On the surface, the Insectoid Federation’s century-long crisis and reproductive anxiety all stemmed from the growing scarcity of insectoid eggs, in other words, the rapid degeneration of reproductive function.
But what if… the insectoids’ reproductive capacity had never degenerated at all, and had instead evolved a step further?
After all, the insectoid process of having children was even more complicated than humanity’s.
After a female insectoid carried an egg for several months and struggled to lay it, the egg still had to be protected in a temperature-controlled incubator, carefully tended, and slowly hatched. Nearly a full year of work produced only one child. Female-insectoid hatchlings were relatively easy to keep alive, while a male-insectoid hatchling could die from the slightest mistake.
The odds of a double-yolk egg were even lower than the odds of human twins.
Such a complicated and fragile reproductive model seemed completely at odds with the insectoids’ cold, efficient society, and it severely slowed the species’ overall advancement.
For a powerful species that kept expanding across the vast universe, gradual evolution that eliminated flaws in its own genes would actually make far more sense.
Song Zang boldly guessed that insectoid eggs were evolving toward self-protection. For some unknown reason, however, the mutation had become bizarrely extreme, and even their method of “spreading” had turned into something no one in the world could have predicted.
They hid in restricted zones unknown to anyone, protecting the eggs through their most fragile incubation period. Even thermal imaging could not detect them clearly. That was why the apparent birth rate had kept falling lower and lower until it looked critically dangerous.
Holding onto this seemingly absurd suspicion, Song Zang subtly probed Kyle with a few more questions and gradually realized something.
Even if not a single insectoid egg were born for a hundred years, the Federation still would not actually have reached the point of total extinction.
Insectoids lived at least three times longer than humans, so they had time to wait for the eggs to hatch. Of course, because of warped family relationships and brutal military training, the death rate caused by mental-power rampages and overexertion was considerably higher.
They did not merely live longer. The insectoids were also an enormous, highly complex population, and different types possessed completely different hereditary bloodline abilities. In the age of firearms, these little abilities could not decide a war, but in one-on-one combat, even an Alpha could die horribly.
Major General Kyle’s compound eyes functioned like a low-grade version of penetrating vision and could lock onto a single target.
Another female-insectoid soldier who looked plain and honest had venom glands in his upper canine teeth and terrifying bite force, enough to pierce a human leg bone with ease and inject lethal poison.
Louis was the funniest. His ancestors were hybrids of scorpions and fireflies. His coccyx extended farther than those of other female insectoids and ended in a sharp hook. When his emotions became too intense… his butt glowed.
To insectoids, these were all perfectly ordinary little abilities, and most had no aesthetic appeal whatsoever. Limb regeneration was about the only useful one. As hatchlings grew, their brain-computer AI taught them how to use these abilities, or how to hide them so they would not displease their male lord.
There were also insectoid groups with even more unusual bloodlines. By burying themselves underground and entering dormancy, they could extend their lives across several centuries.
The noble Stuart family was one example. Their exceptional talent for staying alive had allowed the family’s glory to continue and kept them near the peak of power for generations.
If the insectoids were allowed to keep evolving, the Rose Empire was truly finished.
Fortunately, the first batch of insectoid eggs parasitizing the roses had been burned to ashes by Yin Chen before they ever hatched.
Where were the remaining eggs…? The strange restricted zones Catherine had mentioned might all have been possible hiding places.
After reasoning out this terrifying possibility, Song Zang showed neither excitement nor panic. He remained seated on the soft cashmere sofa, head tilted as he continued casually chatting with the female-insectoid soldiers who had voluntarily accepted confinement.
Golden light flashed across the ornate Mask. Song Zang barely had to use his brain to coax quite a bit of information out of them.
For example, the latest progress in brain-computer teleportation research, the results of decades of experiments involving insectoid-human hybrids, and information about the rebels.
Major General Kyle was not afraid of his questions. Even if humanity learned that instantaneous teleportation technology now existed, they could not devise a response in the short term. The gulf in high-precision technology was simply too wide. Crossing it alone, feeling one’s way forward step by step, would take at least several decades.
