival?”

Another Great Settlement had been single-handedly slaughtered by Eternal, and the leader was now cornered with no way out.

Eternal and the new type of collectors had already slaughtered hundreds of settlements, but Eternal still felt shame. Its heart still seethed with anger.

Whether it was oppressing its own kind or persecuting it, these actions only filled it with disgust, far from reaching the level of anger. The true reason for Eternal’s rage—their betrayal of the Supreme Will.

Since the ice had thawed, they should be searching for the Will, rescuing the Will, not wasting time fighting over resources. From the last incident, Eternal saw clearly that not a single collector still held the Supreme Will in their hearts.

Eternal had once thought that the collectors were preparing to rescue the Will, ensuring their own survival while gradually completing the rescue. But the leader of the Masaka Settlement had completely shattered this illusion.

“A path to survival? What right do traitors have to live?”

“Where have you placed the Supreme Will in your hearts?”

After suppressing its emotions for so long, Eternal finally couldn’t hold back its questioning.

“You… you’re Eternal?!”

The leader of the Great Settlement looked at Eternal with a mix of shock and fear, finally understanding why it was in this situation.

“The Will, the Supreme Will has broken free from its bonds?!”

“Not yet, but you’ll never see that day, you selfish traitors.”

As usual, the death was either being torn apart or pierced through. Eternal felt nothing about this slaughter—killing traitors brought it neither glory nor pity. It did this only to slightly alleviate the shame of the species’ betrayal of the Will.

“Hmm? There are still survivors?”

The powerful limbs easily smashed the stone slab, revealing several trembling dark collectors beneath it.

The powerful limbs raised high, and the outcome was almost predictable.

“Wait! You can’t kill them!”

Another dark collector emerged from under a different stone slab.

“Another traitor?”

Eternal was slightly surprised because this one was hiding quite well. If it hadn’t revealed itself, Eternal might have overlooked it.

“We haven’t betrayed! When we were breaking the ice, we worked the hardest! We took the least food! We rested the least! We always rested on the outermost edge, ready to be the first to break the ice! We never slacked off! We haven’t betrayed!”

“Hmm?”

Eternal, which was about to deal with this sudden intruder first, suddenly froze, and the powerful limbs it was about to swing stopped in their tracks.

It sensed a familiar wave—‘loyalty.’

Chapter 89: Loyalty

The collectors communicated directly through the life field, and any life connected to it could intuitively sense their state—whether they were lying, joyful, or sorrowful. These emotions were far more vivid and immediate than human expressions, which relied on facial cues and speech.

“You… still loyal to the Will?”

“Will? What is that?”

“You don’t know the Will?”

Eternal’s keen senses picked up on something. His powerful limbs swept over the dark corpse of a collector, and he consumed a small piece of its flesh.

After a moment of silence, Eternal’s limbs moved again. Under the nervous gaze of the dark collectors, he pointed to the remains of the victors who had once flaunted their dominance in the melting zone.

To ensure absolute authority, the victors had not passed down the genetic memories of the gray and dark collectors. The most crucial information about the Supreme Will had been strictly forbidden, and even after being separated by ice, they had tacitly agreed to keep it hidden.

The dark and gray collectors had no concept of “loyalty,” not just because of their own nature, but also because the victors had never allowed them to know of the Supreme Will. How could they swear allegiance to something they had never even heard of, even if it was a god?

“It seems they didn’t pass down the genetic memories to you.”

“This is indeed the influence of the traitors that prevents you from being loyal. However, that is no excuse. No matter the reason, no matter the cause, traitors deserve to die!”

“Next, your lives will depend on your answers to me.”

“Starting with you.”

The powerful limbs pointed to the dark collectors who had first been discovered beneath the stone slabs.

Eternal’s icy gaze fixed on one of them.

“Tell me, to whom do you pledge loyalty?”

“To… to…”

Caught off guard by the question and under the threat of the bloodstained limbs, the dark collector’s fear overwhelmed its reason. It struggled even to form a coherent thought, let alone answer.

But Eternal didn’t care. In an instant, the powerful limbs tore the dark collector to pieces.

The other dark collectors were stunned. Having hidden beneath the stone slabs, they hadn’t witnessed the earlier massacres in the settlement.

“Why didn’t you give it a chance to answer?”

“Fear can so easily overwhelm its mind—how could it possibly understand ‘loyalty’?”

“Then you. Tell me, to whom do you pledge loyalty?”

The powerful limbs now pointed to the dark collector who had questioned Eternal.

A bone-chilling terror seized it. Only now did it understand what its kin had faced.

“I… I pledge loyalty to you! Please spare my life!”

“Wrong answer. Traitors must die.”

A limb pierced through the dark collector’s gourd-like body, from mouth to tail, in a single, brutal motion.

The limbs moved to the next dark collector. This time, before Eternal could even repeat the question, the terrified creature blurted out:

“I pledge loyalty to the Will! I pledge loyalty to the Will! Don’t kill me! I am loyal to the Will!”

Like the other laborers, this dark collector had no memory of the Supreme Will. But the threat of death forced its mind to work. From Eternal’s fragmented words, it deduced that this killer served a leader called “Will,” and the correct answer was to submit to this “Will.”

Eternal froze. The dark collector felt a surge of relief, thinking it had saved its life.

But the opposite was true. The violent emotions surging through the life field told it—this was a grave mistake.

“How disgusting…”

“Wrong answer. Traitor!”

The limbs lashed out. In a flash, two afterimages crossed, and the limbs pierced through the gourd-like body, slamming into the stone slab with a heavy thud.

“I… I’m still alive?!”

The dark collector, expecting death, moved its body in shock, finding itself unharmed.

It looked back at the limbs. The stone slab was now cracked, and the gourd-like body impaled on it was the “loyal” dark collector.

“Run! What are you waiting for? Run as far as you can!”

Hearing its companion’s desperate cry through the life field, the surviving dark collector snapped out of its daze and fled in terror.

“Trying to escape…?”

Eternal, filled with killing intent, was about to retract his limbs when he felt resistance. The impaled collector was clinging to the limbs with its tendrils, even as the sharp edges cut into its flesh. It had no intention of letting go.

“Do you think this will help?”

Eternal lifted the limb, still attached to the collector, and resumed his stance, preparing to chase the fleeing dark collector.

“Wait! You haven’t asked me yet!”

The “loyal” dark collector shouted through the life field, shaking the limb desperately, disrupting Eternal’s balance in the water.

Eternal glanced at the distant fleeing figure, then at the collector clinging to his limb. He stopped his pursuit.

Only when the dark collector had completely vanished from sight did Eternal lose interest in chasing it.

“Now that it’s gone, you can answer the question, can’t you?”

As Eternal asked, the collector on his limb slid off, exhausted.

“I… don’t know…”

“I’m stupid… what is loyalty… I don’t understand…”

“I just want… the settlement to be… bigger… stronger… not bullied… no hunger… no pain… so I keep… smashing the ice…”

“…so sleepy… so cold… ice…”

“…can smash ice again… hehe…”

“Correct answer, kin.”

Eternal carefully lifted the dark collector with his tendrils, moving toward the Hive.

Upon reaching the Hive, he placed the injured collector into a chamber designed by Hu Gu during the Hadean Eon specifically for repairing such damage.

“Sorry, I was too harsh.”

Eternal glanced apologetically at the closing chamber, then immersed himself in the root network, sharing the intelligence gathered from the melting zone.

Meanwhile, the new collectors clearing the path to the Great Settlement gradually stopped targeting the dark collectors for slaughter.

Chapter 90: Struggle

“One-two! One-two! One-two!…”

The newly split collectors, created by Eternal, chanted rhythmic slogans in the channel, diligently digging a tunnel upward with their four powerful limbs.

This tunnel contained no water, only ice, which made the task all the more difficult.

Without water to provide buoyancy, the collectors could only rely on their four limbs to move. And in this state, they still had to dig through the ice.

If that were all, it might have been manageable. The real challenge was that they were digging through ice, not soil. The friction was pitifully low. To avoid slipping out of the tunnel, they had to constantly exert themselves to stay in place.

This led to a rapid depletion of nutrients, and the most immediate effect of that was—cold.

“Where’s the supply team? Why haven’t they returned yet? Our nutrients are almost gone!”

“My movements are getting stiff!”

“Hold firm! Willpower lies ahead—no freezing allowed!”

“Everyone, hold on a little longer—for the tribe!”

“For the tribe!”

As the digging collectors shouted, the sound of sharp objects striking the ice echoed from the rear of the tunnel. These gourd-shaped creatures formed a long line, struggling forward on their four limbs, each carrying a meaty sphere the size of their own bodies.

“This is the supply team! Supplies are here—change shifts!”

The meaty spheres were handed over, and the supply team took over the digging from the exhausted collectors. The original diggers seized this brief respite to devour the spheres and replenish their nutrients.

“Why are you so late?”

They ate while questioning the situation. If there were any changes, they needed to adjust their division of labor to avoid affecting digging efficiency.

