Chapter 94: It

The next day.

The electrostatic storm mixed with silicate dust raged for exactly six hours before finally ceasing.

Captain Haneck immediately organized repair crews to descend to the lower engine room to fix the energy core cables.

On the other hand, he assembled the remaining expedition members to retrieve the two left behind at the ruins yesterday.

This matter was, frankly, absurdly funny.

Due to communication disruptions caused by the electrostatic storm, a geologist and a botanist had become lost inside the ruins.

The expedition team remained unchanged from yesterday: Elizabeth, Ford, Charlie, and David.

But just as they were about to assemble and depart, Vicks forcefully halted them.

“Wait.”

Vicks’s right cheek was swollen grotesquely, drawing startled glances; she clenched her teeth against humiliation and forced herself to sound calm: “Besides you, there are others… joining this expedition.”

“Ms. Vicks, besides us, are there other people here?” Elizabeth asked, puzzled.

“It’s me.”

Suddenly, an aged voice echoed from the corridor.

Everyone turned to look—and saw David pushing a wheelchair-bound elderly man forward, accompanied by several unfamiliar faces.

“You’re… Wieland?”

Elizabeth naturally recognized this investor—but never imagined he’d been hiding aboard the ship all along!

“Correct. I am Peter Wieland.”

Wieland acknowledged calmly, half-closing his eyelids: “I will accompany you into the ruins this time—and also this… my guest, Alvin Walshus.”

“This…”

Elizabeth hesitated.

But beside her, Charlie couldn’t help frowning: “Mr. Wieland, we discovered this ruin. Are you trying to steal our hard-won prize?”

“Mr. Harrow, mind your wording,” Wieland replied without lifting his gaze, coldly smiling: “If I hadn’t funded two trillion and provided this starship, you’d still be stuck in some cave studying cave paintings of savages. This isn’t theft—it was always mine.”

A single sentence left Charlie gasping, speechless.

“Prepare. We depart in fifteen minutes.”

Wieland completely ignored Charlie—as if he were a clown.

“That man beside you… isn’t he your illegitimate son?”

To everyone’s surprise, Charlie, seemingly defiant, insisted on provoking further.

He dared not directly offend the big investor Wieland, so he turned his barbs toward Alvin, sneering: “We’re a professional scientific team. Hope you don’t go pawing around inside the ruins and wrecking everything, kid.”

The cabin’s atmosphere instantly tightened.

Elizabeth sharply noticed—not just Vicks, but even Wieland and David—were all staring at Charlie with expressions of pity.

Alvin had zero interest in such a clown.

No wonder, in the plot, David chose exactly this guy as the “black water” test subject—he was asking for death!

He had to insult David, and David didn’t wait a night to retaliate: insulted, then fed him black water—purely self-inflicted suffering.

“Ha! Did I hit the mark?”

Charlie, thinking he’d found a weakness, ignored Elizabeth’s tugging and grew even more excited.

“I hope your mouth stays this tough after we go in, Dr. Harrow.”

Alvin glanced at him once, then turned away, ignoring the clown entirely.

Charlie, clearly furious, opened his mouth to retort.

But a cold, icy stare silenced him—Wieland’s face darkened, his voice like frost: “Charlie Harrow, if you dare slander my guest again, I’ll strip you naked and throw you out into space. Don’t believe me? Try it.”

Wieland, a man of high standing, was not joking.

If Charlie uttered another word, Wieland wouldn’t mind eliminating this foolish idiot before even entering the ruins.

Sensing Wieland’s unmistakable murderous intent, Charlie snapped his mouth shut—he wouldn’t risk his life testing whether Wieland would really toss him out.

“I invested two trillion—not to listen to your nonsense. Understood?” Wieland, though near death, still radiated terrifying authority.

Like a sickly tiger, his gaze remained fierce, sharp.

The cabin fell utterly silent.

“Change clothes. Prepare to depart.”

Wieland cast a cold glance at Charlie, silently marking him as dead.

Even if the alien life didn’t care, he would eliminate this annoying, mouthy, stupid fool after the ruin exploration ended.

