Translator: AnubisTL
TL/N: Before starting this chapter, I would like to apologize for some of the mistakes in the numbers, there was an issue because I was mixing up trillions, and quadrillions… I have tried to fix them going forward to the best of my abilities. Thank You!
The news of the "Heavenly Palace" had spread through the Nami Civilization like a virus, proving nearly impossible to contain. More and more people learned of its existence.
But in an instant, the news vanished from every corner of the internet. The AI Mainframe locked the account IDs of everyone who had seen the information, imposing a mandatory gag order with First-Level Alert severity.
An advanced civilization possessed not only superior offensive capabilities but also multifaceted strategies, such as comprehensive information control.
Regions where the news had spread widely were placed under full-scale alert.
The planet housing the "Heavenly Palace" entered global First-Level Alert. All external communications were severed, every wormhole entry and exit point was sealed, and contact with the outside world was completely cut off.
This level of martial law, known as First-Level Combat Alert, typically indicated a civilization-threatening crisis within the civilization itself.
Such a state had only been declared twice in the Nami Civilization's history.
The first time was during the Nami Civilization's advancement from a Fourth-Tier Civilization to a Fifth-Tier Civilization.
The second time was during the revolution initiated by the current leader of the Nami Civilization, when the upper echelons were in turmoil.
The third time is now.
"..."
The head of the Fengtian Auction House, a slightly aged elder, stood by the window, sensing the changes in the outside world. His expression was complex as he remained silent, relying on his own intelligence channels.
When a person possesses vast wealth, even if they desire nothing, countless individuals will flock to them, eager to offer various services.
Any information.
If he wishes to know it, he can always obtain it immediately.
The price is merely a trivial sum of his wealth, for money is the one thing he lacks least.
He already knew the meaning of the patterns on the nine colossal pillars of the Heavenly Palace, and he was also aware that even the Nami Civilization's most advanced spatial fluctuation detectors had detected no anomalies.
This object had not been transported through a wormhole, nor had it emerged from the Pseudo-Fourth-Dimensional Space, nor had it suddenly teleported into existence.
It had simply appeared in the sky above the planet with utter normalcy.
Without any spatial disturbance whatsoever.
The Nami Civilization was a Fifth-Tier Civilization, considered relatively powerful even by universal standards. Yet they possessed no means to deploy an object into a specific zone without any spatial disturbances.
He felt slightly more at ease than the others.
He knew more.
This Heavenly Palace wasn't the target of some God-Tier Civilization, nor had it been discarded by another civilization. It was merely a "Cosmic Gift" drawn to his Desk, theoretically making the Palace his property.
Just then—
The desk lamp flickered faintly.
The old man immediately understood and returned to the Desk, pulling open the drawer. As expected, a new Cosmic Forbidden Item lay inside. But—
His expression gradually darkened, a growing sense of being caught in a conspiracy.
This mysterious and unknown Desk had brought him immense wealth.
It had transformed him from an ordinary factory worker into the top hidden tycoon of the Nami Civilization!
No one knew the full extent of his wealth.
All of this was thanks to the Desk.
He had long understood that every gift from Fate came with a price. Nothing in this world was truly free. He knew that sooner or later, this "Desk" would demand something from him, and he would be powerless to refuse.
But...
He never imagined that day would come so soon—so incredibly soon!
Inside the drawer lay an exceptionally ancient "Brass Key," no larger than his palm. In the drawer, which was several tens of centimeters deep, it seemed utterly insignificant. The drawers of this desk were far larger than those of ordinary desks, extending all the way to the floor.
The desk itself had no space beneath it.
From a design perspective, this was not a desk suitable for normal human use.
He had no idea what this "Brass Key" was for.
But he wasn't a fool.
First came the "Unknown Heavenly Palace," then the "Brass Key." Even an idiot would connect the two.
"..."
The old man's face twisted in a series of ugly expressions. He had long anticipated this day. Whatever the drawer might demand of him in the future, he had resigned himself to it. As long as his wife and children could live comfortably, it would all be worth it.
But...
When the day finally arrived, a sense of resentment stirred within him.
He had worked tirelessly to reach his current position. To be dragged into an unknown conspiracy now felt deeply unfair.
The old man stood frozen, his face grim. After a long, agonizing silence, he made a difficult decision. He walked to a bookshelf in the corner of his study, pulled out a book, and flipped to page 37. There, he pressed a slightly raised word.
