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

"The window is open. Let's go, while it's blind."

As soon as Li Haotian finished speaking, the group tightened up immediately. The pale blue flames of the ghostly lamps were lowered by the wind, and the path of light in the tomb passage was like a thin slit, easily swallowed by the deathly aura. The tomb keeper walked at the front, his wooden staff tapping the ground, spreading out segments of talismanic light; Qin Yue brought up the rear, her gun never leaving the edge of darkness.

No one spoke. Because everyone knew that the "blindness" was only temporary—the black coffin nails were fixing the sense of direction, not the creature's hunger.

After passing through two winding stone corridors, the tomb passage suddenly opened up. Ahead was a circular stone chamber with a very high dome. The walls were covered with ancient runes, like rings of scales, layer upon layer, converging towards the center. In the center of the chamber was a low array platform, with several dim crystal grooves embedded in it. The surrounding area was polished smooth by time, like a huge and heavy "cocoon" that had once been placed there.

The tomb keeper stopped and whispered, "The heart of the ancient formation. Originally, it was the location for 'Suppressing Evil and Returning to the Nest'."

Li Haotian glanced at it, the token spinning halfway in his palm, a chill creeping up his finger bones. He could feel that the runes here were still alive, but after years of neglect, they were like starving skin—they would bite if touched.

"Bring the isolation pod in," he gestured, "but don't let it touch the wall."

Liu Hu and his men pushed the heavy isolation chamber onto the edge of the array platform. The alloy wheels pressed against the grooves, producing a low, grinding sound. Inside the chamber, Silver Cocoon's heartbeat never stopped; in fact, the rhythm suddenly quickened as it approached the array platform.

a bit.

Another one.

Like drumbeats, they struck everyone's chest. The runes on the stone chamber walls trembled slightly, and the flames of the dim lamps were shaken, scattering tiny fragments of light that fell and went out.

Su Wan stood to the side and slightly behind, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the straps. She saw that Li Haotian's shoulder line was even more taut, but not out of fear, but as if he were calculating a certain critical value—with each "jump," the runes responded; each response was like presenting a question: Do you want to put it in, or let it out?

"Open the hatch," Li Haotian said.

Liu Hu hesitated for half a second: "Boss—"

"I'm here," Li Haotian interrupted him, his voice low but firm, "I'll speak up."

The alloy latches were unlocked one by one, and the hatch of the isolation chamber slowly rose. Cold air collided with death air at the hatch, producing a soft hiss. The silver cocoon lay quietly inside, its surface showing denser silver-gray patterns than before, like new blood vessels weaving beneath the skin. The thin crack that had once appeared was still there, but it was covered by a thin membrane, beneath which black shadows occasionally flashed, like teeth or claws.

The heartbeat became clearer.

a bit.

Another one.

The concave patterns on the platform glowed with a faint light, as if forced to awaken. The entire stone chamber trembled gently in this rhythm, and dust fell softly from the dome.

The tomb keeper's face darkened: "It's recognizing its location."

"Perfect." Li Haotian raised his hand and pressed the token onto the talisman eye on the edge of the array platform. The talisman eye felt hot, as if it were biting his palm. The next second, a circle of faint light overflowed from the concave pattern of the array platform, spreading out like water, supporting the bottom of the silver cocoon, "lifting" it out of the isolation chamber, and slowly moving it towards the center of the ancient array.

The moment the silver cocoon left the cabin, my heart skipped a beat.

The entire audience held their breath for a moment.

Then—

thump.

A drumbeat, heavier than before, fell. The runes in the stone chamber trembled in unison, as if a giant net had been pulled taut. Su Wan subconsciously took a half step back, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end: this was not a simple resonance, but a "mutual confirmation." The array recognized it, and it recognized the array.

The silver cocoon landed in the center of the array platform, its patterns spreading along the array lines like a living thing. The fine silver light interlocked with the runes, as if nailing it into this "position". It no longer trembled wildly, but beat with a more stable and deeper rhythm.

a bit.

Another one.

Like a countdown to the imminent emergence of a new life from its cocoon.

Li Haotian stared at it, not immediately ordering reinforcement, but slowly raised his other hand, his fingers slightly spread, palm facing the silver cocoon. He closed his eyes, and his spiritual power, like an invisible thread, slowly extended out—not to test, but to establish a "boundary".

He whispered, "Little Black."

The patterns on the surface of the silver cocoon paused for a moment, then became more pronounced, as if it had "heard" the name. The dark shadow beneath the thin membrane bumped into it gently, producing a very fine scraping sound.

Li Haotian stopped letting it "crash the rules" first. He pressed his mental energy into the shape of a brand, like pressing down a cold, hard stamp, directly onto the core echo of the silver cocoon.

In that instant, Su Wan heard a buzzing sound that didn't belong to her ears—like someone pulling a bowstring deep in her mind. She bit her tongue hard to suppress the dizziness.

Li Haotian's voice pierced through that invisible vibration, cold and clear:

"The first rule—human consciousness must not be consumed. In any form or to any extent, it is forbidden."

