359: Chapter 359 I must go back.

Go back.

This thought burned in his mind like wildfire, incinerating everything else.

Go back, go back, go back, go back—

Chen Yuan propped himself up against the cabin wall. The high fever made his vision sway and his limbs weak, but none of that mattered. He had to go back. No matter the cost, no matter what happened, even if he died immediately upon return, even if it was just for one look—one look at Earth, one look at the sunlight, one look at the food his mother cooked—

He had to go back.

He staggered and floated toward the hatch. His finger pressed against the control panel, and a red warning light flickered on.

[Insufficient Permissions, Unable to Open]

He stared at the line of text, stunned for a second, then turned and pulled a pair of hydraulic shears from the tool cabinet. In zero gravity, the tool was lighter than he imagined, but it didn't matter.

He floated back to the hatch, raised the hydraulic shears, and smashed them into the control panel.

Sparks flew everywhere.

"Chen Yuan." Xiao Qi's voice came from behind him as the silver-white fuselage drifted to his side. A mechanical arm extended, attempting to stop him. "Your permissions have been deleted. Forcing the door will trigger the full-cabin lockdown protocol. Please calm down—"

Chen Yuan didn't answer. He swung the hydraulic shears and smashed them into Xiao Qi.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Xiao Qi's outer shell dented, the mechanical arm twisted, and the eye sensors flickered a few times before going dark. The silver-white body floated in the air, motionless, save for the occasional tiny electrical spark.

Chen Yuan panted heavily, turning back to continue smashing the door.

The panel shattered, exposing the wiring. He reached inside to grope around; his fingers were cut, and beads of blood floated up, but he felt no pain.

The door didn't budge an inch.

It wasn't a problem with the control panel. The entire System had locked him out.

He let go and floated in place, staring at the door for a few seconds. Then, he suddenly turned and floated in another direction—the Airlock.

The spacesuit.

He would go out from the outside.

It took him fifteen minutes to stuff himself into that white Extravehicular Activity (EVA) suit. Every movement was twice as slow as usual; the high fever made his fingers unresponsive, but he managed to put it on. The moment the helmet clicked into place, the sound of his breathing was amplified in the cramped space like a heavy drumbeat.

The inner hatch of the Airlock was already open. He stood at the threshold, facing the final door leading to the external Universe.

As long as he opened this door, walked out, and crawled along the outer hull to the Flight Module, then—

He suddenly stopped.

Something in his mind, like a needle, pierced through that layer of scorching fog.

I can't go back.

This thought surfaced from the depths—weak, but clear.

He had promised. He had said it. No matter what happened afterward, they were not to authorize his return. He said he was prepared to die here.

How could he go back?

Chen Yuan stood at the Airlock entrance, clad in the white spacesuit, trembling all over. He leaned back, his entire body drifting backward in zero gravity until his back hit the cabin wall with a dull thud.

"I can't go back..." he murmured, the words squeezed from his throat, so raspy they were barely audible. "I can't go back... I have to wait here to die... I can't..."

Go back.

Can't go back.

Go back.

Can't go back.

The two thoughts tore at his mind frantically. The fever made everything blurry, leaving only these two voices constantly alternating, colliding, and crushing one another. His body curled up against the cabin wall, limbs twitching uncontrollably, as tears slid from the corners of his eyes and floated away as tiny droplets of water.

What he didn't know was—

The concentration of the evo factor in his body was 0.02%.

Just a tiny bit above the threshold. He was never some exceptionally gifted Evolver; he had just barely met the standard, just barely possessed the possibility. But at this moment, under the intersection of his intense will to go home, the stimulation of the fever, the invasion of the Space virus, and the parasitism of that Unknown lifeform—he was being changed.

It wasn't a complete self-evolution.

The concentration wasn't high enough to support a complete internal reconstruction growing from within.

Instead, it was a Fusion.

A Fusion with the thing closest to him.

The spacesuit.

