“Sang Sang, we just left like that. When those gossips wake up and see we’re gone, they’re going to be furious.” On the electric scooter, Qin’s mother wore a helmet, her voice slightly muffled.
Qin Sang, sitting in the back, laughed. “They’ll definitely be pissed.”
She’d told Captain Qin last night that they’d be leaving today. But she doubted anyone expected them to set off so early in the morning. They’d left ahead of time simply to avoid the temptation to hurt someone.
Those villagers who hadn’t gotten their way had spent the whole night bad-mouthing their family and trying to stir up the others into causing trouble.
She wasn’t here to bicker with them—she didn’t have time for that nonsense. If they really pushed her, she’d have no problem sending them on their way.
Hearing her daughter laugh, Qin’s mother laughed too—just thinking about the scene was satisfying. Qin’s father, riding his own scooter nearby, joined in the cheer.
By now, the family of three had traveled far away. But this place was still nothing but loess. No matter where they went, it was just yellow earth. Qin Sang seriously wondered—where did all these mutated insects find food?
After two nights of observation, she’d noticed that the insects appeared in large swarms at night and vanished completely during the day. That meant they had a habitat somewhere—and that habitat probably held their food source.
So Qin Sang wanted to find that habitat. And there was another reason…
Thinking of the pure, refined energy contained in that piece of mutated centipede meat, she was reminded of her primary goal for this trip: to hunt as many mutated insects as possible.
The moment she’d tasted that centipede meat last night, the purity of the energy it contained was astonishing. And it was delicious too. Outside, raising ordinary livestock was already becoming difficult. Plus, the mutated insects out there didn’t hold a candle to the ones here in terms of energy.
Qin Sang felt that the mutated insects in this place were a glimpse into the future of the outside world.
This place was a space independent of the outside—like the secret realms that often appeared in novels. And secret realms were usually a level above the outside world.
So she suspected that, many years ago, this planet might have been a world full of mutated insects—or mutated flora and fauna. Then, for some reason, the world’s energy began to wane—like spiritual energy fading, an age of decline.
And now, the energy outside was reviving—like a spiritual resurgence. That meant more and more secret realms would likely appear in the future.
In parallel, the outside world currently had insects mutating the fastest, while plants were also starting to show signs of mutation. As for animals—they’d probably start mutating soon too.
At that point, Qin Sang thought, the future world would become increasingly unfit for human survival.
Perhaps that was the true apocalypse for humanity.
Just then, Little Seed, tucked behind her ear, seemed to pick up on her thoughts and chirped: “Eat… eat… eat…”
Qin Sang pushed the heavy speculation aside for now and amusedly teased the gluttonous dandelion: Eat up! Maybe if you eat enough, you’ll grow into more mutated dandelions.
If Little Seed knew what she was thinking, it would probably shrink into a ball in terror. But fortunately for it, Qin Sang didn’t voice that thought. She happily followed the results of her mental probing and directed her parents toward their destination.
And so, the family of three entered a frenzy of hunting.
One, two, three…
—
“So fragrant!” Qin Sang took the roasted mutated ant meat from her father and couldn’t help but exclaim.
This was their fifth day in the secret realm, and their third day hunting after leaving the main group.
Over these three days, they’d traveled—if not a thousand kilometers, then certainly several hundred. But everywhere they went, it was still just loess. As for finding the insects’ habitat? No luck yet.
But hunting? They’d been lucky—they’d bagged quite a few.
There were injuries along the way, but their strong physiques, plus the space’s energy-rich water, healed wounds quickly. For more severe injuries, absorbing a couple of energy cores and eating some mutated insect meat fixed everything.
In these three days, Qin Sang had fully experienced the surreal nature of a world in energy revival.
“If it’s fragrant, eat more.”
Qin’s mother nodded repeatedly, then casually asked, “Sang Sang, should we turn back and regroup with Captain Qin?”
After three days of walking without finding any insect habitat, Qin’s mother felt the odds were slim. Besides, they’d already hunted enough bugs. And the further forward they went, the harder the insects seemed to kill. She and her husband weren’t helping much—they’d become deadweight holding their daughter back.