The supply team, now temporarily handling the digging, explained over the channel.

“Those traitors have started organizing themselves to retreat and launch attacks. Capturing them is taking longer!”

“What does Eternal say?”

“It says to increase the number of supply teams and expand the hunting range!”

“Understood! Change shifts!”

As soon as they finished eating, the digging collectors returned to their posts. The supply team, now relieved of duty, slid down the tunnel like penguins, gliding away on the ice.

“One-two! One-two! One-two!…”

The rhythmic chanting resumed in the channel.

Meanwhile, the sea floor, now melted into liquid water, was no more peaceful than the digging site.

“I’ll say it again—our mission is to ensure the safe retreat of all victors from the Great Settlement of Luo’an. Understood?”

“Understood, Leader!”

A group of collectors armed with stone daggers shouted in unison over the channel.

“They’re here!”

In the melting zone of the Great Settlement of Luo’an, the leader, constantly monitoring the life field, immediately detected the supply team rapidly approaching.

Before the stone dagger-wielding collectors could react, the leading members of the supply team struck with their four powerful limbs.

The sharp edges of their limbs, combined with their high speed in the water and the currents they stirred, sliced four gourd-shaped creatures cleanly in half.

The supply team’s momentum did not slow. Like tigers among sheep, they charged into the formation of the older collectors, sending several flying.

What followed was close combat. One by one, the older collectors brandished their stone daggers, fearlessly rushing toward the supply team, who were cutting through them like melons.

“Don’t panic! Press forward—completely restrict their movements!”

The leading commander directed the formation over the channel.

The change in formation proved effective. The supply team members seemed trapped in quicksand, their momentum dwindling, their advance slowing.

Their attacks also shifted—no longer sweeping slashes, but rapid, shadowy thrusts.

This change greatly encouraged the formation’s commander. It meant their tactics were working. Now, they just needed to expand their advantage.

“Quick! Find a way to entangle those limbs—give the others a chance!”

“This time, we’re the ones eating them!”

“Kill!”

The older collectors’ fighting spirit surged under their leader’s words.

Eternal, observing the battle from afar, sent a message to the supply team trapped in the formation.

“This is Eternal. Retreat immediately.”

“No! Retreating now will delay the tunnel’s progress. The digging team is waiting for us to deliver supplies!”

Rescuing Willpower was the top priority. If Eternal’s orders conflicted with that, even as its direct offspring, they wouldn’t obey.

“At this rate, casualties are inevitable. The delay will be even worse, and the digging will be obstructed. Retreating to regroup is the best option!”

“Now, retreat immediately. That’s an order! You need to reorganize!”

“Understood!”

The supply team collectors violently hurled the older collectors entangling their limbs like sandbags, then charged out in one swift motion, quickly fleeing the battlefield under the stunned gaze of their pursuers.

Just as victory seemed within grasp, their prey slipped away. The older collectors’ leader could not tolerate this.

“All units, pursue!”

The older collectors, seeing even such terrifying enemies flee under their combined efforts, were filled with unprecedented morale. With their leader’s command, none hesitated—they charged forward in a chaotic but determined pursuit.

“Eternal, they’re chasing us!”

“Follow the route I gave you. Keep your distance—don’t lose them. This will be a great harvest.”

Eternal’s instructions briefly confused the supply team, but they soon understood its intent.

“Understood!”

The older collectors pursued in full force, soon reaching a vast, flat area with an open view stretching far into the distance.

As they passed a certain point, the ice above suddenly collapsed. Massive ice chunks rained down. The dense formation meant to hinder the enemy now became the cause of massive casualties among the older collectors.

“Scatter! Scatter! All of you, scatter!”

The leading commander knew this well. It urgently ordered the entire force to disperse. But as soon as the command was given, a chill ran through it.

The older collectors did reduce their density, but the casualties did not decrease. With lower density, the resistance to the supply team’s hunting dropped significantly.

This marked the beginning of a slaughter.

Just as the leading commander was about to order a retreat, a powerful limb pierced its body.

“Finally found you, you troublesome thing.”

“Eter… Eternal…”

“Farewell, traitorous scum.”

Chapter 91: Self

“Another Great Settlement has been destroyed…”

“It seems to be Luo’an Settlement. Hmph, I thought they could hold out a little longer. Useless.”

“They don’t seem to have any intention of stopping. At this rate, they’ll reach us soon.”

“Wouldn’t that be more advantageous for us?”

On the surface, the leaders of the most powerful collector settlements gathered in one place. These settlements were among the first to attack others when the thaw began, seizing the melting zone and expanding their influence.

The expansion of power meant an overall increase in strength, which then allowed for further expansion, growing like a snowball into a massive entity.

Each of these settlements, apart from those of equal rank, could single-handedly crush all the smaller settlements across the globe. Even though their equipment was still primitive—stone daggers—the sheer difference in scale made them incomparable.

On Earth, due to the backwardness of information transmission, many powerful empires, after expanding to a certain extent, could no longer continue their expansion and instead turned inward, consuming themselves.

The Great Settlements, however, expanding without restraint, did not worry about such things. Although the life field channel had significant delays, compared to the ancient Earth communication system where border news took ten days or half a month to arrive, it was already highly efficient.

If it weren’t for the mutual restraint among the Great Settlements, the smaller settlements would have long been wiped out.

The leaders of the settlements chatted and laughed, seemingly unconcerned about the successive destruction of the smaller settlements. However, not all were so indifferent.

“Enough!”

“We are gathered here to discuss countermeasures. Are you taking this so lightly?”

“Our enemy is Eternal! Do you know what that means? Don’t you realize the severity of the situation yet?”

The nearly frantic settlement leader questioned through the channel. It was the organizer of this gathering, having realized the impending, inescapable death, and thus organized this meeting to unite all forces in search of a path to survival. But now it seemed…

“Don’t be so agitated, Fei. Relax, don’t ruin the good atmosphere.”

“That Eternal is just a washed-up leader, always shouting about saving the Supreme Will. What came of it? Did they save it?”

“Exactly, Fei. We know your settlement will be the first to clash with them, but panicking like this is unsightly.”

“No need to panic. That washed-up leader Eternal doesn’t know the first thing about warfare. With their reckless fighting style, even if they reach your settlement, they’ll suffer heavy losses.”

“Fei, how about this? Our Moka Settlement will reinforce you with one hundred million laborers. What do you think?”

“I’m a bit short on individuals, so I’ll temporarily give you five million laborers, along with enough food to support one hundred million individuals.”

“As for weapons, I can reinforce you with some. Two hundred million stone daggers. How’s that? Generous enough?”

Each Great Settlement made their stance clear, but Fei showed no sign of happiness.

“What’s wrong, Fei? Not satisfied with the reinforcements?”

“This time, as the organizer, I called you here to discuss a joint offensive.”

As soon as Fei spoke, the leaders who had been so composed moments ago began to hedge, beating around the bush.

“Actually, our settlement has its difficulties…”

“There are many things in the settlement that still require manpower. We’re really too busy…”

“You understand, right? We’re right behind your settlement. If they suddenly take a detour, our settlement will be in great danger.”

“It’s not that we don’t want to help, but organizing and mobilizing takes time, doesn’t it?”

Although they said this, through the channel, Fei could sense their blatant lies.

“I… I understand.”

It was impossible not to be furious. Fei knew very well that these people couldn’t wait for it to die so they could annex its Great Settlement. Not only would they eliminate a rival, but they would also increase their own settlement’s power. Even if its settlement couldn’t hold back Eternal’s attack, it would surely inflict heavy losses on Eternal. Their calculations were clear.

The so-called reinforcements were practically useless. Laborers couldn’t be used as effective combatants, and food was abundant in the now-thawed environment. Only the stone daggers offered a tiny bit of help.

The gathering of these traitors on the surface ended in such scheming, and the idea of a joint offensive was thus abandoned.

Soon, it was time for Eternal to face the strongest of these traitors.

Fei’s side was already prepared, with hundreds of millions of collectors forming a massive wall that stretched as far as the eye could see.

These were collectors that Fei had hastily reproduced asexually during the time Eternal was attacking other small settlements, aiming to gain a numerical advantage in this battle against Eternal.

Opposing this army of hundreds of millions were merely a few dozen supply teams, totaling less than a thousand individuals.

“Eternal, isn’t this number a bit…”

An collector in one of the supply teams couldn’t help but express its unease.

“What? Are you afraid?”

“No, it’s not fear, but knowing we’re bound to lose… The gap in numbers is too vast. You know we can’t afford to waste too much time.”

The collector explained to Eternal.

“Don’t worry, I understand what you’re saying. I’ve prepared a ‘surprise’ for these traitors.”

“A surprise?”

The supply teams, previously overwhelmed by the hundreds of millions of enemies, now showed curiosity. They couldn’t imagine what could possibly deal with such a vast number of foes.

Eternal transmitted information, and the supply teams felt a strong current surge, tossing them about and stirring up the seabed mud.

