Chapter 35: The Race of a Single Being, Section 8

The Wandering Ones have a long history. If anyone could count, they would find that in this universe, they appeared long before most beings developed intelligence. But that’s just most of them. At least Core knows that intelligent life existed in this universe long before the Wandering Ones appeared. Moreover, those intelligent beings even built civilizations on par with those of today.

During that period, prosperous intelligent civilizations sprang up like mushrooms after rain, covering every corner of the universe. Similar to modern civilizations, they also had their own races and technologies. There were wars and trade among them as well. At their peak, they could even undertake interdimensional migrations.

Yet, as the saying goes, extremes lead to decline. Somehow, a powerful virus began to spread throughout the universe. All beings infected by this virus, regardless of race or civilization, would die one after another after some time. Moreover, this virus had a strong corrosive effect, capable of destroying buildings and even warships alike.

No one knew the origin of this virus, but it was speculated that it came from another dimension. The various civilizations of that time made every effort to solve the problem, but to no avail. The virus swept through the entire universe like a raging storm. Hundreds of years later, the once bustling universe fell silent once again.

All civilizations and all beings disappeared under the ravages of this virus.

According to Core’s memories, that period could be called the First Cosmic Era. And civilizations like humanity today can only be regarded as products of the Second Cosmic Era.

The Wandering Ones also appeared during the Second Cosmic Era. Logically, as the first organization among the Wandering Ones to develop self-awareness, Core shouldn’t have such memories. Yet, for some reason, it did. Deep within its cells, these memories were etched there like a brand. Along with these memories was a being.

No, or rather, not a being at all. It should be called a god. At least in Core’s understanding, such a magnificent existence could only be referred to as a god.

Because this being was the creator of the Wandering Ones. He called himself… The Last Descendant.

The imprints deep in memory are so subtle yet tenacious. Throughout past evolutionary processes, the Core knew nothing of these. It was only after recently breaking through the third stage that these imprints lifted their barriers and revealed themselves partially within the Core’s consciousness. Yet the Core never expected that, before it could even process this memory, this person had already found it.

“Father… Father God…”

No need to discern, no need to verify. Just hearing this voice filled the Core with extreme fear—a fear akin to that of a lower creature facing its master. There was no reason at all. The only thing the Core could do was obey.

Unconditional obedience.

The Core is a special cell. The biggest difference between it and humans lies not in appearance or ability, but in the contrast between nature and artificiality! Humans may be weak, but they possess the world’s most precious freedom. In contrast, though the Core is powerful, it is the opposite. When faced with its creator, no matter how a hundred times stronger it becomes, it can at most serve as a better tool for its creator.

That’s why it is now terrified… so terrified that its entire body trembles.

The Core is the heart of the Wandering Ones. Its body forms the foundation of the Wandering Ones’ race. So its trembling isn’t a big deal. Yet the entire Death Star is thrown into chaos.

After all, beneath the surface of Death Star now lies the biological tissue of the Wandering Ones. If it trembles, doesn’t that mean everything is upended?

The ground ripples like waves; the green grass cracks violently. The beautiful Mirror Lake becomes stormy. The mountains become visibly deformed. In just a few dozen seconds, the entire Death Star seems to come to life. The alien races are panicked and scatter in all directions—a scene of apocalyptic chaos. The bustling markets vanish within minutes, replaced by fully armed Blood Wolf soldiers. The high-pitched howls of the giant Blood Moon as it sweeps across the sky echo in every corner of the planet.

Death Star is the homeland of the Black-Haired. Naturally, it has a complete defense system. So although the Core’s trembling was sudden, its impact on Death Star was minimal. Planet Defense Officer Baroka quickly took control of the situation. He then immediately sought out Suri, puzzled by the sudden earthquake.

Poor Suri, though unmatched in domestic affairs, was no different from a blind person in this matter. When the two met, they were both utterly confused. After hours of discussion with no results, they finally turned their attention toward the direction of the Core.

