Chapter 1036: A Big Shot Comes Knocking

Chapter 1036: A Big Shot Comes Knocking

On the train heading to River Valley Province, Dora and Little Koala pressed their faces against the window, excitedly watching the ever-changing scenery outside. The former’s nose was practically glued to the glass.

From the picturesque oasis to the castle that seemed to merge with the mountains, and then to the endless desert, every sight along the way was a breathtaking wonder she had never seen before.

Her astonishment and excitement were no less than when she first laid eyes on the sea.

“This world… is so vast!”

A thousand words could not contain her thrill, and in the end, only this one phrase escaped her lips.

Repeating it over and over, Dora felt nothing but immense gratitude for her unwavering decision to follow the Primarch to the sky.

Though she might never see her family again and felt a tinge of loneliness, being able to witness sights she would never have seen in a lifetime made her feel that even if she died tomorrow, she would have no regrets.

The forest dwellers did not concern themselves with the length of life.

In Doman culture, how long a person lived was determined from the day they were born. Born from the Ynsov Tree, they would eventually return to it in another form.

Just like Dora.

Little Koala, who had been hastily born one day over two hundred years ago, was also seeing these wondrous sights for the first time.

Its surprise was no less than Dora’s, and it muttered to itself.

“So this is the planet my father lived on…”

“Sunset Province? It doesn’t look like the one in the database. In the database, it was endless automated farmland and irrigation systems… Now such a vast area has turned into desert. I wonder what’s become of the underground ocean pipelines.”

It seemed a lot had truly happened in two hundred years.

For it, it was as if it had only slept for a moment…

In the same carriage.

Ye Shi and Bai Ge sat facing each other.

The bandages that had been wrapped around the latter’s head were now completely removed, revealing a face eroded by slime mold.

Of course, to call it erosion was inaccurate; it was more accurate to say that was the very shape of the fruiting body.

But then again, it made sense—how could a normal person live for over a century?

While the slime mold’s fruiting body repaired his tissues, it was also slowly replacing his human tissues, much like the biological prosthetics Xiao Yu created.

And when the replacement rate reached 99%, or even 100%, not a single original cell remained in the user’s body, not even a fragment of the original DNA.

Under such circumstances, he was no different from the slime mold’s fruiting body—indeed, he could be considered the fruiting body itself.

As Ye Shi studied him, Bai Ge, sitting across, was equally curious about Ye Shi.

“…Incredible. This should be our first meeting, yet you recognize me?”

Ye Shi smiled.

“I’ve heard of you.”

“But your expression tells me your knowledge of me goes beyond mere hearsay.” Bai Ge’s lips curled slightly, as if smiling, though it was a bit unsettling.

Still, despite his ugly appearance, he was a kind and generous man, which was why he was so respected by the survivors of the Camelot Kingdom.

“How should I put it? Our shelter has a special way of communicating… Have you heard of psychic power?”

“I have. I read about it in the newspapers,” Bai Ge said, looking at Ye Shi with interest. “So you learned about me through psychic power… from your companions?”

Ye Shi nodded.

“That’s right.”

“Incredible,” Bai Ge clicked his tongue softly, speaking with deep emotion. “I spent decades in seclusion in the Lost Valley, studying mutant slime molds and the spiritual traits they exhibit, yet I’ve made no substantial progress to this day… I never imagined that the very subject I’ve failed to understand, you not only researched thoroughly but have already put to use.”

There was not a trace of falsehood in his envious tone.

It was clear he was genuinely impressed.

Seeing the look of “the younger generation is formidable” on his face, Ye Shi didn’t know what to say.

Scientific research wasn’t like cultivation.

What made him think that working in isolation could outpace “networking everywhere”?

Throughout the history of the Human Alliance, only one person—the “Professor”—had been that brilliant.

Not to mention him.

Even the “Doctor Conclusion,” who had lived longer than him, probably didn’t have that level of skill.

But Ye Shi didn’t burst his bubble. He just cleared his throat and said.

