70: A money-devouring beast? No, it's a money-shredding machine.

["sword of truth" - Medical Center Isolation Zone]

Six hours.

C-19's internal timer precisely recorded this figure.

His power armor had long since entered low-power mode; the joint servos had ceased active operation, and the reactor output had dropped to its minimum threshold. But he did not move. Not a single step.

The blast-proof glass was thirty centimeters thick. Made of Mars-produced Titanium Boride Alloy, it could withstand a direct hit from a standard bolt shell.

The glass surface was covered with a thin layer of pale blue force field film, and the air was thick with the pungent scent of ozone and disinfectant.

On the other side of the glass was that cultivation tank.

It was three meters high and two meters wide, cast from transparent artificial crystal.

Twelve thick conduits were connected to the bottom of the tank; some delivered nutrient solution, some extracted metabolic waste, and some continuously injected certain golden suspended particles.

The cultivation tank was surrounded by six Stasis Field Generators, each half a person's height, with indicator lights on the surface flashing at irregular frequencies—red, yellow, and occasionally green.

The creature inside the tank was curled up.

His size was no longer that of an infant.

In just a few short hours, his length had grown from the initial fifty centimeters to nearly one meter.

His limbs began to show the outlines of muscles, his spine straightened, and the lines of his shoulder blades were clearly visible.

His skin exhibited a pale golden luster, and every inch of its texture radiated a sort of inhuman perfection.

He was deep in slumber.

His eyelids were tightly closed, and his chest rose and fell at an extremely slow frequency.

C-19's tactical eyepiece took all of this in.

But on top of that image, another set of information was superimposed.

[Warning: Target is undergoing ultra-high-speed metabolism.]

[Warning: Nutrient solution reserves have dropped to 17%.]

[Warning: Stasis Field Generator #3 is overloaded. Drawing additional energy from the main reactor.]

[Warning: Main reactor load has reached 82%. Immediate reduction of non-core system power consumption is recommended.]

Red warning characters flashed continuously, casting a blood-red halo across C-19's retina.

"His needs are growing exponentially."

The voice came from the right. C-19 turned his head, the eyepiece's focal length adjusting automatically.

Archmagos Ul-02's holographic projection floated two meters away from him.

This high priest of the Adeptus Mechanicus had completely discarded his human form—his body was a suspended metal sphere, its surface covered with sensors and data interfaces, with six mechanical tentacles hanging below, each tipped with a different tool.

The projection's resolution was imperfect, with slight jitter and noise at the edges.

"Every joule of input energy is being perfectly absorbed," Ul-02's voice came from the holographic projection, carrying the characteristic metallic trill of The Machine. "No waste. No loss. Conversion efficiency is 100%."

His mechanical tentacles swiped through the air, bringing up a 3D holographic image.

It was a gene sequence—a double helix structure, appearing in pure gold.

But deep within that gold, there was a small, abnormal region.

Green.

Not a vibrant green of life, but a cold, electronic, deathly green.

"We found partial records regarding this code in the Lunar Gene Bank archives," Ul-02 magnified that green region.

"It does not belong to any known human gene sequence. It does not even fully belong to the realm of organic life."

C-19's eyepiece focused on that code.

His cognitive core began to run at high speed, attempting to parse this information.

But he soon gave up—it was beyond his scope of knowledge.

"What is it doing?" he asked.

"Devouring," Ul-02 replied. "Devouring energy, replicating itself, attempting to construct a..." He paused, his mechanical vocal cords emitting a burst of harsh static, "...singularity within the host."

C-19 did not press for the meaning of "singularity."

He simply watched the golden figure in the cultivation tank.

"He is hungry."

These words came from C-19's external speaker, his tone steady and flat.

"We must feed him."

Ul-02's mechanical tentacles stopped moving.

His sensor array turned toward C-19, and he remained silent for three seconds.

"That is exactly the problem," he said.