As the mud settled, the object revealed itself—a conical structure with a titanium alloy shell, none other than a Titanium Snail.

“Today, all you need to do is clean up the corpses afterward.”

After instructing the supply teams, Eternal turned to the Titanium Snail amid their slightly bewildered gazes.

“This battlefield is yours. Let these traitors know what fate awaits those who betray the Will.”

“Leave it to me.”

With a simple reply, another strong current appeared. The reaction between sodium and water propelled the Titanium Snail at high speed through the water, like an unstoppable sword.

One against hundreds of millions.

Chapter 92: The Metal Rod

Fei struggled to push aside the pile of corpses pressing down on it. The sight that had been hidden beneath the mound of bodies left it utterly horrified.

A seabed entirely composed of the flesh and blood of collectors stretched out before it. Some tentacles among the corpses still twitched and convulsed—perhaps their owners still clung to consciousness, suffering the slow agony of death.

Fei’s mind was foggy, unable to grasp where it was or why it was there. It forced itself to recall, and as its thoughts cleared, so did its memories.

In its memory, a line of white foam surged from the enemy’s direction, crashing straight into the wall of flesh formed by the neatly aligned collectors.

At that moment, Fei immediately thought of the enemy’s capabilities described in the intelligence reports—their speed was terrifying, too fast to track, and they would recklessly charge into formations, executing instant kills.

So Fei had immediately ordered all collectors to stop the enemy at any cost.

Back then, Fei had been so confident, not for a moment believing that the white foam rushing toward them would pose any real threat.

After all, there was only one enemy, while they numbered in the hundreds of millions.

Fei had assumed that the creature hidden within the white foam was likely a pawn sent by Eternal to probe their defenses, just as the Great Settlement and others did before major battles.

Perhaps the pawn’s final struggle before death would cause heavy casualties, but that was only significant to smaller settlements. In the face of hundreds of millions, even the loss of hundreds of individuals was a drop in the bucket—it wouldn’t affect the whole.

What Fei needed to focus on was Eternal’s main forces, which had yet to move. That was its reasoning.

Then, it learned a harsh lesson—never judge the unknown by past experience. One must always approach it with reverence.

But by the time it understood, it was too late.

A silver-white gleam emerged from the foam. Fei would never forget that glow—it was the “legacy” left behind by the Supreme Will from ancient times. Even a monstrous being as powerful as Big Fool had met its end at its hands.

The tip of the Titanium Snail effortlessly pierced through the body of the collector in its path, tearing it apart completely before moving on to the next, repeating the same gruesome act.

It moved forward in a straight line, then came the powerful currents—the water churned by the Titanium Snail’s high-speed movement. The collectors on either side of its path were instantly torn apart, leaving behind a wide, straight channel.

Then came another turn. The Titanium Snail, having pierced through the entire formation of traitors, reversed direction, its assault still far from over, repeating the same devastation.

Like an embroidery needle, it weaved back and forth, mercilessly shredding anything that dared stand in its way. Even the stone pillars Fei had once thought impenetrable were no match for it.

“Slaughter?”

“No, this isn’t slaughter. Slaughter isn’t this clean…”

“It’s a purge… yes, a purge!”

Fei, snapping back to reality, trembled as it clutched the powerful weapon bestowed upon it by the heavens—a weapon uniquely its own. It was only because of this that it had survived.

Fei still remembered the last thing it saw—the overwhelming force that had left it paralyzed, unable to issue a single command.

When it finally regained its senses, danger was already upon it. Acting purely on instinct, it swung its weapon—and that reflex had saved its life.

The metallic clash sent a jarring, teeth-grinding sound echoing through the nearby seabed. Then came an immense twisting force, transmitted through the tentacle gripping the weapon. It was as if Fei’s body had been wrung like a towel, its head and tail twisted ninety degrees in opposite directions.

If it had been human, death would have been inevitable. Even if it hadn’t died instantly, every bone in its body would have shattered. But Fei was a soft-bodied creature, and its unique physiology had saved it.

It was hurled away, everything around it surging forward like a tide. That was the last thing Fei remembered.

“An ancient warrior… has the Supreme Will grown angry?”

The close encounter had given Fei a clear view of the foam-covered monster. It recognized it instantly—this was a being from ancient times, one that had once served under the Supreme Will.

“Oh, so there are still survivors.”

Fei followed the voice to its source. It wasn’t Eternal, but an ordinary new-type collector.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be quick. You won’t feel any pain.”

“Are you joking?!”

Fei raised its weapon, blocking the attack from the powerful limbs. The supply team member was slightly startled as it saw the weapon Fei wielded. It wasn’t a stone dagger that could be easily shattered by powerful limbs, but a rod gleaming with the same metallic sheen as the Titanium Snail’s shell.

The supply team member had made the mistake of underestimating its opponent, and the shock of seeing the weapon caused a momentary freeze—just a second, but that was all Fei needed. With its vast combat experience, it wouldn’t let such an opportunity slip.

“Die!”

The metal rod lunged toward the supply team member. Fei was certain of victory—no collector’s hide had ever withstood the rod’s piercing before.

But reality unfolded far differently than expected. The rod did injure the supply team member, but only superficially—it couldn’t penetrate further.

Now, the roles had reversed. Fei froze, while the specter of death loomed near.

Fei hastily retracted the metal rod to block the counterattack from the powerful limbs, but it was still slammed heavily into the pile of corpses on the seabed.

“You’re different from the others.”

“Just now, I mistook you for one of those weaklings. My apologies. Now, I’ll treat you as a true opponent.”

The supply team member’s words sent a chill through Fei.

The powerful limbs struck again. Fei barely managed to block one with the metal rod, just as before.

But the searing pain of being pierced still reached it.

The powerful limbs weren’t limited to just one. The supply team member, having anticipated this outcome, used its other three limbs to impale Fei in the same instant.

“Looks like I win.”

“Can… you… pass… a message… to the Supreme Will…?”

“What?”

“I… am… truly… sorry.”

The supply team member hesitated, pausing its motion to tear Fei apart as it had done to the other traitors.

“Isn’t it a little late for regrets now?”

With that, the impaled corpse was flung into the pile of bodies.

“By the way…”

The supply team member picked up the metal rod. Unlike the stone daggers, this was the very thing that had injured it moments ago.

If there were more of these, they would pose a serious threat to the supply teams.

It began transmitting information about the metal rod.

Chapter 93: Anomaly

The great battle with Fei had ended. After leaving enough hands to help transport the corpses, Eternal began leading its subordinates to sweep through the satellite settlements belonging to Fei’s settlement.

“Hmm?”

“Metal rods? Be careful?”

Eternal fully received the information delivered by the supply team member. Not only Eternal, but the other collectors also shared the same information.

This seemed like a minor matter—at most, it was a survivor overlooked during the Titanium Snail’s cleanup.

At most, they needed to be cautious of individuals possibly wielding metal rods, as these traitors might cause minor superficial injuries during the hunt.

But that was the thinking of the supply team working with Eternal. Eternal, however, could see something deeper.

In this world, metal should be something only the Supreme Will could utilize. Yet now, a traitor possessed it. Clearly, there was a problem.

Eternal established contact with the supply team member who reported the metal rod.

“Does that collector have ‘loyalty’?”

“We were very careful about that. We confirmed it before taking action.”

“Hmm, I see.”

No? Then what was the source of the metal rod? Who gave it to that traitor?—The more Eternal thought about it, the more serious the matter seemed.

Because these questions, when extrapolated, could even lead to the existence of a terrifying opponent no weaker than the Supreme Will.

This wasn’t impossible. Back when the planet’s oceans were still liquid, there was an unknown opponent fighting against the Supreme Will. Who could guarantee that, after such a long time, the world wouldn’t give birth to another powerful existence capable of rivaling the Supreme Will?

Eternal didn’t dare to gamble, nor could it afford to, especially now that the collector race had finally found its path and was advancing bravely.

“Which supply team is executing the next batch of supply operations?”

Eternal’s inquiry was broadcasted on the channel and quickly received a response.

“This is Supply Team 233, Eternal, what’s the matter?”

“233, when you supply, tell the excavation team that there might be changes in the sea. Have them speed up and strive to liberate the will as soon as possible.”

“Understood.”

Eternal ended the channel communication with Supply Team 233 and then turned to the collectors traveling with it to assign tasks.

“We need to split up next. Pair up and immediately head to more settlements to investigate the specific situation there.”

“But… this way, our strength will be greatly reduced. If we encounter a large-scale traitor army, the difficulty might increase several times.”

“No need to worry. You don’t need to fight them head-on. If you feel you can’t win, retreat immediately. I believe those traitors can’t outrun you. The purpose of splitting up isn’t to obtain more food. The hundreds of millions of traitor corpses are enough to support the excavation team for a while.”

“My goal is to find out the source of that metal rod as soon as possible. This might threaten the operation to liberate the will. Understand?”

“Understood!”

