Civilization’s earliest intelligence evolved from the Zerg. Life-forms possessing intelligence equal to that of humans were known as higher Zerg. In this universe, they had once been called “the calamity that brings civilization to ruin,” and their reputation alone was enough to silence a crying child at night.
As everyone knew, there was nothing a player would not do in a game.
Game = virtual world = no responsibility for anything done within it.
Naturally, when playing a game, one did whatever felt freest and most satisfying.
Thus, as a player, Qi Heng had personally created a civilization overflowing with martial fervor, extreme xenophobia, immense potential for war, and an insatiable enthusiasm for expanding its territory. In the real world, even Class-A war criminals would have bowed to him in admiration. Executing him a hundred times would hardly have been enough to atone for the sins he had committed.
Ahem. There was nothing particularly surprising about that.
Unfortunately, the civilization he had created in the game truly existed. In other words, everything he had once done had actually happened in this world’s past.
Qi Heng remained calm as he considered this. After all, he had already let loose every curse he could think of the moment he learned the truth.
The Tianjia Civilization was synonymous with calamity.
Because it had evolved from the Zerg, other civilizations referred to its people by the contemptuous and disdainful term “Zerg.” By contrast, few had ever heard the name “Tianjia.”
The adjectives most commonly placed before “Zerg” included “insane,” “brutal,” “vicious,” and “utterly depraved.”
It was only later, after the Tianjia Civilization had risen through force, secured its position, dominated the galaxy, and become its undisputed hegemon, that no faction or individual dared to utter the word in a contemptuous or insulting tone in the presence of the Tianjia Civilization.
Memories of all the outrageous plays he had made while playing the game surfaced in Qi Heng’s mind. Every “title” on his character attribute page was connected to one of those exploits.
In the end, he would have to bear the consequences of having once acted as though nothing was forbidden and he could do whatever he pleased.
For once, Qi Heng felt a flash of embarrassment when he saw those titles. It was as though his entire cringeworthy, edgelord past had been exposed, leaving him so embarrassed he wanted to curl his toes into the ground.
…Well, it was no great problem.
Those things had all been done ten thousand years ago by the Overlord of the Tianjia Civilization.
What did any of that have to do with Qi Heng, who had only just transmigrated?
Qi Heng closed his hand around the pebble again.
The words “Tianjia Civilization” and “Zerg Empire” continued circling through his mind.
Although the system had not explained in detail what sort of mess it expected him to clean up, the word “save” and the ruined city around him were enough for Qi Heng to conclude that the problem was far from minor.
He had learned from the system that returning to Earth would require him to repair the system and replenish its energy.
It sounded simple, but accomplishing it would be anything but.
As for Earth, Qi Heng thought it would be best if he could return. However, if returning proved impossible, he was more inclined to remain here and live his own life.
He did not consider himself a savior filled with boundless compassion. To him, the civilization in need of rescue was still nothing more than something from a game.
As for the anger and displeasure he had felt upon seeing the pit of eggs, he attributed it to:
[Annoyance at seeing game pets he had once lavished affection on being discarded en masse.]
The game’s graphics might have been terrible, with its scenery and images constructed from square blocks like Lego bricks. He had barely been able to make out the general shapes of the surroundings, while finer details had been impossible to see.
That did not mean Qi Heng could not recognize what the eggs truly were.
They were Zerg eggs that should have hatched into higher Zerg.
As he stared at them, he could not help remembering the notes he had made at the beginning of the game while trying to raise the Zerg birth rate.
To accomplish that, Qi Heng had taken on several different “professions,” working as a midwife, nanny, infant-care specialist, and more.
His notes on “how to safely hatch Zerg eggs and increase the population,” together with his in-game research records, had eventually been proven effective and compiled into a book titled A Guide to Nurturing Higher-Zerg Eggs.
Back then, he had raised the newly hatched Zerg children as virtual pets.
Who could resist adorable little ones who acted spoiled, showed affection, and seemed almost real?
Qi Heng certainly could not, at least while he was playing the game.
Therefore, after discovering that the game was a real world and opening his eyes to a scene resembling a mass grave, Qi Heng experienced what a heart attack felt like.
He thought about the age of “23,000+” displayed on his personal attribute page.