In an instant—
The study began to tremble subtly. A dark, gaping hole slowly emerged from the floor, revealing the entrance to a hidden passage. The old man took a deep breath, walked to his desk, and cradled it in his arms. With some difficulty, he carried it toward the passage entrance.
Dozens of meters underground, the passage's fluorescent lights flickered to life.
A conveyor belt stretched across the floor. The old man placed the desk on the belt, stepped onto it himself, and pressed a nearby button. The belt surged forward, carrying him and the desk deeper into the passage.
The Civilization Big Bang had unleashed an unprecedented technological explosion.
Inventions and innovations sprouted like mushrooms after rain.
The Accessory Blueprints were finally developed.
Humans had grown accustomed to transportation methods like space jumps and wormhole traversal. Without these technologies, humanity's expansion across the vast cosmos would have been impossible; even reaching a light-year beyond their home planet would have remained an unattainable fantasy.
While these methods were efficient, they left conspicuous spatial distortions.
For secrecy, he had resorted to this most primitive approach.
Sometimes, the primitive was the least vulnerable.
This secret passage, constructed long ago, was meant for covertly relocating his Desk during times of crisis. The Desk was his lifeblood, the source of his wealth and power; he couldn't afford to lose it.
The passage had consumed vast sums of money and energy.
All those involved in its construction had been assigned to exploration teams sent to the Southern Frontier, only to vanish without a trace in a staged accident.
The tunnel was lined with advanced accessories.
These ensured that no radar below top-tier could detect the passage, let alone discover its existence.
An hour later, the conveyor belt gradually slowed to a halt at a spacious platform.
This was not the final destination.
The surrounding area was much wider than the tunnel they had come through, filled with equipment that suggested it was a designated rest stop.
The elderly man standing on the conveyor belt took another deep breath, cradled the desk in his arms, and then laboriously placed it onto the hydraulic press in the corner.
With that done, he exhaled softly, pulled a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it slowly.
In the tunnel illuminated by fluorescent lights, the cigarette in his mouth flickered like a dying candle. The smoke he exhaled first coalesced into a dense cloud before being torn apart by the draft.
He inhaled deeply, as if trying to draw all the world's impurities into his lungs. When he exhaled again, the smoke curled through the wrinkles on his face.
Time passed unnoticed.
Ashes fell silently onto his lapels. The old man glanced down but made no move to brush them off, simply staring at them.
He gazed at the dissipating smoke ahead, his eyes growing slightly moist, as if stung by the acrid fumes.
When the cigarette had burned down to its end, the old man pinched out the ember, walked to the desk, retrieved the brass key from his pocket, and tossed it back into the drawer. After closing the drawer one last time, he picked up the remote control beside the hydraulic press and stepped back a few paces.
He gazed at the desk lying quietly beneath the Hydraulic Press, lost in a dazed silence for a long moment before lowering his head to murmur at the red button in his hand.
"Goodbye, Old Buddy."
"Life always has its moments of parting."
It's only when facing death that one realizes they weren't as strong as they thought.
He had always believed he wasn't afraid of dying.
But when the Desk began showing signs of demanding something, fear gripped him. He didn't want to be dragged into some unknown conspiracy, nor did he want to become a pawn. He felt it was time to end Fate's Cosmic Gifts.
He no longer needed them.
His current wealth was already substantial enough; even without the Desk, it wouldn't make much difference.
In the next moment—
The old man resolutely pressed the red button.
The Hydraulic Press roared to life, its thunderous rumble echoing through the corridor.
The plain, unadorned desk shattered almost instantly under the press's crushing force. The tabletop splintered first, sending countless wood fragments flying into the air. He had once leaned over this desk, writing countless dreams of the future, and had often thought of passing it down to his son.
Yet now...
At that moment, he personally destroyed his own desk, allowing it to be crushed by the hydraulic press.
Men often grow sentimental about objects that have been with them for a long time. As the old man watched the desk gradually crumble, his eyes grew slightly red-rimmed. But just then!
The hydraulic press suddenly jammed.
The old man froze momentarily. The machine's roar continued unabated. He pressed the red button several more times, but the hydraulic press refused to advance further. Nearly half the desk had already been destroyed, sending countless wood chips flying through the air.
After resetting the hydraulic press, the desk, freed from the crushing pressure, instantly collapsed to one side.
It was then that he finally saw the desk's true form.