After ending the communication, Eternal and the others dispersed in different directions, leaving one after another.

Due to the urgent need for manpower, Eternal decided to act alone as a team.

With the global root system covering the planet for navigation, the melting zone Eternal targeted was soon within sight.

Eternal didn’t stop, directly entering this melting zone. At the same time, its four powerful limbs were poised, ready to deliver a fatal strike to any enemy that suddenly appeared.

However, Eternal simply circled the outskirts, observing from a position where it could retreat from the melting zone at any time.

But it didn’t find any traces of collectors. This melting zone was empty, and correspondingly, the density of microorganisms in this melting zone was smaller than those Eternal had encountered before.

“Strange…”

Generally speaking, even if a settlement was to launch a full-scale campaign, there should be some individuals left to guard their own melting zone. But the situation in this melting zone puzzled Eternal.

Eternal continued deeper into the melting zone, even touring the central Hive several times, but still didn’t find a single collector. They seemed to have all left.

Just as Eternal was puzzled and speculating about the possible disappearance of these collectors, a message from a supply team member came through the channel.

They seemed to have found something strange and shared the visual information of what they saw.

It was a pile of metal objects, not very large, about the size of four collectors. These metal objects came in various colors—some were the same silver-white as the previous metal rod, others were gold or black.

From their appearance, it could vaguely be discerned that this pile of metal objects was originally a whole.

This thing didn’t feel like a living creature to Eternal, nor did it seem like a naturally occurring object like a stone. It felt more like something akin to a stone dagger.

“You continue to guard that place. Don’t touch that pile of things without authorization. Other individuals continue searching to see if other melting zones also have this kind of thing.”

“Understood!”

Eternal hurried to the melting zone where the metal pile was discovered.

Upon arrival, it noticed that this melting zone was very large, about ten times larger than the one it had explored before.

When it noticed the Hive in this melting zone, Eternal was relieved. The Hive here was also much larger than the previous one, naturally producing more heat.

“Eternal, you’re here.”

“Hmm, where is that pile of things?”

“Follow me.”

Under the guidance of its kin, Eternal quickly arrived at the location of the metal pile, which was about ten meters away from the Hive, among a pile of stone slabs. If it weren’t for the several dead collectors placed on top, it would have been hard to notice.

“Why did you place them there?”

“No, that wasn’t us. They were already there when we arrived.”

“The ones we killed are over there.”

A supply team member pointed with its tentacle to the corpses near the edge of the melting zone, answering Eternal’s question.

“So, these were placed by the traitors in this settlement themselves…”

Before Eternal could finish its sentence, it suddenly lashed out with its powerful limbs, striking the metal pile with lightning speed.

With a crisp sound, the powerful limb pierced into the cylindrical interior of the metal pile. With a flick, a broken piece of transparent glass mirror was lifted out.

“What, what happened?”

The supply team members, startled by Eternal’s sudden action, asked nervously.

Eternal, however, remained vigilant, staring intently at the pile of metal.

“I just saw something move inside that pile.”

“That’s impossible. It’s not alive. You’re too nervous, Eternal.”

“I hope that’s the case.”

Chapter 94: Breaking Through

“One, two! One, two!…”

“Everyone, push a little harder! The finish line is just ahead! Come on!”

“Oh!”

“One, two! One, two! One, two!…”

The pace of the channel quickened, and the sound of powerful limbs striking the ice grew faster. The collectors of the excavation team, each one as if they had taken a stimulant, accelerated their digging speed.

When the last block of ice separating the excavation team from the sealed container was finally cleared away, the excavation team caught sight of what they had been desperately digging for.

“We did it… We did it! We did it!”

“Ah! We did it!”

“We won!”

The collectors of the excavation team cheered in triumph. After such a long time and such great effort, all of it was for one goal—to free the Supreme Will.

At that moment, a knocking sound came from the rear of the tunnel. The supply team had arrived.

“We brought you food…”

“Huh?! You succeeded?!”

The 233rd Supply Team, which had just delivered the food, expressed a mix of shock and joy upon seeing the silver-white metal surface at the end of the tunnel.

If they had tear ducts, they would have been overflowing with tears right then and there.

“Steady! Hold it steady!”

“The food is still needed! We’re starving over here!”

Seeing the 233rd Supply Team standing frozen in place, the food they had brought was in danger of rolling away. The excavation team members scrambled to catch it.

The earlier sprint of digging had increased their speed, but it had also increased their energy consumption. Each member of the excavation team was so hungry their ribs were nearly touching their spines. The sight of the container holding the Supreme Will had only temporarily suppressed their hunger.

After the commotion, the positions of the supply team and the excavation team were swapped. The excavation team took over the food from the supply team and used their powerful limbs to tear off strips of meat, shoving them into their mouths.

One member of the supply team looked at the silver-white metal wall and tapped it with their powerful limb, producing a crisp sound.

“What? You want to break open the container?”

The excavation team, busy eating, noticed the supply team’s actions and asked.

“Yes, freeing the Supreme Will as soon as possible is the priority. Eternal says there might be unusual changes in the ocean depths that could affect us here. We can’t wait any longer.”

“Then we need to act quickly. But do you have enough nutrients? If not, it’s very dangerous.”

Breaking open the violently sealed container required monofilament blades. Using them consumed all their energy, allowing them to maintain the blades for only two seconds, but in practice, they could only use them for one second. After two seconds, their energy would be completely exhausted, and they would die on the spot.

“Of course we do. You don’t know, there are hundreds of millions of traitor corpses beneath the ocean. We ate our fill before coming up. Don’t worry.”

“So many?! How did you manage that? Weren’t the traitors organized and hard to approach?”

“Mostly thanks to the Titanium Snail.”

“Really…?!”

The members of the excavation team were all startled. According to their genetic memories, that was a combat force under the Supreme Will.

“It’s all thanks to the Supreme Will. It gave us the genetic blueprint of the Titanium Snail, which gave us such strong combat power. Otherwise, we would have had to put in more effort.”

With that, the members of the supply team and the excavation team all looked at the silver-white metal wall.

“Let’s get started.”

One member of the supply team raised their powerful limb and pressed it against the metal wall. However, they were suddenly called to a halt by the excavation team.

“Wait, what if the cut is too deep and hurts the Supreme Will inside…”

The members of the supply team looked at each other and asked.

“So what you’re saying is…”

“This container was originally a vertical pillar, like a stone column. Now it’s lying horizontally. You should dig along the metal wall towards both sides and break open the container from the end. That should be the farthest from the Supreme Will and won’t hurt it.”

“That makes sense.”

The members of the supply team all agreed with this plan.

“Let’s get to work.”

“Oh!”

The members of the supply team were all full of energy and began digging towards both sides of the container.

As time passed, the members of the excavation team also joined in.

It had to be said that the volume of the sealed container was indeed very large. It was only when the next batch of supply teams arrived that the excavation work of the excavation team and the 233rd Supply Team came to an end.

However, this new supply team from the ocean depths was different from the 233rd Supply Team. Until they met the excavation team, they were filled with vigilance and caution.

Due to the distance being too far, communication between the excavation team and Eternal in the ocean depths had been cut off. The long absence of the 233rd Supply Team had led the collectors in the ocean depths to fear that something had happened to the excavation team.

It was precisely because of this that this supply team, upon learning the situation, expressed dissatisfaction with the 233rd Supply Team.

“233rd! Couldn’t you at least send one member to inform us? We were very worried down there, afraid that something had happened!”

“Sorry, really sorry, we didn’t think it through.”

The 233rd Supply Team sincerely apologized. The excitement of participating in the excavation of the sealed container had caused them to forget many things.

“So after all this digging, you must be low on nutrients, right?”

“You eat the food first. We’ll take over the work of breaking it open.”

This supply team pushed the food towards the excavation team and the 233rd Supply Team. After sending one member back to the ocean depths to deliver the message, they began preparing to break open the container.

One collector stood calmly at the end of the sealed container and pressed their powerful limb against the silver-white metal surface.

“For the tribe!”

This collector was using a monofilament blade for the first time in their life, filled with all kinds of anxiety and tension. But they were not afraid, because they knew that even if one of them failed, there would be countless others to take their place and fulfill the tribe’s long-held wish.

Under the influence of bioelectricity, the blade surface was constrained into a single molecular line. The powerful limb easily pierced into the metal wall of the sealed container, as easily as a hot knife through butter.

Unfortunately, the duration of the monofilament blade was too short. Even when the time was compressed to the minimum, it only managed to break a small hole in the metal wall.

“The tribe’s long-held wish is finally…”

“Be careful!”

Before this collector could express their thoughts on what they were doing, they were instantly frozen into an ice sculpture by the cold stream gushing out of the small hole.

“This is trouble.”

“What do we do now?”

“What else is there to say? Of course, we continue. The tribe’s long-held wish is right there. What’s a little cold stream? What are we? Just getting frozen? It’s happened before.”

“Mmm, but we should still send someone to deliver the message here. We can’t let Eternal’s side lose their footing.”

