A live stream of someone hand-making a giant white robot attracted the attention of the government,

The vibrations deep within the Kunlun base traveled up the foundation, causing the floor of the S1 main control room to tremble slightly.

That was the roar of an industrial behemoth swallowing and spitting out steel ingots.

Bai Che did not leave the control panel. Although the silver storm he had just witnessed was impressive, he knew that it was merely a newly forged sword blank.

To enable this sword to vanquish demons and monsters in the complex microscopic labyrinth of the human body without harming the innocent, it needs to be consecrated and imbued with a soul.

Bai Che sat back in the main chair, his fingers interlaced and resting on his chin, the fervor in his eyes slightly subsided.

"Old Qin, Senior Su." Bai Che's voice pierced through the low-frequency vibrations, "That was the 'skeleton' just now. Now, we need to infuse it with 'divine consciousness.' Without an absolutely precise algorithm, if these metal worms burrow into my stomach, they won't be a life-saving miracle doctor, but a runaway meat grinder."

Upon hearing this, Su Wanqing's cheeks, which had been flushed with excitement, quickly cooled down. She was a smart woman, and after a moment's thought, she understood the danger involved.

On the screen, the silver fluid representing the swarm of nanobots was constantly changing shape.

Bai Che's fingers lightly tapped the keyboard, and the crisp sound of the mechanical switches was particularly clear in the quiet control room.

Two ancient and profound Chinese characters slowly appeared in the center of the screen.

**[Shennong]**

"The Shennong Project?" Su Wanqing murmured softly as she looked at the two words.

"In ancient times, Shennong tasted hundreds of herbs and encountered seventy poisons in a single day, all in search of that one life-saving medicine that could snatch people from the clutches of the King of Hell."

Bai Che tilted his head slightly, his gaze seemingly piercing through the thick layers of rock, looking at the silhouette of his ancestor who had overcome all obstacles in the void.

"Our ancestors tested poisons with their mouths, risking their lives. Today, we face industrial challenges that are billions of times more complex than herbal medicine." He turned to look at the experts behind him, their faces weary but still glued to their screens. His tone was calm, yet weighty. "This is not just a tribute to our ancestors. What I want to create is not just a simple medicine, but a living system that can 'taste hundreds of herbs and distinguish between good and bad' in the microscopic world."

"The idea is good, but it's all for nothing."

A bucket of cold water was poured on me without warning.

Qin Bing appeared behind Bai Che at some point, holding a stack of newly printed calculation reports in her hand, her brows furrowed in a deep frown.

"But there's a fatal biological paradox you can't avoid."

"The human body environment is too complex. Cancer cells are essentially human cells, and some of the protein characteristics on their surface are as similar as 99% to those of normal cells."

Qin Bing's fingers trembled, a sign of helplessness at the insurmountable laws of science.

"Currently, no matter how precise the targeting technology is, the minimum false positive rate is still 5%. For chemical drugs, this 5% is considered a side effect, at most causing hair loss, nausea, or vomiting. But for nanorobots carrying physical cutting tools..."

Qin Bing took a deep breath and stared into Bai Che's eyes: "That 5% misjudgment means it will slice up the patient's liver and kidneys like tofu. That's slaughter."

"Not only that."

An immunology expert who had been silent all along couldn't help but speak up, his face ashen: "Once a mechanical accident occurs, or if robotic materials are identified as foreign objects, the human immune system will immediately go berserk."

"Cytokine storm," the expert uttered this nightmarish term in the medical field. "At that time, hundreds of millions of immune cells will indiscriminately attack all organs of the body. The patient will drown in their own bodily fluids within minutes."

The air in the control room froze instantly.

The passion that was initially ignited by the declaration of "technological bullying" has now been frozen by the cold reality of medicine.

This is not a problem that can be solved simply by having computing power. It is the ultimate defense line that life has evolved over billions of years, so precise that it cannot tolerate even a grain of sand.

Su Wanqing looked at Bai Che, her red lips slightly parted, but no sound came out. Her hands unconsciously gripped the hem of her clothes, and her eyes revealed deep worry.

