Chapter 517

Lin Xian stared at the bare, gleaming figure before him—Chu Yan—and a flood of complex emotions surged in his chest. He had countless questions, deep worries; he and she had once been comrades-in-arms, partners whose minds were perfectly aligned. But now, the first words he heard when he saw her again were: for him to eat her.

He instinctively tried to interpret “eat” in some other way, but Lin Xian’s nature swiftly anchored the most bizarre and literal possible meaning.

Even so, he asked back:

“You… what?”

“Trust me, this is the fastest way,” Chu Yan said, gazing at Lin Xian with profound intent, then sweeping her eyes across the sea and mountains of this strange planet: “If you don’t want to waste more time—or be eaten by them, like I was, and lose some essential perception forever.”

Lin Xian narrowed his eyes, looking down at the strange creatures devouring the valley below and the absurd, indescribable scene, then spoke to Chu Yan:

“I know this is a game, but I won’t eat you. I don’t know why you’re here in this game—but no matter the cost, I will get you out.”

Chu Yan’s expression darkened. She averted her gaze from Lin Xian. After a long silence, she whispered: “Why?”

“What else could it be?” Lin Xian smiled lightly, earnestly: “Because of revolutionary camaraderie. Because our minds were one. Because we’re comrades—and comrades who fought naked together!”

Chu Yan suddenly laughed at his words. She lifted her head and gazed quietly at Lin Xian. In her eyes, Lin Xian had never seen such feminine tenderness from this Wangpai of the North American United Front—and he felt a pang of surprise.

“Come on!”

At that moment, Chu Yan seized Lin Xian’s hand. Silently, they slipped through thickets of strange vegetation, crossing hills and forests until they reached a ridge atop a coastal peak, hiding behind several enormous, vividly colored flower cores.

“Look.”

Chu Yan tugged his wrist—her fingertips cold yet radiating undeniable strength—guiding his gaze toward the vast expanse of blue far away. Lin Xian obeyed. Beneath the strange skylight, the surging ocean shimmered with an incomparable deep blue, waves crashing into a thousand piles of foam, as if brimming with boundless life and mystery.

But the next instant, a suffocating anomaly struck without warning. As the incomprehensibly vast, towering entity in the sky slowly descended, the moment its colossal shadow touched the sea, the entire ocean twisted violently! The radiant blue faded and dissolved before his eyes—as if an invisible hand had instantly drained all color and liquid essence. In its place appeared a horrifying, boundless expanse of pure white flesh.

It was no longer an ocean—it was a face, stretching thousands of miles, unimaginably vast. It surfaced silently where the sea had been, skin smooth as fat, yet cold and utterly lifeless. Its contours were blurred, abstract, bearing an inhuman indifference.

Along its edges, countless arms, tentacles, or twisted limbs—like colossal pillars—exploded violently through the “face,” stabbing toward the heavens. Each swing churned space, shaking the earth beneath them with thunderous tremors.

In the midst of this cataclysmic quake, the abyssal mouth—occupying the absolute center of the “face”—opened silently, yet with a terrifying gravitational pull that devoured all. The colossal being in the sky, before that monstrous mouth, appeared tiny and fragile, like a bird falling into an endless abyss. No earth-shattering collision, no dying cries—only the sound of flesh being consumed. The sky’s giant entity was instantly swallowed by the white “sea” mouth, vanishing without a trace.

The moment the consumption ended, the vast fleshly face—now seemingly nourished by something ineffable—became sharper, more “perfect.” A cold, surging, sacred radiance erupted from every inch of its skin, every colossal limb. The light was blindingly pure, yet carried a revolting, abyssal corruption—and instantly dyed the entire coast, mountains, and sky with a terrifying divine halo.

Lin Xian’s heart clenched as if gripped by an invisible fist. Witnessing this overwhelming, mind-shattering spectacle, his pupils shrank violently from sheer shock. He blurted out:

“What the hell is going on?”

Chu Yan gazed at Lin Xian, her eyes shifting like a deep pool, flowing with unspeakable complexity. She reached out, embracing him tightly. Her warm breath brushed his ear. Her voice, hoarse yet clear: “Want to know?”

Before Lin Xian could react, Chu Yan’s arms, gentle yet resolute, gently pushed him backward. They tumbled into the center of the enormous, strange flower core. Soft filaments beneath them formed a natural bed, and the giant petals instantly closed, gently enclosing them, cutting off the bizarre world outside, forming a safe, private space.

Lin Xian felt his consciousness thrown into a turbulent vortex of starlight—his mind spinning, shattered. Chu Yan’s warm body pressed against him—but now, it was no longer flesh. It became a roaring flood of information, crashing through his mental defenses with brutal force, flooding in.

Everything vanished. Lin Xian’s perspective was ripped away—as if his soul had been forcibly shoved into Chu Yan’s vision. Then, infinite shards of light and shadow exploded and reassembled before his “eyes,” like the birth of the universe. The river of time swept him along, rushing backward through countless eons at a suffocating speed.

