264: The beginning of a new event.

Two days later, inside the temporary dormitory provided by GUPA.

Sunlight filtered through the blinds, slicing the room into bands of light and shadow. Shen Mingyuan crouched before a large, specialized terrarium, holding a tube of highly concentrated nutritional gel and carefully approaching the opening.

Inside the box, the creature he called "Little Green Snake" was lazily coiled on a biomimetic branch.

Its body had grown from its initial slender form to the thickness of an adult's arm. Its azure scales shimmered with a metallic luster under the light, appearing increasingly extraordinary.

Most striking was its back—a pair of clearly defined white fleshy wings had already formed. Though not yet fully spread, their broad shape was already apparent.

Above the base of these main wings, two more pairs of smaller wing buds were quietly growing, like flower buds waiting to bloom.

"Come on, time to eat." Mingyuan squeezed out a bit of amber gel. Little Green Snake immediately poked its head over, its tongue flicking rapidly as it precisely curled the food into its mouth. It swallowed slowly, its dark gold vertical pupils narrowing comfortably.

Watching it eat leisurely, Shen Mingyuan suddenly remembered something and said in a conversational tone:

"Speaking of which, you've been with me for a while now. I keep calling you 'Little Green Snake' every day, but now that you've grown so big, calling you that seems a bit informal."

He rubbed his chin, feigning deep thought, then his eyes lit up. He spoke in a serious tone, as if announcing something major: "I've got it! Look at you—azure like the sky, wings on your back... your future is bound to be extraordinary. Why don't I call you—'Heaven-Burning Abyss-Extinguishing Dread War Dragon'! How about it? Doesn't it have a majestic Aura? It fits my 'shadow' title perfectly... oh no, it fits whatever cooler name I might have in the future, right?"

He looked at Little Green Snake expectantly.

Little Green Snake paused its eating and slowly raised its head. Those dark gold vertical pupils stared straight at Shen Mingyuan, its gaze clearly conveying a complex mix of "confusion," "speechlessness," and "is there something wrong with you?" It even tilted its head slightly, forgetting to flick its tongue.

"What is it?" Shen Mingyuan raised an eyebrow, completely lacking self-awareness. "Isn't that name cool? It's so domineering; anyone can tell you're no ordinary creature just by hearing it!"

Little Green Snake silently turned its head away and rested its chin on the branch, leaving him with only a profile that seemed to carry a sigh (if a snake could sigh), expressing its refusal through action.

Shen Mingyuan shrugged and didn't insist, smiling as he finished feeding the rest of the nutritional gel. "Fine, fine, we'll talk about it later. Anyway, you can't fly yet, so the title 'War Dragon' is indeed a bit premature. Stay here and be good; I'm going out for a walk."

He tidied up the terrarium and stood up to stretch. With no missions during the day, he planned to look around the massive GUPA base, especially the technical support area he was interested in.

Leaving the living quarters and passing through several identity verification gates, Shen Mingyuan arrived at the base's experimental research and development area. This place was completely different from the quiet of the dorms, filled with an atmosphere of efficient and restrained busyness.

The corridors were spacious and bright, lined with large transparent observation windows looking into various specialized laboratories.

He slowed his pace, peering curiously through the glass. In some labs, researchers were operating complex instruments, analyzing sample data brought back from various locations, with dense waveforms and molecular structures scrolling across screens.

In another room, technicians in white coats were calibrating metallic, cold-glowing mechanical components that looked like prototypes for some kind of exoskeleton or detection equipment.

Deeper inside, he even caught a glimpse of a large cultivation area simulating various ecological environments, where some strange-looking plants were being grown.

There was no noise, only the low hum of instruments, the tapping of keyboards, and occasional hushed discussions. Everything was orderly, yet beneath the calm surface, research beyond the imagination of ordinary people was underway.

[Consciousness Space]

In the boundless abyss of deep blue data, Han Chengyu's consciousness floated at the core.

Before him unfolded dozens of light screens, constantly scrolling and flashing with complex formulas and three-dimensional structures. Each one pointed to the same difficult problem—the evo factor concentration in Lu Jianchuan's body, which continued to climb, having already surpassed the 0.1% threshold without stopping.

In the center of the light screens, a precise mathematical model was running a simulation. Its core was a "Time-Sensitive Activation and Decay" equation that Han Chengyu had poured his heart and soul into constructing.

Theoretically, it could guide the excess evo factor into a controlled, temporary burst, then lead it into a preset decay channel, finally stabilizing it within a safe range.

This plan perfectly bypassed the hardware support currently required for a permanent concentration increase, which was currently unattainable.

However, the simulation always failed when it reached the critical point. Unexplainable minor fluctuations appeared in the energy curve during the decay phase, triggering a chain collapse of the entire System.

"No... still not right!" Han Chengyu waved his hand irritably, sweeping away another failed simulation's data as new equations immediately filled the space. His eyes were fixed on the symbols, his consciousness operating at high speed.

"The decay constant should be adjustable; I've already introduced adaptive parameters... the trigger threshold has been calibrated repeatedly... the closed-loop design of the energy circuit is clearly sound in theory! Why does the actual simulation always fall short at the final step?!"

He was like a trapped beast standing before the gate of truth, unable to find the final key.

All the massive, foundational work was complete, yet he was being choked by a "detail" that seemed insignificant but was actually vital.

This frustration of being "just a little bit off" was more agonizing than complete confusion.

[System Prompt: Simulation deduction for the 'Third Independent Combat Unit (Provisional Name) Energy Stabilization Decay Protocol' has been performed 9,847 times. Based on existing data models and logical frameworks, the success probability is stable at 0.03%, determined to be an unfeasible path.]

[Suggestion: The current Bottleneck may stem from the inherent limitations of the initial parameter set. New 'inspiration' or 'key variable' inputs are required to break the logical loop.]

"Inspiration... key variables..." Han Chengyu chewed on the System's words, a wave of helplessness rising in his consciousness. How could he not know he needed a new approach?

But "inspiration" was something ethereal. He had squeezed dry everything he understood about the evo factor, bio-energy, and the armor System, almost constructing an unprecedented energy metabolism theory out of thin air.

"Could the direction be wrong? No... 'time-sensitive decay' is the only feasible path. Hardware limitations are fixed, so I can only make a Breakthrough in 'software' and 'algorithms'."

He dismissed his own wavering, but what followed was even deeper perplexity. "But if the direction isn't wrong, then what exactly is missing? A formula? An overlooked interference factor? Or... some underlying rule I haven't even realized yet?"

He stared at the string of red numbers representing Lu Jianchuan's real-time status, which were still slowly climbing (EVO concentration: 0.103%). A heavy pressure filled the air. Time was not on their side.

Lu Jianchuan was like a walking bomb with an ever-shortening fuse, and this bomb was his friend, the "hero" he had personally chosen and guided.

"It's clearly... it's clearly just this one last bit!"

Han Chengyu's consciousness let out a silent scream, echoing in the empty data Void Realm, but it received no response. Only the cold light screen before him and that glaring, repeatedly failing probability reminded him that there was still a seemingly thin but indestructible barrier between him and a "solution."