The whole nation: You're put to survive on a desolate planet, you'll be running an alien b

After the gasping echo in the sealing hall subsided, the air became even tighter.

Like a bowstring that has just been fully drawn, the string is silent, yet it awaits the next vibration.

Li Haotian stood before the force field node, his token affixed to the stone platform's talisman eye. Instead of warmth, he felt a continuous "pulling sensation" from his palm—as if the serrated plates within the force field, separated by a light barrier, were still probing the world's hardness. Silver-black patterns flickered on the edges of the serrated plates, like a caged beast with blood in its mouth.

"Pick out all the 'roots' of the remaining traces." He didn't turn around, his voice was very steady, "Just keep the shell, don't leave any taste."

Qin Yue led her men to clean along the outer edge of the runes, moving the ghostly lamps one by one to burn the black lines on the ground to ash. The ash fell on the bluestone, like a thin layer of frost. The tomb keeper knelt on one knee at the edge of the sealing hall, tapping the ground with his wooden staff, and the runic light stitched the cracks back together, pressing the still writhing black mist back into the "door".

Everything seemed to be coming to an end.

Until the darkness above suddenly "wrinkled".

It wasn't the wind, nor the flickering of a dim lamp. It was an extremely unnatural spatial undulation—like someone pinching a fold in the fabric from somewhere unseen.

Li Haotian looked up immediately.

Above the dome of the Sealed Hall, the stone surface, which had previously been blackened by deathly aura, now showed several thin cracks. The cracks were so fine that they looked as if they had been drawn with a needle, yet they slowly opened and closed again in the next second—opening and closing, contracting and opening and closing again.

Like...nostrils.

With each opening and closing, a faint wisp of silvery-gray mist would overflow from the edge of the crack, carrying a completely unfamiliar "flavor of will": cold, dry, and ruthless, like a kind of hunger itself.

Qin Yue stopped in her tracks; the talisman in her hand was only half-burned when the flame froze for a moment.

The tomb keeper's face paled rapidly under the dim light, his Adam's apple bobbing as he uttered two words: "Sniffing through the void..."

He spoke as if to himself, or as if he were forcibly pulling words from some dusty ancient book: "Disaster pursuers... really exist."

"What is that?" Liu Hu gripped his gun tightly, raised the muzzle, but didn't know where to aim it.

The tomb keeper gritted his teeth, slamming his wooden staff into the ground. Circles of runic light expanded outwards, as if to seal off the dome itself: "Ancient texts record that there is a predator in the void that specifically follows the scent of laws that devour. You just... let that tooth-like fragment devour you too fiercely."

Li Haotian's eyes darkened, and he immediately understood: the "cleansing" of using ferocity to devour ferocity was indeed effective, but it was also tantamount to lighting a fire in the dark. The "scent" of the silver cocoon's transformation was already sensitive, and coupled with the noise of the toothed blade swallowing the evil seal—this was not fishing, but pouring blood directly into the sea.

The cracks in the dome opened and closed once more, and the silvery-gray fog suddenly thickened.

Immediately afterwards, something dangled from the crack.

It is not a complete entity like a tentacle, but a "limb" with a semi-solid, semi-spatial structure. It is like an olfactory organ squeezed out from inside a crack, long and segmented, with no skin or flesh on the surface, only a layer of constantly changing geometric texture, as if space has been folded into a skeleton.

With a gentle swipe of its "sniffing limb," the air in the entire sealing hall seemed to be sucked away, causing one's lungs to tighten instantly. The flame of the ghostly lamp contracted as it "smelled" it, and its bluish-white light turned cold.

It doesn't attack anyone.

It's just exploring.

Probing the force field, probing the gears, probing the "door" leading to deeper depths.

Then, it stopped in the direction of the silver cocoon.

Even through layers of barriers and the carriage, Li Haotian could still clearly feel a sense of being locked on: not by sight, but by smell—he smelled the scent of "transformation".

Silver Cocoon's heartbeat suddenly quickened in the distant isolation pod.

One beat, one beat, one beat—like a stimulated young animal, wanting to respond but holding back.

Within the force field, the silver-black patterns on the toothed blade suddenly gleamed, as if provoked by its own kind. It scraped against the light barrier with an extremely fine friction, instantly leaving a dark mark on the barrier.

Li Haotian's palm went numb; the coldness of the token shot straight to his wrist. Without waiting for anyone to ask, he hissed, "Stop."

It's not about stopping the cleaning, it's about stopping the "devouring".

He raised his hand and pressed it on the token, forcefully lowering the frequency of the force field, like stuffing a cloth into the toothed piece to block its urge to open its mouth: "Don't eat it. Taking a bite now is just reporting your location to it."

Qin Yue immediately realized what was happening and turned to rush towards the isolation pod: "Transfer the Silver Cocoon!"

The tomb keeper's voice trembled, but he still forced the talisman to steady itself: "At the deepest part of the ancient imperial mausoleum formation... there is a concealment layer. That is the 'heart of the coffin,' specifically designed to hide from the sounds of heaven, earth, and smell. As long as we can send it in, the scent will be cut off."

"Lead the way." Li Haotian's words sealed the deal. "Pull all the ghostly lamps back. Leave only three in the sealing hall. Don't let the light hang like flags."

