Due to Yu Lingqi’s athlete’s foot attack, Yinzi spent the entire day by the river outside the settlement, compulsively rinsing his mouth and drinking the water even when no trace of the odor remained. Come mealtime, Yinzi even had lost his appetite—his stomach was already too full from all the water.
Although Yu Lingqi’s “entry” into the base was unintentional, his capacity to incapacitate a dragon through sheer odor left the residents of the Xia Wang tribe in wary awe. People instinctively kept their distance from him, treating his feet as though they were some kind of biochemical weapon.
Yu Lingqi found the situation utterly baffling, feeling as if he’d been humiliated. It’s just a bit of athlete’s foot, seriously? He thought. The supposedly mighty silver dragon turned out to be even more sensitive than his own pampered beast. What was up with the dragons of this world?
Though he wanted to complain aloud, Yu Lingqi wisely held back. As he was about to try engaging in conversation again, he noticed the furry creature that had been near his feet had quietly retreated five meters away. When their eyes met, it forced a laugh, “The sun’s a bit too strong today. It’s much more pleasant in the shade.”
Yu Lingqi glanced at the sky. Like every other time he’d come to Xia Wang tribe, it was more cloud-covered than sunny. A cool spring wind blew by, making him shiver even more due to being soaked in Yinzi’s saliva.
The little furball, showing no hint of embarrassment at being caught in a lie, moved on with calm professionalism, questioning Yu Lingqi about the Lan Snake Clan. Yu Lingqi had no choice but to be forthcoming, knowing his best chance at survival lay in cooperation. While the dragon seemed unlikely to eat him anymore, who knew what other horrors this tribe had in store?
“I received this piece of galactic intel late last year. It was broadcast non-directionally: the second and third princes of the Lan Snake Clan are searching for Lan Qing’s whereabouts and are offering a substantial reward…” Yu Lingqi’s gaze shifted nervously, recalling how he’d impulsively shared this planet’s location upon receiving the intel, never imagining he’d be captured so easily.
Sensing tension, he hastily added, “Even if I hadn’t sent it, other competitors on this planet might have. A lot of people followed you to nearby planets initially; the Lan Snake Clan would’ve learned about it sooner or later.”
Yu Lingqi was not the only participant eager for fame, though few had been lucky enough to land so close to Shu Bao. Yet, quite a few competitors had witnessed Shu Bao’s crash-landing.
Observing Shu Bao’s silence, Yu Lingqi scratched his head, scrambling to salvage his standing. “But the signal travels at the speed of light, while they don’t have that capability for travel. No participant can develop space-folding tech within just two years, so this place should be safe for at least a few decades.”
“What do you know about the current state of the Lan Snake Clan’s second and third princes?” Shu Bao wasn’t reassured by the idea of having “decades”; if their tech was already advanced enough to send signals, they’d undoubtedly keep progressing during that time.
“From what I gathered, they’ve already achieved basic interstellar travel and conquest capabilities. The message clearly stated they’d arrive with a fleet, identify Lan Qing’s location, and distribute rewards accordingly.” The power and clarity of their signal alone testified to their capabilities. To prevent deceit, the princes had outlined their resources and military strength within the transmission itself.
This rapid rate of development left Shu Bao deeply surprised. “How did they advance so quickly? Did they crash-land directly onto a planet with an advanced interstellar civilization?”
Yu Lingqi cast Shu Bao a peculiar glance. “The higher the civilization level of a planet, the more wary they are of unidentified outsiders. While landing on a high-level civilization can bypass the development struggle, you’ll face immense resistance and hostility from that civilization itself.”
Crash-landing on a low-level civilization requires slower self-driven development, but it’s far safer. On the other hand, the more advanced the civilization, the greater the danger. In primitive worlds, the locals might even worship you as a god if you fell from the sky, but in high-tech eras, especially during wartime, you could end up dead on arrival.
As Yu Lingqi explained, Shu Bao began to understand. Not everyone wanted to crash-land on a high-tech world; in fact, most preferred to start from scratch and build their own civilization. Unless they had the confidence and capability to conquer an existing one.
Yu Lingqi swallowed back his curiosity, wondering where exactly this fluffy creature came from. It seemed completely unaware of basic survival contest knowledge. And that snake didn’t even give it a crash course? How did they manage to select such a prime location—rich in resources, with just the right environment and a primitive society?
Unbeknownst to Yu Lingqi, Lan Qing had indeed given Shu Bao some rudimentary knowledge. Unfortunately, Lan Qing’s worldview assumed that landing anywhere would be the same; snakes were naturally confident and never concerned themselves with civilization rankings.
