Ch 56: Interplanetary Planting Master

Thoughts

Zhenhai Star, 9 p.m. Earth Standard Time

Lin Ji silently infiltrated the Seventh Corps headquarters. Half an hour earlier, Li Zhengdao had found an excuse to send Aileen away, then notified Lin Ji. Using the access codes provided by Li Zhengdao, Lin Ji reached Han Rui’s room without incident.

Inside the room, Han Rui had just taken a bath and was staring blankly at the Su-style meat pie Aileen had made for him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it tasted exactly like the ones his father used to make. He remembered his father saying that Su-style meat pies were the only dish his mother knew how to make, and that it was his mother who had taught him. The familiar taste stirred memories of his father—and his mother.

Han Rui had little memory of his mother. She had committed suicide not long after his birth, following the tragedy on Iris Star. All of his impressions of her came from his father. While alive, his father had never been mentally stable—he was rarely lucid, often lost in bouts of madness. During these episodes, his father would mutter incessantly about his mother, but when he was clear-headed, he would never mention her.

Once, Han Rui had asked his father about his mother during one of his lucid moments, but his father said nothing. Han Rui could never forget the expression on his father’s face at that moment, and since then, his mother had become a forbidden topic between them. As these chaotic thoughts swirled in his mind, the aroma of the pie filled his nose. Just as he was about to take a bite, he heard Lin Ji’s suppressed cough behind him.

“…?” Han Rui jumped in surprise. “How did you get in here?” Then he realized, “Is something wrong so late at night?”

Since arriving at Zhenhai Star and being entrusted to Li Zhengdao, Han Rui had only seen Lin Ji from a distance a few times. This was the first time they had met face-to-face. Under the light, Lin Ji’s complexion had improved significantly—though still pale, it no longer looked as sickly as it had on Broken Star.

Lin Ji stood with his hands at his sides, his gaze calm as he looked at Han Rui. He answered the question directly, “I have something to discuss—about your family background.”

Han Rui instinctively took a step back, his eyes wary as they fixed on Lin Ji. He had always avoided registering for his Federation citizenship, fearing that someone would uncover his genetic records and, in turn, trace his lineage.

Lin Ji remained composed. “It seems you know, so you must also know who I am.”

Han Rui hesitated but eventually nodded, his wariness fading and his expression turning more complicated. If it weren’t for Lin Ji, he would have died on Broken Star. Lin Ji noticed the change in Han Rui’s attitude and shifted the topic. “How much do you know about your mother?”

Han Rui stayed silent, so Lin Ji pressed on, “And your father?”

After a pause, Han Rui finally replied, “…What are you trying to say?”

Lin Ji responded, “What I’m about to tell you may be hard to believe, but I ask you to hear me out. Three years ago, your father sent a secret message to General Zhuang Wei of the Second Corps. The message had only four words: ‘She’s not herself.’ Zhuang Wei spent three years tracking the origin of that information, and it eventually led him to Broken Star.”

At this point, Han Rui pressed his lips together, memories of his father’s last moment of clarity flashing in his mind. By then, his father’s lucid periods had grown fewer, and he was often lost in fearful delusions of imaginary things. His father would frequently talk about monsters in his mental world, but Han Rui had probed countless times with his own mental tendrils and never found anything.

He had been happy when his father briefly regained his sanity, and his father had promised to make him Su-style meat pies, asking him to run to the black market to pick up some ingredients. But when Han Rui returned from the market, he found that his father had used a high-energy particle gun to blast a hole through his own head. While going through his father’s belongings, Han Rui found the sent message: “She’s not herself!”

For three years, Han Rui had avoided thinking about his father’s death. The recipient of that message had seemed irrelevant to him. He had been living just fine on Broken Star alone, and he had intended to keep living that way—until he met Su He…

Lin Ji’s voice interrupted his train of thought, continuing calmly. He laid out the unresolved doubts from back then, Zhuang Wei’s investigation, and Lu Li’s suspicions about Aileen. Han Rui looked up sharply, his face filled with shock. “What did you say?”