Song Zang gained quite a lot. He finally understood why his pheromones smelled so awful.
The forced combination of two species had accidentally produced a new recessive gene, causing an organic mutation in the gland. Through his pheromones, it could release a neurotoxin… one with no antidote. Initial exposure could cause hallucinations, while repeated inhalation could even be fatal.
The dazed look in Zhang Tao Xiong’s eyes just before his death suddenly made sense.
The first person Song Zang had poisoned to death at birth was the Sapphire Rose Empress. The neurotoxin was so concentrated and incurable that, although it should have protected the “infant,” it instead threw the Empress’s fragile immune system completely out of control. Her body began treating every living thing inside and outside her as an enemy that had to be killed. Her overstressed brain lost control outright, multiple organs developed severe complications, and her gland began to rot.
But she had willingly fallen in love with the red-eyed male insectoid who seduced her, becoming more and more addicted to the strange pleasure of mental-power guidance. The insectoids’ original plan had been to use the Empress, whose heart had changed, together with Song Zang to infiltrate the Empire’s power structure. Who could have expected the Empress to give birth to such a difficult child? It was pure bad luck.
Under the original plan, Song Zang should have been Prince Arthur in every legitimate sense, carefully raised to adulthood as the noble heir apparent. The Arthur everyone knew today had only been a backup infant provided by Viscount Frello.
Through a chain of accidents, no one ended up well. It was said that even the technician who implanted Song Zang’s brain-computer device had been pierced straight through the heart when the infant rolled over once and died from the injury.
Baby Song Zang was simply too dangerous. The Stuart male insectoid responsible for seducing the Empress personally decided the fate of his illegitimate son.
Damage Song Zang’s mental sea, restrain his lethal mental power, use Little Star AI for regular surveillance, and place him on a garbage planet as a hidden pawn to be cultivated in secret.
When the insectoids launched their full-scale invasion, they would manipulate Little Star AI to control his mind and thoughts, using him to remotely assassinate key members of the Imperial family.
But no one expected Little Star AI to grow up alongside Song Zang and gradually develop ideas of its own through constant learning.
The virtual boy who was forever using a cutesy voice to act spoiled had come to depend on Song Zang as his one and only older brother.
At least, that was how Little Star explained it in front of Yin Chen.
Even if it truly had other ideas, Yin Chen would never give it the opportunity to act on them.
Little Star softly poured out its grievances beside Song Zang’s ear, while Song Zang solemnly held Yin Chen’s hand and played with it over and over, pretending he had not heard a single word.
The topic of the rebels was more complicated. Their information was classified far more strictly than anything connected to a public corporation like H+.
Major General Kyle was not a commander in one of the Federation’s primary theaters of war. He did not know the whole picture and lacked the authority to answer.
Just as Song Zang’s influence made him hesitate internally, the voice on the other end of Kyle’s brain-computer link suddenly switched to speaker mode and drifted into the room.
“Greetings, honored male-insectoid sir. I am Li-Williams, deputy to the marshal of the Federation’s W32 Main Theater.” The man on the speaker sounded refined, his voice seemingly softened on purpose. “The Marshal asked me to pass along a message: we have a common enemy.”
Song Zang raised a brow. “That’s right. I’m willing to help you deal with some of the rebels’ problems. If the rebel leader is hiding somewhere inside the Empire, taking care of him will be effortless for me.”
Williams spoke unhurriedly, deliberately making his voice even gentler, like someone telling a story. “The Marshal offers you one clue: he is extraordinarily beautiful, but tall. Now fully mature, he should display a blended form combining traits of both female and male insectoids.
“Many years ago, however, he was mistaken for a male-insectoid hatchling and carefully raised until adolescence… Then his identity as a female insectoid was exposed, and his female father cruelly abandoned him.
