What a coincidence, right? The place where the bug nest appeared was the very same star system that held the Wasteland Star and the Miluo Star.
They could clearly observe the giant grave using their instruments.
Guo Hai was cursing under his breath. He seriously suspected that the bugs had some kind of grudge against him and were deliberately chasing him!
Talk about bad luck!
Ever since the Leviathan Plan began, the bug nest had been sitting quietly in the void, never coming out to wander around.
The one time he finally managed to get out, the bug nest popped up right in his face!
What was this, trying to scare someone to death?!
Nearby, Director Chen looked as if all the strength had been drained from him, completely losing any fighting spirit or last resort.
He said weakly, “Major General Guo, what the hell is this thing? Is there any way we’re getting out of this alive?”
“A bug nest. You can’t choose how to live, but you can choose how to die.”
Die kneeling, die lying down, get eaten by bugs, or die of fright. Take your pick.
Director Chen closed his eyes in despair. If even General Guo, the most determined of them, had given up, then it seemed death was certain.
He pulled out a small knife, found a hard stone, and started carving.
Guo Hai raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“Writing a last letter.” Director Chen’s daughter and son were both in college in the Fifth Star Ring.
Director Chen sniffled. If he’d known he’d die so young, he would have been nicer to his kids.
“Son, daughter, you were already amazing just by getting out of the Sixth Star Ring. Even though I always said you weren’t as good as Lin Xiaohe, deep down I’m really proud of you. Lin Xiaohe isn’t human—she’s a god! Who can compare to her? Geniuses attract jealousy, so I just hope you two stay safe.”
Director Chen wiped his tears as he carved. One stone wasn’t enough, so he picked out a second one.
Guo Hai’s mouth twitched. “Don’t waste your effort. Who’s even going to see your letter?”
Director Chen’s hand stopped, and he gritted his teeth. “What if Lin Xiaohe comes back someday?”
A child who’s traveled far might one day return to their home planet to take a look, right?
When people are in despair, they always seek some kind of emotional anchor.
When others saw what Director Chen was doing, they started copying him.
The survivors who had lost all their family members even began carving their own epitaphs.
They chose stone carving because they felt stone was easier to preserve than digital files or paper.
They were as insignificant as dust, but they still wanted to leave a tiny mark, proof that they had once existed in this world.
Even if no one remembered them, they would use stone and words to tell the clear breeze and bright moon that they had been here.
Guo Hai wasn’t interested. He sat in the middle of the wheat field, gazing up at the stars, his heart and mind entirely filled with the future of the Federation and the future of humanity.
Could the Boss really lead the Federation through this crisis?
His heart pounded wildly. A deep sense of unease and uncertainty made him feel hopeless about humanity’s future.
Even though he worshipped the Boss completely, he had to admit that the bugs were truly terrifyingly powerful, and the Boss just didn’t have enough strength yet.
Guo Hai lowered his eyes, a bitter smile appearing on his lips. If even the Boss couldn’t stop the bugs, then who could?!
The appearance of the giant void grave also made Lin Xiaohe and her group, who had been planning to return to their star domain, stop in their tracks.
Lin Xiaohe felt the spiderweb that had once filled the universe now seemed to have a huge hole pressed into it by something, causing the web to tremble unusually.
She extended her mental energy toward the direction of the hole but quickly withdrew it.
It was the aura of the Black Domain’s River!
Not as strong as the Black Domain’s River, but that terrifying, devouring pull—devouring time, space, and mental energy—was exactly the same.
Wesley asked curiously, “Party leader, what’s wrong?”
Amidst the flood of complex information, Lin Xiaohe found a message from the Mantis Battle Group.
Unencrypted, spreading out in a radiation pattern.
After deciphering it, Lin Xiaohe’s eyes darkened. “The Federation has abandoned the Sixth Star Ring. All military forces have withdrawn. The three million survivors on the Wasteland Star are asking for help from every power in deep space.”
The density of information in that one sentence was enormous.
Dong Yuxuan, thinking he was being very quiet, whispered to his elder brother, “Big brother, are the bugs really that fierce? Fierce enough to make the Federation abandon the Sixth Star Ring?”
This was different from the time the Giant Sound Whales ambushed the Federation. Back then, the StarNet—their vital point—was taken, so the Federation temporarily withdrew from the Fourth Star Ring. But they could fight their way back later.
This time, the bugs’ brutality was clear for everyone to see. The bugs were going toe-to-toe with humanity. Couldn’t humanity’s greatest strength—their overwhelming steel tide—handle them?
Big Brother Dong’s heart sank like a stone. “They really are that fierce.”
The people from the black market only wanted to run when they saw the bugs.
Wesley hemmed and hawed, wanting to say something but hesitating.
Lin Xiaohe said, “Speak.”
Wesley: “Party leader… should we go help?”
That was the Wasteland Star—not just the home of the Party Leader’s mother, but also the very first real base of the Starhearth Party.
The Starhearth Party had poured immense effort into the Wasteland Star and enjoyed widespread support from its people.
Just thinking about those lovely people on the Wasteland Star, crying out to heaven and earth with no one to answer them, Wesley’s heart ached.
Lin Xiaohe’s eyes gleamed, and she said decisively, “We save them!”
But before saving them, they needed to return to the Black Domain to make some preparations.
This was where the advantage of the Black Domain’s different time flow came into play.
Lin Xiaohe and her group had plenty of time to prepare for the rescue.
First, they had to plan based on the figure of 3 million trapped people. Water, nutrient fluid, medical supplies, transport ships, and how to settle everyone after the rescue—all of it needed to be considered.
Water could be purified from the seawater of Kyushu Star.
For settlement, they could use the Pangaea continent. While they were away rescuing people, robots could build shelters.
Medical supplies and nutrient fluid were the bigger challenges.
They had very few people, and the supplies they’d bought from outside were only enough for a thousand people for twenty years. If that number were multiplied three thousand times, could they even last a month?
Old Black, who worked as a doctor, felt a sense of urgency rising in his heart. This urgent desire resonated with the [Sacred Code] in the sanctuary.
That brief moment of resonance was recorded and would be reviewed by Lin Xiaohe.
Even more troublesome than the lack of supplies were the spaceships!
Currently, most of the ships they had were private vessels, with a capacity of fewer than 200 people each. A small number were passenger ships, with a maximum capacity of 2,400 people.
“We absolutely need to build new ships. Our current ships can’t fit that many people. And even if they could, they’re way too slow.” Wesley’s face twisted with worry.
Building a spaceship was no simple task. Even the most basic nuclear fusion propulsion system was beyond their ability to construct.
Not to mention the space nuclear fission reactors needed for long-term power and energy, the quantum navigation systems for communication and guidance, and the hull materials needed to withstand extreme temperature changes, radiation, and meteor impacts…
Why did Wesley and the others prefer to travel with the Giant Sound Whales rather than take their own ships? Because they knew that every ship lost was one fewer—they couldn’t build replacements themselves!
Everyone looked at each other in dismay. What were they going to do?
Lin Xiaohe’s gaze fell on the wreckage of the crayfish creatures, and an idea popped into her head.
One year later, accompanied by the sounds of whale songs, Lin Xiaohe stood with her hands on her hips, laughing heartily: “Folks, we’re here! Hang on!”
