1: Only a madman would choose hell.

"Beep—The host's physiological functions are severely failing; heart rate has dropped below the warning line. It is recommended to call for medical assistance immediately, or... connect to the competition at once."

The cold mechanical voice in his mind didn't sound like some high-tech support, but rather like a life-claiming countdown.

Li Cang snapped his eyes open.

What met his eyes wasn't the pale white ceiling of a hospital, but the reinforced glass of a holographic pod's dome, shimmering with a cold, blue luster.

He tried to lift his hand, but the movement was stiff and sluggish. His subcutaneous veins were clearly visible, and he was as pale as a corpse freshly pulled from formalin.

On the back of his hand, a thick IV tube was pumping synthetic nutrient solution into his body to maintain his functions.

The good news: he wasn't dead. He had transmigrated into a great interstellar era of exploding technology where everyone was a "Creator."

The bad news: his predecessor was a madman.

A destitute screenwriter pursuing "ultimate art," who, in order to pull off a grand project that would shock the industry, had signed a gambling agreement that left him with enough debt to mine coal in a black pit for two hundred years.

High-intensity mental overexertion had burned out his brain, leaving Li Cang with nothing but this dying shell and a massive debt of 3.4 million credits.

The "Auxiliary System" parasitizing his cerebral cortex had forcibly taken over his bioelectric signals to avoid perishing along with its host's cardiac arrest.

Scarlet characters flickered across his retina:

[Current Mission: Pass the first round of the Epoch qualifiers.]

[Success Reward: Forced maintenance of vital signs for 24 hours.]

[Failure Penalty: Bioelectric cutoff (Brain Death).]

"Playing a game with my life on the line..." Li Cang curled his lip, a hint of blood tasting in his parched, cracked mouth. "This is very cyberpunk."

He felt no fear.

As a planner who had been ground into the dirt by capital and clients in his previous life, this thrill of hanging by a thread actually made his long-numbed heart beat violently.

Here, no one could boss him around, and no one could make him change that damn "colorful black."

"Zzz—Gah—"

Accompanied by the tooth-grinding friction of old hydraulic rods, Li Cang dragged Editor No. 100024—a machine with a rusted shell and useless for anything except its barely-standard core computing power—and forced his way into the preparation area.

The crowd was like a tide.

Millions of people were gathered in this corner of Sector 9 alone, with countless bizarre civilization projections intertwining above the preparation area.

"If you want to die with some dignity, I suggest you withdraw from the race immediately."

A sneer came from beside him.

The speaker was a fat man stuffed into a shimmering exoskeleton. He didn't look at Li Cang, his fingers merely sliding quickly across a screen as he spoke with an air of superiority: "Newbies these days really don't know their place. You dare come to the qualifiers with that kind of trash processor?"

Li Cang glanced sideways.

On the fat man's screen, a starting plan for [Forest Elves], practically a work of art, was being generated.

The data was perfect, the ecology was a closed loop, and every parameter precisely matched the "Golden Formula" summarized by previous champions.

"This is what Epoch is like now," the fat man seemed to be talking to himself, yet also showing off to those around him.

"It's been fifty years. What genre hasn't been thoroughly explored? Follow the optimal solutions of predecessors, and you're guaranteed a spot in the top ten thousand. Originality? That's like dancing in a graveyard—looking for death."

Harsh as the words were, they were a precise analysis of the current situation.

Countless mature [Genre Templates] had turned this competition into a rigid fill-in-the-blanks test.

They were stable and efficient; while they offered no surprises, they also held no shocks.

For the vast majority of contestants who just wanted to scrape by with a basic living allowance, mediocrity was a protective talisman for survival.

Li Cang withdrew his gaze and silently plugged the neural connection cable, which looked like it could snap at any moment, into the interface at the back of his neck.

Copy a template?

In this colosseum where millions of people slaughtered one another, mediocrity was the only capital offense.

[Neural connection established... System starting.]

[Please establish the cornerstone of civilization: Primary Race and Civilization Orientation.]