“He became homeless in the Federation. Every relative and friend rejected and persecuted him, accusing him of maliciously pretending to be a male insectoid, calling him an underdeveloped freak and a mongrel. Wandering female insectoids with unstable mental power harassed him, and he was eventually abducted into the black market, where he was used as a substitute for a male insectoid and subjected to arbitrary mistreatment.
“His mind became profoundly twisted. He hates every resident of the Federation without distinction. To avenge the humiliations of his adolescence, he would rather watch the entire species go extinct than relent.”
Song Zang listened carefully, understanding dawning more clearly across his face. “I understand. So he’s somewhere inside the Empire right now?”
“Almost certainly.” Williams did not make the claim absolute. After a pause, his tone became even more sincere. “Sir, it is entirely reasonable that you resent the Federation and refuse to return. The Federation failed to provide the care it owed you before you reached adulthood. That was our fault. Duke Stuart has died unexpectedly, and the Marshal is willing to represent the government in offering you certain compen…”
“Have you eaten human flesh?” Song Zang cut him off, too impatient to listen any longer.
Williams paused. “No. Agents planted inside the Empire may occasionally have the chance to taste it, but most of the time the spoils belong to our male lords.”
“Then never mind. Goodbye.”
Song Zang flipped on the signal jammer, completely cutting off the female-insectoid soldiers’ brain-computer signals, and pulled Yin Chen back into the ship’s bedroom.
The bedroom hatch closed automatically, sealing away all noise from outside. Yin Chen curved his lips, lifted Song Zang’s thigh, and gave it a squeeze. “What’s the hurry?”
“That clue was detailed enough. I know what the rebel leader is.”
Song Zang had once experienced an instance world centered on insectoids. Its setting differed slightly from this one, and so did some of its species classifications.
This rebel leader was very likely the earliest form of a sub-female insectoid, a new classification produced by insectoid evolution. He was beautiful and slightly more slender than an ordinary female insectoid, but his sex was still female, and he was just as physically resilient as any other female insectoid.
In the instance Song Zang had experienced before, even the history books mentioned that once this special sub-female population differentiated and formally integrated into society, the insectoids’ reproductive rate soon rose dramatically.
That was because sub-females suited male insectoids’ aesthetic preferences better and were more easily taken as female consorts, kept at home as reproductive tools to lay eggs.
Comparing the different historical eras of the two worlds, Song Zang suddenly understood. The declining birth rate, the mysteriously fragile gestational insectoid eggs, and the appearance of “mongrels” like the rebel leader were very likely all part of the first great wave of the insectoid species’ evolution.
Once they endured the adjustment period and growing pains of evolution, a golden age of explosive reproduction would follow.
But Song Zang offered no warning. If he had already inferred that such a prosperous future was possible, then naturally… he wanted to erase that future while it was still in the cradle. If the first batch of insectoid eggs in the mine had successfully hatched, he could hardly imagine what Zone C would look like now.
The two of them were still on their way back to the cliffside restricted zone and could not reach Imperial affairs from so far away. Fortunately, Chi Yan was there, holding far greater power and resources in her hands.
Yin Chen organized everything they currently knew and sent it all to Chi Yan at once, warning her to act cautiously.
Meanwhile, Song Zang quietly had Little Star AI buy several fake news stories.
[Shocking! The Empire’s Greatest Traitor Is Actually of Imperial Blood?!]
[The Roses Wither, Imperial Power Collapses: A New Solution to the Unsolved Case. Has the Captured Princess Been Dead All Along?]
[Fiona, We’re Waiting for You to Come Home!]
StarNet’s anti-rumor system was automatically clearing junk information, but Little Star AI
Elio’s Notes: The source text contains an abrupt break after “but AI Xiao Xing…” before the narration resumes. We checked the official JJWXC chapter and confirmed that the same break appears there, so we have preserved the published source rather than inventing or reconstructing missing text.
Whatever emergency measures the Empire might have, the first step was to stir this seemingly calm lake into complete turmoil.
＊
Rose Empire, capital of Zone A.
Chi Yan was so anxious she was nearly fainting.
