Chapter 21: The Silkworms of Society

“As expected, they’ve evolved!”

“Well, for silkworms, that’s not surprising…” In the imaginary space, Alpha mused quietly.

Ye Chao heard her words, understood at once, and couldn’t help but raise his brow: as expected of the most advanced emotional intelligence assistant program running on a third-generation bioneural network supercomputer! He’d only hinted a few things, and she’d grasped it instantly.

Why are the silkworms so ferocious?

Because life always finds a way; the heavier the oppression, the stronger the evolutionary backlash! Many natural disasters arise for this very reason.

And silkworms have long been one of the most ruthlessly exploited creatures by humanity—one could even say they are the most exploited.

That’s why now, knives and axes barely harm them, they can hold their breath underwater, and when exposed to fire, they shed their skins. These are just the most basic adaptations. What’s more astonishing is—the silkworms have become social.

There are countless classifications of living things, numbering in the millions or tens of millions, but social animals are rare: bees, ants, wasps, termites… each holds an essential ecological niche.

Now, silkworms have joined their ranks. Don’t be fooled by the ten-odd visible in the passage; there are surely many, many more hidden from sight—so many it’s appalling! Speed is of the essence.

“I’m okay, I can manage…” After the initial panic passed, Zhao Sanxiang managed to compose himself, though blood and grime stained his shoulder, and tears and snot streaked his face.

He gritted his teeth against the pain, holding the writhing giant silkworm with his bare hands. With his injured hand, he pointed forward anxiously: “Someone was dragged away by the silkworms—save them first!”

“Someone was dragged away?” Xu Tiange and the others were stunned.

Ahead lay a fork in the tunnel. Beyond it, they’d be able to reach the people who’d called for help. Until now, they’d been so focused on assisting they hadn’t noticed what was happening up ahead.

“Is someone really there?” Xu Tiange repeated.

Zhao Sanxiang confirmed it again, but the others still hadn’t seen anything.

“Give me the camera!” Taking the camera, Xu Tiange adjusted its angle and tossed it toward the bend at the fork.

The camera traced a faint, nearly invisible arc through the air. Before it even hit the ground, two white threads shot out, pinning the camera to the tunnel wall.

Linked to a tablet, the camera projected the scene down the passage.

Fat silkworms still covered ceiling and walls, but on the floor, several human shapes were tightly cocooned in silk, curled up like mummies swaddled in bandages. A group of fat silkworms was dragging them deeper into the cave, and it seemed clear they were destined to become food for the larvae…

There really were people! When had that happened?

Even Alpha was taken aback, and Ye Chao, closely monitoring the footage, was stunned as well.

But regardless, saving them was the priority.

Xu Tiange took several deep breaths, glancing at the gas-hammer in her hands, now resembling a stick of cotton candy. She could, by reflex, guide the silkworms’ threads to wrap around the hammer’s shaft, but she couldn’t always keep the head free.

Besides, as the shaft thickened with silk, her vision and movements would be increasingly hindered.

“Can anyone hand me something—the most useless weapon you’ve got? I need to dual wield!” Xu Tiange gritted her teeth.

Her hammer was nearly 1.8 meters long, not something meant for one hand…

The others all took a step back, remembering with dread the terror of Xu Tiange’s reckless dual-wielding hammer technique from before.

Only Wang Zhi reacted quickly. She turned, yanked a meter-long dead root from the wall. “Will this do?”

“Perfect!” Xu Tiange nodded with delight. What she’d wanted was something to help brush away the silk and relieve the pressure on her hammer—not necessarily a weapon.

Wang Zhi understood. “We should also prepare some things to throw—big pieces, thrown slowly…”

To draw the fire.

Seeing the camera stuck to the wall, the others nodded in agreement.

“No need for that!” Suddenly Zhao Sanxiang spoke, charging forward with all his might, even overtaking Xu Tiange.

“What are you doing?” With a bang, Xu Tiange’s hammer struck the wall, its cotton-candy end blocking one of her teammates.

“I can draw their attention!” Zhao Sanxiang said with grim determination.

“Foolish!” Though she only said two words, Xu Tiange’s expression made it clear: you’ll have to get through me first.

“I think if I get wrapped up like that, this thing will finally let go,” Zhao Sanxiang gestured at the silkworm on his shoulder. Though it was obscured, his body trembled violently—not from illness, but from the silkworm’s constant writhing.

It was, indeed… a solution.

Looking at the lively giant silkworm, Xu Tiange hesitated, then stepped aside.

“We must coordinate. I’ll draw their attention first—use up their energy—then you move in. Be careful not to hurt me.” Before rushing into the corridor, Zhao Sanxiang emphasized this.

He wasn’t seeking death; he wanted to live. The world was far too wonderful…

“You’re going to save them? Wait a moment!” Ye Chao hurriedly called out.

“Wait? If we delay, they’ll be dragged even farther away. And what if these bugs have reinforcements…” Xu Tiange gripped the root and hammer in either hand, her eyes glued to the tablet, tracking the silkworms’ positions and types.

She needed to wait for the silkworm on her teammate to release him, and also rescue the others before they were dragged away. There wasn’t a second to lose!

Fortunately, these silkworms hadn’t evolved human intelligence and didn’t realize Xu Tiange was observing them. A few of them dragged the struggling, cocooned figures farther away, while the rest turned and sprayed silk furiously at Zhao Sanxiang.

He didn’t dodge—he charged straight in. In fact, to get himself wrapped up faster and tighter, he even spun around with the compressor a few times.

It only took a few turns—soon his legs were completely bound, and he went down. Then his arms. After that, the close-combat variant finally let go. His bloodied shoulder was quickly coated with silk and fluids, even sealing the wound.

This was precious food for the larvae—they weren’t about to let it go to waste.

“Don’t go—it’s pointless…” Ye Chao urged through the headset.

“How is it pointless!” As soon as the close-combat variant released his teammate, Xu Tiange dashed out. “It’s not just a matter of life and death—even if it’s just a test, saving people means they can help later on, gives us a better score—isn’t that important? Isn’t that meaningful?”

“Ye Chao, I never pegged you for someone like this!”

Her shout echoed down the corridor, ensuring Ye Chao would hear her.

As she spoke, she was already engaged in battle. With her left hand, she wielded the root, sweeping aside and pinning down the silkworm threads, while her right hand opened the gas valve on the hammer wide.

Lacking the strength to swing single-handedly, she relied on the gas tank’s recoil. Like a child wielding an oversized hammer—thump!—her first blow sent the close-combat variant flying, then she swung again, knocking away several more that tried to approach.

She leapt over Zhao Sanxiang, fending off with the root, then with a long backward kick, swept the half-mummified teammate back to safety. Accelerating again, she charged into the horde.

“What I mean is, those probably aren’t our people—they’re from the Korean team…”