They knew that if anyone else knew the truth about this, it would probably only be the greatest guardian of Death Star—the Core of the Wandering Clan. But now, they could no longer find the Core. Because within just five seconds after the tremors subsided, the leader of the Wandering Clan, who had just entered the third stage of evolution, suddenly disappeared. Throughout the vast domain of the Wandering Clan, no matter how hard the main computers searched, they couldn’t locate the Core’s presence. The frequency signals that used to respond instantly now sent out in vain, with no response at all. The Core seemed to have vanished as if it had never existed, disappearing from the homeland of the Wandering Clan. Meanwhile, in another dimension, the small black crystal on the black-haired man’s right wrist emitted a faint glow. The chubby Henry beside him watched the changes in the crystal with a mocking look. “Hehe… Finally found you, little thing. Who would have thought that the discarded waste I threw away back then has grown so perfectly? Hahaha! I, Henry, am truly the greatest creator in this universe!!” The black crystal flickered once, then a slightly trembling voice came through. “May I ask… are you a descendant?” “Huh!?” Henry was stunned. His raised hands froze mid-air, his small eyes wide open. After examining the black crystal carefully again, he sighed deeply. “Third stage? Little thing, you’ve reached this level?” “Yes, yes.” The Core’s voice remained unstable. Deep within its cells, a profound fear was etched there, preventing it from maintaining its usual calm. To the Core, this chubby man before it was an irresistible force. It feared him, it was terrified of him—without any reason at all. The Core didn’t know what would happen next. Its abilities, which it once took pride in, now seemed to have vanished without a trace. It even thought that if the chubby man liked it, erasing its consciousness would be as easy as raising a hand. The black-haired man on the table was still asleep, unaware of what was happening around him. His blood-stained left arm lay flat on the table, its black bones becoming increasingly blurred, almost turning into a mass of black mist. If someone could observe it under a microscope magnified hundreds of millions of times, they would find that this mass of mist was actually composed of countless fibers! Henry’s mood was now very complex.

He originally thought he had merely found a fun toy. Though it was novel, he believed he would get tired of it sooner or later and discard it without hesitation, just like the countless toys in the huge cave beneath his island. But he never expected this toy to bring him such a huge surprise. “Core” and “Wanderer” — these were their self-designations. Yet in Fat Henry’s mind, such cells had only one name: waste. Those were things he created at the beginning of his journey, when he had little knowledge and insufficient skills. The cells he made not only lacked power but also even the most basic ability to survive. Each cell had various defects and could last at most a few days before decaying. If he wasn’t mistaken, Core was a product from that time, one of the countless wastes he had made back then. But he never imagined that the Core now before him had reached the third stage — even abandoning its surface cellular structure to become a crystal. The third stage was a level far higher than that of the “Angels” outside!! In Fat Henry’s realm, the concept of “stage” wasn’t just a simple Arabic numeral “1”; it consisted of countless subtle levels! Each stage represented a revolutionary change, with a gap between them as vast as heaven and earth. A discarded cell could grow on its own to the third stage — how could this not astonish Henry?! As for assessing the Core’s rank, it was even simpler. Just as merchants on Earth used to assign trademarks to their products, Henry’s cells also had something similar — a mark carrying memories from the First Cosmic Era. It could only be accessed after entering the third stage. Since Core knew it was a descendant of the ancient race, it meant it had unlocked those memories; otherwise, it should have only felt fear. “You… possess self-sustaining capabilities?” Henry hesitated for a while before finally asking the question he wanted to know. It was also an idea that just occurred to him. Initially, when he saw the black crystal on the left wrist of the black-haired person, he didn’t think this cell was particularly special. But now he was unsure, so he had to know the answer to this question.

After all, if this cell possesses independent agency, it can no longer be regarded as a tool. It’s like the difference between humans and livestock. A cell with independent agency is in itself an entity that can communicate with anyone—even breaking down the barrier between natural and artificial!
For the first time, Fat Henry felt anticipation for his creation.
Under his eager gaze, the tiny black crystal suddenly emitted a burst of white light. Then, a timid voice sounded in his mind…
“Great Father God… Yes, indeed.”