Heaven only knew that the number had been just “10,000+” when he last logged out of the game.
During the more than ten thousand years since he abandoned the game, the Zerg must have undergone some unknown and drastic upheaval.
What else could have caused a city on Tianyun Star, a planet second in importance only to the Tianjia Civilization’s homeworld, to become a post-nuclear wasteland filled with deep pits of discarded Zerg eggs?
Qi Heng rose from the pile of rubble, jumped down, and walked to the edge of the pit.
From there, he could see that the eggs nearest to him appeared relatively “fresh.” They had clearly not been discarded very long ago.
Information about the Zerg from the game surfaced in Qi Heng’s mind. Among all the game’s chaotic, deeply flawed settings, he found one detail that stood out when viewed from the perspective of reality:
The Zerg placed great importance on their offspring.
Had he known that those randomly generated settings would one day become real, he would never have pressed the “Random” button so casually.
Qi Heng rubbed the space between his brows. His mind continued involuntarily investigating what might have caused the pit to form.
The Zerg would never abandon their eggs without reason unless the eggs were already dead and had no possibility of hatching.
Other explanations could not be ruled out, but that was the most likely one.
Even so, the number of discarded eggs was far too great.
According to the game’s settings, nearly all female Zerg were extremely fertile and could easily conceive eggs without taking precautions. However, for this many eggs to be incapable of hatching…
Qi Heng suspected that the Zerg’s current hatching failure rate must be extraordinarily high.
Qi Heng pursed his lips.
He could not understand why he had once worked so painstakingly to keep the Zerg’s hatching failure rate between one and two percent. Despite himself, the thought of calling out the system, A0, and demanding an explanation arose in his mind.
A0 would certainly know what had happened to the Zerg during the past ten thousand years.
But did he really want to call A0 out?
Qi Heng hesitated.
As a hidden program within the game, A0 had taken every possible opportunity to persuade him to save the Tianjia Civilization ever since dragging him into this world.
And then?
Then, after discovering that he could replace A0 with A1, Qi Heng had done exactly that.
Because of this, if he summoned A0 now, its incessant chatter would once again leave his mind without a moment of peace.
After considering it carefully, Qi Heng decided to leave the matter alone for the time being.
No matter what had happened to the Zerg, he thought coldly, it had nothing to do with him.
He had not caused it himself.
Furthermore, since this was a real world, any guilt should belong to the Zerg who had abandoned the eggs. Qi Heng had no reason to be so distressed over it.
At most, thinking about the young Zerg he had once raised left him feeling somewhat heavy-hearted.
Qi Heng cast one final glance into the pit.
Having made up his mind, he turned to leave. He could use the daylight to travel farther and see whether he could find anyone else.
However, just as he was about to step out from behind the rubble, an unexpected figure appeared not far away.
Someone was walking toward his location.
Qi Heng raised an eyebrow slightly, wondering whether good fortune had finally begun to smile upon him.
At the same time, the thought of observing the approaching person passed through his mind. He drew back the leg he had been about to extend and concealed himself more deeply behind the rubble.
His position was well chosen. As long as he did not deliberately reveal himself, the other person would not notice him.
Qi Heng narrowed his eyes and observed the approaching figure. From this distance, he could already make out many details.
The newcomer’s bearing appeared youthful. He had shoulder-length hair, stood more than 1.75 meters tall by Qi Heng’s estimation, and was carefully cradling something in his arms.
As the figure approached, his appearance became increasingly clear.
He appeared to be in his early twenties at most. He had striking features, dark blue hair, and simple but tidy clothing, which was already far better than Qi Heng’s own “hobo-exclusive” outfit.
Qi Heng also saw clearly that the young man was carrying an egg.
The corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily.
A short-haired, good-looking young man had appeared on Tianyun Star carrying a patterned egg toward a pit filled with discarded Zerg eggs.
Qi Heng felt there was no need to analyze the situation any further. With those clues, the young man’s identity was practically announcing itself:
A male Zerg.
Do not ask how Qi Heng had arrived at that conclusion.
The answer was simply the game’s settings.
Like humans, whose sexes were divided into men and women, the Zerg were divided into male Zerg and female Zerg.
However, in the game, they had been portrayed as blocky little figures assembled from pixels. It had therefore been nearly impossible to distinguish male Zerg from female Zerg by appearance alone.