The crack above opened and closed again, and two more sniffer limbs drooped down, like extra whiskers. They swayed gently in the air, stirring the deathly atmosphere into fine vortices. The hairs on the back of everyone's necks stood on end—not out of fear, but out of biological instinct to recognize "prey."

The olfactory probing limb suddenly twitched and probed towards the outer edge of the force field.

It didn't touch any physical object, but the runic light at the edge of the force field seemed to be scraped, causing a brief distortion. Qin Yue glanced back, her pupils shrinking: "It's testing the sealing structure!"

The gravedigger bit his fingertip, smearing the blood on the patterns on his wooden staff, and the talisman light immediately thickened: "It's not here to fight, it's here to confirm whether the prey can be caught—once confirmed, a 'mouth' will come from behind."

The word "mouth" came out of his mouth like cold iron hitting the ground.

Li Haotian gave no one any further room to hesitate. He waved his hand, and the gravity array of the isolation chamber was activated to its maximum, enveloping the entire chamber in a faint suppressive light shield. Liu Hu and his men lifted the support frame, carrying the Silver Cocoon's mobile nest like a coffin, their steps extremely light.

The silver cocoon trembled slightly inside the cabin, as if it were uneasy, or perhaps excited. Its rhythm of "waiting for the world to learn to be afraid first" was now forcibly suppressed back into its chest, becoming muffled and short.

"Stop messing around." Li Haotian whispered through the bulkhead, as if to Yin Jian, but also as if to himself, "If you show your face now, the whole team will have to feed you dogs."

The sniffing probing limb paused in mid-air for a moment, then suddenly swung in the direction they were moving.

It wasn't a sprint, but more like a tailwind chasing after flavors. The silvery-gray mist at the edge of the cracks thickened, and several crack lines began to slowly expand, making the dome look like a wound that had been torn open, revealing an even darker and drier "emptiness" behind it.

The temperature in the sealing hall plummeted, and even people's breath brought out frost inside their masks.

As the tomb keeper led the way, he glanced back at the dome, his voice barely audible as he spoke: "They fear 'power,' not 'killing.' To scare them, you need the imposing presence of the main imperial mausoleum formation... and—the shadow of the Empress."

Li Haotian's eyes sharpened, and he tapped the edge of the token with his finger.

The empress's projection rose from behind him. Originally just a faint outline, it was now forcibly infused with his aura and array power. Azure-white flames exploded around the projection, and the patterns on her robes spread out like ink paintings in the wind. The oppressive aura instantly lowered the "height" of the entire sealing hall.

The air felt like it was being forced to its head.

The olfactory probing limbs paused noticeably, their waving frequency slowing down, as if it had caught a "smell" it didn't want to encounter—not the scent of prey, but the knife of its territory.

Taking advantage of the situation, Li Haotian stepped on the stone platform next to the talisman eye. The token emitted a muffled hum, and the empress's projected gaze seemed to pierce through space, looking directly at the crack in the dome.

He doesn't reason; he only talks about "momentum."

"Go back." His voice wasn't loud, but it was as if the two words were engraved into the talismanic light. "This isn't a place where you can stick your nose in."

The sniffer twitched, and the crack opened and closed rapidly, as if provoked or startled. Silver-gray mist surged, and a larger outline vaguely crawled behind the crack—not a physical entity, but the "weight" of space pressing down.

The gravedigger's face paled even more: "It's calling for its kind."

"That's why we need to be faster." Li Haotian withdrew his gaze, abruptly raised his hand, and shouted, "Let's go!"

The group hurried deeper into the tomb passage. The ghostly lamps were reduced to short chains of light, illuminating only half a step ahead. The runes on the stone walls on either side were quickly swept past, like faces with their mouths closed.

Behind them, the cracks in the air above the sealing hall continued to open and close like wounds.

The sniffer limbs retreated slightly under the Queen's oppressive presence, but did not disappear. Instead, they shifted to a more cautious angle, like a hunting dog circling outside a fence, waiting for you to reveal an opening.

Li Haotian heard the heartbeat of the silver cocoon in the isolation pod slowly regain its rhythm—beat after beat—as if it too had realized: now is not the time to open its mouth, but the time to learn to hide.

At the end of the tomb passage, the tomb keeper pushed open an inconspicuous stone door, behind which lay darkness as black as ink.

He was panting, his voice hoarse: "The Heart of the Hidden Coffin... we've arrived. Once inside, seal the formation completely. Don't look back."

Li Haotian took one last look back at the way he came.

In the distance, towards the Sealed Hall, the dim light had been swallowed by darkness, but the cracks in the dome were still slightly opening and closing, as if remembering the direction they had left in. The feeling of being detected hadn't disappeared, but had been temporarily suppressed—like a large beast stopped at a threshold, taking a step back for the moment.

But it's still there.

It can already smell it.

Li Haotian withdrew his gaze, pressed the token against the stone door's talisman, and said coldly, "Close the door. Cut off the smell here."

The stone gate slowly closed, and the runic light shone like stitching up a wound. In the instant darkness closed in, he heard an almost inaudible friction coming from a crack in the distance—like teeth gently scraping against the edge of space.

The disaster relief workers did not leave.

It simply learned patience.