The thing on the edge of the hollow noticed Shu Bao had seen it and began waving at him with its numerous arms. Instantly, it transformed into something resembling a sea urchin, but instead of spikes, human arms extended outward.
Despite the strangeness of the greeting, the polite fluffball instinctively waved a paw in return.
The next second, Lan Qing found a mechanism: a massive elevator concealed underground. It appeared rudimentary on the outside but was remarkably clean inside, clearly maintained and in use.
Fu Qing glanced at the fluffball on his shoulder, whose fur was bristling. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just saw a humanoid sea urchin,” Shu Bao said, recounting what he had just seen. After describing it, he added, “I think the scariest part isn’t its appearance, but this deeply uncomfortable feeling, almost like mental interference.”
“Anything that’s still alive here and retains its consciousness must have immense mental strength. That thing was probably a conglomerate of negative thoughts. Even if it doesn’t actively attack, its mental energy can be oppressive,” Fu Qing said, petting the fluffball. However, his hand ruffled Shu Bao’s freshly groomed fur the wrong way.
The irate fluffball raised a paw and swatted Fu Qing’s hand away before resuming his grooming, now warily on guard against any further “attacks”.
Seeing Shu Bao’s focus shift away from the monster, Fu Qing stopped teasing him and turned his attention to their surroundings.
The elevator was enclosed, with one side made of a transparent material. However, the outside was pitch-black and nothing could be seen. The elevator’s descent speed quickly increased, creating a dizzying sensation for all three.
As the elevator sped up further, Shu Bao began to float off Fu Qing’s shoulder. Soon after, Fu Qing and Lan Qing also started to float, and before long, they were pressed against the elevator ceiling. The speed was so extreme that the internal gravity had inverted.
With his head pressed against the ceiling, the mouse calmly quipped, “This is way worse than a teleportation array.”
Fu Qing, now reoriented, picked up the floating fluffball. However, the inverted gravity left all three feeling extremely disoriented. Fortunately, the sensation didn’t last long. Before long, they began slowly descending again as the elevator decelerated.
When they finally landed back on the floor, the elevator came to a halt, and its doors opened. A long-awaited burst of light flooded in. This was the first light they had seen since entering the Heart of Darkness.
Stepping out of the elevator, the three arrived at the planet’s core. A massive laboratory truly existed here.
From the elevator’s entrance, they couldn’t see its end. Lights filled their view, and unlike the chaotic darkness outside, this place was free from shadows due to the abundance of light sources. It was as if this area had completely escaped the chaos, resembling the calm eye of a storm.
The laboratory was eerily quiet until Shu Bao and the others stepped inside, activating a virtual AI.
“Please select the area you wish to visit,” the AI announced. A massive virtual map appeared before them, with various colors representing different experimental zones. Transportation to these zones was by train, highlighting the enormous scale of the underground laboratory.
Their first destination was, of course, the Dark Matter Observation Zone. Following the map’s instructions, they arrived at the corresponding platform. Within moments, a silent train glided up to them. Inside, there were rows of seats on either side, reminiscent of a human subway Shu Bao had once ridden, though this train was far more luxurious in design.
The ride on the train was far more comfortable than the earlier elevator. They could even enjoy the view along the way, with no noise at all. Since there were only three passengers, the train bypassed all intermediate stops, and they disembarked only when the voice prompt announced their destination.
Upon arriving at the Dark Matter Observation Zone, the trio found the area shrouded in chaos. The entire zone was enveloped in a black mass that even their cat-eye necklaces couldn’t penetrate.
This mass of darkness was likely the original source of chaos. But how could such an amorphous blackness offer any clues? There were no data and no records, leaving them with no starting point. Reluctant to give up, the three wandered the vicinity repeatedly, only to discover that the observation zone was entirely consumed by the blackness—there wasn’t even a scrap of data to scavenge.
“How about I go in and take a look?” Shu Bao proposed, staring at the expanse of blackness before them.
“No way. This is likely the true origin of chaos—it’s no joke. No one knows what’s inside. You might become part of the chaos as soon as you enter,” Lan Qing said, gripping the fluffball in his jaws and pulling him back.
Fu Qing agreed. “It’s too risky. Maybe we should ask that ‘sea urchin’. If it’s been here since chaos began, it should know quite a lot.”
Shu Bao, understanding who Fu Qing meant, felt a twinge of guilt since he had coined the nickname “sea urchin”. “Well, I think the ‘sea urchin gentleman’ can probably hear us. Its mental energy feels strange, almost connected to the planet itself.”