A flicker of horror flashed through the old man's eyes as he stared in disbelief at the scene before him. The desk had been merely a disguise. When the outer layers shattered under the hydraulic press, what was revealed was a refrigerator?
He strode forward, clearing away the wood chips and debris from the refrigerator's exterior. After a thorough inspection, he confirmed: it was indeed a refrigerator—at least, from a human perspective, there was no other explanation for this object.
A refrigerator without a door.
It was a modified refrigerator. He had always thought he was pulling out a drawer, but in reality, he was simply sliding a doorless refrigerator out from under the desk.
Skeptical, he tried again several times, only to discover that the refrigerator was extraordinarily sturdy. The surface of the hydraulic press's support column was already pitted and scarred, yet the refrigerator remained completely undamaged.
"..."
After a long silence, the old man abandoned the refrigerator, turning back to the conveyor belt and heading back the way he had come.
I'll leave it here for now.
As for the key, he temporarily placed it inside the refrigerator.
Back in his study, he found himself inexplicably asking his informants whether any locked doors or similar structures had been discovered during the exploration of the Heavenly Palace. The response was that they had only explored the periphery so far and had not yet ventured into the palace's depths.
In the end, the civilization chose to continue exploring.
They had already done their best to suppress the news.
But if an advanced civilization were to learn of their efforts, they would inevitably assume the exploration had already occurred. In that case, why not explore first? Perhaps they could uncover some opportunity left behind by a God-Tier Civilization, allowing them to leapfrog into a Sixth-Tier Civilization!
Reaching the Fifth-Tier Civilization range, steady, gradual advancement becomes nearly impossible. Civilization Advancement often hinges on seizing rare opportunities. Once these opportunities are fully exploited, a "Civilization Big Bang" ensues.
In theory, steady progress should be feasible.
Assuming sufficient resources and time, any civilization could theoretically advance to Tier 9 Civilization through gradual, sustained development.
However, the problem lies here:
Resources are finite, time is limited, and other civilizations won't stand idly by while you develop.
"Deep within the cosmos, countless civilizations exist," Teacher Qiu explained to her students aboard the Stellaris, smiling as she stood at the podium. "The known forms of civilization include Train Civilizations, cultivation civilizations, and Zerg Civilizations."
"Each form has its strengths and weaknesses, but what is their fundamental essence?"
The students responded in unison, "They all utilize core energy, just through different means."
"Exactly," Teacher Qiu affirmed.
"Train Civilization is currently the dominant form of civilization in the universe. Our 'Human Civilization' also follows this model. Its advantage lies in the rapid development it can achieve, progressing by leaps and bounds daily, provided sufficient resources are available."
"Everyone here has experienced the apocalypse."
"You might feel like those days are long past, but in reality, only a few years have passed. During this time, the 'Human Civilization' has advanced at an astonishing pace."
"..."
Outside the classroom, Chen Mang stood by the window, accompanied by the elderly group, quietly observing the scene inside. This scene was merely a microcosm of Human Civilization as a whole, where education was not neglected even as the civilization's strength grew.
However...
Chen Mang turned to Old Pig. "Does Teacher Qiu always draw out her words like that?"
"Uh..." Old Pig scratched his nose awkwardly. "Maybe?"
Chen Mang didn't press the matter. He had stopped dwelling on the "Heavenly Palace" incident; that was a distant concern. What mattered now were the two most crucial priorities: the civilization's development and the Zerg Civilization.
The Zerg Civilization still showed no signs of launching a full-scale assault.
He wasn't in a hurry either.
His mining operations were far from complete, and now wasn't the right time for war.
Today was uneventful.
He also wanted to check on the development of various departments.
Currently, every city in the human civilization had its own academy, but the Stellaris Academy, located on the Stellaris train, was the most prestigious, boasting the highest-caliber faculty and status.
Students admitted to the Stellaris Academy underwent rigorous selection processes, with intelligence, character, and background serving as key criteria. Those who survived the successive rounds of screening and earned a place in the classrooms were virtually guaranteed to secure official positions within the human civilization in the future.
Back when the train was still in its infancy, Chen Mang's control over it had been absolute. He knew almost everything happening in every corner of the train. But as the train expanded and its population grew, he lost track of many developments. Subordinates couldn't possibly report everything to him; many matters simply weren't deemed worthy of his attention.
That's why he needed to come down and see for himself. Only by experiencing the train's internal dynamics and the civilization's progress firsthand could he grasp the nuanced changes and the extent of their development, rather than relying on cold data streams on a screen.
