As soon as they returned to Kyushu Star, Lin Xiaohe learned that Grandpa Lin and Grandma Lin had awakened.
They stood facing each other through the glass.
Lin Xiaohe’s eyes gradually grew moist. It was wonderful—they were still themselves.
But beneath the relief, she couldn’t help feeling a faint trace of regret and wistfulness.
Lin Xiaohe walked in, and the three of them held each other tightly.
“I’m back.”
Grandpa Lin stroked the back of her head, his voice choked with emotion. “In my name, I will always be with you.”
Though she didn’t know if they’d still been family through those several reboots, at least they were together now.
Lin’s father watched this heartwarming scene and said, with a hint of jealousy, “Ooh, so you three have your little secrets now, huh?”
Weren’t they supposed to be a family?
Hadn’t they promised never to be apart? And yet the three of them had secretly gone through so much together—how unfair.
Lin Chiyang slung an arm over his father’s shoulder, casual and lazy. “Dad, I’ve made up my mind. If Little Sis doesn’t come to wake me up herself, I’m absolutely not awakening!”
He wanted to have his own secret with his little sister too!
Lin Jingqiu sighed softly, gazing at her eldest brother with affectionate pity. He really did talk nonsense sometimes. As if whether he awakened or not was up to him.
Lin Xiaohe had dinner with her family, then joined Wesley and her other close confidants for a late-night snack, before rushing off to the Whale Sea without a moment’s rest.
Better to arrive early than to show up late.
And as luck would have it, the missing person—Chang Qing—was actually there!
“Chang Qing!” Lin Xiaohe ran over.
For some reason, this time when she looked at him, he felt incredibly familiar, as if she’d known him for a very long time.
Chang Qing was still in his usual form—a faceless, tree-shaped figure. “No one comes to the temple without a reason. So, what do you want to ask?”
Lin Xiaohe exchanged a glance with the Elder of the Giant Sound Whales, hesitated for only a moment, and then laid out everything she’d experienced inside the Sacred Stele.
Throughout the entire story, the Elder gasped, marveled, and even shed tears of emotion—providing plenty of dramatic feedback.
But Chang Qing was a different story. His calmness made Lin Xiaohe wonder if he’d even been paying attention.
“Done?”
“Yeah. So, what do you think about all this?”
Chang Qing let out a cold chuckle, his tone laced with sarcastic bite. “Candidates? He says you are, so you are?”
“Lin Xiaohe.” He turned deadly serious. “I’ll say this only once. Burn it into your memory.”
“The key factor in the development of a civilization is information. In primitive times, whoever knew how to find more food and hunt more game grew stronger and lived longer.”
“In ancient times, in the heat of battle, whoever knew the enemy’s troop composition and deployment gained a massive advantage.”
“From surface civilization to interstellar civilization, whoever entered the cosmos first and obtained more information about the universe traveled further.”
“Once you become a spacefaring civilization, information warfare becomes paramount. Some civilizations have destroyed entire other spacefaring civilizations with nothing but a single piece of fabricated intel.”
Chang Qing said, with clear implication, “Their words are a mix of truth and lies—maybe all true, maybe all false. They might even think they’re seeing the truth when it’s actually an illusion. Lin Xiaohe, trust has never been a virtue in the laws of the universe.”
“Survival—that is the universe’s only truth!”
Lin Xiaohe stared at Chang Qing for a long time, her emotions in turmoil. “And how do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Hahaha!” Chang Qing laughed heartily. “Exactly! That’s the spirit! Congratulations—you’re fundamentally changing into a cosmic race, no longer a carbon-based monkey crawling on the surface.”
Lin Xiaohe…
She felt thoroughly roasted.
So, in Chang Qing’s eyes, she’d been an unenlightened carbon-based monkey all along?!
Chang Qing’s laughter stopped as abruptly as it had started, and he spoke with the firmness of an oath: “Whether you believe me or not, everything I just said is what I believe to be true.”
Lin Xiaohe didn’t say whether she believed him or not. Instead, she asked, “Chang Qing, how long have you lived? Which era of civilization were you born in? Do you know which era we’re in now?”
Chang Qing’s tone turned cold and dismissive. “Oh, I don’t remember. Which era? Heh. The Seventh Era.”
Boom!
The Elder of the Giant Sound Whales, who’d been floating in the sky all along, was so shocked that it lost control and crashed into the Whale Sea.
Even Lin Xiaohe rarely showed such astonishment—her voice cracked. “What?! How could it be the Seventh Era?! Shouldn’t it be the Fifth?!”
During dinner and the late-night snack, everyone had discussed this topic. The general consensus was that it was probably the Fifth Era, maybe the Sixth—but no one had even considered the very last one.
And with all this chaos—the Zerg, Stardust contamination, the so-called two gods, prehistoric civilizations awakening—it felt like they didn’t even need to wait for the doomsday crisis to arrive; the Federation and the Empire would destroy themselves first.
Based on that assumption, everyone had stayed fairly calm, carrying a carefree, “burn it all down” vibe.
This era was a lost cause—might as well look forward to the next reset.
No matter how strong Stardust Humanity became, they couldn’t save an entire civilization!
The Elder grew frantic. “Chang Qing, you’re joking, right?! If civilization has reached its end and this is the Seventh Era, aren’t we all doomed?!”
Chang Qing: “My memory may be spotty, but I can still count one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.”
Speechless! Absolutely speechless!
Lin Xiaohe and the Elder exchanged another look, then shot out of the Whale Sea like their tails were on fire.
Who had time to eat and drink? Who had time to chat?
This was the Seventh Era—did they even deserve to be slacking off?!
Lin Xiaohe called an emergency meeting and broke the earth-shattering news to everyone.
They were all thunderstruck, dazed and reeling.
“What?! We’re the last humans? No more resets, no more cycles?!”
Dong Yuxuan was dumbfounded. “Is this for real? Why didn’t my past lives, my past-past lives, break out of their cages? Why did I have to be left with this impossible task?!”
Brother Dong, who’d been tricked into coming to Kyushu Star, wore an expression that perfectly matched the classic “elderly man staring at phone” meme.
He thought he’d been turning over a new leaf—never in his wildest dreams did he imagine there was no light anywhere in the entire star sector. He was exhausted. Just let it all end.
Grandpa and Grandma Lin’s brows were etched with deep, unspoken worry.
They knew their own capabilities. Stardust Humanity was strong—but compared to the Witch Clan, they still fell a little short.
There was no helping it. Stardust Humanity had been born too late—there simply wasn’t enough time left for them to grow!
Lin Xiaohe steadied herself. “There’s still a glimmer of hope. We can snatch the Dimension-Vessels from the other candidates!”
Melina let out a long breath and offered her suggestion: “Based on what we’ve gathered, the Seventh Annihilation will be the most devastating—there won’t be any survivors. We should unite every force we can and face this crisis together.”
Lin Xiaohe: “Exactly! For now, let’s set aside personal grudges and conflicting interests. Let’s join forces with the Zerg, the Federation, the Empire, the gods, and the Awakened Ones to tackle this crisis!”
It wasn’t impossible.
On the Zerg front, Little Black could reach out to them.
The Federation and the Empire were both human—easier to negotiate with.
As for the Awakened Ones, Grandpa Lin, Grandma Lin, and Lin’s mother could all lend a hand.
That left the gods—especially Anidam and Jörmungandr.
“I’ll find a way to contact them and arrange Six-Party Talks!”