Silver Cocoon's heartbeat paused for a moment, as if digesting those words. The dark shadow beneath the membrane stirred restlessly, like an impatient young beast. But it neither charged nor tore, merely suppressing its wildness beneath the membrane, emitting a muffled friction sound.

Li Haotian continued: "Second rule—you must not bite the sealing runes. If you dare to bite the runes of the array, the door, the nails, or the lamps, I will cut off the supply."

When he said the word "cut off supply," his fingers twitched slightly. He used his token to guide the few dim crystal slots at the edge of the platform, and they lit up with a ray of light—those were the crystal core reserves he had brought in. Once the supply was withdrawn, the silver cocoon would change from being "nurtured" back to being "starved," and the calamity of hunger would bite itself first, and then bite others.

Silver Cocoon's heartbeat quickened noticeably a few times, as if in instinctive protest. But soon, the rhythm was forcibly pulled back to stability—it could feel the "food" in the other's hand.

Li Haotian spoke his last point more slowly and with greater emphasis:

"The third rule—if things get out of control, immediately return to 'Nest Authority'. If you hear 'Go back,' go back. Even if you don't understand, you still have to go back."

As the words "Nest Access" were uttered, the grooves on the array platform suddenly lit up, as if in response to the existence of this "access." Su Wan suddenly understood—the boss wasn't simply threatening her; he was writing "rules" into the array, into the very essence of its activity. It wasn't about reasoning; it was about establishing a contract.

A vague response came from the spiritual realm.

It wasn't language, but more like an emotion—dampness, hunger, grievance, and a hint of excitement. Like a child being forced to agree to rules, not daring to argue, but with their eyes still fixed on the meat on the table.

The patterns on the surface of the silver cocoon slowly converged, and the dark shadow beneath the thin membrane crouched down, as if retreating into its nest. The heartbeat still lingered—

a bit.

Another one.

But they were more "obedient" than before, as if they were trapped in a certain rhythm.

Li Haotian did not relax. He knew this was not submission, but only temporary agreement. His wildness would not disappear because of three sentences, but would only be delayed because of the "boundary".

He raised his hand, took out three crystal cores from his backpack, and pressed them into the crystal slots of the array platform. The moment the crystal cores lit up, the array platform glowed faintly, like warm water seeping into the bottom of the silver cocoon along the rune lines. The heartbeat of the silver cocoon immediately became more steady, and the friction sound under the membrane gradually stopped.

The supply agreement takes effect—it gets the food, and the rules are enforced.

The tomb keeper looked at the array platform and its talismanic light, his voice low: "You're using the array as paper and supplies as ink... This is treating calamity as a 'spiritual beast' to raise."

"It's not a spirit beast," Li Haotian said calmly. "It's lightning. It's just that I'm holding the fuse in my hand right now."

Qin Yue stood to the side, her eyes filled with complex emotions: "You really believe it can protect you?"

"I don't believe it." Li Haotian looked at the silver cocoon with a piercing gaze. "What I believe is—it wants to live. To live, it needs to eat; to eat, it needs to follow the rules."

Su Wan remained silent. She watched the person standing at the boundary between light and darkness, his tone cold, yet his movements precise to the point of restraint: he wasn't venting, nor was he gambling, but rather reserving a "retrieval" handle for every worst-case scenario.

She suddenly realized that her boss wasn't heartless. He hid his emotions within the rules—writing "Don't hurt people" as "Don't devour consciousness," and "Don't mess around" as "Go back to the nest if you lose control." Like someone who doesn't know how to speak softly, he only uses the toughest methods to protect people.

The silver cocoon suddenly trembled slightly, as if it had turned over in a burst of light. The dark shadow beneath the membrane lifted slightly, then lowered again. A clearer response came from the spiritual level, still indistinct, but carrying a sense of "remembering."

Li Haotian withdrew his hand, his fingertips slightly numb. He tucked the token back into his waistband, his voice regaining its usual calm: "Tomb Keeper, reinforce the outer perimeter talismans. Liu Hu, move the isolation chamber to the side, leaving a passage. Qin Yue, arrange the shifts; no one should come within three meters of the center of the formation."

Everyone responded and sprang into action. The sound of light footsteps and the friction of equipment echoed through the stone chamber again, but the tense atmosphere did not dissipate; instead, it became even heavier—because they all knew that this was not the end, but rather that the bomb had been moved into a more robust box.

The flickering lamplight steadied slightly in the dim light, its pale blue and silver hues intertwining, illuminating the silver cocoon like a moon about to hatch. The heartbeat continued—

a bit.

Another one.

It's like a reminder to everyone: the night before breaking free from the cocoon is the quietest, but also the most dangerous.

Li Haotian stood at the edge of the array platform, his gaze passing over the silver cocoon and falling into the deeper darkness of the stone chamber. The "window" provided by the Xuan Coffin Nail wouldn't last long; the Disaster Chaser would soon find its way again. And the Nameless Cult's second door probably wouldn't wait for them to be ready.

He whispered something, as if speaking to the silver cocoon, and also as if speaking to himself:

"The rules are set. Don't force me to take drastic measures."

The silver cocoon trembled slightly.

Like an agreement.

It was as if a wild laugh was being suppressed.