This is a dead end.

No matter how skilled a doctor is, it is impossible to single out and kill hundreds of millions of rebels from the civilian population without surgery.

"There is indeed no solution using traditional 'key-based' identification."

Bai Che's voice broke the deathly silence.

He didn't look at the report. Instead, he reached up and scratched his head. His face showed no fear, but rather an excited smile, as if he had encountered a difficult problem.

That kind of smile is like a top student finally seeing the last, most challenging question in an exam.

"Since the current path is blocked, then we won't take it."

Bai Che snapped his fingers, the crisp sound echoing in the control room.

"Fuxi, activate the 'Nuwa' sub-module."

"Understood, Father."

As Fuxi's gentle voice faded, the data stream on the large screen instantly surged.

It is no longer a simple and boring molecular formula, nor a cold mechanical drawing.

Countless data pipelines representing blood vessels, nerves, and lymph nodes are growing wildly, and hundreds of millions of cell models are beginning to stack and aggregate.

"This is..." Qin Bing's eyes widened, and her reading glasses slipped down to the tip of her nose.

In the center of the screen, a semi-transparent human model emitting a faint blue light gradually materialized.

It's not the kind of rigid 3D modeling.

It is dynamic, it is alive.

You can see the heart pumping, the blood flowing, the faint electrical sparks flashing between nerve synapses, and every cell undergoing complex biochemical reactions.

"Based on 48 billion sets of global pathological data and gene maps, integrating a complete database of anatomy, immunology, and molecular biology."

Fuxi's grand voice echoed in the S1 control room, carrying the majesty of a creator.

"The 'realistic digital human body' has been completed. Current system computing power allocation: 98%."

Bai Che stood up, placed his hands on the control panel, and his back, illuminated by the dim blue light, resembled that of a god examining his own work.

"Since we can't experiment on living people, we'll do it here."

He turned his head and smiled faintly at Qin Bing: "What we can't do in reality—the millions of trials and errors that would take hundreds of years of clinical validation—is just a matter of seconds here."

"Evolution has begun."

Bai Che gave the order.

The timeline at the bottom of the screen began to accelerate wildly.

The numbers above are jumping so fast they're blurry; one second represents a year in the real world.

Everyone watched as the first-generation, crude nanorobot model was put into this "digital human body".

A burst of red light erupted.

The digital human's immune system was instantly activated, and countless white blood cells surged toward the robot like a tidal wave. At the same time, the robot's blades cut countless wounds on the blood vessel walls.

"Simulation failed. Host death time: 3 minutes."

A cold, impersonal message popped up on the screen.

But this is just the beginning.

Fuxi did not stop; it frantically modified the algorithm, adjusted the robot's shell structure, and optimized the recognition logic.

Second generation... tenth generation... hundredth generation...

Each flash is a cycle of life and death.

Each time the red light flashes, it signifies the failure of a particular plan.

Qin Bing stared intently at the screen, her whole body trembling.

What did he see?

He witnessed experiments that would have required generations of scientists to spend their entire lives to verify, being created and destroyed at the speed of light before his very eyes.

This is a complete subversion of the laws governing scientific research.

This is the brutal aesthetics of ultimate computing power.

Number of simulations: 14,291.

Number of simulations: 89,302.

……

Time seemed to lose its meaning. The only sound in the control room was the frantic hum of the fans.

Until three minutes and forty-two seconds later.

The red light on the screen suddenly disappeared.

Inside that deep blue digital human body, countless tiny silver dots were swimming merrily in the blood vessels, brushing past red blood cells and coexisting peacefully with white blood cells, just like fish in water.

"Calculation complete."

Fuxi's voice made everyone's heart skip a beat.

"Optimal solution has been locked".

As the screen zooms in, a sleek nanorobot model with a surface covered in a unique pattern slowly rotates, radiating a mesmerizing silver glow.

"How...how did they do that?"

Immunologists rushed to the screen, as if witnessing a miracle, exclaiming, "How could it possibly fool macrophages?"