He saw a scorching, barren primordial planet. In boiling oceans, the simplest organic matter collided and coalesced under lightning and geothermal heat… the spark of life ignited quietly in chaos.

Billions of years compressed into an instant. Single-celled organisms drifted and split in ancient seas. Strange cephalopods and arthropods emerged in warm shallows, crawled onto muddy shores, clumsily conquering land. Spines evolved, scaled fish leapt from water, grew four limbs, crawled beneath fern forests.

Images flashed rapidly. Furry mammals rose from the dust of dinosaur extinction. Nimble claws began grasping tools. Dazed eyes reflected fire from trees struck by lightning.

The scene focused: a group of thick-furred primitives hunted giant beasts with crude stone spears and bone tools. By the fire, they uttered ambiguous guttural sounds. Primitive murals etched the first marks of civilization onto rock walls.

Time raced on. Settlements grew into villages. From matriarchal clans with pottery and worship, to patriarchal tribes with bronze and war. Fields crisscrossed. Feudal capitals rose majestic. Iron cavalry trampled smoke. Ancient epics echoed through bards’ voices.

Steam-powered beasts roared in mines and factories. Gears ground. Smoke choked the sky. Steel rails stretched endlessly into the distance.

The light-stream of the information age instantly drowned all. Data torrents surged through invisible networks. Massive starships broke planetary gravity, sailing into infinite deep space. Towering structures—perfect geometric forms, neither metal nor stone—rose on alien planets, piercing cosmic vacuum, receiving energy converted from stars by the celestial veil and transmitted via microwaves to the ground—this was the origin of the Tower Civilization.

The scene froze inside the grand Tower. Precision synthesis factories hummed silently. Thick nutrient fluid, rich with all essential substances, flowed steadily from pipes. As Lin Xian saw this, Chu Yan’s cold voice echoed in his ear.

“What you’re seeing is simulated from a human perspective—not the true Towerers. Even our civilization’s evolution is simulated. But the meaning is the same.”

“The Towerers succeeded in synthesizing all nutrients cheaply. Through new technologies and population control, they eliminated hunger, extended lifespans, and gained efficient communication. Society became far more stable.”

The scene shifted. Before Lin Xian appeared a magnificent, vibrant, orderly city—a civilization more advanced and glorious than the 807th Civilization under the Wisdom Doctrine. Billions of humans were freed from hunger, possessed near-infinite energy and productivity, and entered an era of unparalleled happiness.

Chu Yan’s voice continued: “Then the Towerers began seeking the path to eternal happiness: how to achieve everlasting peace, eternal and renewable resources, and self-iterating wisdom and technology to drive civilization. But… they discovered that to reach this goal, they must eliminate communication barriers—including individual differences, desires, and malice.”

Lin Xian frowned: “Can you even eliminate that?”

“They found a way.”

The scene changed. Lin Xian stood inside a vast, precise laboratory. Rows upon rows of nutrient chambers held countless living humans—half male, half female, all ages, races, nations. Lin Xian frowned.

“Why conduct biochemical experiments to eliminate human malice?”

“Because the Towerers realized: to eliminate individual differences, malice, and selfish desire, the core elements were gender, desire, pain, and death. Eliminate these at the biological level, and you forge the foundation of an eternal civilization. They called it the Homogenized Life Body. And it had another name…”

“Angel.”

“Angel??” Lin Xian was stunned: “You don’t mean those bizarre creatures I just saw?”

“Yes,” Chu Yan replied.

The scene shifted again. After countless years, the Homogenized Life Body technology advanced rapidly. On gene-editing tables, sexual traits were erased. Neural-blocking techniques severed nerves of pain and death. Human gender vanished. Bodies merged. When reproduction ceased, the final surviving humans became the “Final Life.” These beings merged endlessly—without [social needs] or [reproductive needs], angels lost all aesthetics and form, changing chaotically. Thus, the “angel” form became irregular.

“Angels are carefree, desireless. Through mutual consumption and fusion, they communicate. This devouring and merging allows knowledge, joy, and happiness to blend between individuals—no pain, no sorrow. And their lifespans approach infinity…”

A new scene appeared: the “life” of these angels. No language, no conflict—only slow, ritualistic approaches. When one angel gently embraced another, their bodies softened, merged. The embraced one’s face retained its eternal, satisfied smile—showing no pain. Their body melted like warm wax, slowly absorbed and devoured by the crystalline Qugan of the other.

At the moment of fusion, the devourer’s body glowed brighter, its form more perfect. New, blurred facial contours emerged on its torso. No sorrow, no screams—only a strange, silent tranquility and satisfaction passed between them. This was their “communication,” their “sharing of happiness.”

“So this civilization is just reverting to the age of beasts? How could it develop?” Lin Xian couldn’t comprehend. He thought of the colossal beast in the sky—now he realized, perhaps it was the fusion of billions of humans. And the even more terrifying face in the sea? Perhaps the geometric form of tens of billions.

Then he suddenly remembered what Chen Yanxiu had told him in the submarine base: “When all life merges into one.” Now he understood.