Chapter Six: The Food Crisis Resolved

Zhang Boqiu had been a people's teacher for decades, producing numerous top students who were admitted to prestigious universities. He was a renowned educator in Anping Town and the surrounding area.

Perhaps because of this, Zhang Boqiu was particularly strict with Fang Zhuowei during his school years. In addition to the regular classroom assignments, he would personally spend two or three hours each day tutoring Fang Zhuowei.

Yet Fang Zhuowei was simply not a bright student. Despite all this extra effort, he only managed to get into a junior college in another province.

Thinking back, Fang Zhuowei felt he had failed to live up to Uncle Zhang's well-meaning intentions, and his expression grew more reserved.

“Ah, ah, ah…” Zhang Boqiu, however, was clearly not thinking about this at all. He was busy nodding enthusiastically.

“These years apart, you've grown more and more handsome, quite the fine figure of a man. You look just like your father in his youth—it's as if you were carved from the same mold. I imagine you must have secretly stolen the hearts of quite a few young ladies by now…”

Zhang Boqiu joked.

Fang Zhuowei smacked his lips awkwardly and forced a smile. He really didn’t know how to respond. Whether any girls had secretly liked him, he had no idea. The girl he liked certainly hadn’t returned his feelings; she had rejected him directly at the time.

“You’re staying for good this time, aren’t you?” Fortunately, Zhang Boqiu didn’t press the matter. He changed the subject with the gentle concern of an elder.

“I’m not leaving again. I’ve been out in the world for so long—now I just want to come home and stay for a while,” Fang Zhuowei replied, pressing his lips together and nodding earnestly.

“No matter how bustling the outside world, only home is a true safe haven,” Zhang Boqiu said, patting Fang Zhuowei on the shoulder with a long sigh. “It’s good that you’re back. It’s just a pity for my brother and sister-in-law—they didn’t get the chance to see you fully grown…”

A trace of sorrow appeared on Zhang Boqiu’s face.

He had been close with Fang Zhuowei’s parents, sharing a bond with Fang Zhuowei’s father that was even deeper than that between blood brothers. And since Fang Zhuowei so closely resembled his father, every time Zhang Boqiu saw that familiar face, he couldn’t help but feel moved.

“Look at you, turning such a joyful occasion into something so melancholy. What’s wrong with you…” Tang Jinhua, too, was touched. She wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and shot a fierce glare at Zhang Boqiu.

The meal was lavish. Tang Jinhua and Zhang Boqiu had both spent a long time in the kitchen, covering the table with dishes, two-thirds of which were hearty meats—almost all of Fang Zhuowei’s childhood favorites.

“Eat more. Look at how thin you’ve gotten after all these years away,” Tang Jinhua kept urging, piling food into Fang Zhuowei’s bowl.

“Auntie, I’ve always been like this.” Fang Zhuowei gave a wry smile. His frame was large, and even though his appetite had declined due to pancreatic cancer, one wouldn’t notice anything unusual with his clothes on.

Compared to Zhang Boqiu and Tang Jinhua, Zhang Ya was distinctly more distant. She had only appeared briefly at the table, greeting him with a perfunctory “Brother Zhuowei” before falling silent and remaining aloof.

This was only natural; after all, it had been many years since they’d last seen each other. It would be odd if they were immediately familiar. As for any sense of disappointment, Fang Zhuowei felt none. Having experienced so much, he had long since learned to remain unperturbed by the vicissitudes of fortune.

During this meal, Fang Zhuowei once again felt the warmth of family, something he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

But after the meal, he didn’t stay the night, politely declining Tang Jinhua’s repeated invitations.

He never knew when the pain would flare up again, and he didn’t want his aunt or Uncle Zhang to worry.

“It’s so dark on the road—let your uncle walk you back,” Tang Jinhua said anxiously.

“Don’t worry, Auntie. I’ve walked this road hundreds of times. I could do it with my eyes closed. Besides, Uncle’s legs aren’t so nimble; it’s better not to trouble him,” Fang Zhuowei replied, waving his hand with a smile.

As a child, he had walked this path nearly every day. The earth and stones beneath his feet had long since become part of his soul—he could not be more familiar with the way.

The stone-paved mountain path twisted before him.

In the distance, the sun was setting, mountains rising in majestic layers, their silhouettes merging with the clear sky—a scene as poetic as a painting. The air was growing faintly dim.

Hastening his steps, Lin Chen returned quickly to the old house. Without pausing, he made his way directly to the fish tank.

Although only eight or nine hours had passed in reality, in the world of the fish tank, eight or nine thousand years had elapsed—a span longer than the entirety of human feudal history. Such an expanse of time was more than enough for the spore creatures to undergo further development.

“These little creatures have evolved rather quickly,” Fang Zhuowei remarked as he gazed down into the tank.

At this moment, inside the world of the fish tank—

Over the course of thousands of years, the ancient primordial species had grown bold, repeatedly launching attacks on the fat baby fish. Each assault came at a cost, but the results were always fruitful. In a series of great battles, the ancient primordial species managed to capture nearly a dozen of the fat baby fish in total, providing themselves with an extraordinary abundance of food.

With this ample food supply, the ancient primordial species entered a phase of rapid development. In just a few thousand years, their numbers soared from the brink of extinction to hundreds of thousands—a mighty force, dominating their domain.

Moreover, in their continual battles against the fat baby fish, these immigrant primordial species evolved something more crucial—intelligence.

The fat baby fish were nothing like the drifting algae. Fierce and terrifying, they were like prehistoric megalodons, capable of tearing elite primordial creatures to shreds or stirring up waves of chaos that struck terror into any who heard their approach.

No individual could hope to defeat such a monstrous foe.

To hunt such a creature required teamwork, the mobilization of the entire species, and above all, cunning.

“In the 8,700th year of the Primordial Dark Age, a turning point in evolution appeared. Through countless battles of blood and sweat, these seemingly insignificant primordial species developed the rudiments of intelligence. They mastered group tactics and division of labor—the earliest buds of a sentient race were beginning to emerge.”

Fang Zhuowei recorded his observations with relish.

Whenever a species attains intelligence, its understanding, awareness, and adaptability to its environment are vastly enhanced, creating the conditions necessary for survival, continuity, and progress.

Most important of all, intelligence arises from modes of thought and is the very precondition for the birth of civilization.

Humanity itself, from its origin to the present, required only a few hundred thousand years to achieve such intelligence and establish modern civilization. And that was an ordinary rate of progress; for spore creatures, evolution could only proceed faster.

Fang Zhuowei was filled with confidence.

“These Primordial Demons seem a bit odd…” Suddenly, Fang Zhuowei’s gaze fell upon another group of spore creatures occupying the other side of the tank.

These spore creatures, having become cannibalistic over countless years, had undergone ominous mutations, shedding all features of the primordial species. Powerful and mysterious, Fang Zhuowei had named them the Primordial Demons—symbols of evil and terror from the dawn of time.

Yet now, these nightmare beings appeared strangely unsettled…