Xu Zhi calmly munched on his Pallbearer Chicken as he scrolled through the forum, silently spying on the enemy camp.
After confirming that a certain jackass hadn't posted anything else—and was clearly not in any danger—he let out a sigh of relief.
He didn't have the time or patience to constantly monitor these eccentric players. It was time to get back to his real work: evolving new species.
First, he reviewed the current progress in the Spore Evolution sandbox.
Aside from the Slimes, none of the newly evolved species had shown much potential. Most were… well, garbage.
"Still," he mused, "that last post should've lit a fire under them. They're all itching to start a second life in another world. I'll just let natural selection—and their receding hairlines—handle the rest."
Xu Zhi was confident. With this level of desperation, someone was bound to evolve a viable new species soon.
No need to rush.
According to a recent survey, most players in the sandbox were between 16 and 26 years old. Not many minors.
Unlike typical online games, Spore Evolution didn't need an age rating. Without a solid educational background and a high IQ, no one could even begin to play.
"It's tragic, really," Xu Zhi muttered with mock pity. "So many brilliant young minds... doomed to baldness."
Then, his expression shifted as he remembered something. "Right, Hive Mind. What about those hyperactive Treants they've been evolving? Any potential there?"
Originally, he just wanted something edible, but if the Treants could diversify the ecosystem, that'd be a bonus. A world of only magical animals was too bland. A true magical civilization needed more than just beasts—it needed magical flora too.
The Hive Mind replied in its usual mechanical tone:
"A small portion possess marginal potential. But it is minimal."
Xu Zhi frowned. "Bottom of the barrel, huh."
After a moment of thought, he decided to wait. He wasn't interested in quantity—he wanted quality. Let them grind a bit more.
With that, he turned to the new batch of applications for the third beta test. "Time to review the submissions."
This round was far more intense than the second. Tens of thousands of professional dissertations were piled up on his screen.
"They really came prepared. Some of them must've started writing the moment the second beta ended—just waiting for this."
He chuckled. "Chen Xi was right. These people have completely lost it. With this level of competition, there's no way she's getting in unless I slip her through the back door."
He knew his own limits. There was no way he could compete with that level of academic fervor—not when he still had a full head of hair.
He reviewed the 50 most promising entries shortlisted by the Hive Mind. Two in particular stood out.
The first was titled:
"The Rubik's Cube: A Bone-Based Lifeform That Could Replace Metal"
The proposal suggested evolving a creature with bones dense and durable enough to replace metal—since the Magic World lacked conventional metallurgy. With bio-engines already a reality, bio-metals were the next logical step.
The accompanying document spanned over a hundred thousand words, packed with DNA schematics and evolutionary pathways. Dense, but elegant.
Xu Zhi skimmed through it.
The creature's body structure was hyper-specialized. Aside from a tiny digestive system and basic visual organs, it was nothing more than a rectangular slab—a living ingot of bone.
Its bone density was insane, combining the super-stable lattice structure of diamonds with the shock-absorption of an eggshell's microstructure. Basically, a chunk of biological steel that could eat and grow.
"A steel ingot... with teeth?" Xu Zhi gulped. "That's terrifying—and brilliant."
He imagined it.
In some future alchemical vault, steel bricks stacked neatly along the walls—each with sharp, toothy maws. Feed them and they grow. A grotesque industrial miracle.
"This is exactly the kind of bizarre, magical innovation I'm after!"
Curious, Xu Zhi tapped into the Hive Mind to identify the creator. A woman, it turned out.
She was a 28-year-old biology prodigy, internationally renowned, with multiple academic papers under her belt—and even a Nobel nomination.
Another big fish.
"This beta test is stacked. All these experts suddenly want to play pretend in a magic world?" Xu Zhi was over the moon.
"With a roster like this, I won't have to tiptoe around that lunatic Akinas Speedster anymore! I've got the real brains now!"
Giddy, he forced himself to settle down and opened the next proposal—and it blew the first one out of the water.
"Conception of an Artificial God: A Mythic-Level Synthetic Lifeform"
Xu Zhi froze.
Artificial god!?
Was this person actually trying to create a Mythic-Level Eight organism—something beyond even the current Emperor of Alchemy?
That was insane.
There were no true Mythic Wizards or Witches in the Magic World yet. Only "heroes"—biological anomalies who'd broken through genetic barriers at birth. Even the Phoenix, an Epic-Level Seven, was just a pseudo-hero still in its infancy.
Genuine heroes could rewrite their own genes. They were freaks of evolution—rare, terrifying, and utterly unique.
According to Tyranis records, even after seeding entire planets, only a handful of heroes would ever emerge.
"Creating one artificially? Hive Mind, is this nonsense?"
"It is theoretically viable," the Hive Mind intoned. "This proposal represents a paradigm shift. The individual may have uncovered a method to mass-produce pseudo-heroes—perhaps even surpassing the previous Tyranis Queen."
Xu Zhi's breath caught.
Surpassing the Tyranis Queen?
He quickly looked deeper into the document.
No thesis. No diagrams. No step-by-step guide.
Just a hypothesis.
But it began with a clean, academic tone:
"In nature, symbiosis is common.
Consider the rhinoceros and the oxpecker, or the hermit crab and the sea anemone.
The anemone provides venomous protection; the crab offers mobility.
Together, they form a unit greater than the sum of its parts.
I propose a symbiosis of hundreds of species—interlocking like gears, batteries, and circuits—to form a single colossal synthetic organism."
A synthetic lifeform... made of other lifeforms?
Xu Zhi's eyes widened.
By imposing body-size limits, he had thought he'd curtailed anyone from making gigantic creatures. But this? This sidestepped the restriction entirely.
One kilometer tall. Larger than Fenba. A living mountain.
But how would it work?
The plan was unorthodox:
First, they'd build a wooden ship to serve as the initial framework. Then, hundreds of player-controlled spores would act as parasitic organisms—seaweed, barnacles, shells—covering the hull.
As the ship rotted, these "parasites" would gradually evolve to replace its structure: turning into gears, supports, and organic machinery.
Eventually, the entire ship would be replaced. A fully organic, mobile, ship-shaped entity. The seed of a new colossus.
From there, the creature could evolve further—into a fish, an amphibian, a land-based giant, or even a flying titan.
"This entity will stand over a thousand meters tall. A symbiosis of players.
I call it the Spore Players Guild Plan.
I will be the head. He'll be the arms. She'll be the spine.
Together, we'll create a living Guild."
"Please—give me this chance."
Give you a chance? Hell yes!
"This is genius!" Xu Zhi leapt from his chair. "I don't care how many resources this takes. I'm backing this madman till the end!"
With a manic grin, he realized just how big this third beta test had become.
"I've somehow roped in every top-tier biologist on Earth… all playing god in my backyard."
And then, a bold idea struck him.
If this Synthetic Living Ship succeeds… then maybe… just maybe… there's hope for my Sky Island—the Heavenly Realm of the Gods.