The more insects people killed, the more capable individuals began to emerge.
“Someone actually took down two mutant earthworms with just a Labrador!”
Early that morning, while Qin Sang was having breakfast, her mother scrolled through a short video on her phone showing someone killing mutant earthworms.
In the video, a young woman in her twenties commanded a mutant Labrador over 1.5 meters tall in a battle against two mutant earthworms over three meters long.
During the fight, the woman wielded a laser sword and coordinated seamlessly with her Labrador. Though she sustained some injuries, she ultimately triumphed over the two third-stage mutant earthworms.
“That’s seriously impressive!” Qin Sang watched the video her mother shared, gave it a like, and even tipped the poster 10 points.
Naturally, the poster was the young woman in the video.
After all the suffering, countless talented individuals had risen to the occasion. Not only did they fight, but they also shared their battle videos online. Some, daring and highly skilled, even started livestreaming mid-battle.
Whenever Qin Sang came across such people, she’d always tip them—she genuinely admired their courage and ability.
Moreover, thanks to these videos and livestreams, the public’s mentality toward mutant insects had shifted once again.
People had psychologically overcome their fear of insects. Plus, killing insects earned points and tips—a welcome benefit in the current environment, since most people had lost their jobs due to the disasters.
“After breakfast, your father and I are teaming up with the villagers to patrol the area,” Qin’s mother said contentedly after watching the video.
Qin Sang didn’t think much of it. She knew her parents’ capabilities well. They might not be able to one-shot enemies, but as long as there weren’t too many mutant insects, they’d generally be fine.
“If you run into real danger, just have Little Gold handle it.”
Yes, whenever her parents went out, Qin Sang made sure Little Gold tagged along. Little Gold wasn’t easy to raise—it didn’t care much for ordinary human food, finding it lacking in energy. It either hunted on its own or subsisted on energy cores and crystals.
So whoever went out took it with them. It served as both a bodyguard and a self-sufficient hunter—what a good little one.
“I’m about to head into the space to organize supplies. Don’t wander too far—stick with Fa Ge and the others.”
“I’ll make sure to keep an eye on your mother,” Qin’s father muttered slyly from the side.
“What’s there to watch with me? I’m plenty capable!”
“Right, right, you’re the most capable. Then how about you keep an eye on me instead?”
Qin Sang, eating her breakfast at the table, watched her parents banter and suddenly felt that her fragrant barbecued pork noodle soup wasn’t so appetizing anymore.
—
“Oof—”
As soon as Qin Sang entered the space, a cat weighing over ten pounds landed in her arms.
Though, calling it “Little Tabby” now felt a bit off—its size was definitely trending toward “chonky.”
“You’ve been eating and drinking well in the space for so long now. Later when I go out hunting, I’m taking you with me.”
Little Tabby: “Finally! The meow shall hunt to feed the poop-scooper!”
“Huh…” Qin Sang heard the cute little girl’s voice suddenly pop into her head and was utterly stunned.
“Oh my, why are the poop-scooper’s eyes bugging out like an ox’s? Scared the meow to death…”
Qin Sang: …
She looked down at the expressive cat in her arms, then glanced around her surroundings.
“Don’t bother looking—it’s this cat right here.”
Grandpa Goose appeared out of nowhere and extended a wing to tap Little Tabby.
“Meow…”
Little Tabby heard Grandpa Goose’s words and immediately looked up at Qin Sang, meowing softly.
Qin Sang: … Such a cute little kitty.
“Grandpa Goose, can I sign a beast-taming contract with Little Tabby?”
Little Tabby had only recently evolved into a mutant animal. But a cat that had only undergone one evolution was still a baby.
So Qin Sang hadn’t taken it out to fight mutant insects yet—she wanted it to absorb more energy in the space and grow stronger first.
“Of course you can! Why not? It all depends on whether it’s willing!”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the lively voice rang out in Qin Sang’s head again, before she could even try to coax the cat: “I want it! I want it! I wanna sign a contract with Sang Sang!”
Qin Sang was overjoyed. She extended her finger toward Little Tabby.
Little Tabby stared at the familiar finger, tilted its head, and was full of question marks.
Qin Sang had the exact same expression as she looked at Grandpa Goose. Wait—wasn’t signing a beast-taming contract just a matter of offering your finger, having the beast bite it, and the contract appearing?
Grandpa Goose slapped his forehead in utter exasperation.
“Let this little kitten awaken its inherited memories first!”
Qin Sang: …
Wasn’t that supposed to be some high-tier thing? How did an ordinary house cat have inherited memories?
Sensing Qin Sang’s confusion, Grandpa Goose didn’t answer. Some things were better left unsaid—the person involved would figure out the reason soon enough.
Qin Sang understood. She didn’t press further—asking wouldn’t help anyway. So she let Little Tabby go play. Worried it might get bored, she asked the little grass seed if it wanted to join in. And just like that, a casual question turned into a playdate between the grass seed and Little Tabby in the space.
They were playing a game of cat-chases-dandelion-seed.
Who knew that a cat and a dandelion seed could actually play together like that! Back in the day, the classic combo was always a cat chasing butterflies.