Qin Sang was just about to nod—she, too, had noticed the insects growing stronger. But before she could lower her head, she once again sensed that faint yet immense energy fluctuation.
Yes, over the past three days, she’d occasionally felt a massive energy surge from somewhere ahead. The sensation was familiar—similar to what had drawn her into this place. Now, that energy fluctuation had reappeared, pulling her forward. Vaguely, a voice seemed to tell her: keep going. What you need is there.
“Mom, Dad, how about you go into the space? I’ll go ahead alone.”
Qin’s mother thought her daughter was about to say they should turn back and had been ready to agree. But then she heard this.
“No way. It’s too dangerous for you to go alone.”
“Exactly, Sang Sang. It’s too risky for you to be out here by yourself,” Qin’s father added.
Qin Sang looked up, her gaze firm. “Mom, Dad, I haven’t told you this—but over the past three days, I’ve been sensing an incredibly alluring energy fluctuation from time to time. I have a feeling that whatever it is, it’s very important to me.”
Premonitions were intangible things. But since the apocalypse began, not one of her daughter’s hunches had been wrong.
Qin’s parents immediately grew serious. Both realized their daughter’s mind was made up.
“Alright then. We’ve collected quite a few mutated insects that haven’t been processed yet. Once we’re in the space, I’ll clean them all up and turn them into something delicious for you.”
“Right, right, I can help your dad out in the kitchen. But…”
For the next half hour, Qin’s mother went on and on. The gist of it was: Qin Sang must stay safe, retreat into the space the moment anything felt off, and give them access permissions so they could monitor the outside world at any time.
Qin Sang agreed to everything. The main reason she wanted her parents in the space was fear that they might encounter exceptionally lethal mutated insects ahead.
But to her surprise, as she drew closer to the source of that power, the number of mutated insects she encountered actually decreased. Of course, they grew stronger with each encounter. Eventually, she ran into ones she couldn’t beat and had to retreat into the space.
Playing it safe, with occasional bursts of aggression, after three days Qin Sang finally laid eyes on the area radiating that massive energy field.
And the moment she did, she instantly flashed back into the space.
—
“Sang Sang, are you okay?!”
Qin’s mother rushed over the moment she saw her daughter enter, her face full of alarm. Qin’s father was equally tense, glancing up at the outside world from time to time.
Qin Sang stared wide-eyed at the scene outside the space and shook her head. “I’m fine.”
She’d been quick—the moment she spotted those various mutated insects, each over five meters long, she’d bolted back into the space. But once inside, she realized she’d already been exposed.
Even worse, those gigantic mutated insects hadn’t looked away just because she’d entered the space. Instead, they all stared at the spot where she’d vanished.
More precisely, it felt like they were staring at her from across the spatial boundary.
The moment that thought crossed her mind, Qin Sang broke out in cold sweat.
This was the first time since binding the space that her faith in it had wavered even slightly.
“Don’t be scared…”
Just then, a raspy voice rang out beside her ear. Qin Sang looked up and saw Grandpa Goose flapping his wings, hovering above her head.
“Those critters can’t get into the space.”
Qin Sang couldn’t help asking, “Grandpa Goose, why are those mutated insects so huge? The biggest one we ran into before wasn’t even three meters long.”
Grandpa Goose shot her a glance. “This isn’t even considered huge. Anyway, drink some water and calm your nerves. There are still some good things in this place. I’ll go with you later.”
Hearing that, Qin Sang immediately looked up, eyes wide at the utterly nonchalant Grandpa Goose.
“Grandpa Goose, you can leave the space now?”
Grandpa Goose: “Did I ever say I couldn’t?”
Qin Sang: …He hadn’t exactly said that. But before, he’d mentioned lacking energy—she’d assumed he couldn’t leave this space.
Grandpa Goose ignored her inner turmoil and simply fixed his gaze on the area behind those giant insects. That was where the real treasure lay.
—
Once again, Qin Sang emerged from the space—this time with Grandpa Goose by her side.
The moment Grandpa Goose appeared, the several giant mutated insects in the distance seemed to stir slightly.