"Check the coating."

Bai Che pointed to the faintly visible thin film on the robot's surface, "This isn't a metallic sheen; it's a biomimetic lipid membrane—scientifically known as a 'biocompatible cloak.' Fuxi has already deduced the material formula; it can be synthesized using deep-sea blue algae extracts."

Bai Che's lips curled slightly: "In the eyes of the immune system, it is not an invader, but its own red blood cells, an 'ally.' The first line of defense has been perfectly fooled."

"Then how do we identify cancer cells?" Su Wanqing pressed, getting straight to the point. "If we can't identify them accurately, this disguise only turns them into lurking bombs."

Bai Che pointed his finger at the void.

A tiny point of light suddenly lit up inside the robot in the holographic projection; that was its core chip.

"Traditional antigen recognition is too inefficient."

Bai Che said dismissively, "This contains a miniature subroutine of Fuxi. It doesn't recognize people by their appearance; it recognizes them by their eating habits."

"Eating manners?" Su Wanqing was stunned.

"The biggest difference between cancer cells and normal cells is their greed."

Bai Che explained, his eyes gleaming with intelligence, "Cancer cells metabolize dozens of times faster than normal cells; they frantically plunder the glucose in their surroundings. This little guy can analyze the 'metabolic fingerprint' of the surrounding microenvironment in real time. Only when it detects those greedy, chaotic, and extremely thirsty metabolic wavebands will it activate its 'hunting mode'."

"and……"

Bai Che paused, a cruel yet elegant smile playing on his lips. "Who told you I was going to kill cancer cells?"

"Not kill?" Qin Bing was dumbfounded.

"Killing is too low-level; it leaves behind corpses and garbage." Bai Che shook his finger. "It's not responsible for 'killing,' it's responsible for 'eating.'"

The microscopic animation on the screen began to demonstrate the final, decisive blow.

It was a chilling scene.

Hundreds of nanorobots precisely adhered to a giant black tumor cell.

Instead of wielding knives and scissors, they released a special catalytic enzyme.

In an instant, the arrogant, ferocious, and terrifying cancer cell structure collapsed.

There was no explosion, and no toxin residue.

The original tumor material was rapidly broken down and recombined under the action of catalytic enzymes, turning into a clear liquid and tiny crystals.

Fuxi calmly concluded, his voice like celestial music:

"The objectives have been broken down."

"Decomposition products: water (H2O), carbon dioxide (CO2), and 20 basic amino acids that can be absorbed by the human body."

Metabolic pathway: It can be excreted normally through sweat and urine, or directly absorbed as nutrients by surrounding normal cells.

A deathly silence.

Qin Bing slumped into the chair, staring blankly at the ceiling, her lips trembling: "Turn the tumor... into nutrient solution?"

"Turning a terminal illness... into a health supplement?"

This is hardly a cure.

This is like repeatedly rubbing the dignity of cancer cells into the ground.

This is a miracle.

This is God's scalpel.

Looking at the clear decomposition products on the screen, Su Wanqing felt goosebumps rise all over her body. She turned to look at Bai Che, who at this moment shone so brightly in her eyes that she dared not look directly at him.

"Is this the answer you want to give the world?" Her voice trembled slightly.

"This is nothing."

Bai Che casually closed the simulation interface and sent the final draft of the "Shennong-1" design to the manufacturing terminal.

He raised his wrist and glanced at the time.

"Design lock".

As he finished speaking, the tremors beneath his feet intensified.

That was the roar of the fully automated production line starting to run at full speed.

Countless robotic arms began to swing, and lasers etched nanoscale patterns onto the materials, officially launching a production frenzy that was about to revolutionize the history of human medicine.

Bai Che turned around, his gaze sweeping over everyone present who was speechless with shock, finally landing on the huge countdown clock in the S1 control room.

The time displayed there was 47 hours and 32 minutes until the press conference.

"Everyone, cheer up!"

Bai Che walked towards the exit with his hands in his pockets, his back view as dashing as the wind.

"The 48-hour countdown has only just begun."