[Holographic Operations Cabin]

Li Cang stared at the screen.

His eyes had not blinked for an hour.

His pupils had constricted to the size of pinheads, and the surface of his eyeballs was covered in a fine web of bloodshot veins.

His hands gripped the edges of the console tightly, his knuckles white from the strain.

On the screen, a number was ticking down.

[GP Balance: 947]

[Estimated Time to Zero: 1 hour 08 minutes]

947.

Just three minutes ago, this number had been 950.

Li Cang's throat gave a dry swallow.

He felt his stomach contracting, waves of acid rising up his esophagus.

His back was drenched in cold sweat, his shirt clinging tightly to his skin, every breath bringing a sticky sense of discomfort.

He opened the detailed log of resource consumption.

[[Gene God-Child] Maintenance System: -0.8 GP/min]

[Stasis Field Energy Consumption Compensation: -0.3 GP/min]

[Nutrient Solution Synthesis: -0.4 GP/min]

[Cellular Regeneration Acceleration: -0.5 GP/min]

[...]

[Total: -2.0 GP/min]

Two points every minute.

One hundred and twenty points every hour.

This consumption rate was enough to bankrupt the entire reserves of a small colony within three days.

The corner of Li Cang's eye began to twitch uncontrollably.

His right hand left the console, subconsciously reaching for his temple, his fingertips feeling the violent thumping of his blood vessels.

His original plan was simple. Bring the Lunar gene technology and Martian industrial support back to Terra, rest the troops, digest the spoils of war, and expand his influence steadily.

He had even planned out the development route for the next three months—first establish a second gene seed cultivation facility, then expand by two combat companies, and then gradually annex the surrounding neutral forces.

But now, that plan had become waste paper.

The existence inside the cultivation tank had shattered everything.

Li Cang took a deep breath, forcing his brain to resume functioning.

His fingers tapped rapidly on the console, bringing up the global strategic map of Terra.

A holographic projection unfolded before him. Blue oceans, brown continents, and the distribution map of forces overlaid on top.

Most of the areas were black.

That represented "Imperial Territory."

His territory, from the Himalayan mountains to the Sahara desert, from the Siberian permafrost to the Antarctic ice sheets, the black territories were linked together.

But in the center of the Pacific Ocean, there was a deep blue region.

It sat there, occupying millions of square kilometers of sea.

The edge of the deep blue was ringed with a dark red halo—representing "Hostile" and "State of War."

[Pan-Pacific Empire]

[Mariana Trench Fortress]

[Military Strength: T1.5 (In Decline)]

[Estimated Extractable Resources: 1200-1800 GP]

Li Cang's finger stopped on that number.

1200 to 1800 points.

Enough to maintain the [Gene God-Child] for ten to fifteen hours.

Not enough. Nowhere near enough. But it was the only source of wealth he could reach right now.

He stood up.

The space in the operations cabin was very small; he could only take two steps before hitting a wall.

He turned around and took another two steps, hitting the other wall. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

His brain was working at lightning speed.

"C-19."

He pressed the communication key.

"Commander," C-19's voice sounded immediately, without any delay.

"Have Ul-02 adjust the parameters of the stasis field," Li Cang said. His voice was steady, but his speaking speed was twice as fast as usual. "Reduce energy consumption to the minimum."

There were two seconds of silence on the communication channel.

"Commander," C-19's voice sounded again, "this might affect His Highness's..."

"I know," Li Cang interrupted him.

"But a god-child who dies because of energy depletion is no different from a god-child who doesn't exist at all."

He closed the communication with C-19.

Then, he opened the ship-wide broadcast.

"All units."

His voice spread through the warship's internal speaker system to every corner of the "sword of truth."

The hangar, the weapons deck, the soldier quarters, the engineering zone, the medical center. Every warrior performing their duties heard this voice.

"Course change. Target: Terra, Central Pacific, Mariana Trench."

He paused.

"Prepare for battle."