Those invisible tentacles extending from within his body touched the white fabric, touched the hard shell of the composite Materials, and touched the transparent visor—then they began to drill inside. It wasn't destruction; it was Fusion. Like roots taking hold in soil, like a Bloodline growing into muscle, like some biological instinct greedily turning everything nearby into a part of itself.

The intense will to go home was shaping the direction of this Fusion.

Survival capability in a vacuum.

Tolerance for extreme cold and heat.

And—the jet propulsion System built into the spacesuit was becoming a part of his body.

Meanwhile, in the command hall of the aerospace base.

Everyone stood in a line, facing the giant display screen. There was no longer an image on the screen, only a simple line of text: China Space Station—Communication Interrupted.

The Commander stood at the very front, head bowed. Behind him were over a dozen technicians, men and women; some had red-rimmed eyes, some bit their lips, and some stared at the floor expressionlessly. Golden Bone stood a bit further away, while Lu Jianchuan and Shen Mingyuan leaned against the wall. They didn't join the queue, but they didn't speak either.

The silence lasted for three full minutes.

The Commander raised his head, glanced at the line of text on the screen, then turned to face everyone, his voice low:

"The moment of silence is over."

No one moved.

The Commander repeated: "The moment of silence is over. To your stations, continue monitoring."

The technicians slowly dispersed, returning to their respective workstations. Some sat down and continued to stare blankly at the screen, while others had already begun adjusting parameters. The hum of machinery and the occasional static of communication re-emerged in the command hall.

Golden Bone walked over and stood beside the Commander.

"I didn't expect it to end like this," he said. "Please accept my condolences."

The Commander nodded without speaking. He looked at the line of text on the screen for a long time before suddenly speaking, his voice even lower than before, carrying a trace of uncontrollable trembling:

"I actually had high hopes for him."

He paused.

"Young, steady, and his training scores were always among the best. Originally, after this mission ended, he was going to return to be a squadron leader. But now..."

He didn't finish.

Then his voice suddenly changed, becoming filled with suppressed rage, every word sounding as if it were squeezed through gritted teeth:

"And those bastards who used the back door."

He turned to look at Golden Bone, his eyes bloodshot.

"I will definitely find him. No matter who is behind him, no matter how powerful the connections are, I will definitely put him away. Damned animal, bastard."

Golden Bone didn't speak, only nodding his head.

The Commander took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He looked at the text on the screen, his voice returning to a state of calm:

"As for the matters inside the space station... we'll wait for instructions from superiors. Whether it's regarding that lifeform, those viruses, or... Chen Yuan."

He fell silent for a few seconds, not continuing further.

Shen Mingyuan, leaning against the wall, suddenly spoke:

"The Universe... is truly dangerous."

The Commander glanced at him and then turned his gaze back to the screen.

"Yes, dangerous," he said. "But also so beautiful."

He paused.

"From the first time humans looked up at the starry sky, our exploration of the Universe has never stopped. It will continue. Chen Yuan might not be the first to sacrifice himself, and he might not be the last. But everyone will keep going like this."

His voice was very calm, as if stating a long-known fact that required no questioning.

Lu Jianchuan stood nearby, looking at the line of text on the screen. After a moment of silence, he said:

"He is an excellent astronaut. He has already become a hero."

He paused.

"One after another, following in each other's footsteps, constantly exploring and moving forward. Every single one is a hero."

The Commander didn't answer. He just looked at the screen as if looking at a very distant place.

The command hall was quiet for a while.

Then—

"Something's not right!"

A technician suddenly stood up from his seat, staring at the screen in front of him, his voice sharp and distorted.

"According to the feedback from the space station... there's a... how did he do it?"

His fingers tapped rapidly on the keyboard, and the data on the screen jumped frantically.

"Permissions were supposed to have been deleted! How can—"

The Commander walked over quickly: "What's going on?"

The technician looked up, his face filled with disbelief:

"A spacecraft... has launched."