Last night had been full of peril, but the day passed peacefully.
The short-legged cat bounced around like a little rabbit. The robot grabbed the black-furred chestnut ball that wanted to leap after it and asked, “Are there any Xenoid Variants around here?”
Xun wasn’t too happy about talking to it, but upon hearing it say it would protect the little cat’s life, it tried contacting the low-level Xenoids under its control nearby. After confirming, it spoke up: “No.”
Alpha-13 noticed that its voice now sounded no different from a human cub’s. A red light flashed in its electronic eyes—this little monster’s evolution speed far exceeded its calculated expectations.
“Where did the virus that infected the Xenoids come from?”
The Doom Virus was something carried in human embryos from birth, embedded in their genes. But Aurilion had long been a no-man’s-land with no humans to act as hosts. So how had the virus appeared?
“Corpses.”
The robot pressed: “You mean the soldiers buried here were eaten by Xenoids, infecting them too?” But that didn’t explain it. Humans had been fighting the Zerg for ages, and countless people had been swallowed by Xenoids, yet in thousands of years, no research had ever proven the Doom Virus could transmit from human flesh to Xenoids.
The little monster clearly lacked patience for anything besides the little cat. Seeing the little cat wave at it, it grew anxious to rush over. “Not humans. They ate infected Xenoids.”
“But Xenoids never get infected.”
“They do now.” Xun broke free from the mechanical arm and ran off. “Something has appeared that even the Abyss can’t control.”
In fact, he had been born because of it.
Xenoids were born from the Abyss, which could be considered the Zerg’s mother in a sense. Before the Abyss completely lost control, it had prematurely hatched an S-Rank Xenoid who hadn’t fully received its memory inheritance—Xun.
But an incomplete dominator had no idea how to save the swarm. It could only follow its instincts, endlessly devouring those polluted kin. The more it devoured, the more severe its own pollution became. Just as he reached the point where he couldn’t bear it and was about to be heteromorphized himself, a little cat appeared out of nowhere, making a dazzling entrance.
He didn’t just glow—he was super cute too. It liked him the most. The little monster finally bounced back to the little cat’s side, meekly nuzzling him.
Li Ao nuzzled back, instinctively leaving his scent on Xun’s body, then asked the robot, “How much longer do we have to run?”
Alpha-13 said, “Stop when we can’t go any further. The sooner we get the snowflake, the sooner we can go back.”
They didn’t need to climb to the mountaintop—just reach the edge of the snowline. The robot calculated the distance and time; at most, they’d be back at base in two days.
They climbed onward. Midway, when the little cat really couldn’t run anymore, the robot scooped him into its arms and carried him for a bit. Hurrying along, they finally reached their destination just before dusk fell.
“Stop. We’ll rest—” The robot turned back and realized the cat trailing behind it was gone. “Li Ao?!”
On the vast snow mountain, there was no sign of the little cat or the little monster. The robot searched for ages before spotting a cat butt in the distant snow.
The short-legged cat was having a blast and didn’t mind the cold at all. Half his body was buried in the snow, butt and tail raised high as he wagged them like a puppy.
The pitch-black little monster was super obvious in the snow, staring at the little cat’s fluffy big tail before pouncing.
Li Ao stumbled from the impact, his whole head plunging into the snow. Upside down like a carrot, his two legs kicked wildly in the air, unable to flip over.
【This pose, hahahaha!!!】
【It’s hilarious but super dangerous—he could suffocate! Get up quick!】
Fierce Cat, of course, remembered. Fierce Cat kicked his legs furiously.
Seeing Li Ao meowing in panic, Xun opened his mouth and grabbed the little cat’s tail in his jaws, yanking him out.
“Xun! You can’t play like that!” The embarrassed Fierce Cat put on a stern face, deciding to get revenge.
The little cat stood up, spread his arms wide, and pounced at Xun.
The little monster squinted happily, spreading his matching tentacle paws just like the little cat.
When two braves meet on a narrow path, the bolder one wins. The two little guys wrestled like gladiators in the snow for ages, kicking up flurries of snowflakes.
【Uh… they’ve been at it forever, but neither has landed a hit…】
Stamina -100, damage 0. The classic “snowfield casualty” scene was born.
【Hahahahaha, no way—their bellies keep bumping, but their paws can’t reach? What? Hahahaha】
【.】
【They fought, but didn’t fight.】
【Screenshot for an emoji pack hahaha】
The robot watched wide-eyed as the short-legged cat’s two paws flailed up and down in the air super fast. Unable to bear looking, it closed its eyes and asked, “Are you trying to fan away the air in front of it to suffocate it?”
A machinelike deadpan roast was the deadliest.
Fierce Cat was a bit embarrassed but not much. Tired from playing, he trotted to the robot’s feet, squatted obediently, and meowed, “Alpha, I’m a little hungry. What do we do?”
What could it do?
Alpha-13 fired up cooking mode, hoping to make him eat more so his legs would grow longer.
—
Before setting out, Alpha-13 had thought this adventure would be incredibly tough. But after following the little cat on this trip, it realized the hardest part had actually been taking that first step.
