He has been reincarnated through countless worlds, adorned with billions of mythological terms!

The snake scales turned into dragon scales.

It's not the kind of keratinous scales found on reptiles; it's something somewhere between metal and keratin, each one as thin as a cicada's wing, but ten times stronger than the previous ones.

He tapped the scales on the back of his hand with his fingernail and heard a metallic sound.

The explosive power of the frog's legs tripled.

He tried jumping lightly in the room, and a crack appeared in the ceiling above his head.

He stopped in time, and the moment he landed, his foot crushed two floor tiles.

Eagle Eye extended his focus to its limit—he saw the craters on the moon.

But what he really cared about wasn't the improvement of these individual abilities, but rather the thing that was glossed over in the integration.

He raised his hand, palm facing up.

Scales emerge from beneath the skin, but do not cover the entire hand—only the fingertips.

Only the fingertips.

The scales grow from the base of the nail, wrapping around the fingertip in a small cone shape with edges as thin as blades.

He poked his finger against the wall.

It wasn't forceful, just a light touch.

My finger sank into the concrete, like poking into a block of tofu.

He pulled his finger out and looked at the five small holes in the wall.

The edges of the hole were so neat, as if they had been drilled, without any cracks or debris.

It wasn't piercing, it was cutting—the edges of the scales were vibrating at a high frequency, so fast that even his own eyes couldn't detect the frequency.

This is a qualitative change resulting from the integration of 1100 genes.

It's not about adding up abilities, it's about merging abilities.

The defense of snake scales, the explosive power of frog legs, the precise control of ant strength, and the regeneration of jellyfish—all abilities are no longer independent modules, but have become a whole.

He doesn't need to think "I want to use snake scales" or "I want to use ant power." He only needs to think "What do I want to do?" and his body will automatically select the most suitable combination.

He tried a few more.

With a flick of the finger, a spider silk shot out from the fingertip, passed through the window, and stuck to the roof of the building opposite.

It's not the ordinary white silk thread from before—it's transparent, so fine it's almost invisible to the naked eye, but ten times stronger.

With a gentle pull, a piece of the parapet wall of the building opposite was cut off and crashed to the ground with a loud bang.

The edges of spider silk are sharper than a knife blade.

He retracted the spider silk and looked down at his hands.

Her skin was fair and smooth, exactly the same as before the transformation.

But beneath his skin, he could feel the net—not the rough, rope-like net of before, but a precise, integrated circuit-like network.

Every line is connected, every node is lit, and they are ready to respond at any time.

He clenched his fist.

The power is still there, but it's quieter than before.

The power of the past was like a wild beast locked in a cage, ready to break free at any moment;

The current power is like a river, unfathomable in its depth, yet its surface is as calm as a mirror.

Yun Nian turned over.

The spider silk loosened from her wrist and silently retreated back to his fingertips.

He turned to look at her—the little girl was still asleep, the ugly rabbit had been tossed aside, her hand groped in the air a couple of times but couldn't find it, her lips trembled, and she was about to cry.

Yunyi shoved the rabbit back into her arms.

She immediately clenched her fist, rubbed it against her face, stopped pouting, and continued sleeping.

He looked at her for two seconds, then reached out and pulled the blanket up to cover her exposed feet.

Yun Yi didn't rush to leave.

He spent three days sweeping around the north of the city.

It was called a sweeping up, but it was more like a harvest.

The transformed body is like a precision instrument, every movement clean and efficient—approaching, striking, and retracting.

The scales cut through the zombie's head three times faster than before. He didn't even need to stop to check the prompts; he could tell whether the zombie's genes had been absorbed just by the touch of his fingertips.

[Gene Collection +1]

【+1】

【+1】

On the evening of the third day, he squatted on the roof of an unfinished building and went through the collected genes in his mind.

Of the 1462 species, 1130 came from zombies, and the remaining 332 were "scraps" from the past three days—rats in the sewers, geckos in the cracks of the walls, and even a sparrow that crashed into the glass and fainted.

Every organism has undergone varying degrees of mutation in this virus-contaminated world, and each mutation has contributed a new gene to it.

He can feel the net now.

It's not the vague list of capabilities that needed to be deliberately activated, but a sophisticated neural network that operates 24/7.

Each fiber connects to muscles, bones, skin, and internal organs, like a reprogrammed supercomputer that can call any set of instructions at any time.

When he jumped from the rooftop, his feet automatically completed three layers of cushioning the moment they hit the ground: a slight adjustment of the ankle joints, a wave-like contraction of the calf muscles, and hydraulic shock absorption of the knees.

There was no sound, no vibration, not even the dust on the ground was stirred up.

He looked down at his shadow and suddenly realized that this body was no longer "human".

At least not as defined by this world.

Yun Nian was waiting for him.

The little girl sat on an overturned plastic basket, swinging her legs back and forth, holding a sausage in her hand—something she'd found at the convenience store yesterday. She couldn't bear to eat it, so she wrapped it in a tissue and stuffed it in her pocket, taking it out every now and then to check on it, as if to see if her precious treasure was still there.

"Brother, you're back."

She handed me the sausage. "Here, have some."

"You eat."

"I've already eaten."

"You said you had already eaten yesterday."

Yesterday is yesterday, today is today.

Yun Yi looked at her.

The little girl's eyes were bright, and there was a crumb of bread stuck to the corner of her mouth.

Her lips were a little dry, with a layer of white skin, but she was smiling.

He took the sausage, broke it in two, put the long piece back into her hand, and ate the short piece himself.

Yun Nian looked at the long piece in her hand, then at the short piece in his hand, and pouted.

"You lied to me again."

"I'm not lying to you."

"My hands are big, so they look short."

"That's a lie."

"Eat quickly."

Yun Nian reluctantly took a bite, chewed it a couple of times, and then cheered up.

She is always happy when she eats, no matter what she eats.

This is something he inherited from Wen Ruotang.

Yunyi recalled the way his mother ate porridge on her sickbed—she ate it slowly, one spoonful at a time, and smiled after finishing, as if she had accomplished something great.

"Brother," Yun Nian asked, chewing on a sausage, her words muffled, "when are we going to find Dad?"

"tomorrow."

"real?"

"real."

"You're not lying to me?"

"I'm not lying to you."

Yun Nian stuffed the last piece of sausage into her mouth, her cheeks bulging like a hamster storing food.

She extended her little finger.

"Pinky promise."

Yun Yi glanced at her and extended his little finger.

Her fingers were slender and cool, and her nails were cut very short—she had cut them herself, crooked and twisted, like a dog had chewed them.

"Pinky promise, a hundred years from now."

After she finished reading the sentence, she released her grip with satisfaction, picked up the ugly rabbit, and wiped her mouth with the rabbit's ear.

Looking at her, Yun Yi suddenly felt that this reincarnation was quite good.

He suppressed these thoughts, stood up, and began packing his things.

They set off before dawn the next day.

Head south.

This was Yunyi's decision.

Yun Tianheng left something in the south, Wen Ruotang said.

He didn't know what it was, but he knew one thing—Yun Tianheng wouldn't say that without a reason.