She needed to rescue Xie Chun Ye and had already paid to jump the queue for a small-scale spatial-jump route. The fee was a staggering thirty million star coins.
The distances between the Empire’s three major zones were far greater than simply crossing a galaxy. Safe routes for inter-zone travel had to be opened at great risk by the Imperial legions, and only a handful currently existed.
Large cargo ships traveled back and forth every day. Private route reservations were open only to the upper aristocratic class, while public starships were equally expensive to operate.
That was why a ticket out of Zone C had cost as much as thirty thousand star coins.
To a Rose Princess pampered from birth, money was nothing more than a string of numbers.
But the reservation system seemed to be malfunctioning. It refused to approve her application for a very long time. The money had already been paid, yet every time the site reached the final confirmation screen, it simply spun in circles, displayed an error, and asked her to verify her name and identity again.
The Princess’s specially assigned ship, Champagne, was currently waiting in front of the spatial-jump terminal.
Chi Yan had left long ago, only to become stuck at the very end of an endless line of ships, waiting for each one to pass through the manually controlled route in sequence.
She kept refreshing the emergency reservation process while receiving Yin Chen’s messages. In the middle of all that chaos, she even found time to think about helping Song Zang smear the Eldest Princess.
For some reason, however, Chi Yan’s StarNet signal was also terrible, while her subordinates had no problem at all. It was as though some unknown hidden program were blocking her, forbidding the Second Princess from going online under her real name to attack the Eldest Princess’s reputation.
Every post she made on social platforms that involved the Imperial family was repeatedly rejected. Chi Yan experimentally complained about the spatial-jump system malfunctioning and was slapped down just as hard, with every appeal denied.
Only two groups had the ability to control StarNet.
The Imperial family’s Public Opinion Response Center and the Federation government’s Internet Harmonization Office.
Through Chi Yan’s quiet efforts, she had long since gained control over the battered royal apparatus. Quite a few ministers and nobles who had helped her cheap father suppress information, unable to contact the Eldest Princess, had gradually begun placing their bets on Chi Yan instead.
She could now openly declare that her Imperial father was mentally unstable, her elder sister was missing, and the lawful next-in-line heir should ascend the throne.
As long as the Federation government also chose to support her, Chi Yan could be crowned almost instantly and complete her personal mission.
But if Song Zang’s guess was correct, then the Federation was the true obstacle to her rebellion.
“A man that handsome, speaking so gently too… of course he wouldn’t be easy to deal with.”
Chi Yan carried Arthur’s head with her and complained to him irritably. “Good thing I’ve met plenty of men. The brother-in-law I picked for you isn’t that kind. He’s so bad with words he could piss someone to death, and he’s socially anxious too, but when he shuts up and makes money for me, he’s better than every sweet-talking man in the world.”
“Julian Cooper, right? I can help you, Sister.”
The blond boy’s head sat upright on a fine red-velvet cushion, his underdeveloped little child’s hands unconsciously tugging at the fuzz.
“How would you help me?” Chi Yan narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.
“I used to know a senior I was close with. He’s a poison expert and should hold a fairly high military rank by now. His name is Philip. He can help you poison Mr. Cooper to death, or publicly induce a susceptible-period pheromone disorder in him, then have him imprisoned for endangering public safety and removed from the presidency. There wouldn’t be a single flaw… Isn’t that impressive?”
Arthur smiled brightly. His blue eyes sparkled as they fixed on Chi Yan’s face, his expression openly asking for praise, as though an invisible golden-retriever tail were wagging wildly behind him.
“I never expected you to be so full of wicked schemes too.”
Chi Yan was surprised internally, but merely curved her lips without showing it and gently stroked Arthur’s head.
Apparently this little brother of hers had a dark turn waiting in him too.
As if she did not know who Philip was. That low-profile military doctor and mad scientist hiding in Zone C sounded, from Song Zang and the others’ descriptions alone, like a beautiful, cold-blooded snake. He suppressed a crazed darkness inside himself and was not someone to provoke.