Xiao Ai's data was undoubtedly accurate, but it lacked human warmth.
"Not bad," Chen Mang murmured, nodding slightly as he stood outside the classroom window. He didn't interrupt the lesson. After touring the academy with the Principal, he finally left.
It's worth noting that the Principal of the Stellar Academy, the highest institution of human civilization, turned out to be someone familiar.
"Lord Mang, do you have any further instructions?" Uncle Li asked, bowing respectfully.
Chen Mang tilted his head, a slightly puzzled expression on his face, and glanced at Uncle Li. He had almost forgotten about this man on the train—the one who had conducted resident censuses, served as the Breeding Carriage leader, acted as the Accountant for Neon City, and even researched the Zombie Grinding Cage.
Uncle Li was one of the train's old guard, having been with Stellaris since its founding. His resident ID was a three-digit number, marking him as a true veteran.
But the train had developed too rapidly. Many old comrades gradually lost their place within the train's system and faded into the background. Chen Mang had always maintained a detached perspective on this phenomenon, believing that the capable should rise to the top—a natural law of progress. He doubted that artificial intervention would necessarily yield better results.
He had assumed Uncle Li would follow the same path, gradually retiring to the sidelines to run a small business on Aquablue Star. That seemed like a decent enough life. Yet here he was, having quietly become the Principal of the Stellar Academy—a position of considerable authority and status.
"Who made this appointment?" Chen Mang asked, turning to Old Pig beside him.
"I made the personnel appointment," Old Pig hurriedly explained. "When we were selecting the Principal, we considered several candidates."
"There was Teacher Qiu, who had been teaching on the train for years, the Professor we met on Aquablue Star, a few other individuals, and Uncle Li."
"After evaluating their work capabilities, character, qualifications, and professional experience through multiple criteria, Uncle Li emerged as the top choice."
"I believe that as the strongest academy in human civilization, Stellar Academy's graduates will inevitably assume leadership roles. Loyalty to you, Lord Mang, and the Stellaris is paramount. Uncle Li has deep roots on the train and has always been fiercely loyal to you and the Stellaris."
"I reported this decision in one of my weekly email updates."
"Really?"
"Yes," Xiao Ai murmured from the side. "I can confirm that."
He remembered vividly: Lord Mang had just woken up, sat down to smoke a cigarette, glanced casually at the report, and skipped over it. Now it seemed he hadn't even noticed the names.
"Good."
Chen Mang clapped Uncle Li on the shoulder with a grin. "Keep up the good work. I've always had faith in you. I'm genuinely happy you've found a suitable role on the train."
"Keep pushing forward."
"How's progress on your 'Zombie Grinding Cage' project?"
"I've already handed over the research results to Qi Kexiu. I hear they've made significant progress."
"What about Lord Shen?"
"He's at the Stellar Academy, serving as a Cadaver Teacher."
"Good."
Chen Mang scanned the area before moving on, accompanied by Old Pig, Biaozi, and the others, to inspect other parts of the train. It felt good to stretch his legs and take a walk; it lifted his spirits considerably. These were all his assets, accumulated bit by bit over the years.
Familiar faces.
Comforting to see.
Uncle Li watched Lord Mang's retreating figure, letting out a long sigh of relief. He straightened his back, cleared his throat, and said in a raspy voice, "Director Sha, you handled Lord Mang's sudden inspection very well. Remember the key points: tell Teacher Qiu to avoid drawing out her words so much in the future. Her performance felt too theatrical."
"Understood."
The young man standing beside him, chest puffed out and face serious, nodded in response. He seemed a bit too young to carry the authority of a Dean of Discipline, but he was determined to maintain the facade.
This young man, Director Sha, was the same one who had always followed Uncle Li closely.
Years had passed.
Throughout those years, the young man had remained steadfastly by Uncle Li's side, offering encouragement even during his darkest moments. Now, he had finally witnessed the moment when one man's rise to power lifted all his loyal followers along with him.
Throughout his life, he had possessed no special abilities, no particular talents, and no extraordinary opportunities. In the apocalypse, he was merely a lowly grunt—a roadside pebble easily crushed. Yet he had risen to his current position entirely through unwavering dedication and unwavering loyalty. His life perfectly exemplified the saying, "Patience brings its own reward." If the reward hadn't yet arrived, it simply meant he hadn't waited long enough.