His reaction softened Lin Ji’s heart, but Lin Ji repeated the words, “There were many strange things back then. Based on the message your father sent to Zhuang Wei and what Lu Li has discovered, there’s a high possibility that your mother—Sentinel Song Silan—was parasitized by an alien lifeform. And now, the same parasitism might be happening to Sentinel Aileen, with the same entity involved.”

Han Rui responded, “I don’t believe it.”

“No, you do,” Lin Ji countered. “You’ve already sensed that Sentinel Aileen has shown you unusual concern. If you rule out the possibility of a sentinel being attracted to a guide, how else would you explain her behavior?”

“Why is it impossible for a sentinel to be attracted to a guide? I…” Han Rui attempted to argue.

“Disruptor!” Lin Ji cut straight to the point.

Han Rui fell silent for a while, then looked calmly at Lin Ji. “You didn’t find me through General Li just to tell me this, did you?”

Lin Ji’s impression of Han Rui deepened again. Despite Han Rui’s seemingly delicate appearance, he wasn’t weak at all. It made sense—growing up safely on Broken Star, Han Rui couldn’t have been as harmless as he appeared. What others saw was just the disguise he’d adopted out of necessity. Lin Ji gave a slight nod and said, “Through Aileen’s concern for you, we suspect that alien lifeforms may be influenced by human emotions while parasitizing them. We hope…”

“You hope to use me to lure out the alien lifeform?” Han Rui finished the thought for him.

Lin Ji nodded. In fact, the guide of Sentinel Qionghua had already performed a mental probe on Sentinel Aileen under strict secrecy but found nothing. With no other choice, Lin Ji turned to Han Rui.

“She’s not herself!” “There’s a monster in my mental world, a monster…” Han Rui clenched his fists, murmuring, “I agree.”

Lin Ji barely allowed himself a small sigh of relief.

To lure Aileen into the trap, Han Rui deliberately orchestrated several “coincidental” encounters with her over the next few days. Every time they met, Han Rui could sense Aileen’s happiness. She didn’t hide her affection for Han Rui, especially after he began to show her more warmth. She cared for him attentively, acting like a caring elder sister or perhaps a long-lost mother eager to make amends after years apart.

While receiving this attention from Aileen, Han Rui found himself increasingly confused. It was hard to think of her as merely a puppet controlled by an alien. Instead, her image started overlapping with the one his father had painted of his mother. The deep affection he felt from Aileen didn’t seem fake. Han Rui couldn’t understand—could alien lifeforms truly be so influenced by human emotions? If the alien had parasitized his mother before she became pregnant, then who was his true mother—Song Silan, or the alien that had taken over her?

These thoughts weighed on Han Rui’s mind. Even though he kept quiet, his growing closeness to Aileen was no longer just an act but something he felt genuinely. He couldn’t fully grasp his feelings, nor could he share them with anyone. At this moment, Han Rui missed Su He more than ever.

Far from Zhenhai Star, light-years away, the Iris had just emerged from a wormhole jump. A dusty yellow planet appeared on the viewscreen, and a quiet cheer rippled through the command center.

Though they had only been away for a few days, the sentinels already seemed to consider this place their home. Seeing the familiar yellow-hued planet filled them with a deep sense of comfort. Su He felt the same way as the others, even smiling a little when he thought of the lifeforms thriving in the desert.

This time, the Iris had returned to relocate some of the lifeforms to the asteroid belt. Initially, Su He had been worried that the lifeforms wouldn’t survive in space, and he and Lu Li had been concerned about how to transport the bodies of the dark beasts back. But Mosca, with its resilient life force, proved that it could live perfectly well in the asteroid belt—completely unlike humans, who were too fragile to survive in space.

“Activate the external shields and prepare for landing,” Lu Li ordered.

In the glow of the setting sun, the Iris slowly descended through the atmosphere. The massive shadow it cast over the sandy beach caught the attention of the Broken Star survivors, who lifted their heads to watch. In just a few short days, they had already formed a small, functional society. Over 300 people were assigned different tasks, and the whole operation seemed to be running smoothly.