After a brief discussion, the collectors moved the frozen comrade aside and let a new individual continue to enlarge the existing hole.

Chapter 95: Return

Eternal led its kin in a prolonged operation to purge the traitors on the surface, a task that consumed a great deal of time. Yet, for Hu Gu, it felt as though only a few minutes had passed.

Just as Hu Gu and Míng had finished their orbital calculations and understood the source of the heat, believing Eternal might fail and soon return to their shared perception of time, Hu Gu suddenly sensed the surroundings gradually shifting.

The most immediate change was in the cell membrane of the sensory cell that served as its vessel—it grew softer and more vibrant. Meanwhile, Míng, who had been communicating with it, began transmitting information in fragmented bursts.

Then, Hu Gu’s environment abruptly transformed. In an instant, it found itself in a place far “brighter” than the sealed container, where it could hear scattered, disjointed messages.

“……will……found……”

“……well done……you……”

“……our kin……fulfilled the mission……”

“……what……next……”

“……send……to the Hive……”

By the time Hu Gu’s surroundings finally stabilized, it realized it was at the base of a massive Hive, pressed close against it.

Reclaiming control over the planet-wide warming system, that familiar sense of holding the entire world in its grasp returned. Its once-limited perspective suddenly expanded to an unimaginable breadth.

“Feels good to be out of the little black box,” Hu Gu couldn’t help but sigh. Though Míng had kept it company, the unchanging environment had still left it weary.

Even if, in reality, it hadn’t felt like much time had passed at all.

Every collector on the planet froze—whether they were the uneliminated traitors, Eternal and its loyalists hunting them down, or those engaged in other activities elsewhere.

They could all sense something new in the life field channel, something that observed them completely, from top to bottom, inside and out, and held absolute control over everything except “me.”

Yet, the collectors did not reject this sensation. Instead, they felt at ease, like newborns cradled in their mother’s arms, drifting into peaceful slumber.

All the collectors basked in this feeling, and the once-noisy life field channel fell into complete silence.

While the collectors experienced this unique sensation, Hu Gu felt nothing of the sort. From its perspective, this silence was awkward, like an uncomfortable pause during a speech.

So, it decided to break the silence and express its goodwill.

“Hello, collectors.”

A single stone stirred a thousand waves. The channel’s atmosphere instantly reversed—silence gave way to uproar.

“The Will! It’s actually the Will?!”

“Our kin’s long-held dream has finally come true!”

“We succeeded!”

…

Hu Gu was suddenly overwhelmed by the flood of messages in the channel, but it couldn’t bring itself to say anything. After all, it had been rescued by them, and this noise was their genuine excitement at its escape from the sealed container. As a human in mindset, Hu Gu couldn’t bear to interrupt their joy.

Helpless, Hu Gu chose to ignore the chaos in the channel and focus its energy elsewhere, waiting for the collectors to settle down.

Now that it had returned to the surface, Hu Gu needed to restore the warming system. It couldn’t just sit by and watch the planet’s surface freeze completely.

It inspected the root system one by one, not missing a single tendril.

A single root had billions of tendrils, meaning this task would consume a great deal of energy. But Hu Gu didn’t mind. The surface environment was its lifeblood. The effort it had expended before was far greater—measuring wind pressure differences across the planet, detecting air composition ratios, ozone thickness, monsoon directions, and other data. All of that was far more complex than this simple repair and reconstruction.

After about thirty-eight day-night cycles, the root system was restored. Broken roots were reconnected, and cells that had mutated due to genetic transcription errors were systematically eliminated.

By the fiftieth day-night cycle, the warming system had revived the Hives that had withered from severed roots. New Hives began to form.

By the seventieth day-night cycle, temperatures across the globe—except at the poles—had crossed the zero-degree Celsius mark. Surface glaciers began melting on a large scale, and liquid oceans reappeared.

Everything on the planet’s surface was back on track.

At this point, Hu Gu finally had the leisure to pay attention to the channel. The uproar there had also quieted down considerably.

Though it wanted to communicate with the collectors, after careful consideration, Hu Gu decided it was best to remain silent. The earlier information bombardment had left it wary, and it didn’t want to endure that again. It would wait until the collectors grew accustomed to its presence before engaging.

That was the plan, but a certain matter forced Hu Gu to reconsider.

The battle between the traitors and Eternal’s “loyalists” was still ongoing. Though Eternal’s side held an absolute advantage, completely wiping out the vast number of traitors would take time.

The traitors, though selfish and not as intelligent as Eternal, had a strong will to survive. Coupled with their constant reproduction, eliminating them entirely was no easy task.

“What are you doing?”

Both the pursuing and fleeing collectors froze simultaneously, as if struck by a paralyzing spell. And in truth, that was exactly what had happened—Hu Gu had taken control of every cell in the collectors within a radius of hundreds of kilometers.

“Eternal, care to explain? I don’t recall you being so brutal, enjoying the slaughter of your own kind.”

Hu Gu’s message was merely a simple inquiry. After all, it had communicated with Eternal before and understood that collectors were simple beings. It struggled to imagine what process could have turned them into this, so it wanted to ask for clarification.

These were its future neighbors, after all. If they grew increasingly violent, Hu Gu would have to be more cautious. So far, it didn’t believe itself to be indispensable to the collectors, nor did it think its position in their hearts would remain unchanged forever—human history had shown as much.

But to the collectors, Hu Gu’s question carried a different meaning—it seemed to imply sparing the lives of the traitors.

“The Will, they are traitors. Because of their so-called ‘selfishness,’ they abandoned the core value of ‘loyalty’ and even trampled and deceived their kin, ensuring they were born without any loyalty at all.”

“They are guilty.”

Chapter 96: Logic

“Hmm…”

From Eternal’s words, Hu Gu knew this matter concerned him, so he naturally paid extra attention. But after careful consideration, he found some logical inconsistencies in the situation.

The instinct for survival was extremely powerful—powerful enough to influence the evolution of species. Reproduction was also driven by this desire. Hu Gu understood this was an unyielding force. Before this instinct, the emotions and desires of intelligent beings were nothing but paper tigers, easily crushed.

But the question was, why wouldn’t those so-called “traitors” among the collectors abandon their “selfishness” and submit to him instead?

From a practical standpoint, submitting to him had no downsides. He wasn’t a tyrant, nor did he have any history of oppressing collectors. In their eyes, he was a “god,” the supreme being. Even if they had once been leaders of all collectors, becoming his subordinate shouldn’t have felt like humiliation.

If it was about power, he hadn’t stated he would take away their authority. There was no reason for them to resist to the death, was there?

Could it be that they lacked the ability to continue enslaving their own kind?

This thought was quickly dismissed by Hu Gu. It didn’t make sense.

With his existence, the surface was already becoming a suitable environment. Collectors that fed on microorganisms only needed to open their mouths to have abundant food enter their digestive cavities. There was no need to enslave others.

Enslaving for the sake of enslaving was the twisted logic of a psychopath, a minority. To say all these collectors were deranged was absurd.

After much thought, Hu Gu decided to directly ask the traitors what was going on.

At this point, Hu Gu was prepared to be verbally attacked before any conversation could begin. After all, these were the “hardliners” who refused to surrender no matter what. He understood their emotional intensity.

Of course, understanding was one thing. Whether he would retaliate after achieving his goals was another matter.

But reality unfolded differently.

“Will, we… we are willing to submit to you. Please, give us a chance to live.”

This was the first thing a randomly selected traitor said to Hu Gu as soon as contact was established.

Hu Gu’s impression of the traitors as “hardliners” shattered instantly, like broken glass.

“Eternal, what do you think…”

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

Just as Hu Gu was about to ask Eternal’s opinion, he noticed it was displaying extreme anger. This was the first time Hu Gu had seen Eternal so furious.

“Loyalty without ‘devotion’ is nothing but blatant provocation…”

“I’ll kill you!”

With that, Eternal lunged forward. By the time Hu Gu tried to stop it, the powerful limbs were already mere centimeters from the traitor’s surface.

Sensing Eternal’s confusion, Hu Gu explained.

“I still have some things to figure out. Eternal, can you hold off for a bit?”

“Understood. I will follow your will.”

With that response, Hu Gu immersed himself in thought.

From Eternal’s reaction, Hu Gu was certain that human concepts of loyalty and the collectors’ loyalty were not entirely the same. There were still some differences.

Hu Gu could sense the traitor’s strong survival instinct. And since he couldn’t detect any deception, he concluded that this collector genuinely wanted to join him to avoid death. The possibility of trickery was minimal.

So where was the problem?

Such a strong desire to submit was still considered “treachery” by Eternal, who wanted to eliminate them immediately. That meant the desire to submit did not equate to “loyalty” as Eternal defined it. Loyalty was a different concept.

“This logic is a bit confusing…”

Hu Gu summarized all the information and pondered for a while. Finally, he settled on what he believed was the most plausible answer—the so-called “traitors” did not meet Eternal’s standards of “loyalty.”