That fleeting glance earlier had left Shu Bao deeply unsettled. The thing’s appearance was unnerving, but its mental energy was even more disturbing. At that moment, Shu Bao felt as though he wasn’t facing an individual but an entire world.
“Hahaha, so quick to notice, my adorable little mouse,” a mechanical voice interjected, echoing through the lab’s AI system. Though synthesized, the voice carried emotion, making it sound awkward and far from friendly.
The trio scanned their surroundings cautiously but saw no sign of the sea urchin. Controlling the AI to speak, it clearly wasn’t nearby. Once it had revealed itself, the sea urchin didn’t mince words. “I know why you’re here. What you seek is inside that black domain. Indeed, it’s pure chaos. Entering it could mean life or death—you might uncover all the truths you desire, or you might merge into the chaos without learning anything. Your choice.”
The trio’s eyes returned to the black mass before them, pondering the credibility of the sea urchin’s words.
“Don’t expect me to tell you the truth,” the sea urchin added. “In this chaotic world, only what you see with your own eyes is real. Even if I told you, would you believe me?”
Its words blocked any chance of further questioning, leaving them with a single path forward. Lan Qing crossed his arms and said, “Looks like we’re heading back.”
The sea urchin fell silent, seemingly dumbfounded by the dragon’s lack of ambition.
“Since we’re here, let’s check it out,” Fu Qing said. “If this is the source of chaos, it must also be a domain where consciousness shapes reality. As long as our mental strength is sufficient and we resist assimilation by chaos, it shouldn’t be too dangerous. But to be safe, someone needs to stay outside. I’ll go in alone.”
Before the other two could protest, Fu Qing added, “After all, I’m the most skilled in mental abilities here. In other aspects, maybe not, but when it comes to mental strength, I’m miles ahead of you two.”
Lan Qing bristled. “You must have some misunderstanding about the power of the Ancestral Dragon! My mental strength isn’t weak—Shu Bao can vouch for me!”
Both turned their eyes to the fluffball, only to find him standing frozen like a toy. Alarmed, they rushed to check on Shu Bao and found his body perfectly fine—but his consciousness was gone.
Fu Qing glared at the black domain and gritted his teeth. “Sea urchin, did you forget to mention something?”
The AI sea urchin came online again, laughing heartily. “Did I forget something? Oh, yes, entering the black domain can be done with either a full body or a spiritual form. But you know, I’m old—please understand.”
Fu Qing and Lan Qing were instantly frustrated. If the sea urchin had been nearby, they might have charged over and ripped off all its arms out of sheer annoyance.
But there was no time for anger. Fu Qing handed the fluffball to Lan Qing. “Take care of him. I’ll go in and find him.” Without giving Lan Qing any chance to respond, Fu Qing turned and injected his mental energy into the black domain. In an instant, there was only a dragon left, guarding two unconscious bodies.
Lan Qing blinked, feeling abandoned once more. They had agreed to stick together this time. Though he wanted to follow, the bizarre nature of the world they were in made him stay put and guard the two shells as instructed.
Inside the black domain, Shu Bao wasn’t sure how he had gotten there. One moment, he had been staring at the black domain, and the next, the environment around him had completely changed. Fu Qing and Lan Qing were nowhere to be seen, and Shu Bao had become a wandering specter within the laboratory.
Shu Bao was quite fortunate. While gazing at the black domain, he had wished he could see what had happened in the laboratory in the past. And in this world where consciousness dictated reality, his wish was granted—he found himself in the laboratory as it once was.
Unlike the desolate, post-disaster laboratory they had first encountered, this version was bustling with activity. The core laboratory was like a small city, with not only research areas but also residential and recreational zones. The researchers didn’t need to worry about survival at all.
Initially, Shu Bao was utterly confused. He wasn’t a scientist, so he couldn’t understand the equipment, technical terms, or data scattered around. But where there were people, there was gossip. Shu Bao relied on eavesdropping to gather firsthand information.
The researchers in the laboratory had no idea that, while they were busy at work, there was a fluffy little ghost carrying a small notebook, diligently listening to their conversations.
Everything in the laboratory seemed incredibly real, making Shu Bao wonder if he had entered a parallel universe rather than a fragment of time within the chaos. But regardless of whether the scenes before him were real or not, as a ghostly presence, Shu Bao could not interfere.