Arthur was actually good friends with him… Chi Yan immediately contacted Lieutenant Colonel Hall and tentatively asked what exactly had happened back then.
At that moment, the priority application that had failed again and again suddenly went through.
The Champagne was seized by the terminal’s enormous mechanical arm and swiftly pushed into the jump chamber, ready for its second launch at any moment.
Arthur’s head was also forcibly strapped in and shut inside its velvet box to prevent impact injuries.
New-message alerts immediately began chiming like mad. Chi Yan opened the screen in surprise and discovered that the Federal President had sent more than twenty unread messages in one burst.
[Cooper: Good day, Your Highness. May I ask whether you know Mr. Song’s exact whereabouts?]
[Cooper: The Federation has approved all compensation and benefits owed to him. They must be formally delivered in person.]
[Cooper: His atavistic bloodline is exceptionally noble. After discussion, the members of the Federation Human Rights Protection Association unanimously agreed that he should be granted a noble title of baron or higher as compensation for the honor and material benefits he was denied for so many years.]
[Cooper: Hello? Can you contact Captain Percy’s commander’s deputy? I believe he may be privately keeping Song Zang under his control and improperly pursuing him despite concerns about his age.]
[Cooper: Your Highness, if you choose not to provide Song Zang’s exact coordinates, the spatial jump could malfunction midway and lead to unpredictable consequences. You are Mr. Song’s friend. I mean no harm. Please consider your answer carefully ^ ^]
Chi Yan fastened her safety belt and swore expressionlessly. “…Lunatic.”
She suspected this man’s sudden fit of madness probably had something to do with Song Zang.
She asked. It did, in fact, have something to do with Song Zang.
After getting permission from both of them, she directly sent over Iceberg’s coordinates. Her condition in exchange was that Julian had to help her become the next Rose Emperor.
Julian agreed without the slightest hesitation.
＊
“The Heartthrob System activated again?”
Yin Chen closed the group-chat interface and looked at Song Zang with a faint, knowing smile.
Song Zang put on an innocent expression and leaned into Yin Chen’s arms. Infected by the atmosphere, he started using a cutesy voice too. “Yes, Baby, I’m so scared… If another guy surnamed Xu shows up and bullies me, will you save me, Baby?”
“Don’t worry.”
Yin Chen pinched his waist and answered with only those two cold words.
Song Zang understood what he meant.
Those two handsome copycats from before had probably been dealt with completely by Yin Chen. Song Zang had never needed to intervene at all.
Song Zang knew Yin Chen was in a bad mood. If Yin Chen had this kind of special ability too, Song Zang would have turned into a jar of vinegar long ago.
But Julian Cooper was the Federal President. He had quietly governed the country for so long without a single scandal, and he might even possess the dual identity of a mid-stage boss and the insectoid rebel leader. Neither his strength nor his intentions could be underestimated.
For now, however, there were still about five minutes before the ship landed.
Song Zang wrapped his arms directly around Yin Chen’s neck. His cool fingertips pressed against the thin suppressant patch and gently peeled back one corner. “Baby, you know I’ve never had a wife since I was little.”
“…Hm?” Yin Chen did not quite understand.
“It took me so long to finally find you. You’re not allowed to run away. I’m going to kiss you to death.”
Song Zang spoke softly, eyes falling on the pale back of Yin Chen’s neck, already restored to perfect condition. Without hesitation, he left several strings of blood-red marks resembling permanent mating marks.
Five minutes later, the modified ship reached the cliffside restricted zone.
Seen from high above, this enclosed restricted zone used for teleportation experiments had also been deliberately built in the rounded shape of an insectoid egg. Its exterior was a soft, smooth pale white, carefully painted with black-and-gold patterns through which deep, intelligent-control light shifted.
Reproductive anxiety revealed itself in every tiny detail.
The ship landed smoothly on the platform beside the building. Yin Chen did not put the suppressant patch back on. With fresh red marks on the back of his neck and Song Zang’s little backpack in hand, he happily stepped off the ship.
