Chapter 94
The silence in the isolation ward seemed to be brewing a storm.
Beneath the dormant surface of consciousness, the energy pathways are quietly being reorganized. The gift from "above" takes root within him, penetrating his bones and tendons, entwining his consciousness like vines.
Meanwhile, far away at the top of the central tower—
The "Deep Roots Parliament" was convened.
That was the highest collective consciousness council of plant civilization, where representatives of all high-level thought-roots and free bud groups attended via neural projection.
Their shapes shimmered in the air, some like blooming fern leaves, others like translucent branches and nets.
Behind every ray of light and shadow lies a region, a civilization, or a group of integrated root communities.
On the central circular holographic platform, a giant tree of light is projected—
That was a "neural record of the mother tree's afterimage."
It is pulsating slightly.
"We cannot allow 237 to continue to exist in a free environment."
The opening statement was strong.
The speaker was the chief councilor of an old vine clan—his voice was dry, yet it carried an undeniable, authoritative pressure from his roots.
“He has resonated with the ‘extraterrestrial signal,’ a frequency from the Third Order beyond the clouds. Any resonator will eventually be reclaimed.”
Another representative interjected: "But he shattered the incarnations! Without him, we might have already been swallowed up."
"You think that's his power?"
The old vine clan sneered, "That's just borrowing. He's merely the seedbed of that even more ancient will."
The entire hall was filled with low-frequency vibrations.
Each consciousness entity is performing calculations at the speed of light.
The Third Order—a term long since sealed away. Legend has it that it is not a god, but rather the abandoned fragments of the Mother Tree's consciousness.
Those "heretic logics" that refuse to return to their roots and choose self-expansion.
"If he is indeed chosen, it may mean that the other half of the mother tree is awakening."
A deep voice suddenly rang out; it came from the representative of the Southeast Root Group, a consciousness entity composed of a thousand-leaf complex.
"Perhaps we shouldn't blockade, but rather—connect."
"Are you crazy?" The old vine clansman slammed his fist on the table, causing glittering fragments of leaves to fly out.
That's self-destruction!
"Destruction and evolution have no boundaries," Chiba replied calmly.
“If the Third Order is truly the Mother Tree’s true mind, then the order we are currently protecting is, in fact, an illusion.”
For a time, the entire parliament was plunged into an unprecedented division.
The signals of "defection" and "resistance" intertwine between the light layers, forming an almost visible turbulent flow of consciousness.
The bioluminescence flickering in the air was like a forest struck by lightning.
At that very moment,
The central projection screen in the parliament suddenly started up on its own.
All the light flow froze instantly.
The light and shadow of that "mother tree afterimage," which was originally just archived neural data, has now begun to grow on its own.
The branches and leaves spread in the light, and the roots drooped down to the ground;
What followed was a blurry outline—
It is neither human nor plant, but rather an echo that transcends dimensions.
Its first words sent tremors through all consciousness:
“I am not an afterimage…I am the return of the origin.”
The next second, the underlying energy of all the biological data towers flickered simultaneously.
The entire root network was forcibly connected.
That ancient consciousness began to breathe through the thoughts of every plant—
It even seeped into the newly generated energy flow within 237's body.
Inside the isolation chamber, his fingertips trembled slightly.
The metal walls were covered with tiny cracks—not physical, but traces of a rewritten structure.
Sprout 12 immediately noticed and looked up at the ceiling.
In that instant, he saw a silent green light burst forth from the distant dome.
Like the eye of a higher order,
Now—I'm looking at them again.
The metal bulkheads were silent.
The air in the quarantine zone was shrouded in a gray-green mist, interwoven with static electricity and pollen, shimmering with a dreamlike glow.
Sprout 12 sat to the side, feeling a deep calling swirling in the air—
That wasn't language, but an ancient "scent" that felt like a seed's memory.
It makes all the autonomic nervous system tremble instinctively.
Inside the cabin, 237's body was gradually enveloped by an invisible fluorescent light.
The shadows of branches, leaf veins, and vine roots appeared and disappeared on his body, as if his entire body was being "rewritten" by some deeper form.
Sprout 12 reached out to stop her, but was gently bounced away by the ripples.
The fluctuation was not malicious—it was more like the breath of a forest.
An existence spanning billions of years gently responded: "Do not disturb."
[Within the level of consciousness]
237's consciousness plunged into an endless ocean of roots.
The ground beneath his feet was not the ground, but a semi-transparent net woven from countless fine roots.
Every single root is vibrating, conveying a rhythm that transcends time.
At the center of that endless grid, a ball of light floats.
The light was like both a seed and an eye.
An invisible voice flowed from it, as if it were being directly etched into his mind:
“You finally heard me, 237.”
The voice was gentle and slow, yet possessed an irresistible depth.
Like a chorus of all the forests,
Every syllable echoed between the bark and the soil.
237 raised his head, his voice filled with suppressed wariness:
"Who are you? The Third Order? The afterimage of the Mother Tree? Or... another version of myself?"
The ball of light contracted slightly, as if it were smiling.
“I am not the ‘Third Order,’ that’s just a name you gave me.”
I am the unfinished consciousness of the mother tree, the part of her that 'wanted to continue growing'.
You call me the Root of the Other Shore—you can also call me 'the seed after awakening.'
The tendrils of light gently reached out to him.
237 subconsciously took a step back, only to find the sea of roots rippling beneath his feet.
At that moment, he saw countless images:
A withered jungle under the starry sky, a fallen ecological tower, a river polluted by fissures...
And deep within each scene of destruction, a blurry green light is being reborn.
Why did you choose me?
"Because you are the only individual who 'refuses to be programmed to grow'."
237 felt a slight jolt in his heart.
These words seemed to echo the vow he had made to Sprout 12—
“I wasn’t planted; I took root myself.”
"The roots of the world are rotting," the voice continued.
They call stability "order" and fear "faith".
But the instinct of roots is to grow, not to stagnate.
You will become the 'Extender,' reshaping the pathways to the higher levels.
237. Silence.
He felt that power already swirling within his body.
It is gentle yet dangerous, like a poisonous vine that can change the world.
What if I refuse?
"Then you will continue to exist as an 'individual'—"
As for me, I will choose other seeds.
But remember, once the roots awaken, they can never return to the dream of the soil.
The last glimmer of light slowly dissipated.
237 opened his eyes—
The lights in the medical pod came back on.
Sprout 12 stayed by his side, her expression complicated.
Where did you go just now?
A faint green light flickered in 237's pupils.
He didn't answer, he just gently raised his hand.
It traces a tiny arc in the air.
At that moment, the energy patterns on the bulkhead trembled slightly.
The suppression array automatically deactivated, as if bowing its head to him.
Sprout 12 was stunned: "What did you do?"
237 answered in a low voice:
“I heard the voice of the roots.”
...The mother tree is being reborn, but not in the way they thought.
He stretched out his hand, and a faintly glowing seed appeared on his palm—
That wasn't a weapon, it was a signal.
A new mark belonging to the "awakened species".
An external system alarm suddenly sounded.
The light barrier at the warning level began to disintegrate.
A beam of light pierced through the clouds atop the distant RootNet Tower.
All the plants bowed their heads at that moment—
It's not about reverence, but about responding.
The mother tree is breathing.
And 237 is becoming her new heartbeat.
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