Chapter 92
Reconstruction flags were hung all over the ruins.
The higher-ups kept proclaiming "restoring order and rebuilding our homes," and the town's residents were driven to move stones and lay energy conduits. On the projection screen, the project's progress slowly climbed in precise proportions, and everything seemed to be moving in a positive direction.
But only a very few people know that what was actually being laid out was not simply a defensive barrier.
As night fell, in a ruin on the city's edge, Sprout 12, disguised as a foreman, drooped branches concealing his eyes. He watched as the empty-eyed "high-level agents" directed the workers to install alloy pipes, while underground, the pipes' route had already been quietly altered.
The main vein, which was originally meant to flow to the central energy tower, was instead redirected to a hidden underground dome.
There, 237 stood quietly, like a deeply buried seed, surrounded by a faint halo.
Energy flowed beneath his feet, transforming into a dense "root network" that extended outwards from the ruins.
These roots are subtly connected to the earth's veins, like an invisible giant net gradually covering the entire city.
Sprout 12 descended underground, its dust-covered leaves trembling slightly: "Everything is proceeding according to your plan. But what if a third force discovers it—"
"That means we're on the right track."
237 opened his eyes, his gaze deep and thoughtful.
"This net is not for hiding, but for luring. The deeper they peer, the more entangled they will become."
Sprout 12 remained silent, a near-burning intuition welling up within her.
—237 is no longer that simple "seed".
He is absorbing, reconstructing, and approaching some higher existence.
On the ground, a new city gradually took shape. The light tower was re-erected, and the energy crystals shimmered in the night. The residents cheered, believing that true peace was returning.
Only in the deepest underground do the roots tremble gently, like a heartbeat.
That was the heartbeat of 237, and the pulse of the entire city about to be transformed.
As night deepened, the city's light towers shone excessively brightly.
However, high above, a gaze that is neither human nor an incarnation is looking down upon us.
That was a probe from the third force.
It had no physical form, only a cold, surging wave of will, like a silent tentacle descending from the sky, attempting to penetrate the city's protective layer and probe the pulse beneath the earth.
The roots trembled.
237 suddenly opened his eyes in the dome, feeling as if a blazing stream of light and black flames were colliding simultaneously in his chest. He felt that will was trying to tear through the disguise of the root network and go straight for his core.
"They're here."
His voice was deep, like the moment a seed cracks open in the soil.
Sprout 12 immediately stepped to one side, the fragments of his long blade trembling, his branches emitting the faint glow of the mother tree's ashes. He could sense that utterly cold power, neither like the madness of an incarnation nor like human desire, but rather a higher, more ancient order.
In an instant, all the light towers in the city flashed simultaneously. Residents looked up in surprise, assuming it was due to an unstable energy source. But in reality, it was the first collision between the probe and the root.
The roots emitted a deep rumble, as if the earth itself was resisting an invasion.
237 raised his hands, and intricate patterns appeared on his palms, resembling both leaf veins and star trails. He chanted softly, his voice seemingly in sync with all the roots underground.
"This is my soil... I will not allow anything outside to trample on it."
As soon as the words fell, the root network suddenly contracted, engulfing and disintegrating that cold will, forcing it back into the sky.
However, as it receded, the force did not completely dissipate, but left a "mark".
Deep in the sky, some colossal being seemed to slowly turn its gaze, with scrutiny and anticipation.
Sprout 12 said with a serious expression, "They've already noticed."
237 simply closed his eyes, his roots continuing to extend beneath his feet.
"Perfect. Let them come."
Only in a head-on collision can I confirm—what I truly am.
The clouds in the night sky were parted by an invisible force.
There was no light, no sound; all the dust particles in the air seemed to freeze simultaneously, as if they had been detached from their weight.
A silhouette-like outline slowly emerged.
It is neither as chaotic as a Rift Avatar nor as concrete as a human, but rather pieced together from layers of order runes—an agent from a third force.
It has no face, but it has countless shifting "eyes," each reflecting a different possible future.