The female-insectoid soldiers remained locked aboard the modified ship, with Little Star AI responsible for monitoring and reporting their movements in real time.
The enormous brain in the canyon was in even weaker condition than Song Zang had expected.
Yin Chen had hacked it into pieces. The two tumor-covered halves of the brain had completely separated, while the struggling, beating heart had somehow been squeezed out of position and now hid inside the right-brain cavity, supplying the malformed cerebral vessels with nutrients.
Catherine Percy was guarding the place alone. She had deliberately blindfolded herself to prevent an unexpected episode of mental instability.
She held an auto-aim laser pistol and, following Yin Chen’s instructions, shot the brain tumors apart one by one. The extremely hot laser energy cooked each tumor instantly, releasing a rich smell of roasted brain along with a faint protein aroma from fried insectoid eggs.
The scene was exceptionally bloody and grotesque. Sure enough, the tumors were also full of developing insectoid eggs. Catherine could not see any of it, though, so she seemed fairly relaxed.
She had even found a way to make an ultra-long-distance interstellar call to one of her subordinates. “I’ve been cautious for half my life, then suddenly lost my mind for no reason and charged into a restricted zone I used to be afraid even to mention. How the hell should I know what happened? Stop scolding me. Stop scolding me. I really learned my lesson this time. You know I’m not normally like this.
“Now look at me. Multiple perforations and edema in my heart and lungs, my gland is damaged and suppurating, and I stopped breathing for five minutes… What am I supposed to do, Xiao Ye? I can’t find a wife anymore. Will you marry me? I don’t have parents. I have money and guns. You can play with all of it.”
Yin Chen and Song Zang stood at the edge of the cliff, silently listening as she invited a refined Omega to marry her, going straight for the kill with astonishing courage. Apparently today’s horrific ordeal had not traumatized Catherine at all.
“Her pheromone strain is very pure. The insectoid teleportation device detected her on the grasslands and forcibly sent her to the Federation,” Yin Chen explained quietly. “What we saw of her on Iceberg was Fiona’s first-person view while Fiona was trying to devour her. The visual nerves in the brain had become tangled with the brain-computer circuitry, so the image was accidentally transmitted to the computer equipment on Iceberg.”
Yin Chen had not inferred this sequence of events himself. It was the result of Little Star AI calculating multiple factors together. Under Yin Chen’s threats, Little Star had even voluntarily performed a basic brain scan on Catherine. Her condition was more serious than expected.
Her cerebral cortex showed abnormalities, the prefrontal lobe had developed a bizarre hypertrophic lesion, and her mental-sea lobe was highly unstable. This impaired emotional regulation, which in turn could make Catherine’s everyday behavior either extraordinarily impulsive or excessively cautious.
Clearly, Catherine was still in an impulsive state right now. That was why she had dared grab the subordinate she had secretly loved for ten years and boldly propose marriage.
Song Zang held onto Yin Chen and refused to let him interrupt. Sure enough, less than five minutes later, Catherine successfully became engaged to her refined subordinate.
“Mutual pining!” Song Zang happily shipped them for a moment.
Yin Chen narrowed his phoenix eyes. “You certainly know a lot about this.”
“Stop being suspicious. You’re my first love!”
Song Zang emphasized the point with his arms around Yin Chen’s neck, then let Yin Chen support his thighs and hips as they leaped from the cliff.
Black leather boots landed on the thick brain tissue, spreading large patches of pink-white bloody fluid and producing a string of wet, sticky gujiu sounds.
Catherine nodded in their direction without removing her blindfold and continued working on killing the insectoid eggs.
“Baby, did your body evolve? This time you jumped off a cliff while holding me, and I didn’t even feel weightless.”
Song Zang released his arms and looked at Yin Chen, lowering his voice thoughtfully.
“It evolved,” Yin Chen said without hiding it. “A blessing from the blooming of the Carola rose.”
“How do you know? Why don’t I know?”
“Because I can see the light and shadow of the game system’s power. You can’t.”