"In the early stages of gastric cancer, the chances of recovery are quite high. But now that it has progressed to the middle stages, the odds are much lower. Still, if you continue with active treatment, there's a possibility that—"
"No. I want to be discharged."
More than two hours later, Xu Zhi stepped out of the hospital. Months of chemotherapy had left him frail—his hair was thinning, his skin pale, and his body withered. He looked like a ghost of the man he once was.
In the early stages of cancer, survival was within reach. But once it advanced, the chances plummeted. Continuing treatment felt pointless now.
He walked on in silence, a heavy stillness in his chest.
Xu Zhi had once worked for a prominent multinational company, diligent and capable. Over four or five years, he'd saved half a million yuan—but now, more than half of it had been devoured by his illness. All those years of toil had bought him nothing but a terminal diagnosis and barely 200,000 yuan in the bank.
He had never truly lived. He'd never pursued his passions or desires. His life had been dull, monotonous... mechanical.
Dragging a small suitcase behind him, he bought a high-speed rail ticket and made his way back to his hometown—Dongcheng. After half a day of travel, and a bumpy bus ride to the outskirts, he arrived at the place he once called home.
A weathered farmhouse sat at the edge of a small orchard, surrounded by a wide courtyard. It had been over a year since he'd last seen it.
His parents had passed away early. But thanks to their ancestral estate, they'd once belonged to the upper tier of village society. Xu Zhi remembered those years fondly—quiet, peaceful days. Yet, blinded by ambition, he'd sacrificed the time he could have spent with them. Now, with death looming, the irony cut deep.
The orchard, untended for years, had become a tangle of weeds and thorns. Dust coated the door. As he stepped inside, a familiar scent of earth and wood filled his lungs.
He dropped his luggage at the entrance.
He was home.
"I still have water and electricity," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "A bit of cleaning, and it'll be livable."
After scrubbing down the dust-caked bedroom, Xu Zhi collapsed onto the bed, panting.
Kiriririri.
A strange sound echoed outside.
"Huh? What's that ringing in the yard?"
He got up and followed the sound into the overgrown orchard. Amidst the weeds, a jet-black beetle the size of a washbasin sat motionless.
It was unnaturally round.
Its surface shimmered with a darkness so pure it seemed to absorb light itself—like a black hole pulling his gaze inward.
"What the hell is this...?"
He reached toward it.
Swish.
In an instant, his consciousness was wrenched away, plunging into a sea of alien memories.
They belonged to a race known as the Tyranis.
They had once ruled a distant green world, experiencing an evolutionary burst like Earth's Cambrian explosion. These ancient insectoids gained sentience, built civilizations, and reached for the stars. Their immense reproductive power and genetic potential pushed their species to the apex of technological advancement.
But they were born on a barren, resource-starved planet.
In time, they pierced the veil of dimensions—and discovered Eternia, a realm of fantasy.
They declared war.
And they lost.
The native beings of Eternia were incomprehensibly powerful, gods in mortal forms. The Tyranis were annihilated.
"What a tragedy," Xu Zhi whispered.
Compared to the fall of such a grand civilization, his own death seemed insignificant.
He laughed softly, lifting the beetle—no, the Hive Mother—in his hands.
The once-glorious queen who had waged war across galaxies was now broken and dying.
"Well then, my lady," he said with a grin. "Since we're both on death's doorstep, do you have any last words?"
Last words?
How long had it been since a living creature dared speak to her like that?
The dying Hive Mother blinked slowly. The fragile being before her... was calm. Unafraid.
She studied him—and then chuckled.
So be it.
In the face of death, all were equal. It didn't matter whether one was an emperor or an insect. Dust to dust.
She saw in Xu Zhi a kindred spirit—another soul awaiting the void.
"You want my last words?" she said, voice echoing like a whisper in his mind. "I've lived for eons. I was a Creator, a god among mortals. I shaped worlds, witnessed the rise and fall of countless empires."
"But to be brief…"
"Evolution doesn't lie in size. Strength and independence—that is the true path."
"Our mistake was in growing larger. We believed that greater mass meant greater power. But true evolution lies in compression—in mastering energy in smaller forms."
"This world is poor and barren. But I will leave you the coordinates and the path. Become the next Creator. Conquer Eternia in my stead."
.
Xu Zhi blinked.
"What...?"
Was she delirious?
He waited. Minutes passed.
Then he realized: she had transferred her authority.
He now possessed control over the final Tyranis Hive hidden within her body.
Sitting in a chair in the courtyard, holding the basin-sized beetle, Xu Zhi began to process the memories flooding his mind.
The Tyranis had one incredible racial trait:
Accelerated cell division.
It drastically shortened their lifespans—but allowed them to evolve at breakneck speeds. They could be born, grow, reproduce, and die in days.
Like a spark in dry grass.
"But rapid division also means rapid evolution..." Xu Zhi whispered.
Earth took 3.8 billion years to produce sentient life. The Cambrian explosion happened only 500 million years ago. Humans appeared just a few million years back.
Now, all of that could be compressed into mere days.
"This... this changes everything."
He stared at the Hive Mother.
In her prime, she could terraform barren planets. She would release spores, spread cells, and birth entire species across a world in months.
An unstoppable evolutionary engine.
He glanced at the courtyard—at the small pond and the messy, overgrown land.
Xu Zhi's lips curled upward.
"I can't replicate an entire planet... but what if I started small?"
A spark of inspiration.
"I could use the pond as a primordial ocean… then terraform the yard—make mountains, rivers, deserts. A miniature Earth. Let the Tyranis spores evolve freely within it."
A grin stretched across his face.
He would build a world.