Under Wieland’s pressure, everyone changed into lightweight space suits, underwent decontamination in the airlock, and set out on the expedition.

Soon, they reached the ruin’s entrance again.

With prior experience, they quickly reached the same location explored yesterday.

The ruin’s overall design resembled the interior of some living organism’s gut.

Along the corridors and floors, traces of bio-technology were visible—entirely alien to human design, fused with eerie religious motifs!

Upon entering, Charlie immediately tore off his helmet, inhaling deeply, and explained to the first-time visitor Wieland: “The air here is perfectly breathable for humans. Everyone can remove their helmets—experience the greatness of the Creator up close!”

David confirmed his claim: “The air here is indeed directly breathable.”

Yet Wieland, who should have trusted David, hesitated for a few seconds—did not remove his helmet, but turned to Alvin, as if seeking his opinion.

“Why are you looking at me?”

Alvin asked, surprised: “Take yours off if you want—I won’t. This is an unknown environment. Who knows what microbes are inside? You’re a scientific team—surely you know basic caution?”

“You’re right. Caution is wise.”

Wieland decisively kept his helmet on, then looked at the others who’d all removed theirs—and suddenly felt like he’d spent two trillion to be fooled by a bunch of idiots.

He turned back.

Found that, besides his girlfriend Elizabeth Shaw, biologist Ford, and even the android David, everyone had already resealed their helmets.

Charlie’s lips twitched; he glared venomously at Alvin, still refusing to wear his helmet: “I’ll prove to you who’s right, kid!”

After a brief disagreement, the group pressed deeper into the ruins.

Until they reached yesterday’s exploration site: a massive human-faced statue, seven or eight tenths resembling a human face, in a chamber filled with black jars.

Alvin, familiar with the plot, knew those black jars contained the planet-destroying virus… “black water.”

“Good stuff.”

Alvin thought silently.

Though black water was dangerous, from a biological perspective, its true purpose wasn’t destruction—it was creation.

In fact, the Engineers in the film didn’t create black water to destroy life, but to use it to create their god, Deacon.

Due to excessive development of biotechnology, the Engineer race lost the ability to reproduce, splitting into two factions. One faction, the Engineers, advocated using black water to create their “Creator.”

The Engineers believed Deacon’s blood would restore their reproductive ability. The Space Jockey, by contrast, was the faction that sought to destroy humanity using black water.

Yet ironically, the Engineers, who pursued creation, never succeeded in making Deacon—while the Space Jockey, obsessed with destruction, accidentally became the embryo that birthed Deacon. A cruel joke.

Suddenly, as the group scattered to explore the ruins,

Charlie collapsed stiffly, as if completely unconscious, thudding to the ground.

“Charlie? Are you alright?”

Elizabeth rushed to support him, but as she turned his head and saw the thick black veins—especially the thin, wireworm-like tendrils writhing from his eyes, mouth, nose, and ears—she let out a piercing scream!

“Ahh—!”

The scream drew everyone’s attention.

“Shaw, are you okay? What happened?” Ford, one of only two women and Elizabeth’s close friend, rushed over to help.

But as she reached for Elizabeth, she happened to glance at Charlie—her face turned deathly pale, pupils shrinking to pinpricks, and she screamed uncontrollably: “Aaaah—!”

The repeated screams unsettled Wieland.

But soon, the fallen Charlie staggered back to his feet—his spine twisting to impossible extremes, bones cracking loudly, as if something inside him was about to burst free!

“This shouldn’t be happening so fast?”

Alvin was clearly surprised, then seemed to guess the reason—he turned to David, the culprit: “How much black water did you feed him?”

“One bottle.”

David smiled politely: “I originally planned to use him as a test subject. But since he offended you, I added a bit more before entering the airlock.”

Holy hell—a whole bottle!

David wasn’t taking any chances—he’d given Charlie a lethal dose!

Charlie would never know he’d been killed simply because he couldn’t shut his mouth.

I have an embarrassing problem: hemorrhoids. My draft is almost gone. I’m editing while writing. I’ll try my best to hit ten thousand words today. I’m so unlucky—these past few days, I can’t sit, I can’t walk without pain, and all I think about is my ass.