It was also at this moment that Qin Sang noticed something she had overlooked before.
“Grandpa Goose, they are…” Qin Sang watched as these mutated insects moved—yet they cast no shadows. Yes, no shadows at all. It was daytime, and under the light, these insects had no shadow. Was she seeing insect ghosts in broad daylight?
But these insects gave her the sensation of massive energy bodies. The surging energy radiating from them was unmistakably real.
Grandpa Goose had already spread his wings and was hovering in midair.
Qin Sang could sense that Grandpa Goose and those insects were communicating silently—but she couldn’t hear a thing.
A few minutes passed, and then Grandpa Goose simply said, “All done…”
Qin Sang was full of confusion. “All done with what?”
Grandpa Goose: “Just keep going forward.”
As soon as he spoke, the silhouettes of those giant mutated insects vanished without a trace—as if the scene Qin Sang had just witnessed was nothing but her imagination.
“Grandpa Goose, what exactly is going on?” Qin Sang looked at him with dissatisfaction, demanding an explanation.
Grandpa Goose spread his wings. “When you’re truly able to unlock your potential, you’ll understand what’s going on. Stop nagging for now—there’s something good ahead.”
Only then did Qin Sang realize that the calling voice in her mind had become even clearer. Forgetting to argue with Grandpa Goose, she sprinted in the direction of the sound.
Then she was stunned speechless by the sight before her.
At the same time, inside the space, Qin’s parents both rubbed their eyes, thinking they were seeing things.
Qin Sang had already recovered and rushed straight toward the cluster of golden energy crystals before her.
Yes—before her lay a massive cluster of energy crystals, covering about a hundred square meters. The densely packed crystals resembled quartz, each facet gleaming with light. And all of them were metal-attributed energy crystals.
She had once obtained a transparent, unattributed energy crystal from the giant spider. Back then, Grandpa Goose had said such a thing was rare—it could promote the evolution of insects. It could also promote human evolution, but would require a very large quantity.
And this entire field was composed solely of metal-attributed energy crystals. If someone with a metal constitution absorbed this entire cluster, they’d probably ascend on the spot!
But Grandpa Goose immediately interrupted her fantasy.
“There’s something over there that barely qualifies as a decent item. Go grab it now.”
Without arguing, Qin Sang dashed to the center of the crystal cluster. There, resting silently, was a giant transparent circular insect egg—roughly her height. Since it was transparent, she could clearly see it was filled with water, and floating in the center was an ant.
It was a mutated ant egg.
If Grandpa Goose said it was a good thing, then…
Qin Sang reached out and placed her hand on the egg, intending to store it in her space. But the moment she touched it, the previously solid egg began to tremble.
At the same time, all the energy crystals suddenly lit up. A golden light shot straight into the sky, nearly blinding anyone who looked at it.
Qin Sang’s first reaction was to pull out a pair of sunglasses and put them on. Then she witnessed a truly spectacular scene.
The golden light swirled like a vortex, converging from all directions into the insect egg.
Standing right in the middle of such a display, Qin Sang could clearly feel herself being tugged by a massive energy field. But the energy didn’t hurt her—instead, because she was so close to the egg, she caught quite a bit of the residual glow.
If Qin Sang could have floated in the air like Grandpa Goose, she would have seen that the arrangement of the energy crystals formed a complex formation, with the egg—and herself—at the very center.
It felt like a long time passed, or maybe only an instant.
When Qin Sang noticed cracks beginning to form on the egg, she instinctively removed her sunglasses. She then saw all the golden energy crystals begin to fade to transparency, eventually turning to dust.
And as the crystals disappeared, the egg cracked open.
Qin Sang tried to dodge—she didn’t want to get splashed with whatever was inside. But strangely, she couldn’t move. Fortunately, before the egg could completely rupture, the mutated ant inside absorbed all the fluid.
Now, staring at the suddenly appeared, gleaming golden mutated ant before her, Qin Sang didn’t quite know what to say.
The little ant—about the length of an adult forearm—tilted its head and hopped onto her hand.
Looking into its eyes, Qin Sang could clearly sense that this little creature could communicate and was remarkably intelligent.
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