The Zerg on the sixth ring’s planets were being methodically replaced, yet Little Black hadn’t received any protest or inquiry from Great Tomb Zhou. Lin Xiaohe wasn’t sure whether they simply didn’t care about this small region, or if they were too preoccupied to spare the attention.
“Party leader, we’re about to push forward to Wasteland Star. Same as before?”
“Same as before.”
Lin Xiaohe’s brows and eyes carried a cold detachment.
She knew that Wes and the others held a special affection for Wasteland Star, but every extra Zerg that Little Black gained added to their strength in the coming war against the gods.
When the nest is overturned, can any egg remain intact?
“Once everything settles down, Wasteland Star will still be the same Wasteland Star it always was.”
That was Lin Xiaohe’s promise to the members of the Star Grain Party.
As the birthplace of their cause, everyone hoped Wasteland Star could be as peaceful and beautiful as Kyushu Star.
Lin Xiaohe swept her gaze around—the preparations for battle were orderly and well-organized.
An idea struck her, and she decided to take a look at the fifth ring.
Given the awkward relationship with the Federation, she didn’t swagger into the fifth ring’s territory. Instead, she planned to use Xinbao to connect to the fifth ring’s local network and check the situation.
But plans never keep up with changes.
The current state of the fifth ring was far beyond Lin Xiaohe’s expectations.
Seizing a moment when no one was watching, Lin Xiaohe descended to Vitaria Star.
The Emerald Dome had been wrecked by the Zerg, leaving holes big and small everywhere. Though emergency repairs had been made, the mismatched materials left the once dreamlike dome looking like it was covered in scabs—hideously ugly.
The green ecological corridor she’d walked through on her last visit to Vitaria Star was now nothing but ruins.
In the spaceport waiting area, only the A-class section remained as it was; B-class and C-class had been merged.
The waiting area was no longer bustling with people as before—instead, it felt eerily empty. The A-class section had fewer than ten people seated, while B and C had a bit more, but still under a hundred.
Lin Xiaohe wore a large crimson cloak, its wide hood hanging low, almost covering most of her face.
As she moved, she looked like a red specter.
But this getup didn’t stand out at all among the waiting crowd.
Because their outfits weren’t exactly normal either. Some wore feathered hats, went shirtless, their bodies and faces covered in colorful paints, holding white bones and chanting gibberish.
Some looked like green-moss-covered turtles, with green moss on their hair, faces, and arms.
As Lin Xiaohe passed one of them, her curiosity got the better of her, and she took a closer look—only then realizing it wasn’t real moss, but artificial material deliberately made to look like moss.
“What’re you lookin’ at?!” The green-moss turtle man seemed provoked, glaring at Lin Xiaohe.
Huh?!
Goodness, it had been a long time since Lin Xiaohe had faced such a low-level provocation.
Her mouth moved faster than her brain: “What if I am?”
“Oh ho!” The green-moss man shot up—over two meters tall, with bulging muscles, and the artificial moss flaking off him in showers.
“Which minor sect are you from? Don’t you know whose turf this is?”
Lin Xiaohe stared at his patchy, balding face, and in a flash of inspiration, remembered someone.
“Shi Qiang?”
The green-moss man visibly paused, then curled his lips into a cold sneer: “So you are gunning for us Neptunians! I’m warning you—Vitaria Star belongs to the sea god Neptune!”
Before Lin Xiaohe could say anything, the feathered woman brandishing the white bone charged over, locking her eyes on Shi Qiang as she muttered incantations: “O revered Ninth Heaven, cast down your punishment upon this arrogant heretic!”
Lin Xiaohe quietly shuffled a few steps to the side.
The next second, the man and woman were duking it out, artificial moss and colorful feathers flying everywhere.
Lin Xiaohe found a seat that gave her a good view of their brawl while keeping her out of the fray.
She’d barely sat down when a man in military uniform settled in right next to her.
Lin Xiaohe glanced at the nameplate on his chest—[Sixth Ring, 54th Division]. Thanks to a bit of serendipity, she allowed his proximity.
The military man scoffed: “You think they’re pretty stupid too, don’t you? The first and second rings are Adamantium’s stronghold. Here on the fifth ring, all kinds of wacky cults have popped up.”
He pointed at the green-moss turtle Shi Qiang: “His name’s Shi Qiang. Used to be a pretty tough mercenary. Ever since he lost his gig as some rich kid’s attendant, he’s been blaming the heavens, the earth, and the air for his misfortunes. Only people with half a brain would believe in this so-called ‘Neptune’!”
Neptune, who called himself the Sea God, was said to possess divine power over the oceans and the seas.
And the starry sea—that’s a sea too.
Lin Xiaohe nodded inwardly—yeah, right. That’s one heck of a tall tale. Even the Zerg wouldn’t dare claim they could rule the starry sea, but Neptune dares!
“Can Shi Qiang and his lot actually get power from Neptune?”
They weren’t fools—no one would become a diehard follower of a cult just on hype alone.
The military man said dismissively: “They say some of the most devout followers can enter the divine kingdom while asleep and receive its teachings. But who knows if that’s true?”
Lin Xiaohe’s eyes sparkled: “At the very least, the Zerg on the fifth ring are down to just a small remnant. Maybe these cults actually helped?”
The military man’s face showed clear displeasure, but he held back some of what he wanted to say: “It definitely wasn’t Neptune or the Ninth Heaven.”
“The Ninth Heaven cult’s high shaman does have some real skill, but their main base is on the fourth ring. That woman over there? She’s just cosplaying!”
Just talking about the fifth ring’s cults made the military man furious.
Between Federation-recognized and unrecognized groups, there were over a hundred cults, big and small!
Even just the infighting among them could make the followers beat each other to a pulp.
The military man said with utmost sincerity: “Whatever you do, don’t believe in these fake gods. Worshipping fake gods leads nowhere! As educated young people of the new-generation Federation, we need to have our own principles and beliefs—don’t just follow the herd.”
Lin Xiaohe didn’t understand why he was being so kind, but she nodded anyway.
Seeing her so obedient, the military man gave a fond, auntie-like smile, then furtively pulled a photo from his uniform pocket and said reverently:
“All those fake gods are untrustworthy—including Adamantium and Jörmungandr. They’re not our kind, so their hearts are bound to differ! We humans have our own god, and this one here is worthy of our faith!”
The photo showed a woman in crimson armor, wielding two long whips, suspended in the void of space!
The military man’s eyes burned with fanatical devotion as he spoke from the heart: “The great Insect God, who fears no hardship, has carved out the most powerful evolutionary path for humanity! She will guide us out of our plight and make us the strongest race in the universe! Her noble character shines like the stars. She loves all beings and delivers them from suffering!”
“She is the one true god worthy of our faith!”
“Join us! The immortal Star Grain Cult! You know about Stardust Humans, right? Don’t you want to tear through the void like them and walk freely through the cosmos? They’re senior followers of the Star Grain Cult!”
Lin Xiaohe…
So awkward! So awkward her toes were curling into the floor.
She’d thought he was a calm, rational soldier—turns out he was a stealthy missionary, and of the Star Grain Cult no less!