After sending the two little ones off to play, Qin Sang began organizing the mutant insect parts she’d collected over this period—insect legs, insect fangs, insect shells, and the like. Everything looked particularly gruesome due to their massive size.
Aside from those, there was a large vat of energy cores.
These cores were all ones she’d harvested herself. The ones her parents had collected, Qin Sang had them keep in their own spatial realms.
Grabing over a dozen energy cores at random, Qin Sang walked over and placed them next to the dragon egg that resembled sago pudding.
Over this period, she’d been doing this every one or two days.
Thanks to her diligent feeding, the dragon egg had grown from the size of a sago pearl to that of a quail egg. Truly a cause for celebration!
After organizing the supplies, Qin Sang took Little Tabby and the little grass seed and left the space.
By then, it was past one in the afternoon.
Her parents hadn’t come back in the meantime—they’d likely eaten with the patrol team.
Earlier, no one dared to eat outside for fear of being parasitized by mutant parasites.
But ever since the authorities launched various insect-repellent packs and insect-repellent sprays, and with spatial ability users no longer fearing mutant insects, life had gradually returned to something resembling normal.
After a solo lunch, Qin Sang headed out with Little Tabby and the little grass seed.
“Little grass seed, which direction—north, south, east, or west—is best to go?”
The little grass seed, perched behind Qin Sang’s ear, chirped: “East, east…”
“Alright, east it is.”
The midday sun was still brutally harsh, with temperatures approaching the 100-degree mark—but never quite reaching it. The roads and buildings along the way all had that post-apocalyptic wasteland aesthetic.
Their village was an urban village with thousands of residents, including original inhabitants and relatives who’d moved in. The fact that the buildings had decayed so quickly showed just how different this world had become from the old one.
Based on Qin Sang’s observations, the destruction of buildings and roads was largely caused by mutant insects.
So mutants insects were universally despised. The fact that she kept a mutant ant as a bodyguard didn’t sit well with some insect-hating zealots.
Of course, none of that bothered Qin Sang.
She found a good spot and began training Little Tabby on how to fight mutant insects.
As for the lazy little grass seed, it remained motionless behind her ear the entire time. If not for the occasional reminders popping into her head, Qin Sang would have suspected it was a plastic bug.
Her luck was particularly good today. In just three hours, Qin Sang had bagged over twenty mutant insects.
Indeed, the more she killed, the more efficient she became. She’d always been strong, but her kill speed hadn’t been this fast before.
This just went to show that everyone’s abilities had improved more than just a little. It was such a pity about all those ordinary people who’d been killed off by the various disasters.
She thought today would pass smoothly. But just as she was about to head back, that eerie energy field swept across the world once more.
Qin Sang immediately went on high alert, though her scalp still prickled with unease.
She quickly called Xu Lin. The call rang and was rejected. She didn’t try again, knowing he was likely occupied, and immediately sent him a message.
“I suspect the black energy masses are about to appear again…”
After sending the message, Qin Sang hurriedly called her parents, telling them to get home immediately. Fa Ge was with them too, so she had him take the phone and relay her suspicions—stop patrolling, gather everyone, and take shelter at home.
Last time, the insects had suddenly evolved, causing massive casualties.
This time, no one knew what would happen.
Over at Xu Lin’s side, the Academy of Sciences had already detected the anomalous energy field the moment it appeared—identical to the one that preceded the black energy masses. They naturally didn’t dare take it lightly.
They immediately notified the relevant departments, and many were called into an emergency meeting.
Xu Lin attended as well. His task was to monitor public sentiment and guide people to safety in an orderly manner.
After receiving his assignments, Xu Lin stepped out, saw Qin Sang’s message, and had been planning to alert her anyway. Seeing she’d already figured it out, he sent a quick reply before diving into his urgent work.
The authorities also issued an emergency notification right after the meeting adjourned.
The air-raid sirens blared once again.
By the time the sirens sounded, Qin’s father, Qin’s mother, and the other villagers had already made it back.
They’d learned from past experience—they knew Qin Sang’s warnings were vital.
When the sirens went off, everyone sprinted home as if their feet were on fire, hurriedly reinforcing their houses and huddling together with their families.
“Day after day—it just never lets us have any peace.”
Qin’s mother returned home, saw her daughter was already there, and let out a sigh of relief—though she still couldn’t help grumbling.
The official insect-eradication campaign had been going smoothly. Now it seemed there’d be more upheaval.
Qin Sang: “No one can predict this kind of thing. At least this time we had some warning—the death toll shouldn’t be too high.”
That was what she said, but in reality, the Qin family didn’t head to the basement for shelter. Instead, they stood on the second-floor balcony, watching the sky through the glass.
It was around four in the afternoon. The sky was still bright and blue, the sun still blazing hot.
Then, without warning, familiar black fissures appeared across the azure sky.
Qin Sang’s heart sank. The feeling was even worse than when she’d first encountered mutant insects. Back then, she’d felt a constant tightness in her chest—a sensation that only faded after she’d grown accustomed to the insects’ energy fields.
Now, that long-missed chest tightness and shortness of breath had returned.
Then the black fissures began to stir.
But what emerged this time wasn’t the black energy masses—it was a swarm of never-before-seen, hideous insects.
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