Lin Xiaohe set the tone for the next phase: stay prepared, don’t fear war, but also be ready for the worst-case scenario.
If the divine war escalated beyond what they could handle, they would take the entire Kyushu Star system and run. If they couldn’t take the star system, they’d take the Ark and flee.
The Star Grain Party dove into a busy period of development and construction.
Ordinary survivors were settled on Kyushu Star, where they handled planetary farming, energy storage, nutrient solution production, and other essential tasks.
Thanks to mechanization and automation, their workload wasn’t too heavy.
The Stardust Humans and the Sonic Whales, however, had it much harder. They had to clear out every last Zerg on the planets of the Sixth Star Ring, then process the Zerg corpses into preserved food suitable for storage.
If they did all that work on Kyushu Star, they’d waste too much time just traveling back and forth. So Lin Xiaohe made the call to move the Ark over instead.
The Ark was spacious enough to hold all that compressed Zerg meat.
And the Zerg’s hard carapaces couldn’t go to waste either—they could be used on-site to upgrade and modify the Ark.
After the Ark’s first voyage, everyone had compiled plenty of lessons learned and optimization plans.
Lin Xiaohe: “The Ark has strong defensive capabilities, but it lacks offensive firepower, and its propulsion is too limited—it relies entirely on the Sonic Whales. These are the two big problems we need to solve right now.”
Melina had evolved into a Stardust Human with relative ease, so she’d come along to help Lin Xiaohe coordinate the related affairs.
Melina spoke in her usual precise manner: “Kyushu Star is severely lacking in mechanical manufacturing and weapons production. Even if we developed weapons on our own, they’d never match up to what the Federation and Empire have. So I suggest we use Zerg-based weaponry on the Ark instead.”
She looked at Lin Xiaohe, who immediately caught her meaning: “I’ll give it a try.”
As for the propulsion issue—that was a tough nut to crack. It wasn’t just about an engine; it touched on all sorts of other factors.
Things like power acquisition, energy storage, energy conversion… It was a whole systemic problem. Unless the Star Grain Party could design a truly revolutionary propulsion system, they’d still have to rely on the Sonic Whales.
Luckily, the Sonic Whales and the Stardust Humans had just signed their partnership contract. Their relationship was still in the honeymoon phase, so they were trustworthy.
After the meeting, Lin Xiaohe flew to Cold Star.
Every last Zerg there had been cleared out. The entire planet glowed with a deep blue light.
A small Giant Tomb stood at the mouth of a volcano. A long tube extended from its base down into the crater, siphoning residual energy from deep within Cold Star’s core.
The tomb’s surface pulsed rhythmically, each breath oozing a sticky, translucent slime that had already spread to cover the entire volcano.
Xiao Shi led the Octopus to the neighboring planets to catch Zerg. They’d knock the bugs out and drag them back to the tomb.
These bugs were all subordinates of the Tomb of Zhou.
When they groggily came to, their eyes were blank with confusion. According to the Zerg hierarchy, they should have obeyed the Giant Tomb unconditionally.
But this tomb in front of them was so small—and its aura felt strange.
Little Black flapped its wings with all its might, using the Zerg’s unique communication method to command these bugs to enter the tomb for optimization.
The poor creatures wavered—one moment walking forward on their own, the next refusing to move an inch, wobbling back and forth like headless flies.
Lin Xiaohe arrived at Little Black’s side and didn’t interrupt its work.
Little Black’s translucent wings were practically blurring from the speed, but the imprint left on these Zerg by the Tomb of Zhou was far too strong for the current Little Black to overpower.
“Ugh, this is so annoying.” Little Black stopped flapping, utterly deflated. “Xiao Shi, just carry them in.”
That was simple enough.
Xiao Shi knocked the bugs out again and used its tentacles to stuff them into the tomb.
The tomb had changed since Lin Xiaohe’s last visit.
A new pool had appeared beneath the circular platform.
The pool was empty, and its purpose was unclear.
“Little Black!” Doudou popped out and hopped onto Little Black’s carapace.
