36: Primal Evolutionary Factors

The solemn voice of the master of ceremonies echoed in the hall, announcing the start of the memorial service.

An old police officer, assigned by The Bureau and having similar seniority to Li Ming, walked up to the microphone, holding a carefully prepared eulogy.

His voice was heavy with grief as he recalled Li Ming's years of dedicated service, his integrity and modesty, and his tireless support and care for his juniors.

"...Comrade Li Ming fulfilled his oath upon joining the force with his life; he is an example for all of us..."

Every word was sincere and true, but to Lu Jianchuan's ears, they felt like fine needles piercing his already ravaged heart. When the old officer mentioned how patiently Li Ming guided newcomers, Lu Jianchuan's vision suddenly blurred, and time seemed to flow backward.

He felt as if he was back on that afternoon when he had just reported for duty, wearing a brand-new police uniform, yet filled with awkwardness and apprehension. Sunlight streamed through the old windows of the Police Station, falling upon Li Ming's smiling face.

"The new kid? I'm Li Ming, and I'll be your master from now on." The voice was hearty and warm, carrying a reassuring strength. "Everyone else in the station calls me Old Li, but you... just call me Uncle Li, don't be so formal."

"Just call me Uncle Li."

That simple phrase immediately dispersed all his tension and anxiety. From then on, the address "Uncle Li" was more than just a name; it represented unreserved guidance, sternness balanced with tolerance when he made mistakes, a cigarette offered during late-night patrols (though he never smoked), and a guiding light that was always on when he felt lost.

And now, that light was extinguished.

Because of him.

The eulogy continued, describing Li Ming's family responsibilities: he was a good husband and a good father.

Lu Jianchuan saw Auntie Liu Yuqin's shoulders shaking violently in the front row, while Li Zhe kept his head bowed, his hands tightly clenched into fists.

Lu Jianchuan couldn't listen anymore. He violently shut his eyes, burying his burning face deep into his palms. Guilt, like a surging tide, completely overwhelmed him. Those warm memories had now transformed into the cruelest form of punishment.

The subsequent procedures became blurred and rapid in his perception: silent mourning, bowing, walking around the coffin for a final farewell... He moved mechanically with the crowd, like a puppet whose Soul had been withdrawn.

When he passed the coffin again, he barely dared to look at the prepared remains. He simply bowed deeply, almost breaking his back, using all his strength to stop himself from collapsing on the spot.

Finally, the moment arrived when the body was wheeled toward the Crematorium. As that heavy door, seemingly separating two worlds, slowly closed, an uncontrollable wave of sorrow erupted from the crowd.

Liu Yuqin nearly fainted and had to be supported by relatives and friends. Li Zhe finally raised his head, his young face streaked with tears, his eyes hollow as he stared at the door, as if trying to keep his father there with his gaze.

Lu Jianchuan stood rooted to the spot, feeling that the door had taken away not only Uncle Li's body but also some crucial support in his own life. The flames were consuming not just a physical body, but also a part of his past, and the relatively simple self he once was, who had been sheltered.

After an unknown amount of time, the attendees of the funeral began to disperse, talking quietly, supporting one another, and heading toward the exit. The atmosphere of grief remained heavy, but the ceremony was over, and life—or rather, the life that must be faced after losing a loved one—had to go on.

Lu Jianchuan saw Auntie Liu Yuqin being helped along, her hands tightly clutching a heavy, square wooden box covered in red cloth. Li Zhe followed beside her, head bowed, his figure appearing especially thin and isolated.

He watched the mother and son slowly walk toward the entrance of the Funeral Home, their backs carrying the burden of a newly established, permanent void.

A strong impulse surged through him—he wanted to rush over, say something more, tell Auntie Liu he would take care of them in Uncle Li's stead, and apologize to Li Zhe, even if the boy didn't want to hear it... His feet subconsciously shuffled forward a small step.

However, Liu Yuqin's staggering steps, as if all her strength had been drained, and Li Zhe's tense, distant back, acted like an invisible wall, pinning him firmly to the spot.

What could he say? Any comfort felt pale and powerless right now. Any promise seemed hypocritical in the face of the unspeakable truth. His very presence might only serve as a reminder of the mother and son's pain.

In the end, he failed to take that step. All his words, all his courage, seemed frozen in the air thick with sorrow.

He stood there quietly, far away, like a shadow forgotten in a corner, watching the two people he most wanted to approach yet felt least worthy of facing, carrying Uncle Li's final resting place, step by step, until they vanished into the pale daylight outside the door.

Only when their figures completely disappeared did Lu Jianchuan feel the last ounce of strength drain from him. Slowly, alone, he turned and walked in the opposite direction.

His shadow stretched long, long across the much-emptier Funeral Home hall.

The funeral was over. Lu Jianchuan didn't know how he returned to his cold, silent rental apartment. He stripped off the heavy black suit and tossed it carelessly onto a chair, as if shedding a layer of shackles, yet he felt something much heavier had thoroughly integrated into his bones and Bloodline.

The room still bore the chaos of the previous night's battle; energy bar wrappers were scattered on the floor, mixing with the pervading sadness to form a suffocating, strange smell.

He walked to the window and gazed downstairs for a long time. The afternoon sun weakly illuminated the streets; pedestrians and vehicles moved as usual, and the world revolved according to its inherent rhythm, as if the heartbreaking farewell from a few hours ago had never happened. This "business as usual" normality felt like the sharpest irony, stinging his nerves.

The final image of Uncle Li being wheeled into the Crematorium, Auntie Liu's hollow eyes as she held the urn, as if her Soul had been extracted, Li Zhe's back, staring at him with a mix of immense grief and distrust... and the ferocious silhouette of the monster in the warehouse, White Star's dying gaze towards its homeland on the plaza, and the armor on his own body that brought power yet also endless pain and secrets... All these chaotic and painful fragments collided and gathered in his confused mind, pointing toward the core mystery that had haunted him since his transformation: The Forger.

