Chapter 90: Picking the Fruit

Ji Cheng silently made a note in his heart: he must pay special attention to searching for gene prototypes produced with it later.

“What is desiccated moss?” Shauna emerged from her wrist-computer, her bright eyes sparkling as she looked at Ji Cheng with a cheerful smile.

Her melodious voice resonated directly in his mind. She still appeared in a mode invisible to others; in the next moment, she floated off the ground, clinging to Ji Cheng like a soft cluster of seaweed.

“It’s a type of moss with remarkable regenerative abilities. It can be used to create gene prototypes.”

Ji Cheng walked on nonchalantly; after all, Shauna had only a tactile presence and no weight. Even in emergencies, her presence wouldn’t slow down his ability to draw his blade.

“You seem really pleased. Is this prototype very powerful?” Shauna gently pressed her cheek against his neck.

Ji Cheng paused at her words, responding with a dry laugh in his mind, “Not really…”

Gene Prototype—Desiccated Moss didn’t significantly enhance combat strength. Its life resonance merely cleared free radicals and greatly extended cell lifespan; few people ever used it.

But the path it enabled was perfectly suited for Lynx.

“If you inject the Desiccated Moss prototype at Tier Two, you can transition at Tier Three to the Lynx’s classic Bloodthirsty Bacillus path, reaching up to Tier Seven at most.”

“Tier Seven?” Shauna looked somewhat confused. “And I don’t really understand that classic path either.”

“That’s normal,” Ji Cheng shrugged. “You’re not a transmigrant, after all.”

“A transmigrant?”

“No need to worry about that.”

Data Ether Bodies’ memories couldn’t be read by outsiders, and their loyalty was beyond question, so Ji Cheng was much less restrained around them. Even if they knew he was a transmigrant, it wouldn’t cause any trouble.

“I’ll definitely be going with the Mechanical Legion build in the future. The main factors affecting combat strength are wealth and knowledge level. Physical prowess isn’t critical for me—if I can barely reach Tier Seven and qualify for a noble title, that’s enough.”

As he moved slowly with the team, Ji Cheng explained the basics to Shauna in his mind.

In true interstellar war, individual power was compressed to the extreme. Even Tier Eight gene prototypes couldn’t withstand the oceanic tide of mechanical soldiers and titanic warships from legion builds.

Without shield bias or energy barriers, mere flesh and blood was no match; a single standard ship cannon could teach them humility.

Of course, if one managed to inject a Tier Eight gene prototype, it would actually be very helpful for those commanding mechanical armies.

But the benefit wasn’t in physical strength—it was all about the myriad ‘life resonance’ effects.

Hearing this, Shauna asked, “If it’s useful, why not find a path that leads to Tier Eight? Higher-tier prototypes should help you get that noble title, right?”

“It would help.” Ji Cheng confirmed, though his tone was unconcerned. “But Tier Seven is enough for ennoblement. As long as I earn some more merit for the empire, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

She became anxious, firing off questions: “But what if others all have Tier Eight prototypes, and you only have Tier Seven? Wouldn’t that be a big disadvantage?”

Ji Cheng couldn’t answer that. He had his pride and wasn’t willing to admit he simply didn’t have the resources.

Tier Eight gene prototypes…

Where would he even find one?

The creation of high-tier gene prototypes was extraordinarily difficult. Not only did it require a vast amount of advanced knowledge, but every material used was precious beyond compare—some unique in the entire universe, meaning only one such prototype could ever exist.

Beyond that, the greater challenge lay in the path.

The higher the tier, the stricter the path requirements. You might luck into a high-tier prototype, but if your path didn’t match, the injection would surely fail.

Most people lost their chance from the very beginning.

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First-tier gene prototypes varied wildly in quality, and many didn’t offer any path to Tiers Seven or Eight.

Lynx did have such a path, but Ji Cheng never considered reaching Tier Eight. Even within the Galactic Empire, there were only a handful who had ever injected a Tier Eight prototype.

The ruler of the Weiyang Star Palace had managed it, perhaps a few battle-hardened dukes too, but the generals guarding strategic border posts likely hadn’t.

It was just too rare.

Each tier’s prototype had to fit a specific Tier Eight path, and in the end, you needed the exact Tier Eight prototype for your path.

Coming from a poor, remote background, dreaming of such things was unrealistic.

Better to focus on nurturing Data Ether Bodies and rely on machines for future battles.

Shauna, seeing Ji Cheng silent for so long, thought she’d accidentally said something wrong. She covered her mouth, not daring to ask further.

“There’s a round, chirping object over here—I don’t know what it does. Ji Cheng, why don’t you come take a look?” Before Ji Cheng could clear his thoughts, Centipede called out excitedly.

“Where?” Ji Cheng asked.

“Right ahead,” Centipede replied, stepping aside. “You’re probably the most knowledgeable among us.”