“Thorough research? Not quite. We only have a superficial understanding of this spiritual power. As for its application, we’ve mostly relied on the wisdom of our predecessors.”

“You mean that even during the Human Alliance era, someone had already mastered the large-scale application of psychic power?” Bai Ge’s expression shifted slightly. After a soft sigh, he said, half-jokingly, half-seriously, “To be honest, I don’t know whether to feel comforted or disheartened.”

“There’s nothing to be disheartened about. Compared to what we lost during the Age of Prosperity, this disappointment is nothing.”

Ye Shi didn’t comment further, continuing in a casual tone.

“By the way, we call this spiritual energy the ‘morphogenetic field.’ If you follow the news, you should see it in the papers. If you’re interested, you can join us.”

The expression on that face seemed tempted, but Bai Ge didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze fell on Ye Shi’s wrist, and he suddenly changed the subject.

“Is that… an Academy prosthetic?”

“Yes.”

Ye Shi rolled up his sleeve, showing—or rather, flaunting—Jiang Xuezhou’s technological achievement, and smiled.

“An exquisite design, isn’t it?”

The only flaw was one thing, but there was no need to mention it here.

“Indeed, it’s not bad,” Bai Ge said with a hint of approval. After a pause, he continued, “A long, long time ago, I thought the Academy was beyond saving—those who only picked at the scraps of their predecessors were destined to rot in the swamp. But it seems I was too rigid… After I left, so many talents still emerged.”

“Haha, talent might be an overstatement, but that guy really has a gift for mechanics.”

Ye Shi chuckled modestly, covering for someone, then looked at Bai Ge and said.

“So, what’s on your mind? I’m guessing you didn’t suddenly show up just to see a guest from Nanmen II.”

As he spoke, he glanced toward the window, where the two “children” were still gleefully staring outside, enthusiastically enjoying the scenery along the train route.

“Of course not,” Bai Ge smiled, setting down his teacup and looking at Ye Shi. “Actually, I came for you.”

Ye Shi was taken aback.

“Me?”

Bai Ge nodded, took a neatly folded copy of the *Survivor’s Daily* from his pocket, and spread it out on the table.

Ye Shi glanced at the headline. The news article seemed to be about his interview when he first returned to Earth, regarding the formation of a solar system exploration team.

He didn’t expect this guy to be interested in that.

Fixing his eyes on Ye Shi, Bai Ge continued.

“…I heard you’re planning to recruit volunteers for an expedition team worldwide. Is that true?”

Night Ten smiled awkwardly and said,

“It’s only in the proposal stage; it still needs approval from all parties in the Conclave.”

“That’s a very good proposal. I believe it won’t be too difficult to pass… from my observation of your administrators,” White Dove nodded approvingly. “By the way, does your ship need a biologist or a materials engineer? I mean the professional kind.”

Night Ten shook his head.

“Not yet. Do you have any recommendations?”

He had only asked casually.

But to his surprise, the old monster sitting across from him broke into a brilliant smile and said something he never expected.

“What about me?”

Night Ten: “…?!”

Holy shit?

…

He never thought he’d pick up a big shot on a trip out, and Night Ten was stunned by this unexpected gain.

A scientist who had lived for over a century, with what seemed like an infinite lifespan, able to serve until *Wasteland OL* shut down!

With no reason to refuse, Night Ten agreed without a second thought.

Though White Dove joked that he was too old to keep up with the times, Night Ten didn’t take that humble pleasantry seriously.

A scholar who could leave a mark in history—even if not quite SSSR-level, SSR-level rarity was more than enough.

Besides, this big shot had no special demands for treatment, only asking for a cabin to use as a lab and to bring along his Little Red and the Titan from the Lost Valley.

Compared to the “Tree of Life” in Baiyue Province, which excelled at sowing, Little Red was better at fusing metal materials and evolving “regenerative armor” from them.

According to White Dove, he could help repair the damaged hull of the Orion and enhance its defensive capabilities.

With the addition of Little Red and White Dove as crew, the Orion gained two layers of defense boost and a combat health-regen buff!