From above, a green wave could be seen stretching along the coastline—it was the small shrubs that the sentinels had transplanted from the island.

“Huh?” Su He, standing by the window, asked Lu Li, “Doesn’t it look like the planting area has expanded?” Su He had set up all the formations on Iris, and he remembered exactly how large the planting area was. But now, it seemed bigger than before he left.

Lu Li extended his senses, and his mental power swept across the entire settlement. After a moment, he smiled and whispered a few words to Su He.

Su He: “!!!”

The Iris soon landed, and a stir ran through the crowd on the ground, who began to gather around. From among them, an unkempt-looking old man named Larson stepped forward with a fawning expression. Having sold two disruptors to Su He earlier, Larson had taken the opportunity to ingratiate himself with Lu Li, and the others had chosen him as their leader. During the days the Iris was gone, Larson had enjoyed playing the role of a lord. Now that the Iris had returned, Larson immediately adjusted his posture, carefully asking Lu Li if there were any orders.

Lu Li smiled and said, “You’ve all done well.”

This wasn’t just an empty compliment; the development of the settlement truly exceeded Lu Li’s expectations. The black soil stretched for hundreds of miles, and the crops planted within were well cared for. The broken starships had been tidied up, and people moved in and out with a sense of order.

Humans seemed to be a peculiar and unpredictable species. They were greedy, lazy, selfish, and foolish… destroying everything, from resource planets to residential worlds, from Earth to the galaxy. Yet, they were also hardworking, brave, and fearless. They possessed a tenacious life force and a desire for a better future. Give them even a sliver of hope, and they could work miracles.

Lu Li reflected that the war between humans and the dark beasts proved this point. After more than a thousand years of fighting, not only had humans avoided extinction, but they had also thrived and expanded, nearly dominating the entire galaxy. It was nothing short of a miracle. The infiltration of human society by alien life forms might have been a desperate choice, forced by the dark beasts’ steady defeats. Otherwise, why would the so-called lofty “gods” lower themselves to parasitize humans?

This thought put Lu Li in a good mood, and he waved a hand to signal the Iris crew to enjoy some free time. Su He, tugging Lu Li along, led them to the edge of the formation, with a nervous Larson following behind.

“We…”

Su He noticed Larson’s anxiety and, mimicking Lu Li’s reassuring smile, said, “You’ve done a great job. Did you use the formation…” He paused and replaced the term with something Larson would understand. “Did you use the energy field to convert the sand into soil, then spread the soil beyond the energy field?”

Seeing that Su He wasn’t accusing him of wrongdoing, Larson quickly nodded.

“That’s a good idea, but…” Su He said thoughtfully, “Although this expands the planting area, without the energy field supplying energy, the crops will take longer to mature. And after a few rounds of planting, the soil will become barren again due to the lack of energy.”

Larson hadn’t expected Su He to know this much. Indeed, the energy on the newly cultivated land was weak—other crops had already been harvested, while this area’s seeds had only just sprouted. He thought for a moment and asked, “Could we try spraying energy liquid, like the kind used in eco-boxes, to restore the soil’s vitality?”

Su He, knowing nothing about the Federation’s agricultural systems, immediately looked at Lu Li. Lu Li nodded. “There are energy liquids available on the market for agricultural use. The Iris can bring some next time, but it won’t be as effective as the energy field.”

“That’s fine,” Su He said excitedly. “Even if the crop yields are lower, the planting area is much larger.” If he relied solely on his formations to alter the environment of the planet, Su He figured that even if he worked until the end of his life, restoring half the planting area would be a miracle. Larson’s method, though crude, rapidly expanded the planting area. And once the initial work was done, setting up the formations later would save a lot of energy stones.

With Su He’s approval, Lu Li naturally had no objections. Relieved, Larson quickly returned to the crowd, bursting with enthusiasm. The residents of the settlement already knew that the Iris would be staying for the night and leaving the next morning. They brought out the crops harvested in recent days and lit a massive bonfire. As the sun set and the stars filled the sky, the shoreline soon became lively with celebration.

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