When Chu Huaizhi found out about everything that had happened after he fell into a coma—how Lin Xiaohe had been taken away by the Ministry of Security for interrogation, and how she had eventually defected from the Federation—he stood by the window in silence for a very, very long time.
“Boss?” The muscular man looked at Chu Huaizhi’s lonely figure and felt terrible inside.
A former strongest warrior in the Federation, reduced to an ordinary person.
That kind of psychological whiplash—who could handle it?
The muscular man’s eyes grew wet, and his heart felt sour.
Chu Huaizhi snapped back to reality and forced a weak smile. “Did you come back on leave?”
“Yeah. The guys heard about your coma and specifically asked me to come check on you.”
Chu Huaizhi said, “I’m fine now. How much longer do you have on your leave?”
The muscular man looked at him expectantly. “Boss, do you have a mission for me?”
“That’s right.” Chu Huaizhi gave him the password to a safe. “Go to my little courtyard and deliver what’s inside the safe to Lin Xiaohe.”
“Got it! I’ll leave right now.”
After the muscular man left, Kassian asked Chu Huaizhi, “What are you sending to Xiaohe?”
Chu Huaizhi returned to his hospital bed and shrugged with a smile. “I’m up to my neck in debt. Other than that one thing, what else do I have that’s worth giving?”
Kassian’s jaw dropped, and he stammered, “But wasn’t that something you went to great lengths to obtain…”
Chu Huaizhi cut him off. “It’s useless to me now.”
He was so unusually calm that Kassian felt a chill run down his spine. He asked uncertainly, “You’re not going to cause trouble, are you?”
“What trouble could I cause? I’m just a cripple now.”
Kassian decided to take his word for it for the time being and changed the subject. “Why did those guys from the Ministry of Security suddenly back off? They’re not planning something big, are they?”
Chu Huaizhi stroked his chin and said enigmatically, “When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back into you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Curiosity killed the cat. Just focus on being a good principal and don’t ask so many questions.”
…
Time flew by. Lin Xiaohe had been on the Sixth Ring for a month and simply couldn’t stay any longer.
“Old Dong, please sign for the next batch of supplies for me. I’m heading back with these things first.”
Brother Dong gave an OK gesture, recorded a video, and asked Lin Xiaohe to forward it to Dong Yuxuan.
Lin Xiaohe left without hesitation.
Xinbao automatically took control of the unmanned ship’s operating system, closely following behind her as they disappeared into the Stardust.
Without wormholes or warp drives, traveling from the Stardust Wall to Fuguang Star would take about a month.
Halfway there, Lin Xiaohe spotted a colorful bubble.
Inside it floated a familiar figure.
“Wesley?!”
The next second, a baby Groan Whale suddenly emerged from the darkness and balanced the colorful bubble on its forehead.
Throughout the entire process, Wesley remained as calm as the dead.
Lin Xiaohe quickly walked over to him and asked curiously, “What are you guys doing?”
“Chief!” Wesley’s eyes lit up instantly, and he enthusiastically showed off.
The bubble Wesley was in stood firmly atop the baby Groan Whale’s head.
The baby Groan Whale carried him swiftly through space and let out an excited, resounding call.
It stopped in front of Lin Xiaohe, and Wesley said with boundless energy, “Chief, see this? To save fuel, Lin Meimei came up with this idea. Other than the Groan Whales always forgetting about the bubbles, there are no problems at all.”
Like this time, Wesley had been forgotten out in space, but if he waited patiently, a Groan Whale would come find him.
Lin Xiaohe’s mouth fell open slightly, completely stunned.
In ancient times, there were dragon riders. Now, there were Groan Whale riders.
Awesome! This really saved a ton of fuel.
Since she had run into the Groan Whales, Lin Xiaohe unceremoniously asked them to help speed up the ship.
This was the Groan Whales’ favorite game, and they all rushed to help.
When Lin Meimei learned that Lin Xiaohe was back, she quickly swam over to take credit. “In the three-plus years you’ve been gone, Jiuzhou Star has changed a lot.”
Lin Xiaohe could already see that blue, white, and red planet.
Jiuzhou Star was beginning to resemble ancient Earth.
Thick ice caps covered the North and South Poles, and a massive rainstorm was falling across the entire planet.
After the molten lava cooled, it formed soil layers on the continents.
The seeds given by Chang Qing had been planted in the center of Pangea.
In over a year, they had grown into a massive, sky-reaching tree. Its roots had burrowed deep into Jiuzhou Star, helping to stabilize the crustal movements caused by meteor impacts.
It towered into the clouds, and if it kept growing, its canopy would soon stretch into space.
The Xinghe Party’s ships were stationed in space above Jiuzhou Star, using various devices to help the planet stabilize as quickly as possible.
Surrounding the entire Fuguang Star system were active baby Groan Whales.
Some carried as few as four or five colorful bubbles on their heads, while the steadier ones could carry dozens.
It seemed the Xinghe Party members were getting along very well with the Groan Whales.
Lin Xiaohe sincerely thanked Lin Meimei. “Thank you so much to you and your kin for taking care of us. I thought I’d be back in half a year, but I didn’t realize time flows differently inside and outside the Dark Domain.”
“Huh? Is that so?” Lin Meimei didn’t pay much attention to time.
Groan Whales were a long-lived race to begin with, and after becoming Stardust Groan Whales, their lifespans became incredibly long.
Sometimes, when they got bored staying in the Dark Domain, they’d take a nap. Sleeping for several years at a stretch was perfectly normal.
The arrival of Lin Xiaohe and her group had injected new life into the stagnant waters of the Dark Domain.
The Groan Whales were reluctant to sleep and scrambled to play with them.
Lin Meimei didn’t care about the difference in time flow, but Lin Xiaohe did.
In the Federation, human lifespans were severely polarized.
Ordinary people without money, thanks to advanced medical technology, could generally live to be 100–120 years old, rarely exceeding 150.
The wealthy were different.
They underwent gene editing while still embryos to remove genes for major diseases.
After birth, they could use gene editing technology to repair telomere wear, clear out aging cells, optimize metabolic genes, and reduce the natural aging rate to one-fifth.
These people typically lived to be around 300 years old, with a few reaching 500.
As for those at an even higher level, they had even more options. For example, that old bastard from the Ministry of Security had prepared multiple clones for himself.
This meant the Ministry of Security had, to some extent, mastered consciousness transplantation technology.
Lin Xiaohe pressed her lips tightly together. She wasn’t sure how long she herself could live, but what she did know was that the Lin family had never undergone genetic modification!
Grandpa Lin and Grandma Lin were already in their seventies. Based on the average life expectancy of 120 years for ordinary people, they had about 50 years left.
If converted to Federation time, that was only 500 days!
This was absolutely unacceptable to Lin Xiaohe.
She had two choices in front of her. One was to fight her way back to the Federation and let everyone return to a normal life.
The other was to find a way to extend everyone’s lifespan to offset the difference caused by the time flow disparity.
Both options were extremely difficult.
Hey everyone, which option do you think is better?