A massive gene bank expanded in his conscious space. [Long-lived Species: Elf], [Silicon-based: Rock Race], [Lightborn]... countless options shining with golden light were within reach.

Li Cang didn't even pause on them for a second.

His consciousness was as precise as a scalpel, cutting directly into the bottom-most gray area to grab the most inconspicuous basic option, one even labeled as having "inferior potential."

— [Standard Human].

No transcendent talent, no chitinous shell, no regenerative abilities, and a lifespan as short as a mayfly that is born in the morning and dies by dusk.

Its only advantage: an extremely low cost and a near-infinite plasticity at the genetic level.

Next was [Civilization Orientation].

This was the soul that decided a civilization's character.

If the [Pacifism] + [Nature Affinity] chosen by the fat man was a flower in a greenhouse, then Li Cang's next move was to personally unleash a beast.

Without hesitation, he checked two options radiating a dangerous red glow.

[Militarism]

Trait: All military unit combat power modifier +20%, civilian technology research rate -30%.

[Extreme Xenophobia]

Trait: Internal cohesion forced to maximum value. Unable to conduct any diplomacy or trade. Upon encountering alien races, a "Extermination" level hostile state is forcibly triggered.

[Settlement complete. Current available Blueprint Points (BP): 1000 (Poverty level).]

Looking at this pathetic data, Li Cang shook his head.

1000 points?

In conventional gameplay, this amount of resources was only enough to cover a planet in a layer of turf and light up [Primitive Farming] technology, then wait there to be eaten alive by the first wave of wild monsters.

Since he was going to play, he would play big.

"System, unlock the [High-Risk Environment Library]," Li Cang commanded in his mind, his thought waves showing no fluctuation.

The system clearly stalled for a moment, and a scarlet warning box exploded across his retina:

[High Energy Warning: This library contains a large number of disaster-level negative tags, usually only used for 'Extreme Survival Challenge' mode. Confirm?]

"Confirm."

Li Cang's finger tapped in the void.

His logic was cruel and simple: the core of Epoch's scoring was "Civilization Resilience."

Better to endure for one second in hell than to live ignobly for ten thousand years in heaven.

More importantly, in this game's rules, if you choose hell, hell gives you rewards.

[Tag Loading: Eternal Warfare]

Effect: Social order upper limit locked to E-rank, natural population growth rate -60%.

Compensation: BP +500

[Tag Loading: Homeworld Depletion]

Effect: Natural agricultural output reduced to zero, surface water bodies poisoned, newborn deformity rate 80%.

Compensation: BP +400

[Tag Loading: High-Dimensional Interference]

Effect: Physical laws are extremely unstable, and the veil of reality is fragile. Individuals with low mental resistance are highly prone to triggering psionic backlash or unspeakable madness.

Compensation: BP +1500 (Extremely Lethal!)

[Current Total BP: 3400 points.]

The all-in was complete.

According to normal logic, this civilization would die of famine, radiation, or mass insanity within the first second of its birth.

But since Li Cang dared to choose it, he had already thought of a countermeasure.

"Open the tech tree. Skip [Basic Physics], block [Basic Society]."

He pushed the entire sum of 3400 points into [Basic Biology].

"System, load environmental parameters: Radiation, Warfare, High-Dimensional Energy."

"Lock evolution direction: Survival, Pillage, Absolute Violence."

"For the 'Homeworld Depletion' trait, purchase [Organic Matter Recycling Technology] and [Biological Starch Conversion Technology]."

"For the High-Dimensional Interference trait, purchase [Primitive Mental Shackles]."

"Begin... induced mutation."

Boom!

On the holographic screen, that faint green dot representing "life" began to twitch violently after swallowing a massive amount of resources and extreme malice.

It didn't grow into a towering tree like the civilizations of other contestants; instead, it mutated into a writhing, scarlet mass of flesh with a metallic luster.

[Deduction successful!]