What exactly was the Root of all this? The question gnawed at his heart like a venomous snake.

He had to know the answer. No matter how cruel that answer might be.

He took a deep breath, as if inhaling enough courage to face a truth that might shatter his understanding. He walked to the bed and picked up his phone. The screen lit up, the cold light reflecting in his pale, haggard, bloodshot eyes. He pressed his dry lips together hard, tapped open the silent starry sky avatar, and his fingers, trembling slightly, began to type.

Lu Jianchuan: The Forger. Tell me, what exactly is going on? Uncle Li's death, that Whale, and the armor on my body... Why is all this happening?

After sending the message, he gripped the phone tightly, as if it were his only lifeline. The room was dead silent, amplifying only his slightly heavy breathing and the drumming of his heart in his ears. Time seemed stretched, every second filled with unknown heaviness.

A few seconds later, the phone vibrated, and the screen lit up.

.**: Your questions point to the core. Yes, all abnormalities stem from the "primordial evolution factor," which is the evo factor.

Lu Jianchuan's breath hitched, and his heart felt as if it had been violently squeezed.

.: It is not a virus, nor is it an external object. It is the most ancient "substratum" of life on this planet, an "Active Particle" that has existed since the initial birth of life in the primeval era, integrated within the genetic sequence of all life forms.

.: You can understand it as a kind of... "survival spark" buried deep within the Bloodline, following the cruelest Law of the Jungle.

"All life?" Lu Jianchuan muttered, a chill rising up his spine. He subconsciously looked at his hands, hands that had also been covered in silver armor. Could it be... Lu Jianchuan: Are you saying that everyone, animals, plants... all have this thing inside them?

.**: Correct. Without exception. It is the "Primordial Genetic Imprint" of Earth life.

.: But concentration is key. The vast majority of individuals have a concentration below 0.01%, remaining in a "recessive" state, unable to activate throughout their lives, maintaining the "normal" life form you are familiar with.

.: A very small number of individuals, however, are born with a concentration exceeding this threshold, making them "Dominant Potential Individuals." They appear no different from ordinary people, but under two extreme circumstances, this spark can be ignited.

Lu Jianchuan's thoughts raced. He thought of the Whale, and he thought of himself.

Lu Jianchuan: ...Like that Whale? And... me?

.: Yes. There are two main ways to trigger it.

.: First, Near-Death Crisis. When life is fatally threatened and bodily functions drop to a critical point, the evo factor will activate recklessly in order to "live," forcibly altering the host's form and abilities in a bid for survival. This is the most common, and often the most uncontrollable, method.

.**: Second, Extreme Will. In a non-near-death state, if an individual's will is so strong that it surpasses physiological limits, the factor may also be passively activated, but the success rate is extremely low, and it usually requires a higher particle concentration for support.

"Near-death... Extreme Will..." Lu Jianchuan recalled the moment Uncle Li sacrificed himself in the warehouse, his own overwhelming rage and intense desire for revenge. Could that have been it... He forced himself to calm down and continued to question.

Lu Jianchuan: Even if it's activated, there must be some pattern to what it evolves into, right? Why did that Whale transform like that?

.: Once evolution begins, it strictly follows the "survival priority" Law. It will resolve the current survival crisis in the most direct and efficient manner, without considering the host's subjective wishes or aesthetic appearance.

.: The Whale you encountered activated its factor under the near-death agony of long-term abuse, leading to the "Predator Countermeasure Form," which focuses on gaining powerful attack capabilities and adapting to land movement. Its form is the answer jointly written by the environment and the instinct for survival.

.**: Your armor is essentially a highly controllable, directional evo factor expression. It uses a specific "Template" to guide the factor within you toward stable, reversible evolution, preventing you from losing yourself in power, like that Whale, and becoming a monster driven only by survival.

"Template..." Lu Jianchuan looked at the plain, unadorned ring on his left wrist. So this armor wasn't created out of thin air; it was the result of guidance and control. A complex emotion surged in his heart—realization about the source of his power, coupled with deep contemplation about the meaning behind this "control."

He recalled the hunger and weakness that almost consumed him after demorphing.

Lu Jianchuan: What is the price? This kind of evolution can't be without a cost.

.: Evolution requires energy, immense energy. It consumes the most fundamental reserves of life—fat, glycogen, and even protein.

.: If evolution is forced without sufficient energy, the price will be the breakdown of core bodily tissues, such as heart muscle and brain nerves, to extract the last reserves of power, until... death. It is a one-way street with no return; failure is the end.

The message ended there.

Lu Jianchuan slowly lowered his phone. The screen light died, and the room was once again enveloped in darkness.

He leaned against the cold wall, his body slowly sliding down until he sank onto the floor. He didn't turn on the light, letting the shadows swallow him.

So... this was the truth of the world. Beneath the peaceful everyday life, every living being harbored such an ancient and cruel spark. Uncle Li died in the uncontrollable blaze ignited by this spark, and he himself had become a person attempting to master this flame, walking a tightrope. This flame could bring power, but it could also consume him entirely.

He raised his hands and examined them closely in the dim light. These hands, which once held a police baton to maintain order, now carried the destiny of guiding evolution and fighting monsters.

An unprecedented sense of heaviness enveloped him from all directions, like the pressure of the cold deep sea. It was not just a deeper understanding of the meaning of Uncle Li's sacrifice, nor just a clear recognition of his own situation, but a sense of... awe and fear toward the fundamental operating logic of the entire world.

He knew that from this moment on, the world through his eyes could never go back to how it was. The door leading to "normalcy" was slowly closing behind him.