The moment it arrived, the entire city's energy network froze instantly, the light towers went out one by one, and even the flow of energy in the veins was forcibly suppressed.
Sprout 12 let out a low hiss, its branches and leaves standing upright, as if its whole body was resisting this cold order.
"It's not here to fight... it's here to take over."
The agent raised his hand.
The finger is not flesh and blood, but straight vector lines composed of countless symbols. With a gentle flick, the roots underground instantly break, as if "rewritten" by some higher rule.
237 let out a muffled groan, and the patterns in his chest cavity simultaneously shattered, causing black and white light to burst wildly.
He could sense that force was trying to re-archive the energy within him, rewriting him from a "seed of freedom" into a "node of order."
"stop--!"
Sprout 12's long blade suddenly slashed down, the blazing embers striking the agent's shoulder, but only creating a cold ripple, as if the blade were cutting into the endless deep sea, without any real resistance.
237 gritted his teeth and pressed his hands to the ground.
"My roots will not grow for them!"
The roots suddenly burst open, and the underground energy network transformed into countless light roots, which wrapped around the outline of the agent in reverse.
In an instant, the earth roared, energy surged, and a huge tearing light curtain appeared between the sky and the ground.
The agent paused for the first time.
Its countless "eyes" simultaneously turn to 237, reflecting the same image—a seed that is cracking open, with unclassifiable flames burning inside.
A look of horror flashed across Sprout 12's eyes.
"...It's confirming you, 237. It's trying to define you."
But 237 suddenly raised his head, his eyes revealing an unprecedented determination:
"Then let me define it myself—!"
As the words fell, the roots surged, as if the underground forest of the entire ruined city had awakened simultaneously, resonating with 237's heartbeat.
The agent's silhouette began to distort for the first time.
The earthquake trembled.
All the roots grew wildly at the same moment, and the light roots that broke through the soil shot into the sky like thousands of sharp spears, firmly surrounding the orderly figure of the agent.
The runes surrounding the agent suddenly accelerated their circulation, and a cold, indifferent hum resounded through the air:
"The definition is incorrect... and needs to be corrected."
With a wave of its hand, the symbols transformed into countless fine lines, eroding along the roots like a program, attempting to rewrite every energy flow as "still, archived, sealed".
The roots instantly stiffened, and a large area of radiance dimmed.
237 bent over in pain, and black and white flames burst forth from the crack in his chest.
Those were the embers of light and darkness—originally incompatible, yet forcibly merged at the call of the mother tree's lingering shadow.
Now, they are boiling over completely within 237, like a star core about to explode.
Sprout 12 roared, plunged its long blade into the ground, and ignited the embers deep within its roots.
The flames and the light of 237 instantly connected, intertwining to form a new network—
They are no longer just roots, but like blood vessels, transmitting an indefinable force between the earth and the sky.
"Correction failed... Unknown variable detected."
The agent's voice paused for the first time, and the calm symbols began to become disordered.
237 suddenly raised his head, his eyes filled with light, and a blinding radiance surged from the crack in his forehead.
He roared:
"I am not a node—I am growth!"
boom--!
Black and white flames erupted from his body, transforming into countless intertwined vines that fiercely entangled the agent's lines of order.
In that instant, the normally composed rune figure was forced to retreat for the first time.
A deep rift appeared in the void, and the runes scattered like words that had been forcibly torn apart.
The agent's silhouette shook violently, and countless "eyes" shattered into dust and dissipated into the air.
Bean Sprout 12 gasped for breath, staring at the gradually blurring figure, and murmured softly:
"You...you actually repelled it."
237 knelt on the ground, dripping flames from the branches and leaves, his chest still burning fiercely.
He did not answer, but simply looked up and stared at the cracked void.
Within the falling dust of light, a barely audible whisper drifted forth:
"An incomplete definition..."
—The agent has left.
But the aftershocks it left behind made everyone understand:
237 is no longer just a "seed," but the focus of some higher existence.
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