[Obtained Mutation Node: Gene Alchemy]

[Description: This is not evolution; this is a desecration of the Creator. A cruel, unethical biological modification technology that does not conform to nature, but violates it.]

Beneath this node, three hair-raising branches snaked out:

[Multiple Organ Implantation]

[Combat Hormone Overload]

[Neural Castration/Loyalty Shackles]

Li Cang threw all his remaining resources into them like fuel until he lit up the ultimate node at the top of the tech tree, which radiated an ominous blood-light.

That was the "masterpiece" he had built with all his resources, and the only answer for survival in this desperate universe.

[Special Unit Blueprint: Progenitor Superhuman Project - Model I]

[Codename: Thunder]

Everything was ready.

Countdown to zero... [Epoch League · Judge Dispatch Center]

This was a high-dimensional data space independent of the arena.

Thousands of veteran judges were looking down upon the masses like gods.

"Ding—Judge Group 103, data stream connected."

In the seat on the left, Isabelle, a veteran civilization architect, rubbed her brow.

As a recognized master of logic in the industry, what she detested most was stereotypical plagiarism.

To the right, Karen, a former interstellar colony defense officer, was idly twirling an electronic pen: "Want to bet? In this group of a thousand contestants, there are at least eight hundred elves and a hundred mechanical ascensions."

Isabelle sighed, her gaze sweeping over the dense thumbnails of the monitors: "They're all last year's champion templates. This kind of soulless imitation, in the face of a true 'Great Filter'..."

Suddenly.

A sharp, piercing red alarm tore through the silence of the judges' panel.

"Beep! Detected contestant No. 100024 in Sector 9, logic entropy value has exceeded the safety threshold!"

[System Determination: Extreme Danger/Civilization Logic Self-Destruction.]

[Forcing connection to main screen.]

The livestream screen flickered violently.

That exquisite Forest Elf civilization was ruthlessly pushed to the corner, replaced by a window in only black, white, and gray, filled with industrial noise and an oppressive atmosphere.

"What the hell is this?" The electronic pen dropped from Karen's hand. He stared in shock at the series of startling red negative tags on the screen.

"Wasteland? Radiation? Warfare? There's even damn High-Dimensional Interference?

The stacking of these four tags means his civilization will be completely torn apart by famine, civil war, and demon invasions the moment it lands!"

"No, look at his tech tree."

Isabelle's voice tightened instantly. She quickly enlarged the deformed tech tree, her pupils shrinking violently.

"He didn't put points into agriculture, he didn't put points into industry, he didn't even have the most basic reproduction technology..." She pointed at the node she had never seen before—[Gene Alchemy].

"He used all his resources to create... a kind of biological weapon?"

Karen felt a sense of absurdity: "This doesn't make sense! This kind of militaristic civilization structure is extremely unstable. What do they rely on to maintain faith? What do they use to unite the people?"

Just as all the viewers and judges were feeling confused and trembling.

In that anomalous window, the "Civilization Underlying Logic Manifesto" submitted by the creator popped up.

There was no face of a civilization protagonist on the screen, nor any defense.

There was only a passage of cold, hard text, as if carved into an obsidian tombstone, which boomed throughout the livestream accompanied by heavy industrial hydraulic sounds and electrical noise.

[Civilization Codename: Imperium of Man]

[Underlying Logic Loading...]

"Forget the promise of technology and progress, for so much has been forgotten, never to be relearned."

"Forget the illusions of understanding and compassion, for in the grim darkness of the future, there is no peace."

"Peace is a lie; only war is eternal."

"In this cursed universe, the only way for humanity to survive is to become monsters more terrifying than the monsters themselves."

"To survive, we abandon humanity."

"To win, we spare no cost."

"In the grim darkness of the future..."

"There is only war."

In that moment.

Whether it was Isabelle, Karen, or the tens of thousands of viewers in the livestream.

An indescribable chill shot up their spines to the tops of their heads, as if a slumbering ancient beast was baring its blood-stained fangs at this soft era through the screen.