Chapter 91
Alarms blared incessantly, plunging the entire base into chaos.
In the control room, the arguments among the higher-ups were amplified in real time on the screen.
"We must suppress him immediately! At all costs!" a general covered in medals roared, slamming his fist on the table. "He is no longer a soldier, but a threat—an out-of-control seed!"
"Nonsense!" Another research director stood up abruptly, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Didn't you see? He activated the crystal core, yet the base wasn't destroyed! This means he resonates with the core! He... might be the true inheritor of the Mother Tree!"
"A successor?" the general sneered. "That's nothing but a myth you've created! We need tools, not myths!"
The expressions on everyone's faces varied, and the atmosphere suddenly fractured.
One faction advocates a complete blockade, forcibly stripping the roots from 237's body; the other faction believes this is a long-awaited opportunity, and may even be the key to the "Source Mother".
Meanwhile, inside the medical pod, 237 slowly rose to his feet.
He could feel these arguments flowing into his body through the energy flow, like invisible fluctuations vibrating his heart.
Sprout12 said softly, "They're hesitating whether or not to destroy you."
237 chuckled softly, his gaze as steady as the sea: "Destroy me? They don't understand... The Mother Tree will not allow it."
He stretched out his palm, and roots instantly extended, like silent vines, quietly crawling outwards along the base's energy pipes.
—Right in the lobby, the ground beneath the feet of the arguing executives suddenly trembled.
The screen flickered, and the projection on the table was quietly enveloped by the shadows of vines.
Someone exclaimed, "He...heard us!"
The atmosphere froze in an instant.
The voice of 237 echoed clearly in everyone's mind:
“You argue whether I should be destroyed or used. But you forget—the real choice is not in your hands.”
—A battle for power and authority has begun.
The light screen in the hall suddenly went black, leaving only a low, pulsating sound reverberating in the air.
"Thump—thump—thump—"
That was a heartbeat, but not anyone's heartbeat; it was 237's.
The executives froze in their seats, their breath caught in their throats, and the world before them gradually blurred, turning into a black forest of roots.
—The mental invasion has begun.
Some people struggled frantically, trying to defend themselves with their amulets, but the runes on the amulets seemed to be soaked in black water, extinguishing one by one.
"This... this is impossible! He's still in the medical bay! How could..."
The words stopped abruptly, the sound crushed by an invisible force.
A gigantic, phantom-like seed hovered above their heads, its cracked texture resembling the eyes of an abyss.
The sound of 237 came in a low voice from every root and every vein of the leaf:
"You fear me because you cannot see my future."
You try to take advantage of me, but you never ask about my own choices.
"In that case—let me decide your choice."
The next moment, roots suddenly grew, wrapping around each of the taller members of the body like chains.
Their will was directly dragged into the spiritual realm woven by 237.
Someone screamed in the darkness: "No! Stop—!"
Another person screams in agony, his face contorted in the illusion, revealing hidden desires and fears: power, greed, betrayal, peeled away inch by inch by the roots.
Sprout 12 watched all this quietly from inside the medical pod, and whispered, "...You are no longer just a seed."
237 slowly opened his eyes, and a surge of energy, like stars, appeared deep within his pupils. His voice was cold and resolute:
"From today onwards, I will decide who the players are and who the pieces are."
—In the hall, several high-ranking officials suddenly knelt down simultaneously, their eyes vacant, muttering to themselves:
"Follow...the will of the mother tree."
The air was deathly still.
The air in the hall seemed to have been ripped open, pressing heavily on everyone's backs.
The black roots slowly receded into the void, leaving a deep imprint on the spirit of every high-ranking individual.
They seemed to wake up from a silent nightmare, covered in cold sweat, unable to distinguish between illusions and reality.
237 watched them quietly.
His eyes held no anger, only an extremely calm and discerning gaze.
—Filtering begins.
The roots did not completely detach, but remained suspended above their heads like sharp blades.
With just a thought, 237 can instantly see through anyone.