“So, the two princes of the Lan Snake Clan conquered an advanced civilization? Just the two of them?” Shu Bao found the snakes increasingly dangerous after this explanation.
“That’s not necessarily true. The Lan Snake Clan is battle-hungry; they might not have crash-landed traditionally. Instead, they could’ve opted for a different development route—becoming interstellar pirates. Their escape pods would track down nearby star fleets and either wait for rescue or infiltrate the ships, gradually taking control. Conquering a single starship is far easier than overtaking an entire civilization.” Only extremely powerful contestants would dare to choose this risky approach—it was a classic all-or-nothing start.
Shu Bao stroked his chin, pondering. Regardless of how the Lan Snake Clan achieved such rapid development, their strength clearly outmatched the Xia Wang Tribe. It was evident they were aware of the chaotic world’s existence. To protect himself and Lan Qing, Shu Bao needed a technological explosion to make the base capable of resisting.
Yet, a technological explosion was easier said than done. On Shu Bao’s homeworld, it took two to three centuries to go from the first industrial revolution to a technological era, all without outside intervention. Given their current base conditions, developing a defense against starships within a few decades might just be possible.
Noticing Shu Bao’s deep thought, Yu Lingqi wisely fell silent, though his eyes kept darting around, searching for any chance to escape.
As Shu Bao contemplated how to rapidly advance the tribe’s technology, a mechanical voice interrupted. “Achieving a technological explosion quickly requires not just technology, but also abundant resources and existing tech products. The ruins of the Mechanoids contain many such items.”
The speaker was T33674, who had been listening quietly. Their race was dedicated to finding solutions to the universe’s chaos, and the technologically advanced Mechanoids likely held the key. If their exploration could help Shu Bao, they would gladly cooperate.
Yu Lingqi’s gaze shifted to the half-mechanoid in surprise. Why was this notoriously difficult artificial intelligence species living around the Xia Wang base? Was this base truly that appealing?
Upon hearing there might be a shortcut, Shu Bao immediately ordered the high priest to bind Yu Lingqi securely, while he and T33674 set off to investigate further.
The half-mechanoids, known for their truthfulness, would never lie. When Shu Bao inquired, they freely shared, “The Mechanoids is the oldest and most advanced civilization in the chaotic universe. However, compared to their former glory, they have significantly declined. The most critical aspect is that they cannot survive in the Chaotic World.”
Shu Bao’s ears twitched. “Is it because they lack self-awareness?” In the Chaotic World, consciousness shaped reality; a strong enough belief could create matter from nothing. For example, as long as Feng Shou believed the general existed, the general would be real; if Feng Shou believed the general couldn’t die, then the general would indeed be immortal.
Creatures of the Chaotic World could survive its harsh environment as long as they possessed self-awareness.
T33674 nodded. “Exactly. The Mechanoids lack true self-awareness. Once they enter the Chaotic World, they become mere machines, capable only of executing simple pre-programmed commands. Over time, they deteriorate and eventually lose all functionality due to disrepair.”
“Nowadays, cosmic rifts threaten to appear anywhere, further shrinking the Mechanoids’ living space. Many of their cities and even entire nations have been swallowed by the Chaotic World. Those areas are now known as Mechanoids Ruins, which contain vast amounts of advanced technology, resources, and equipment. But they also harbor dangerous, still-functional machines.”
After hearing T33674’s explanation, Shu Bao immediately made up his mind—he needed to explore the Mechanoids’ ruins. There, he could collect ready-made technologies and devices, which would only require some repairs to be put to use.
Moreover, he had a deeper mission: to uncover the cause of cosmic chaos and find a solution. Although he could eventually leave this world by traversing time and space, he still had his charming teammates, the snake teammate, and all the adorable clan members to think about. While Shu Bao wasn’t exactly a saint, he was willing to help his friends if he could.
“Once I’m fully recharged, I’ll accompany you,” T33674 responded enthusiastically. Collaborating with a truthful race to explore the perilous ruins of the Mechanoids was previously unimaginable. But now, T33674 felt a strong intuition—this journey with Shu Bao could lead to groundbreaking discoveries.
Shu Bao readily agreed to T33674’s proposal, recognizing the half-mechanoid’s vast knowledge and formidable combat capabilities. “But before that, we should probably gather more allies.”
After all, the Mechanoids’ ruins sounded extremely dangerous. Gathering more help was wise—at worst, they could even test whether mechanoids liked the taste of butterflies. After all, the mouse himself wasn’t exactly a delicacy.