The young man, his face serious and unsmiling, turned and strode toward the teaching building. Perhaps because his clothes were too loose, a book slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground.
"..."
Uncle Li expressionlessly picked up the book, The Art of Machiavellian Management, brushed off the dust, and tucked it back into the young man's arms. He then sighed deeply. "I think you have a rather stereotypical image of the Dean of Discipline. Not every Dean is a fat, potbellied man."
"You've been overdoing the weight gain lately."
"Even if you're gaining weight..."
"You should at least wait until after you've gained the weight before wearing these obviously oversized clothes."
"Go now."
"Just looking at you gives me a headache."
"Oh, and one more thing—"
"The West District requested a Cadaver Teacher today. Take this to Master Chen Mang."
Li Shucai then glanced at the statue of Lord Mang in the Stellar Academy, nodding with satisfaction. He had noticed Lord Mang casting several approving glances at the statue earlier, likely pleased with his actions.
"All students, stand at attention."
In the Stellar Academy's pristine operating theater, a teacher in a white coat held a scalpel, addressing the students with a solemn expression. "Every Cadaver Teacher has made immense contributions to medical science. We must treat them with the utmost respect."
"Now," he continued, "I will dissect a segment of the nervous system for you to observe its structure firsthand."
Lying on the operating table, Lord Shen stared blankly at the ceiling, his expression vacant as if he had lost his mind. Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face, even as the cold scalpel pierced his flesh.
In recent days, he had been pondering a single question:
Why had he chosen to "eject" rather than "self-destruct"?
What was the meaning of life?
"Teacher, he doesn't seem to feel any pain?" a student asked.
"Cadaver Teachers are always fearless in the face of life and death," the teacher replied. "They are no ordinary mortals."
Inside a carriage of the Stellaris train, the Film Studio was bustling with activity.
Under the direction of Zhang Yiren, a grand film was being produced. This epic would meticulously depict the Stellaris train's journey from its humble beginnings to its rise amidst the apocalypse, striving for authentic recreations of key figures and pivotal scenes.
To this end, Zhang Yiren had specifically requested substantial support from Old Pig, including train tokens and resources, striving for the most authentic recreation of scenes and characters possible.
Many roles had already been cast.
Figures like Old Pig and Biaozi were playing themselves, while for deceased characters like Master Kun, they had found actors from human civilization who closely matched the descriptions.
Now—
Only one role remained elusive.
Inside the Film Studio, Zhang Yiren sat with a deep frown, surrounded by a circle of equally troubled faces. Everyone was grappling with the same question: Who could play Lord Mang?
This was a monumental problem!
Finding Lord Mang himself?
What a joke! Would Lord Mang, who managed countless affairs daily, really take time to act in a movie?
Casting someone to play Lord Mang?
Absurd!
Once the film was released, wouldn't it spark endless debates about the real versus the fake Lord Mang?
"Maybe..."
A dwarf sitting nearby spoke up timidly, "I have an idea. What if we shoot the film from Lord Mang's first-person perspective? That way, we wouldn't need an actor to portray him at all. We'd just need President Ai's permission to use Lord Mang's voice."
"Huh?"
Zhang Yiren paused, a flicker of light in his eyes. He looked up at the dwarf, his lips trembling slightly. "Wait, wait, let me think about that."
In the history of cinema...
First-person perspective films aren't unheard of, but they're notoriously difficult to make. This approach would require the narrative to be entirely focused on the protagonist, and the plotline would need to be exceptionally clear.
This was truly an ingenious solution.
It eliminated the need to cast an actor for Lord Mang.
By filming entirely from a first-person perspective, all the casting dilemmas vanished.
Just then—
Chen Mang entered the film studio accompanied by Old Pig and his entourage. The entire staff inside immediately rose to their feet, their faces solemn as they greeted him in unison.
"Hmm," Chen Mang acknowledged with a casual wave. "Sit down, everyone. I'm here to check on your progress. A civilization's development requires not only military advancement but also cultural growth."
"Have there been any outstanding literary works, music, or video games recently?"
"I've watched several of your recent films. They're quite well-made."
"What about literature?"
Standing beside him, Old Pig quickly added, "The novelist from the train who used to write twenty thousand words a day has now become a renowned author in human civilization. His latest work, 'The 13th Street Serial Murders,' is a bestseller."
"Excellent," Chen Mang nodded with a pleased smile. "It seems the old crew from the train was full of talent. They're excelling in every field they pursue."