Ji Cheng switched places with Centipede and saw a barely noticeable circular platform on the ground, raised about five centimeters. He paused, grinning widely.

“It’s a neural current amplifier—if I’m not mistaken, it’s used to communicate with the cluster intelligence of the Hive Laboratory.”

Cluster intelligence was a relatively rare artificial intelligence, usually employed in highly confidential labs or bases. In truth, it was simple and low-level, not even qualifying as an intelligent lifeform.

The advantage of simplicity was reliability: rarely malfunctioning, massive information capacity, easy maintenance, and extremely long service life.

The downside? Easy to fool, easy to crash!

“So that’s what it is. What a pity—if the power wasn’t out, we could connect and see what’s inside.” Centipede sighed.

“Don’t say that. Home air conditioners are all wired separately, so there’s a good chance we can still start it up.” Ji Cheng stepped onto the platform.

—Hello, please swipe your ID card.

A magnetic floating card slot rose from the round platform, its lights blinking in midair. At its center was a narrow rectangular slot, perfectly sized for an ID card.

“It actually works!” Centipede exclaimed. “Quick, swipe your card!”

Swipe my foot.

Ji Cheng lowered his tactical visor, swaggering as he activated the planetary local network access module. He silently thought, “Shauna, help me connect to the intrusion interface.”

Neither the blue researcher’s card nor the white assistant’s card would grant access to the main hive—all swiping an ID card would do is get you killed.

Who knows what traps would spring the next second.

—Connection established. Quick-crack program loaded. Please select buffer zone.

The electronic voice reverberated through the hive.

“You’re going to crack this?” Centipede’s expression froze.

“This is the Hive Lab’s core intelligence, right? How could anyone breach it?” Lei Junming said stiffly.

The others, blocked from seeing directly, nonetheless grasped what was happening from their words.

“Maybe we should just keep searching slowly. If the crack fails, who knows what could happen.”

“Uh…”

“I think trusting Ji Cheng is the right call.”

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Even with Ji Cheng’s current reputation, there were still a few dissenting voices.

Beep beep beep—

Suddenly, alarms sounded, interrupting their debate. Everyone tensed, eyelids twitching furiously, staring at Ji Cheng.

“No need to worry, nothing will go wrong,” Ji Cheng said with a confident smile. “Connecting to the cluster intelligence via the neural current amplifier is like entering its body directly—the firewall won’t work.”

“All you need to do is crash it. Watch and see.”

Ji Cheng linked the planetary network access module to his computer, opened the light screen, and together with Shauna launched an attack on the cluster intelligence.

……

Inside the main hive chamber, everyone watched Ji Cheng’s back as he tapped away at the virtual light screen.

“Ji Cheng is just unbelievable,” Fu Ting couldn’t help but sigh. “What kind of mind does he have? It’s terrifying. So young, yet so capable, and he knows everything about the mining district. Plus, he’s skilled at network intrusion—it’s almost freakish.”

“Absolutely freakish,” Lei Junming nodded repeatedly. “I still can’t figure out how he took down that Clawed Beast.”

“I’m really glad we’re on his team,” Centipede laughed. “He’s the mining district’s jack of all trades—following him, you don’t even need to think. Just obey orders and everything gets sorted.”

At his words, everyone burst out laughing.

“Exactly! If you don’t bring a few certified mining professionals, you’re totally lost in the mines. How does a talent like him even find time to learn all this?” Yu Yin from Blackwater Hanging City said with a grin.

Relationships between ability-users were straightforward.

Having faced life and death together, their bonds had grown much closer, and he no longer acted aloof as he had at first.

“He’s not just good at network intrusion; he’s also an expert in mechanical engineering!” Zhang Jing’e suddenly spoke up, her face flushed.

???

Zhang Lingfei, who knew her well, was stunned.

Weren’t you always quiet and shy? What’s gotten into you today?

The others laughed even harder, unlike Zhang Lingfei, who was oblivious to emotions—they understood immediately, glancing from Zhang Jing’e to Luo Rao.

Ji Cheng’s so-called “sister” was far too intimate with him, their behavior exceeding the bounds of normal sibling affection.

Now, Zhang Jing’e’s reaction clearly showed her fondness for Ji Cheng—what would happen next?

A love triangle?

They were all curious.

“Sorry…” Zhang Jing’e, having said her piece, seemed to lose all courage, apologizing in a low voice and shrinking behind Zhang Lingfei.

Luo Rao, on the other hand, smiled with her eyes, a hint of delight on her lips.

She didn’t seem angry? Everyone was surprised.

That shouldn’t be…

Luo Rao quickly sidled up to Zhang Jing’e, writing and drawing on her wrist-computer, communicating by text.

[Luo Rao: Sister Jing’e, do you need me to play matchmaker? I’m very professional.]