To confirm this, Hu Gu re-established contact with the traitor, who was still terrified from Eternal’s earlier outburst.

“Do you want to live?”

“Yes! Yes! Please forgive me, I don’t want to die!”

“That depends on whether you qualify.”

The traitor, clinging to this lifeline, hastily replied.

“Will, I will cooperate! I absolutely will!”

“Then try to amplify your ‘selfishness’ and project it onto the entire species. Imagine yourself as the representative of the species, an immortal existence.”

The traitor did as instructed. Hu Gu then released Eternal.

“Eternal, does this one have ‘loyalty’ now?”

“…This… this is impossible?!”

Though Eternal didn’t say it outright, its reaction confirmed Hu Gu’s guess.

“Then you do what you need to do. I’ll be leaving now.”

Hu Gu hastily severed the connection. The traitor, confused by Hu Gu’s sudden actions, slipped back from “loyalty” to “treachery.”

The outcome was predictable. Eternal’s powerful limbs were already twitching, ready to strike.

As for Hu Gu, having found the answer, he was far from calm. What started as mere curiosity had uncovered a mechanism between him and the collectors that even they themselves didn’t understand.

First, Hu Gu was a collective consciousness, a vast mind composed of multiple individuals. At the same time, he possessed self-awareness.

In other words, Hu Gu was both an entire species like the collectors and an independent individual, somewhat akin to the wave-particle duality of light.

Thus, to be loyal to Hu Gu, merely submitting to him as an individual was insufficient. One had to submit to the entire collective. In other words, only those collectors willing to dedicate themselves entirely to their species, even sacrificing themselves, could be considered truly loyal to Hu Gu.

Those with “selfishness” couldn’t achieve this because they couldn’t truly abandon themselves as part of the greater whole.

“But doesn’t that make me similar to Marxism in concept?”

“Hmm… that doesn’t seem right either. If that were the case, I wouldn’t have a self.”

“…This logic… my mind is a mess.”

Chapter 97: The Cone

Hu Gu didn’t spend much time worrying about the “loyalty” of the collectors. Instead, he quickly shifted his focus to other matters.

Though the logic behind it still wasn’t entirely clear, the results were good. At the very least, he didn’t have to worry about the collectors staging a “rebellion” and branding him as some kind of class enemy that needed to be overthrown.

Loyalty with a physical, tangible basis was far more reliable than the abstract concept of human loyalty. After all, this universe was ultimately governed by materialism.

“I should reconnect with Míng as soon as possible.”

With a thought, Hu Gu’s root system obeyed his command. Deep underground, where the climate was influenced by the ocean, one of the root tendrils began to differentiate and multiply, quickly forming a fleshy lump—much like the octahedron from before.

Organic matter was continuously transported from afar through the root system.

Ever since Hu Gu had unlocked the ability to independently produce organic matter, he was no longer constrained by its scarcity. In fact, the root system’s organic matter production had already surpassed the efficiency of obtaining it from microorganisms.

Now, the only real limitation was the root system’s ability to transport organic matter.

The fleshy lump rapidly expanded, and a small horn-like protrusion emerged at its tip. As the structure grew, the base area available for transporting organic matter also increased.

Rather than slowing down or maintaining a steady pace, the growth accelerated.

Soon, the horn broke through the soil. Though it was covered in dirt, it was unmistakably metallic.

The metal continued to rise, gradually revealing itself to the world—a full metal cone.

However, upon closer inspection at a microscopic level, one would notice that this metal was unlike ordinary metal. It was riddled with countless porous structures—a fusion of metal and organic matter.

This structure wasn’t uncommon. The bones of macroscopic organisms were essentially a perfect blend of organic and metallic structures, combining the strength of metal with the ability to grow.

Theoretically, the growth limit of Hu Gu’s artificially guided metal cone should be determined by the strength of the metal itself.

But when the cone reached a height of over ten meters, it stopped growing.

Hu Gu noticed a swaying motion. The cone was slender, and even at the same height as the octahedron, its base area was less than a thousandth of the octahedron’s.

The reason Hu Gu hadn’t chosen the octahedron design was due to its massive size, which consumed an enormous amount of energy—enough to alter the planet’s climate.

Thus, he had opted for this current design, which required fewer cells and less energy.

“Based on its current strength, this design should be sufficient. But if it grows any taller, the center of gravity might become unstable and cause it to topple…”

“…Then I’ll add a root-like structure at the base to anchor it into the ground and stabilize its height.”

Originally intended to provide repair and flexibility to the metal cone, the internal cells at the base received the command and began growing root-like tendrils. The deepest roots extended to three times the height of the cone itself.

“That should do it. Now, both the top and bottom can grow simultaneously.”

After a quick check of the cone’s swaying, Hu Gu confirmed it was within an acceptable range. He then allowed the cone to continue growing upward, while the roots at the base kept pace.

The cone soon pierced through the ozone layer between the troposphere and the stratosphere.

Through the eye near the cone’s tip, Hu Gu saw a new world—clouds above and clouds below, layered and overlapping, creating a scene reminiscent of the heavenly realms from Earth’s myths.

But Hu Gu wasn’t particularly moved. He had seen such sights before when flying in his past life. If it had been a collector, they would probably have been terrified.

“I’ve been here for so long now. I wonder if I’ll ever get the chance to return to Earth… and how Earth is doing…”

The saying that fallen leaves return to their roots was especially strong in the elderly. As a man in his sixties, Hu Gu was deeply affected by this sentiment.

He gazed one last time at the sunset over the sea of clouds before murmuring wistfully, “I hope I can see it again in my lifetime.”

The cone continued to grow. Night had fallen, and Hu Gu could see countless stars twinkling in the sky.

As it ascended, the temperature dropped. The upper part of the cone had already frozen over, covered in a layer of frost—a characteristic of the mesosphere.

This posed a minor challenge to the cone’s growth, as the cold affected Hu Gu. But it was nothing serious. After introducing hydrochloric acid to lower the freezing point, the cells in the cone regained their vitality.

When the tip of the cone entered the thermosphere, the frost began to melt and fall away.

In this layer, gases were ionized by cosmic rays. The ionized oxygen strongly absorbed the sun’s shortwave radiation, causing the air to heat up rapidly. Thus, the temperature increased with altitude, the opposite of the mesosphere below.

After more than ten cycles of day and night, the cone finally reached its structural limit. The tip had just barely entered the exosphere.

At this height, the curvature of the planet was visible, and the sky was no longer blue but pitch black.

Hu Gu issued a new command, transmitted from the base through the internal cellular layers to the top.

The tip of the cone began to dissolve as the internal cells broke it down. Soon, the metal disappeared, replaced by a platform-like fleshy growth and a hollow, reinforced glass sphere containing an eye.

Of course, radiation protection was the primary concern. The internal solution within the glass sphere could absorb most of the radiation from the star.

“I never thought I’d end up doing the kind of work astronomers do. I was just an old man who loved archaeology…”

“Well, there should be an asteroid belt in this star system. I hope it’s not too far away.”

Hu Gu adjusted the glass body within the eye, observing the planetary system through the stream of charged particles emitted by the star’s nuclear fusion.

Though called a “system,” it was vast and empty, making one feel as if nothing existed beyond the planet beneath their feet, the distant star, and the cold, distant celestial bodies.

(Finally, the story has expanded into space.)

Chapter 98: Physics

Astronomical observation, in essence, is the collection of cosmic electromagnetic waves—these waves are the universe’s voice, whispering tales of its past: violent supernova explosions, vast and serene nebulae, and the formation of black holes at specific times and places.

Humans build large observatories and astronomical satellites to gather these electromagnetic waves. While human eyes can also perceive them, they are limited—they cannot observe all types of cosmic electromagnetic waves at will.

Hu Gu, however, had no such limitations. It could command its cells to act as it pleased, eliminating the need to design a specialized biological structure for astronomical observation.

Under visible light, planets within a star system are not particularly conspicuous, especially against the cosmic background. Distinguishing them clearly is no easy task.

But when infrared and ultraviolet perspectives are added, it becomes much simpler. A star’s ultraviolet rays reflect off planets, while the star’s own light carries heat, warming the planetary surface. In infrared, this creates a stark contrast against the cosmic background.

Hu Gu quickly spotted an asteroid belt—or rather, a planetary ring, similar to Saturn’s rings.

Suddenly, Hu Gu noticed that the planet it was observing was moving slowly. On an observational scale, this speed was undeniably fast.

This was a major event—anything capable of influencing a planet must possess a mass comparable to a star.

“What if it’s a rogue black hole? That would be trouble…”

“Where?”

Just as Hu Gu frantically searched for observational data, a mournful vibration from the cone reverberated through its physical form, reaching its sensory cells.

Hu Gu instantly understood the problem. It sighed in relief, only to tense up again.

The relief came from realizing it wasn’t a black hole—something truly terrifying. The tension stemmed from the fact that the issue lay in its own design: the cone. And that was no small pile of sand.