Standing nearby, Old Pig's lips twitched. After a moment's thought, he decided to keep his thoughts to himself.
First, he had to admit that the guy's new book was indeed quite good.
But—
Literature wasn't simply about writing well; many factors influenced its success.
For example,
He suspected—though this was purely subjective speculation—that the small line on the book's cover, "Stellaris Train's Official Author," accounted for at least 70% of its popularity.
The remaining 20% likely stemmed from the "endorsements" on the first few pages, where Old Pig, Biaozi, Uncle Li, and others had given glowing reviews.
The remaining 0.9% probably came from the publisher's aggressive marketing efforts. After all, when someone from the Heavenly Palace releases a book, do they really need to be told how to promote it? Only the final 0.1% could be attributed to the book's actual content.
These factors combined to create the book's explosive success.
This was pure "connections-driven" writing.
He figured that even if the guy had written about a series of public defecation incidents instead of a serial murder case, it would have still become a massive hit, selling hundreds of millions of copies without a problem.
The thing was—
The guy wasn't exactly exaggerating or boasting.
Back when the Stellaris Train was still on Aquablue Star, he had indeed been the train's official author, responsible for writing stories to provide additional entertainment for the residents. It was the same reason why Zhang Yiren's movies were so popular: because he had once been the Stellaris Train's official director.
Anyone who leaves the Stellaris train, with even a modicum of talent and resourcefulness, will never be poor—in fact, it's nearly impossible for them to be.
Even if they wanted to be poor, the market wouldn't allow it.
"Excellent," Chen Mang nodded, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "What about music?"
"We have that too," Old Pig replied, his voice low and somber. "Lord Mang, you might have forgotten someone—a young girl who used to sing otaku songs on the train. Remember 'Clap Your Hands Up'? The Loli beside her was the Mengmeng type."
"I vaguely recall her."
"She's now a renowned singer. Her latest album is selling like crazy."
"Good."
The album cover featured the title "Stellar Train's Official Singer."
In truth, there were many things Chen Mang preferred not to discuss.
During the train's early, more primitive days, there had been "Red Houses" to cater to basic needs. This was normal; he himself had occasionally visited them. But he recently discovered that one of the women he'd patronized had tattooed "Visited by Stellar Train's Deputy Train Captain Old Pig" on her body and become the top courtesan at a prestigious brothel, commanding exorbitant prices and drawing endless queues of patrons.
Fortunately, he'd caught wind of this early.
He'd suppressed the scandal and forced the woman into a respectable life. Had the story spread, it could have caused irreparable damage to his reputation.
After surveying the situation, Chen Mang returned to his locomotive cabin.
The internal development of human civilization was progressing at an astonishing pace, advancing on all fronts.
Every day brought new changes.
Once all the mining stars were fully exploited, an even greater transformation would occur.
Inside the Stellaris locomotive cabin, Chen Mang gazed at the Advancement Conditions for becoming a Third-Tier Civilization.
[Advancement Conditions]:
- Population of civilized intelligent beings: 1 billion - Peak offensive energy range: exceeding 20,000 - Possession of at least two planets - Civilization Warehouse resource reserves: exceeding 1 quadrillion units - Construction of over 10 permanent bidirectional wormholes
The requirements remained quite challenging, particularly the resource reserves, which were excessively high.
For the time being, advancing to a Third-Tier Civilization remained out of reach.
Just then, Xiao Ai's voice echoed through the train:
"Train Conductor, the miner has fallen asleep again and reappeared in Little Fatty's mine. Shall I broadcast the live feed?"
"Broadcast it live," Chen Mang replied, his eyelids twitching. Last time, the miner had abruptly withdrawn from the Dream Realm due to intense emotional fluctuations, disrupting their conversation and preventing him from re-entering. Now that he could re-enter, Chen Mang intended to probe further into the civilization's details.
Though that civilization was likely far beyond his reach, making any interaction in this lifetime improbable, it was still a Fifth-Tier Civilization.
Chen Mang was primarily curious about the inner workings of Fifth-Tier Civilizations—their technological advancements, advanced techniques, and overall capabilities.
This time, the other party was unusually proactive.
The moment the miner materialized, Little Fatty rushed over, his voice brimming with excitement as he brandished a tablet. "You're here! Something major has happened in our civilization recently. You'll definitely be interested!"
"What's the biggest palace you've ever seen?"
"Definitely not as big as this one!"
"It's as big as an entire planet!"