Doudou’s leaves gently brushed against Little Black’s antennae, and their branches and feelers intertwined tightly.
Among all the plants, Doudou and Little Black were the closest.
Xinbao lay sprawled on top of Lin Xiaohe’s head. Ever since they’d merged, Xinbao rarely came out and had grown quieter and quieter.
Lin Xiaohe gently tickled its one tiny leaf, and her pinky was immediately wrapped up by it.
Tiantian was terrified of bugs and refused to come out at all.
The fleshy tubes on the tomb’s inner walls dragged the unconscious bugs over and dumped them into the pool.
The pool churned a few times, and a corrosive green slime seeped up from the bottom.
The bugs inside twitched weakly, then dissolved into a pool of pus.
“Ugh!” Doudou gagged while clinging tightly to Little Black’s antennae.
Lin Xiaohe averted her gaze, not wanting to watch the scene below the platform. “Little Black, can you design a new kind of bug—one that can be mounted on the Ark and has long-range attack capabilities?”
Little Black rummaged through the tomb’s gene bank and eventually assembled something resembling a geoduck clam: “It can spray a sticky fluid that petrifies enemies, but the fluid comes from its own body. Once it’s all sprayed out, it dies.”
On the Ark, there’d be no way to refuel the geoduck, so it would essentially be a one-use consumable.
Little Black said apologetically, “I only have the initial gene bank. I don’t have as many gene fragments as Zhou.”
Zhou had devoured so many planets and humans that it had accumulated a massive trove of gene fragments, giving it nearly endless combinations.
Doudou raised a branch: “I do! I have infinite ammo. Little Black, you can take my genes.”
Little Black shook its head like a rattle-drum: “No way. You’re my friend. I can’t eat you.”
“That’s okay. I can give you my beans.”
After getting Lin Xiaohe’s approval, Doudou tossed a small basket of beans into the pool.
After waiting a long while, Little Black shook its head in disappointment: “It didn’t work.”
How strange.
Zerg could eat just about anything, and they’d absorb the genetic fragments of whatever they consumed for their own use.
But Little Black couldn’t absorb Doudou’s genes at all.
Well, that was…
Lin Xiaohe settled for the next best option: “Without affecting your expansion, build a few of those geoduck bugs.”
“Got it.”
After handling that matter, Lin Xiaohe returned to the Ark and gazed at the party flag. She thought for nearly half an hour before finally deciding to contact the Federation.
She scrolled through her contacts. The only people she could reach were Chu Huaizhi and the Sixth Star Ring Military District Commander.
She sent both of them messages about the divine war and the Great Annihilation, warning them to be on guard against the gods that had suddenly descended.
Both expressed their gratitude. Chu Huaizhi was especially concerned about her and asked if she’d been hurt while dealing with the Dead Hand system.
Lin Xiaohe didn’t reply. Instead, she browsed the StarNet.
The StarNet was filled with jubilant news.
Since the gods descended, the Zerg had been retreating in defeat. The Federation had already retaken the Second Star Ring, and the Empire had launched its own counteroffensive.
Everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction.
The Federation’s official channels were busy hyping up the gods’ power. They’d even pushed through legislation to establish the Church of Anidam and made it the Federation’s state religion.
More and more Federation citizens were converting to Anidam. The StarNet was flooded with news about the god.
Lin Xiaohe’s updates—and the Star Grain Party’s—were quickly buried and had nearly disappeared from sight.
In the Federation’s propaganda, Anidam’s three faces represented man, woman, and child. They called it the Omnipotent God.
Not a single person seemed to recognize that it was actually a family of three—the former Federation citizens Li Qing, his wife, and their child.
The public had found an outlet for their emotions and had made Anidam their one and only savior.
Lin Xiaohe lowered her gaze. She didn’t need to guess—the Empire was probably in the same boat.
Over this period, seven more gods had emerged one after another, scattered across various star regions.
They weren’t as famous as those two, but they had still earned the worship of their local regions.
Lin Xiaohe had always believed that everything in this world came with a hidden price tag.
What exactly did these so-called gods want from humanity?