Creating something on a celestial scale required more than just biomolecular science. At this magnitude, atomic bonds weaken, and material strength is severely compromised. Physics took over—mechanical considerations were necessary.

Even the strongest metals, if not snapped, would “soften.” And now, as Hu Gu searched the asteroid belt, it faced the cone’s swaying.

This should have happened much earlier. If Hu Gu had built the cone elsewhere, it likely would have collapsed mid-construction under the planet’s latitude and rotation.

But by sheer coincidence, Hu Gu had chosen the equator. The latitude issue was avoided, leaving only the air resistance from the planet’s rotation.

Under this resistance, the cone bent slightly as a whole.

This was true for the entire structure, though locally, it still appeared straight. The curvature was on a decimal level—much like how the Earth’s surface seems flat. It wasn’t easily noticeable.

The megastructure’s swaying wasn’t violent, but its amplitude grew. Hu Gu knew that if this continued, collapse was inevitable—and the resulting catastrophe would be apocalyptic.

If this were the Hadean Eon, Hu Gu wouldn’t have cared. But now, the planet’s surface was home to intelligent, sentient beings.

The thought of its own mistake leading to the deaths of innocents was unbearable to Hu Gu.

“No, there must be a way to fix this.”

Hu Gu issued commands, ordering its roots to produce numerous titanium alloy shelters. It then forced the collectors near the equator into these shelters, forbidding them from leaving. Meanwhile, it racked its brain for a solution.

“Ah! I can thicken and widen it. If the interior is hollow, the mass won’t increase much. To ensure strength, the metal body can be thickened further… Yes, that should work.”

The cone… no, its shape could no longer be called a cone. It now resembled the massive cylindrical chimney of a nuclear power plant.

Under Hu Gu’s commands, the hollow interior of the frustum expanded. The sloping sides formed an inward incline, ensuring the center of gravity lowered while increasing the load-bearing surface area and reducing ground pressure.

After hundreds of day-night cycles of frantic work, Hu Gu finally breathed a sigh of relief.

“Finally stabilized. That was a close one.”

“Come to think of it, I’ve built another massive structure…”

Only then did Hu Gu realize that the thing it had unknowingly constructed—including its hollow sections—now covered an area equivalent to one-twentieth of the octahedron.

Originally, Hu Gu hadn’t intended to create something so large, which was why it had chosen the initial design…

“At least… I can still sustain this thing. Compared to the octahedron, it consumes less energy and doesn’t disrupt the atmospheric structure much.”

After justifying its actions, Hu Gu turned its attention to another matter: measuring planetary distances.

Calculating stellar distances was beyond Hu Gu’s current knowledge—it wasn’t an astronomy expert, after all. But for intra-system measurements, it had some ideas.

The method involved using radio signals to measure interplanetary distances.

The principle wasn’t particularly advanced—similar to using sound waves to measure the depth of a canyon. A radio signal is sent to the target planet, and the time between transmission and reception is calculated. The distance the radio waves traveled is then halved to determine the planet’s distance at that moment. After several observations and factoring in the star’s position, the planet’s orbital path could be roughly outlined.

Radio principles weren’t overly complex. The system consisted of two main components: a transmitter and a receiver.

The receiver’s principle was simple: a voltmeter connected to a conductive wire, forming a closed circuit without a power source—this was a basic radio receiver.

The transmitter was slightly more complex.

Changes in current within a conductor generate radio waves, and the fluctuations in the electric field induced by these waves produce current in the conductor. This was the fundamental principle.

Whether by altering resistance or switching the power supply, radio transmission could be achieved. The strength of the radio signal depended on the current produced by the transmitter.

Recalling its accumulated knowledge, Hu Gu began measuring planetary distances to prepare for future actions.

Space travel had never been easy, especially with technology still in the realm of mass propulsion.

Chapter 99: Mobilization

When the supreme evacuation order was lifted, all collectors, including Eternal, were summoned by Hu Gu to gather at the equator.

“Will, is there something you need us to do?”

“Eternal, I need to leave for a while.”

“This… Where are you going?”

“I need to travel through the cosmos to retrieve some meteorites. According to calculations, the target location is roughly between sixty million and eighty million kilometers from here.”

Hu Gu’s answer left Eternal and the other collectors utterly bewildered. In their worldview, the world was the planet, the surface environment—their understanding of the world still clung to the “Dual-Layer World Theory.”

“Will, there shouldn’t be such a distance in the world, right?”

One collector mustered the courage to ask.

“……You don’t have the concept of the universe yet?”

Hu Gu’s astonishment was met with silence in the channel. These collectors had never even flown, let alone understood the cosmos beyond the atmosphere.

“Alright, then tell me your understanding of the world. Let me see where to start teaching you.”

Hearing this, Eternal and the others explained their summarized “Dual-Layer World Theory” to Hu Gu…

Hu Gu listened with great interest.

“……A dual-layer ocean? Truly rich imagination. In terms of potential, you’re not much worse than Earth’s humans.”

“Humans?”

This unfamiliar term piqued Eternal’s interest.

“Never mind that. Before I give you the correct worldview, you must always remember one principle…”

Hu Gu paused before continuing.

“Practice is the sole criterion for testing truth.”

Eternal and the other collectors exchanged confused glances, none understanding the meaning.

“It means that before a theory is confirmed in practice, don’t believe it too much. An unproven theory is just a theory—it isn’t necessarily correct, so it can’t be equated with truth.”

“Understood.”

“Explaining through conversation alone is too complex. I’ve decided to take you directly to the outer layer of the nearby cosmos, where you can see the real world.”

One by one, the collectors entered transparent containers filled with a solution that could resist most radiation. Then, they were lifted along the slope of the massive structure by roots, all the way to its peak.

During the ascent, Hu Gu also educated the collectors about the structure of their planet’s atmosphere.

“……So rain forms when water vapor meets cold air in the sky, condenses, and then falls due to gravity. We really are ignorant.”

A collector in the container expressed a sense of defeat, and this emotion quickly spread to its companions.

“That’s not the right way to think. You’ve done your best—it’s just that you haven’t considered enough factors. It has nothing to do with ignorance, and you didn’t have the means to reach the sky.”

“Alright, we’re here.”

“Welcome to the real world. This is the universe.”

As Hu Gu spoke, the dark night sky came into view. They could see a fiery ball, the background of the sky mostly black, with distant, cold specks of starlight.

This change made them uneasy, even though Hu Gu had already told them that the “Dual-Layer World Theory” was wrong and to abandon it.

“This… is the world?”

Eternal asked Hu Gu, unable to accept it.

“Yes.”

“But… why is it so dark? Where is the blue? The ocean? The land? The air? And… and…”

“Eternal, you need to calm down.”

Hu Gu soothed Eternal’s emotions and began to guide it.

“This is the world. What you need to do isn’t deny it, but have the courage to accept it. That aligns with materialist values.”

“Think carefully. Didn’t I explain this to you before? You should have understood, right?”

“Practice is the sole criterion for testing truth…”

Eternal’s gaze fixed on the dark sky, fear no longer present, replaced by an indescribable sense of excitement, much like when the concept of “I” first emerged.

The shackles had been broken.

But Eternal didn’t realize the change within itself.

Since even the original being hadn’t noticed the change, Hu Gu naturally hadn’t either. It continued explaining the situation to the collectors.

“Deep-space travel is extremely dangerous. As you can see, most of it is empty. Once you enter, there’s nothing to rely on. A slight error in trajectory calculations means it will take much longer to return.”

“And the distance is enormous—life fields can’t reach it. So I have to go myself. Also, to be safe, I want to bring some collectors with me. Anyone want to volunteer?”

Hu Gu had explained so much for this very reason.

Having worked at the International Aerospace Center before, Hu Gu knew that manned spaceflight was never a solo endeavor. There were too many factors to consider, too many risks. The slightest mistake meant certain death.

With his abilities, Hu Gu could fearlessly endure the space environment, but the risk of getting lost remained high—the cosmos was simply too vast, the danger still significant.

More people were needed to reduce the risk. For example, establishing a ground command center to periodically broadcast the planet’s location via radio to the travelers in space, while the travelers also reported their position to the ground station at regular intervals.

By cross-referencing, the accuracy of the flight path could be ensured.

Hu Gu didn’t hold high hopes—this was clearly a dangerous mission. He had already prepared himself for the possibility that no collectors would volunteer to accompany him.

But he had underestimated his position in the hearts of the collectors…

“I’ll volunteer! Don’t fight over it!”

“I’m coming!”

“Get out of the way, I was first!”

“Will, don’t pick them, pick me! I’m strong!”

Just like when they first thawed and greeted him, Hu Gu was suddenly overwhelmed by a flood of messages.

“Alright, alright, I know how enthusiastic you all are. Be quiet.”

“Aren’t you afraid? It’s a place so far away, not like the planet’s surface where I can protect you. In space, I can’t guarantee your safety if danger arises. It’s very dangerous.”