"It suddenly appeared within our civilization today, right above my father's planet, and it doesn't block any sunlight! It's incredible, look!"
Little Fatty was brimming with excitement, eagerly sharing the latest news from within their civilization with his new friend.
Meanwhile, Chen Mang sat in the locomotive cabin, staring at the image on Little Fatty's tablet, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.
He had temporarily put the Heavenly Palace out of his mind.
It was too far away.
He needed to focus on the present.
But—
How could this thing suddenly reappear right in front of him?
Not long ago, the Heavenly Palace that had been near the Starfire Civilization suddenly vanished. He didn't know why, but he hadn't cared much. If it's gone, it's gone, he'd thought, even speculating that his future self might have made a different choice, causing its disappearance.
But how could it suddenly appear within the Nami Civilization?
"..."
After a long silence, Chen Mang rasped, "Xiao Ai, check the similarity between this Heavenly Palace and the one we saw before. I suspect there might be more than one in the universe—perhaps many?"
"Based on the images on his tablet, the calculated similarity between the two Heavenly Palaces is 96%, nearly identical. The only difference lies in the reflected light and shadow intensity. If we disregard these factors, the similarity would be 100%."
"Statistically, we can confidently conclude that these two Heavenly Palaces are the same. However, we cannot rule out the possibility of two completely identical Heavenly Palaces existing."
"You're saying..."
Chen Mang frowned. "Was it a mistake not to explore that Heavenly Palace back then? The Nami Civilization is supposedly 108,000 light years removed from us, with no connection whatsoever. Yet, in the past two days, various artifacts have inexplicably linked me to them."
"Could it be—"
"Is Fate guiding me toward the Nami Civilization?"
"Or is my future self guiding my present self toward the Nami Civilization?"
Meanwhile, at the mine, Little Fatty noticed the Mysterious Traveler's prolonged silence and grew increasingly puzzled. Soon, the Mysterious Traveler handed him another note, just as he always did.
[Has your civilization explored that Palace? What did you find inside?]
"No."
The chubby young man shook his head. "According to my father, they're still in the preliminary exploration phase. They haven't even entered the palace gates yet and haven't made any discoveries. But from what my father said, he seems very pessimistic, believing this matter will bring an unstoppable disaster to our civilization."
"Aren't you pessimistic?"
"Me? I'm alright. I don't know if I should be pessimistic or not. I just think that all humans die, and all civilizations eventually perish. Even God-Tier Civilizations can't avoid destruction, so how could a Fifth-Tier Civilization possibly guarantee complete survival?"
"When the day of destruction comes, it's just fate."
"I think mainstream society is very pessimistic, constantly worrying that our civilization will be destroyed by a powerful enemy someday. It's mainly because everyone lives too long. If we were like Low-Tier Civilizations with lifespans of only sixty or seventy years, we wouldn't need to worry about such things. After all, we probably wouldn't live to see that day anyway."
"The longer people live, the more worries they accumulate."
"My father once arranged blind dates for me. I had only one requirement: 'original condition.' But surprisingly, not a single one met that criteria."
"Do you mean virgins?"
"No."
The young man shook his head. "By 'original condition,' I mean bodies without any mechanical organs or modifications from the 'medical bay' for life extension. Just like me—born from my mother's womb exactly as I am, purely original."
"Doesn't your civilization have a similar concept?"
"Going to the medical bay for a repair counts as one reboot. Two repairs, two reboots. No reboots means original."
"I've always felt..."
"After a complete repair in the medical bay, every cell and organ in your body is restored to 100%. But is the person who comes out still you? The memories are identical, but what if they're just your memories extracted and implanted into a clone?"
"I'd rather die early than reboot my body."
The boy muttered softly. Since childhood, he had been withdrawn and morbid, his ideas often rejected by others. With few friends, he grew increasingly reluctant to interact with people.
The Mysterious Traveler was one of the few friends he had actively sought out in recent years.
Moreover, the Traveler's thinking clearly diverged from mainstream societal norms, so he wouldn't find the boy's views abnormal.
"Then why aren't you dead yet?"
"..."
The boy blinked, looking blankly at the Mysterious Traveler. "Well... I don't want to die just yet."
The Traveler didn't find him abnormal.
But the boy was starting to think the Traveler was a bit odd himself.
"I mean, doesn't your civilization study death? Don't you research where people go after death, or what happens to them?"
"What's the afterlife like?"
(End of the Chapter)
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