Chapter Eleven: The Elite Species

Splash—

The strange rock plunged into the water, releasing a muffled groan as it sank. Although Fang Zhuowei tried to be as gentle as possible, the sheer weight of the stone couldn’t be hidden; it nonetheless sent ripples and splashes spreading across the water’s surface.

The ripples grew, expanding outward.

In an instant.

Towering waves—

To the creatures in the aquarium, the surge stirred up by the stone was no different than a cataclysmic tempest, the likes of which they had never witnessed in their lives.

The newly introduced golden monkey cell spores fared better; Fang Zhuowei had kept a close eye on them as he placed the stone. The rest of the ancient primeval tribe, however, weren’t so fortunate. There were simply too many of them. In no time, their numbers had swelled to a staggering five hundred thousand, and their tendency to scurry about made it impossible not to strike a few, no matter how careful one tried to be.

The water trembled with a rumbling roar.

A sense of apocalypse filled the world within the aquarium. Countless ancient primeval beings fled desperately, as if wishing for more legs to speed their escape. Those weaker or slower among them were instantly swallowed by the massive waves, crushed into fragments of flesh before they could even cry out.

Even some of the mightiest, the paragons of their kind, were caught off guard and smashed into pulp on the spot.

“My heavens, what is that, descending from above and raising such monumental waves?”

“Run for your lives!”

“What kind of power is this? How can it be so terrifying?”

“Why, oh why are we being punished so harshly? What have we done?”

The elder of the ancient primeval species looked on in utter despair.

Through the long ages, these beings who had crossed to the aquarium’s side gradually mastered more complex language systems. Now, a chorus of mournful wails resounded—each cry more heart-wrenching than the last.

Their method of communication was unique, composed of strange sound waves, much like bees dancing or ants touching antennae. Though simple, it had the budding form of a true language.

Moreover, their language was no longer a jumble of isolated syllables or tones, but capable of fully expressing their thoughts and intentions.

---

“Ah! Disaster! Hercules is dead! Hercules is dead!”

At that moment, a surviving ancient primeval cried out at the top of his lungs.

“Hercules is dead? Impossible. He was the one who suppressed the Forbidden Zone! Even the savage beast Wildfish from the Goldfish Weed Forbidden Zone was no match for him. Through countless ages, nothing ever bested him. How could he die so suddenly?”

Many refused to believe it.

To them, Hercules was the embodiment of invincibility, a legend who had lived for over seven centuries, unrivaled in his time, suppressing entire eras. During Hercules’s reign, even the horrors hidden within the Forbidden Zone dared not show themselves.

His name was their faith, a living legend, an unyielding symbol.

But.

When they saw the towering waves, a hundred feet high, the ancient primeval people fell silent.

From afar, the sea howled and the wind roared.

The sound of the waves was like thunder, like a legion of galloping horses, filled with a terrifying, profound mystery that made them shudder. In comparison, they were utterly insignificant; even a single splash might weigh a thousand pounds, and the slightest contact could snap limbs.

Their hearts wavered.

This power was beyond their imagination, beyond any reasonable comprehension.

Under such waves, anything would be crushed—perhaps even Hercules could not survive.

Some began to mourn, while others, the most fanatical followers of Hercules, searched madly for his whereabouts, desperate to see his body, even in death.

An overwhelming sense of sorrow radiated from the ancient primeval tribes.

Hercules was their faith and champion; without him, who would hold Wildfish at bay, who would stand up when Wildfish attacked?

...

“Who is this Hercules, to command such fame?”

Fang Zhuowei heard their cries and noticed the unusual commotion among the ancient primeval beings, arousing his curiosity.

With a thought, he unleashed a surge of spiritual energy, a silent gale sweeping through the entire aquarium.

At the bottom, a figure caught his attention—a member of the ancient tribe, its entire body gleaming black and lustrous.

---

Compared to the ordinary members of his kind, this one’s build, though similar, was far more athletic, with sharply defined lines. Its armor no longer covered only the chest and back but spread across its entire body, while its head was smooth and shining, devoid of any hair.

“So this little fellow is Hercules? Say what you will, but his vitality is truly astonishing—he survived even this!”

Sensing the creature’s fading but tenacious life force, Fang Zhuowei was surprised.

After all, this ancient being had been grazed directly by the edge of the strange stone; half its body was blown apart, enough to have killed any of the others instantly. Yet, this one clung stubbornly to life, fighting death with every last breath.

“Not bad at all,” Fang Zhuowei murmured, a trace of satisfaction on his face.

Even by his standards, the willpower of this little one was extraordinary.

“Well then, since it was my doing, and you’re this hard to kill, I suppose I owe you some compensation.”

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

But… how to compensate him? That was a question.

Fang Zhuowei frowned for a moment, then suddenly had an idea.

He hurried outside, returning a moment later.

This time, he carried something new—a black beetle, about the size of a thumbnail.

It was a longhorn beetle.

Its body was black and white, three or four centimeters long, radiating a sense of raw power. These insects usually appeared in early spring, thriving on tender new shoots. Their shells were hard to the touch, almost prickly.

The longhorn beetle earned its name for its strength—like that of an ox—and its prowess in flight. Its “crack, crack” sound as it chewed through wood earned it the nickname “tree sawyer.”

All in all, it was a formidable insect, its cells brimming with immense energy—a difference as vast as that between the sun and the stars, compared to the ancient primeval tribe.

“If I inject the longhorn beetle’s cells into this spore creature and let the two life forms fuse, perhaps this little one might break through the shackles of its existence and gain an unprecedented chance at evolution…”

Fang Zhuowei stroked his chin, pondering the idea.