Night Ten’s grin was so wide he could barely hold back his excitement.

Just this one gain made the entire latter half of the journey worth it!

As the train passed through Lion City in Luoxia Province, heading toward the River Valley Province, a strange incident occurred far away in Dawnlight City of the River Valley Province.

Some residents living in Dawnlight City claimed they had seen transparent paper airplanes at home.

They were finely folded paper airplanes, no longer or thicker than an index finger.

Some saw them on balconies, drifting slowly across the sky; others in their bedrooms, flitting past windows; and even more bizarrely, some said their children watched them pass right through bedroom walls.

At first, the talk of paper airplanes was just street gossip, like an urban legend.

But due to the anti-espionage awareness cultivated during wartime, some residents reported the sightings to the Guard Bureau, bringing the matter to light and even landing it in trashy papers like the *Goblin Observer*.

Strangely, though nearly seventy people claimed to have seen the “paper airplanes,” no one managed to photograph them.

One person even took a picture, but the photo showed nothing.

This soon caught the attention of the Praetorian Guard, who linked it to the recent incident of missing pens.

Though no direct evidence connected the two, both oddities occurred around the same time.

Especially after the Guard’s investigation, the sample size and scope of the “missing pen” incident closely matched those of the “paper airplane” incident.

In other words, both anomalies appeared in double digits and only within Dawnlight City.

In the administrator’s office of the Alliance Tower, Lü Bei reported the investigation results to Chu Guang with a serious expression.

After a pause, he cautiously offered his opinion.

“I’m wondering… could these strange occurrences be the work of the Celestials?”

Flipping through the report repeatedly, Chu Guang asked casually,

“Have they caused us any substantial losses?”

Lü Bei shook his head and said gravely,

“No substantial impact so far… aside from the missing pens not being found. Still, it’s hard to say if this isn’t some reconnaissance method we don’t understand.”

It was precisely because of this lack of understanding that the Praetorian Guard reacted as if facing a major threat.

After all, the impression the “Celestials” left on Earth’s surviving factions was overwhelmingly shocking.

They struck without warning, with a “destroy you, what’s it to you” attitude—no one could stomach that.

Especially after the Orion incident, the Conclave had completely abandoned any intention of negotiating with the Celestials or the Enlightenment Society, preparing to unite and eliminate this pest once and for all.

Now both sides were frantically preparing for war, and even the slightest stir made nerves taut.

Chu Guang pondered for a moment, then suddenly said,

“I don’t think they have that ability. And frankly, if they could create reconnaissance drones that pass through walls, why not use them at Dawnbreak City or on our space elevator, instead of sending them to Dawnlight City—and into residential areas?”

Lü Bei frowned.

“Then… could it be for passing messages to spies hidden in Dawnlight City?”

Chu Guang shook his head.

“Possible, but unlikely. Even if this method of communication could evade our interception, it causes too much commotion. As it is, it alerted us almost immediately.”

Lü Bei fell silent.

These matters had already been discussed several times in Praetorian Guard meetings, and intelligence officers at all levels agreed that the likelihood of the two “anomalies” being linked to the Celestials was very low.

But then the question arose.

If not the Celestials, who could have done such a thing?

At least among the surviving factions known to the Guard, none had the motive or capability to pull it off.

Just then, a thought struck Lü Bei, and he suddenly blurted out,

“Could it… be related to the Proxima Centauri incident?”

This time, Chu Guang didn’t outright dismiss his speculation but fell into contemplation.

“I’ve actually been suspecting that.”

These inexplicable “anomalies” seemed to have started only after the Orion’s return.

As Chu Guang was deep in thought, Lü Bei suddenly received a communication request.

And it wasn’t just Lü Bei.

Xiao Qi, crouching in the pen holder, also got the message and scrambled out with a changed expression.

“What happened?” Chu Guang asked immediately, seeing Xiao Qi’s alarmed face.

Forgoing her usual respectful address, Xiao Qi said urgently,

“Something’s gone wrong with the scientific expedition team!”