Rick and Morty: My Grandfather is Rick?

"If the adults can't get in, surely the teenagers can?"

When Morty heard that he hadn't even made it into the Galactic Empire's Top 100 Bounty List, he was a little annoyed and almost lost track of the Galactic Empire's intelligence agent.

"Focus! We're tracking them!" Grandpa told Morty to keep an eye on the agent, then added, "What's with this weird, inexplicable competitive mentality of yours?"

Seeing that Morty was clearly not listening to what he was saying, and even thought that being on the Galactic Empire's wanted list was a very cool thing.

Grandpa, who didn't want Morty to be too high-profile recently and also felt that Morty's mentality was starting to swell, had to dissuade him from his thoughts.

"Do you think you live in the One Piece world? You think you can judge someone's strength solely by their bounty?"

"You need to understand that the world's population is finite. The base number is fixed. A strong person needs to hone their strength step by step in battle. A strong person who comes out of fifty million people is bound to be stronger than a strong person who comes out of ten million people."

"The former has reached its current position because it faced almost five times the competitive pressure from the latter."

Therefore, a limited population also determines the upper limit and output.

"There is no one stronger than you, how will you climb to the top?"

"If you live in a world with an almost infinite population, and you consider yourself a formidable person if you spend half your time playing and the other half relying on powerful figures in this universe?"

"Why don't we upgrade it?"

"Let's skip the soft simulations and find that guy in the top 100 of the bounty list. You fight him one-on-one, let's see who wins."

Morty: "I was wrong..."

Grandpa: "Too late!"

After taking a week off, someone's mentality not only inflated to the point that he thought he deserved to be in the top 100 of the bounty list, but also that he was a formidable character.

Grandpa was determined to deflate his inflated ego.

But before that, you should finish tracking this. If you lose track of an agent, then you've wasted your eyes that can see nearly a hundred kilometers.

"Alright... It's been half an hour, why hasn't he gone where he's supposed to be?"

Morty answered, his gaze sweeping through the crowd and locking onto the Fly Man agent. Their game of tracking and counter-tracking had been going on for half an hour.

To be honest, if I didn't have these eyes with a 100-kilometer surveillance range, this game might have been a bit more fun, but I had a 100-kilometer full-map view.

Even if you completely lose track of the other person, you can still find them by estimating their fastest movement speed and using a map of the area.

So they watched as the other party used all sorts of anti-tracking methods, changing their clothes, even using masks to alter their appearance, and even boldly walking towards them.

Morty inexplicably felt like he was watching a monkey show.

Why are you putting on such a hard performance?

Why don't you just take me to your base or your contact person and let me follow this line to find the person?

Why go through all this trouble?

Didn't you know that Rick and Morty is a show where each episode is only about twenty minutes long?

"Be patient. In this contest of patience, whoever loses their composure first loses."

"Relax, relax, I'm patient. Anyway, I'm filled with fear, and it's not me being followed, so I can let him do whatever he wants!"

So, for the next four hours...

Morty, Grandpa, and the Flyman agent toured everything within a 50-kilometer radius of the simulated fighting arena.

Morty followed every main road, every alley, and every suitable tactical point for counter-tracking. He felt he could write a "Junior Agent Counter-Tracking Handbook" after tracking them all the way.

During these four hours of patient competition, Morty's smile gradually disappeared, replaced by barely suppressed anger.

And the urge to rush up and grab that guy to slap him.

fuck!

Can you please stop wasting time?

We're very busy!

"Be patient, don't get agitated. If he's a formidable opponent, you've already lost the confrontation, understand?"

"Know!"

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, Morty stared intently at the agent. In the end, amidst his grandfather's disappointed gaze, he transformed into a spirit and charged forward.

He grabbed the other person by the collar and immediately used his ability to peer into their memories to read them directly.

But the next second, the fly-man lost his life and died on the spot.

"I told you, you need to be patient," Grandpa, who was no stranger to memory bombs, said as he walked over, shaking his head.

"I've taught you this so many times. Stop thinking that skills like memory reading and memory rewriting are cool. That kind of junk might be particularly useful in some civilizations that haven't entered the space age."

"As for civilizations that have entered the space age, given enough time, they will find various reasons to study their own brains. The only remaining challenge in this universe is understanding our own brains."

"Now that he's lost his mind and his memory, let's go straight back!"

After dissing Morty, Grandpa said, "Let's go back now and send you to fight that guy from the TOP100. Let him get a real beating from the streets..."

"I saw it!"

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

Morty, who had been keeping his eyes closed, opened them and said something that shocked Grandpa: the memory bomb could blow up your brain too.

How could you possibly see his memories?

Maybe... they showed it to you on purpose?