“Not afraid. Nothing can stop our loyalty to you.”

Eternal replied confidently.

“Is that so? Then, Eternal, you’ll stay behind as the head of the ground command center.”

“Huh?”

Chapter 100: Voyage

The deep-space voyage plan had been finalized. All that remained was preparation.

During this time, Eternal remained deeply conflicted.

“Will, I have some questions I’d like to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“Why do you want me to stay behind?”

“…Because you’re reliable. Entrusting this to other collectors makes me uneasy.”

“I’m leaving you behind because I trust you. While my presence ensures basic safety during deep-space travel, getting lost would be extremely troublesome. To return, we’d have to land on a new planet and recalculate an entirely new trajectory.”

Eternal listened with only partial understanding. It had only encountered the concept of the universe a few days ago—let alone comprehending the difficulties of navigating through it.

Hu Gu didn’t press the matter. As long as Eternal fulfilled its assigned duties, there was no need for concern.

“But, Will, why are they doing that?”

Eternal pointed to the strange creatures clumsily drifting in the exosphere outside the transparent structure. They had once been collectors, but Hu Gu had modified their life structures, transforming them into space-dwelling organisms capable of brief survival in the cosmos.

Hu Gu called this new form “scouts.” Their primary task was to collect samples from asteroids.

Resembling octopuses, they had twice as many tentacles as collectors. Their heads were covered in thin titanium alloy scales, mainly for defense against the dangers of uncontrolled inertia in zero gravity.

They had four eyes—one on top of their heads, arranged in a triangular formation for a full, unobstructed view. This ensured they wouldn’t miss a small asteroid approaching from behind, preventing life-threatening accidents.

Such scenarios were common in sci-fi films, and Hu Gu took them as a serious warning.

The sides and top of their rounded, titanium-scaled heads were dotted with small holes—micro chemical nozzles that allowed for propulsion, steering, and braking in space.

“You’re asking about them…”

“Of course, it’s to get them accustomed to zero gravity. You haven’t even experienced flight, let alone moving in the weightlessness of space. Our destination is filled with sharp rocks and flying debris—nothing like the small stone knives you once used.”

“So, what about those?”

Eternal gestured toward another type of organism, plant-like, deeply rooted at the peak of the massive structure.

These creatures resembled upside-down pots. Their exteriors were unremarkable flesh, but their interiors were highly reflective, almost metallic surfaces, seamless like mirrors.

In truth, Hu Gu had directly adapted the design of human radar. This structure was not only lightweight but also ensured a broader range of radio reception. Previously, Hu Gu had used these organisms to detect interplanetary distances via radio waves.

These creatures had also once been collectors, their genetic expressions altered by Hu Gu to take on this form. He named them “pulse beasts.”

At that moment, they were twisting the joints connecting their pot-like bodies, turning their mirrored interiors in various directions—an exercise based on Hu Gu’s instructions.

“Eternal, they are your subordinates. You need to command them.”

“You must instruct them to send us radio signals and receive the ones we send back. Only through this two-way exchange can we ensure the accuracy of our course.”

“Don’t think that commanding them from the surface is meaningless. The safety of this deep-space voyage rests half on your shoulders. You must take this seriously and not betray our trust.”

Eternal’s minor hesitations were no match for Hu Gu, especially with the life field channel connecting them, making emotional fluctuations directly perceptible.

“But, Will, do we have enough time? What if we haven’t finished training before the closest approach to our destination?”

“No, I’ve already done a rough calculation. There are still over three hundred days left before the two planets are at their closest distance.”

At some distance from Eternal, a fleshy growth suspended in zero gravity was being nourished by roots extending up from the surface along an incline…

Time passed quickly. In the blink of an eye, several hundred days had gone by.

The fleshy growth was long gone, replaced by an elongated, seed-shaped object. The sloped design effectively dispersed the impact of frontal collisions without adding significant weight.

Of course, if an object struck the slope itself, this design wouldn’t help disperse the force. But such a scenario was unlikely—given the high speeds and vastness of space, unless it was a massive meteor shower.

This was the main protagonist of the deep-space voyage—a large cosmic organism.

A true space-dwelling creature, capable of maintaining its internal cycles independently without relying on a planet’s ecosystem.

When starlight struck its armored surface, ions were produced. These ions were then transmitted through neural synapses to participate in chemical reactions within its body.

Similar to how the Hive used ions to reduce calcium oxide, this cosmic organism operated on the same principle.

Unfortunately, propulsion remained unresolved. It still relied on hydrogen-oxygen combustion for chemical thrust, meaning movement in space would be severely limited.

As the azure flame of hydrogen-oxygen fuel ignited, the cosmic organism—loaded with hundreds of scouts—began its voyage under the watchful eyes of Eternal and the other creatures left on the surface.

From Hu Gu’s perspective, it wasn’t that they were traveling away but that the planet was receding from them. Soon, the massive planet shrank to the size of a soccer ball.

“Will, is that where we’ve always lived?”

The cosmic organism’s visual information was designed to be shared, allowing the accompanying scouts to see the sights along the way—though there wasn’t much to see.

“Yes, you’ve always lived on a sphere.”

“If you can’t accept that, I can explain the effects of universal gravitation on a larger macro scale, and the limits of atomic bonds…”

Just as Hu Gu was about to launch into a lengthy explanation, another individual interrupted.

“So, other places are also spheres?”

“Er… of course.”

“That means we can live on other spheres in the future, right?”

The excitement and anticipation in their voice immediately sparked interest among nearly all the individuals, who began discussing it eagerly. However, Hu Gu felt a slight pang of melancholy.

Gazing at Míng, now reduced to the size of a glass bead, Hu Gu replied.

“…Trust me, when you leave that place, you’ll miss it more than you can imagine.”

UNTITLED

Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter 2: Spore
Chapter 3: Bonding
Chapter 4: Brain
Chapter 5: Surgery
Chapter 6: Toxic Phage
Chapter 7: Cornered Beast Bites Back
Chapter 8: Design
Chapter 9: Multicellular Organism
Chapter 10: Good and Bad
Chapter 11: Pupil
Chapter 12: Flow
Chapter 13: Propulsion
Chapter 14: Journey
Chapter 15: A Foreign Land
Chapter 16: Contemplation
Chapter 17: Emerald
Chapter 18: Salts
Chapter 19: Expansion
Chapter 20: Calamity
Chapter 21: Reflection
Chapter 22: The Island
Chapter 23: Roots
Chapter 24: Volcano
Chapter 25: Decision
Chapter 26: Titanium Skeleton
Chapter 27: Titanium Snail

Chapter 28: Volcanic Island Transformation Plan

Chapter 29: Infrastructure Development
Chapter 30: What… Are You?
Chapter 31: Escape
Chapter 32: Reason
Chapter 33: Establishing the Base
Chapter 34: Annihilation
Chapter 35: The Underground Cavern
Chapter 36: Exploration
Chapter 37: The Will to Survive
Chapter 38: The Beginning of Inheritance
Chapter 39: The Excavation
Chapter 40: Artificial Construct
Chapter 41: The Array Book
Chapter 42: Extraterrestrial Remains
Chapter 43: The Plan
Chapter 44: Preparation

Chapter 45: The Colossal Structure—The Regular Octahedron

Chapter 46: First Clash
Chapter 47: The Hidden Path
Chapter 48: Absence
Chapter 49: Doubts
Chapter 50: Ice
Chapter 51: Contact
Chapter 52: Planetary Life
Chapter 53: Exchange
Chapter 54: Accusation
Chapter 55: Clarification
Chapter 56: Candid
Chapter 57: Thawing
Chapter 58: Cold Resistance
Chapter 59: The Great Transformation
Chapter 60: Rivers, Lakes, and Seas
Chapter 61: Vitality
Chapter 62: Self-Production
Chapter 63: Preparations
Chapter 64: Tantrum
Chapter 65: Chance
Chapter 66: Palpitation
Chapter 67: Enlightenment
Chapter 68: Names
Chapter 69: The Intelligence Entity
Chapter 70: The Theory of the World
Chapter 71: Confusion
Chapter 72: The Challenge
Chapter 73: Enzymes
Chapter 74: Big Fool
Chapter 75: Escape
Chapter 76: Counterattack
Chapter 77: The Foolish Old Man
Chapter 78: Convergence
Chapter 79: First Encounter
Chapter 80: What is Civilization?
Chapter 81: Reverence
Chapter 82: Public to Private
Chapter 83: Astonishment
Chapter 84: The Great Settlement
Chapter 85: The Chief
Chapter 86: Farewell
Chapter 87: All Deserve to Die
Chapter 88: Heat Source
Chapter 89: Loyalty
Chapter 90: Struggle
Chapter 91: Self
Chapter 92: The Metal Rod
Chapter 93: Anomaly
Chapter 94: Breaking Through
Chapter 95: Return
Chapter 96: Logic
Chapter 97: The Cone
Chapter 98: Physics
Chapter 99: Mobilization
Chapter 100: Voyage