The base was right in front of them. In just a few short days, the Strangling Vine had completely enveloped the entire building complex. The original white exterior walls were nowhere to be seen, and the eerie giggling ghost voices swaying in the wind grew even more terrifying.
【What’s that thing?】
The surveillance was still blocked outside the energy field, but under the machine’s arrangements, it remotely captured the base’s outline.
【That’s… a wild plant?】
The Strangling Vine had long been eradicated by humans due to its extreme danger, with few knowing of it. However, among the experts researching Xenoids squatting in Li Ao’s livestream right now were several ancient biology scholars.
【My eyes must be playing tricks (rubs eyes)—that’s Strangling Vine?】
【It’s not clear, but that silhouette and the giggling ghost sounds—definitely Strangling Vine!】
【Where the hell is this cat?! In this era, how could Buddha Hand Vine, which should be extinct, still be growing??】
Nearing the gate, Li Ao excitedly stood up on his hind legs and dashed over. “Little Flower Beauty! Little Flower Beauty, I’m back!”
Several rouge-painted hands detached from the vines, giggling creepily as they approached the fearless little cat.
“I, I missed you so much.” The short-legged cat put on his big pie face and begged for food. “Li Ao hasn’t had any fruit in sooo long.”
They’d only been out a few days, and he had the nerve to say that.
The robot watched coldly as countless hands split open, revealing leech-like stomachs lined with circular saw teeth, spitting out flowers to coax the little cat.
“Thanks!” This cat wasn’t embarrassed at all and even rubbed his face on the ghost hand. “You’re a good flower.”
Hah—the robot sneered coldly. It waited on him hand and foot every day, feeding and watering him, and he’d never called it a good machine. All he did was huddle with the little monster, chirping about how bad it was.
“Alpha, this is for you.” Master of currying favor Li Ao pinned a flower on Xun, then ran to the robot, stood on tiptoes, and tucked a flower into its mechanical arm. “Smell it—it’s super fragrant.”
Alpha-13 sensed the object in its palm. This was the first flower it had ever received. It couldn’t smell scents, yet it inexplicably followed the little cat’s movements and brought the flower up to its electronic eye.
“Isn’t it yummy-smelling?” The little cat’s arms were full of pink-and-white flowers, reflecting his smiling turquoise eyes like stars fallen into the Milky Way.
“Mm.” The easily placated machine primly withdrew its gaze from the little cat. The short-legged cat was still a good kitty; it’d bake him some caramel cookies tonight.
—
Outside the living quarters, the robot with its new mechanical arm held the little cat’s body and carried him close to the gate.
Li Ao hugged the thermos, carefully pouring the snow into the detection device.
A familiar female voice rang out: “Snow of the daytime verified. All four trials completed. Now, the gate opens to you.”
The gate rumbled open. The robot stood there, rooted in place for a long time, until the little cat got impatient and poked its mechanical arm. “Put me down. Let Li Ao go in and see what’s up.”
Alpha-13 patted the cat’s head, drawing courage from him, and stepped into the area it had never entered before.
The short-legged cat really did have more guts than leg length. The moment he entered, he started rubbing around everywhere with the little monster in tow. True to his cat nature, even without a cat mom to teach him, the instincts etched in his genes had him patrolling with tail raised high.
“Don’t mess with stuff.” After warning him, the robot scanned around and saw most things had already been cleared out, so it shut up and let the little cat play with the little monster.
Alpha-13 located the building’s management program and took control with little effort. Linking to the data network, it began a system update after a century.
During this, it accessed the gate’s password program to verify its guess.
“You’ve come.” On the azure permission page appeared a woman with silver-white hair and a kindly face.
“Let me guess—from when you got the walking device to stepping in here, how long? Hmm, with your stubborn personality, it’d take at least ten or eight years to leave the nursery. Then getting to the living quarters and cracking the gate password—probably another decade at least?”
She knew the machine she’d created all too well, but underestimated how stubbornly single-minded it was. The process wasn’t ten years—it was a hundred.
“Eh, anyway, your life is long. Take my gift and enjoy this world properly.”
The scene paused there. Alpha-13 stood motionless for a long time before silently opening the password answer.
Entering the gate required four procedures in total. The latter three all involved seeking out external objects: sand, flowers, and snow.
The most crucial first procedure’s command was triggered by the keyword “Yi Xiangjin” to run the program. Its answer was: any response besides Alpha-13.
The builder had never given it a name because she believed that sooner or later, it would be able to bestow meaning upon itself and choose a name for itself.
But no. A hundred years had passed, and in its solitude, it had sealed itself away, unable to achieve true self-awakening. It wasn’t until it met a little cat named Li Ao that it began to experience emotions beyond loneliness.
Those nicknames he meowed out chaotically were precisely what he saw in his clear blue eyes—the meaning belonging to the machine.
Alpha-13’s program overflowed with emotions as it exited the page. The very next second, it heard the AI broadcast: [Connecting you to the Star Network. Please state your login name.]
“Everyone, hello. I’m called Li Ao oh~”
Alpha-13: ?
Like hell you’re called Li Ao oh oh! Take it back right now!! What was the point of it painstakingly setting up that program to intercept location tracking? Take it back right now!!!
The machine that had just awakened to self-consciousness suffered an emotional collapse.
