“Where is this?” Chen Kuan’s voice trembled uncontrollably.
Seeing his state, the lobby manager stepped onto another man’s shoulders and peered out as well.
He drew in a sharp breath.
Cold sweat poured down his face. They were in serious trouble!
This planet had no wind and no sound.
Whether it was the people working on the ground or the transport ship’s crew, everyone moved like robots—silent, unspeaking, wearing identical smiles, with the exact same curve at the corners of their mouths.
The lobby manager had excellent vision. He could clearly see, beyond the main road, countless intertwined and crushed corpses scattered across the ground, stretching all the way to the horizon.
These bodies had long since lost their individual forms, merging into an endless expanse of ashen-gray terrain.
Not far away, mounds of piled corpses rose like pus-filled swellings on a festering wound, jutting silently toward the crimson sky.
Chen Kuan clutched his little sister tightly, murmuring under his breath: “It’s the Zerg, right? It has to be the Zerg, doesn’t it?”
“No.” The lobby manager lowered his head, meeting Chen Kuan’s pleading gaze, and swallowed the rest of his words.
The Zerg were the race that valued material resources most—they wouldn’t even leave steel behind. Why would they waste human bodies?
Chen Kuan didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to know that much. For the first time, fear welled up in him—a desire to retreat.
He awkwardly changed the subject: “Where is this?”
“First Star Ring, Planet X. The most habitable planet, the nobles’ backyard garden.”
Chen Kuan: “How do you know?”
The lobby manager pointed to a metal sign not far away.
The sign stood crookedly in the ground, its spray-painted text clearly legible: “Planet X Welcomes You.”
One by one, containers were being hauled into the distance. No dust rose from the ground—only the crunch of crushed bones.
Chen Kuan’s mind went blank. He muttered numbly, “We’re in big trouble.”
The lobby manager corrected him: “No. We humans are in big trouble.”
According to official Federation propaganda, Planet X was supposed to be a beautiful paradise, an ideal vacation destination, a world happier than heaven itself. Yet this was what it actually looked like.
The Federation government was despicable and corrupt, driven by greed—but not brutal to this degree.
Combined with the Yanidam Cult’s recruitment efforts on the Fifth Star Ring, the lobby manager couldn’t help but think deeper.
Could it be that the people of the First Star Ring had already been completely wiped out?
And if so… were the Federation officials still appearing on official channels every day even them anymore?
The lobby manager’s hands trembled slightly, his gaze dark and deep. How was he supposed to get this information back to the Party Leader?
——-
Over on Kyushu Star, Old Black Brother felt like life had become unbearable.
It had taken so much effort for Lin Jingqiu to wake up—and now Lin Xiaobe had vanished!
And it happened right under everyone’s noses—both her spiritual energy and her physical body disappearing together.
“Search! Find her!” Wesley’s eyes were bloodshot, teetering on the edge of a breakdown.
But how were they supposed to search?
That mysterious black hole had appeared out of nowhere, sucked Lin Xiaobe in, and then vanished. Not a single instrument recorded any energy fluctuation—as if the black hole had never existed at all.
Wesley went to Lin Meimei and asked him to consult the Elder of the Magnasonic Whales.
The Magnasonic Whales and Stardust Humans were cooperative partners—they rose and fell together.
After learning of the situation, the Magnasonic Whale Elder immediately sought out Evergreen: “You’ve lived the longest. Do you know what that black hole thing is?”
“Colorful bubbles? No detectable energy fluctuations of any known kind?” Evergreen’s leaves rustled without any wind.
“If it really is that… then all I can say is we’re powerless. She has to find her own way out.”
The Magnasonic Whale Elder was beside itself with frustration. It hated riddlers!
“This is the Seventh Era! What’s there left to hide or hold back? If you know something important, just share it already!”
Evergreen chuckled softly. “Some things have a fixed total. If you take more, others get less.”
“So?”
“If it were something unimportant, that’d be one thing. But when it comes to the continuation of civilization, who would place their hopes on others?”
The Magnasonic Whale Elder lashed its tail fiercely, sending up a spray of water that splashed over Evergreen’s aerial roots: “I don’t understand. Spell it out. What does any of this have to do with Lin Xiaobe?”
“Heh. Nothing much, really—just a passing thought. I’m genuinely curious, though: where did Lin Xiaobe get that deep-rooted belief that ‘unity is strength’?”
In Evergreen’s memory, no civilization from any previous era had ever been built around that kind of conviction.
The Magnasonic Whale Elder was so anxious it kept spouting jets of air: “Who cares where it came from? She just is that way! Now just tell me—where exactly is Lin Xiaobe?”
“The place where the Evil Demon fell.”
“Ha?!”
Whether it was the place where a god fell or where an evil demon fell, Lin Xiaobe knew one thing for sure: getting out of here was no easy task.
No matter which direction she and Little Black flew, there seemed to be no end.
At least the tens of thousands of crystal skulls above her shone like bright little light bulbs, guiding her way and keeping her from getting lost.
“O Divine Lord, exactly how long have you been trapped here?”
The Divine Lord remained silent.
Over these past days, Lin Xiaobe had tried many methods to refine him, but none had succeeded.
The life origin—that unknown power—was indeed difficult to master.
At the very least, Lin Xiaobe couldn’t even mobilize her own origin force.
The Divine Lord curled his lips into a faint sneer. Of course Lin Xiaobe couldn’t grasp soul-divine power—that was a force one could only comprehend after breaking through the mortal realm and entering the immortal realm.
They weren’t even in the same power system. If Lin Xiaobe could control soul-divine power, that would be the real miracle!
Lin Xiaobe returned once more to the altar platform.
She didn’t dare approach the ship graveyard, nor did she venture deep into the altar itself. She only stayed at the edge, taking a brief rest.
Little Black’s red carapace seemed covered in a layer of gray mist, dull and lusterless.
Without the energy from the giant mound to replenish it, Little Black was consuming its reserves constantly—one day, it would give out.
The crystal skulls bobbed cheerfully, as if welcoming Lin Xiaobe back.
“You guys sure are friendly.” Lin Xiaobe smiled and waved at them.
In this godforsaken place, only these crystal skulls seemed remotely pleasant to look at. How pathetic was that?
Lin Xiaobe laughed bitterly. Had she really fallen so low that she was reduced to hanging out with crystal skeletons?
Little Black lay sprawled on the ground, listless, its two antennae drooping without energy.
The Divine Lord hadn’t given up studying the green light cage. The more he looked at it, the more familiar it seemed—though he couldn’t be entirely certain.
“Why do you have Soul-Loss Syndrome?”
Lin Xiaobe’s eyes flickered. “Because I gave up reincarnation during the Witch Clan era.”
The Divine Lord was utterly shocked: “Impossible! If you gave up reincarnation, then how does the current you even exist?”
Wasn’t that a paradox?
A later version of you, giving up reincarnation on behalf of the First Era version of you.
Lin Xiaobe blinked innocently. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask the Sacred Stele about that.”
The Divine Lord already knew that the “Sacred Stele” she spoke of was the First Line of Heaven.
As if something had occurred to him, a wild gleam of joy flashed in his eyes. With every ounce of strength, he suppressed his excitement, and asked in a trembling voice:
“Do you have a way to escape the crisis?”
That was the only way it made sense! If you gave up reincarnation, why would a later version of you still exist? Because you avoided the crisis—you were always the original you from the First Era!