The first high-ranking official suddenly knelt down, his eyes unfocused, repeatedly muttering:
"Follow...follow the mother tree...follow the seed..."
His spirit was completely subdued, he lost his sense of self, yet retained the instinct to obey.
237 slightly raised his hand, gently coiled his roots, and like a puppet on strings, pulled the person up and put him back in the seat.
"You—you can stay. You will become my shell."
The second person gritted their teeth, trying to ignite their self-awareness, and resisted frantically: "No! You are just a parasitized seed! You will eventually lose control! We will never—"
Before he could finish speaking, the roots tightened abruptly, and his throat was crushed by invisible chains. His body collapsed to the ground, leaving only a gradually fading afterimage.
The others stared in horror at the scene, their faces ashen.
The sound of 237 echoed in the hall, as if it were coming from every corner at the same time:
"The loyal remain; the rebels return to dust."
This is not a threat, but order.
One by one, the high-ranking officials knelt down, their foreheads pressed against the cold ground, their voices trembling as they cried out:
"I am willing to be the ashes of the mother tree... I am willing to serve the seed..."
In just a few minutes, the hall transformed into a bizarre altar.
Of those who stood, less than a third remained; the rest either fell to the ground and turned to dust, or knelt down and sank into oblivion.
Sprout 12 watched all this through the barrier of the medical pod, a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth.
"...You've really turned them into puppets."
237 slowly closed his eyes, and the unknown energy within his body gradually calmed down.
He responded softly, as if speaking to some being in the future:
"Not a puppet, but a veil of concealment."
Only in the fog can I see the true enemy.
The hall fell into a deathly silence.
Only the selected high-ranking officials remained, their empty eyes reflecting the shadow of 237's will.
The air in the hall was deathly still, as if all sound had been swallowed up. The kneeling executives continued to breathe mechanically, like rows of deeply rooted trees, with only the reflection of 237 flickering deep in their eyes.
He slowly stood up and looked around.
"You—remain in high positions. Maintain order externally and continue operations as usual."
The voice was calm, yet carried an irresistible power.
The group of "puppets" responded in unison, their voices hollow yet uniform: "Yes, sir."
237 lowered his gaze and gently withdrew the wisp of black root from his palm. A moment later, he turned and left, as if nothing had happened.
—Medical cabin.
Sprout12 looked at him with a complicated expression as he returned.
"You...you really want them to stay in power?"
237 leaned against the barrier, his tone indifferent.
“We need to cover it up. If a third force is watching from the shadows, let them see the illusion that ‘the higher-ups still control the situation.’”
Sprout 12 squinted, its leaves trembling slightly: "In reality, every decision made by the higher-ups is your will."
237 did not deny it, but simply closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
"In this game, we can no longer focus solely on the surface. We must leverage their resources and mobilize all our energy to prepare for the next attack."
Sprout 12 chuckled softly, with a hint of sarcasm: "You're treating the whole earth as your 'nutrients'."
237 opened his eyes, a cold glint flashing deep within them, but it quickly disappeared.
"Only a disguised order can conceal a real counterattack."
Sprout, don't forget, we're not just facing them—we're also facing that hand reaching down from beyond the sky.
The bean sprout remained silent for a long time, its branches and leaves drooping gently, as if swaying in the wind.
"...Very well. You will manipulate the puppets in the mist, and I will watch over you from the shadows. But don't forget, the embers of the Mother Tree are not for concealment, but for burning."
237 smiled slightly and did not respond.
The lights in the medical ward gradually returned to normal, and the sound of mechanical footsteps could be heard outside the wall. A new "higher-ups" entered, presenting 237 with the latest dispatch map and supplies list.
Their eyes were vacant, yet they acted with meticulous care, like a group of perfect tools.
237's gaze swept over the projected data, but in his heart, he was silently painting another picture—
A storm, bigger than any battle, is brewing in the invisible sky.
He, however, is preparing to fight back behind the facade of order.
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