The only recognizable difference had been the length of their hair.
Male Zerg had short hair, while female Zerg had hair that reached their waists.
What other reason could a male Zerg have for carrying an egg toward a place where eggs were discarded?
The setting about the Zerg valuing their offspring also had a second part:
Female Zerg valued their own eggs even more than male Zerg did.
Therefore, Qi Heng’s conclusion that “this male Zerg has come to discard the egg” was entirely reasonable.
The young man soon reached the edge of the pit.
After standing there silently for a moment, the male Zerg slowly began raising the arms that held the egg toward the pit.
Watching from the side, Qi Heng felt his eyelid twitch.
In the morning light, the dark blue markings on the egg’s creamy-white shell were imprinted with perfect clarity in his eyes.
Qi Heng felt as though his thoughts had been torn into two parts.
One part of him could not bear what he was seeing, yet continued to watch coldly from the sidelines.
The other erupted like a volcano, screaming, “Stop!” and urging him to rush forward.
“Who are you?”
The voice brought Qi Heng back to his senses.
He saw the young man holding the egg take a wary step backward.
Only then did Qi Heng realize that, at some point, he had stepped out from his hiding place. That single step had exposed his presence to the other man.
Qi Heng did not understand why the mere sight of the young man preparing to throw away the egg had made him intervene.
Something about it felt deeply wrong.
His instincts told him that it was related to the fusion A0 had mentioned.
Fortunately, the benefits brought by the bodily fusion included a language package. Otherwise, Qi Heng could only have pretended not to understand what the other man was saying.
“I’m only a passerby…”
Qi Heng faced the young man’s guarded gaze, but he could not keep his attention from settling on the Zerg egg.
“Why are you abandoning him?”
As Qi Heng spoke, an idea formed in his mind. He deliberately put on a puzzled expression.
“He’s still alive. He can still be saved.”
The moment those words left his mouth, the young man’s expression changed.
His eyes widened as he stared intently at Qi Heng, as though he had discovered a trace of hope within the depths of despair.
The next moment, the young man cast aside all caution and wariness. He urgently crossed the distance between them in several long strides and rushed to Qi Heng’s side.
Qi Heng was startled by how quickly the young man approached. Before he could move away, he heard the other man speak in a voice overflowing with desperate hope.
“Is he really still alive?”
The young man tilted his head slightly upward. His emerald eyes remained fixed nervously on Qi Heng as he asked in a strained voice:
“I mean… is it really true that you can still save it?”
At that moment, Qi Heng appeared to the young man like a god capable of passing judgment.
Qi Heng’s next answer could easily cast him into the deepest reaches of despair.
The young man’s words stirred a strange emotion in Qi Heng.
The male Zerg before him did not seem to match the conclusion Qi Heng had drawn earlier.
He appeared to care deeply about the egg.
After hesitating briefly, Qi Heng raised his hand and lightly touched the Zerg egg in the young man’s arms with his fingertip.
The egg’s life aura was nearly nonexistent. Even under the perception of his mental power, it was exceedingly faint.
Yet to Qi Heng, it shone as brightly as a single spark in the darkness.
“It’s true,” Qi Heng answered with certainty.
He discovered that his ability to determine whether the Zerg egg was alive or dead seemed to be instinctive.
The instant he first saw it, he had sensed that its vitality had not completely dissipated. There was still a possibility of saving it.
That was also why Qi Heng had deliberately used his mental power when touching the egg. He wanted to confirm whether reality matched what his instincts had told him.
“Are you an Egg Nurturer?”
Qi Heng: “?”
What kind of profession was that?
Wait.
That title sounded vaguely familiar.
Before Qi Heng could remember where he had heard it, the young man abruptly dropped to his knees before him without hesitation.
The action shocked Qi Heng so much that his pupils widened for a second.
What had just happened?
Why had the young man suddenly knelt before him?
Qi Heng felt uncomfortable all over at unexpectedly being subjected to such a grand act of reverence.
He could not help frowning.
“Get up.”
The kneeling young man ignored him.
He looked like a drowning man who had finally caught hold of one last straw. His voice was filled with earnest hope and desperate pleading.
“Please save my child. I’ll give you everything I have.”
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