Morty laughed as he tossed the corpse to the ground, saying in an unwavering tone, "It's simple, I just killed him. But as you know, without external interference, it takes 5-6 minutes for a person's consciousness to gradually die after their heart stops beating."

"I accelerated his death process, making his heart send a death signal to his brain. So no matter how amazing the memory bomb is, it's still part of the body's tissues, a product of organ modification. Otherwise, the brain's rejection reaction would kill everyone who undergoes this kind of surgery."

"So when his body and brain have received the death signal and the memory bomb has lost its function, why can't I read his memories?"

Chapter 378 God of Gamblers Jerry?

Although Morty's explanation was very semi-professional and semi-novice-like, Grandpa still understood what he was doing and how it all worked.

Of course, he had considered this approach before, but memory is not something that is stored in the junk software on your C drive or the little movies hidden on your E drive.

It's an invisible mass that's almost impossible to touch with your fingers, much like code in a computer—you can't read it...

Can reading code be the same as playing a game?

Moreover, the difficulty of rapidly extracting memories from the target's memory while killing the memory carrier is absolutely insurmountable!

Grandpa was skeptical that Morty could accomplish something so easily, even though it made his own scalp tingle. He even suspected that Morty was bragging.

Faced with this situation, Morty naturally only showed a small part of his skills.

"According to the Galactic Empire's intelligence department's mission number 431, three surveillance teams stationed on the planet Chidra are being dispatched to track and gather information from C137. The mission is extremely difficult, but will be rewarded accordingly. Upon completion of the mission, the Church of Longevity will grant the mission participants an interview opportunity."

"So what exactly is the Church of Longevity?"

Morty, unfamiliar with the word, asked his grandfather, but the latter's expression told him that even the most learned old man didn't know what it was.

However, considering the difficulty of monitoring such a high-risk task as C137.

The reward will certainly not be low; it might even involve spending a fortune to bring in a group of brave warriors or desperate criminals to complete this extremely risky mission.

And the literal meaning connects to the lifespan of a fly.

The final answer is becoming increasingly clear.

This longevity church must possess the methods to extend the lifespan of the Fly People, so joining them and extending one's lifespan is regarded by the Fly People as an extremely high reward.

"Tch, if they weren't so rigid in maintaining the pure Flyman bloodline, and instead introduced genes from other long-lived races, there would be no need for them to go through all this trouble!"

After understanding what the basic business of the Longevity Church is.

Grandpa expressed his disdain.

A group of creatures that don't have long lifespans to begin with, in order to live longer, must add DNA from other races that can perfectly integrate into their DNA sequence.

But these fly-like people just don't want to do that.

They call it maintaining the purity of the ethnic bloodline!

Grandpa never looked down on such old-fashioned and rigid things. He believed that everything is constantly evolving, and if something stops evolving, then it is time for it to be eliminated.

If monkeys thought they had a cool coat of fur that could protect them from the cold and also intimidate other large carnivores by dyeing it brightly, then they stopped evolving.

How did we come to have advanced primates today?

The hair on a person's body is not necessarily an obstacle to the evolution of higher primates, but with its existence, let's say a group of animals that spend at least five hours a day grooming their fur, what serious things can they actually do?

Don't forget your sleep time!

Especially in modern society, while hair care brings a lot of business opportunities, it also leads more people to invest the limited resources in society, rather than unlimited ones, into hair care.

If you don't take care of it, it will get covered in dirt, tangle, and smell bad, causing even people who are relatively strict about personal hygiene to spend time on more useless things.

Therefore, evolution is essentially about discarding everything that hinders survival.

Spending several hours a day grooming my fur reduces the amount of food I get, which in turn reduces my ability to reproduce and decreases the probability of a genetically mutated genius being born.

Does all that hair on your body have any practical significance for survival?

For example, the emergence of any production machine is due to the need for increased production efficiency in a certain area, because only with higher efficiency and less input can profits be guaranteed.

Therefore, everything physiological is always closely related to the development of the group.

Stronger, smarter, and more courageous offspring are needed to ensure the long-term survival of families and communities.

Otherwise, those meat products that end up on the chopping block are the fate of evolutionary failures and their offspring.

So Grandpa always disliked things that didn't change.

He believes that when a group starts emphasizing the purity of its DNA, it is actually not far from death. After all, what makes you think that your race's DNA is the most powerful in the entire universe?

Moreover, your reason is purity, not to expand the population!

"Okay, let's go!"

Grandpa withdrew his disdainful gaze and urged Morty to go back to the fighting gym. He said that once things were over here, they should go find C137 and tell him that the Galactic Empire was plotting something.

Even Grandpa felt that he didn't necessarily have to tell C137 about this himself.

Maybe the other party knows?