Chapter 1636: Chapter 625: Apology

Seeing Ren Zhong’s "ferocious face" plus "clenched-fist threat" posture, Ngweiwu seemed to have suddenly found the meaning that could support it to cling to life more stubbornly.

Good, I managed to piss him off.

The great Mother Empress once said that these inferior native humans are creatures ruled by a mysterious force called emotion.

If I can make the other side show more varied facial expressions, that means he’s been hit by an emotional shock.

If that shock keeps building up, it can even cause permanent trauma to a native human’s mind.

That’s right, that’s exactly it!

So, even though the Fluffy-Whisker 331s are already doomed to extinction, I can still lead my people and drive a barbed blade straight down into the heart of this hateful Demon!

Ngweiwu was thinking this to itself.

It had no idea that its own thoughts were growing more and more complex.

It just happily led the clan, continuously vibrating the vocal membranes in their mouthparts, shrieking on and on.

Its other nineteen kindred were exactly the same, all imitating its accent, spewing curse words with syllables they themselves didn’t even understand.

Ren Zhong, meanwhile, had the linguists outside rapidly transcribing Ngweiwu’s complete insectoid profanity compendium, then casually dragged over a chair, sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and listened at his leisure.

They cursed for a whole day straight, to the point that when food descended from the ceiling, it was ignored for a while.

The Fluffy-Whisker 331s’ feeding circadian rhythm was completely scrambled.

Without noticing, these surviving Fluffy-Whisker 331s also forgot to carry out another species instinct of theirs: devouring the corpses of their dead kin. Instead they let those precious resources be carted away by the cell’s automatic cleaning drones.

The fourth day.

The number of Fluffy-Whisker 331s in the cell was topped back up to one hundred and twenty-one.

Accompanied by the twisting of metal structures, the interior space of the cell was widened several times over.

After a bout of bizarre turmoil, the cell interior was reconfigured into a standard eleven-by-eleven square formation.

The 101 newcomers still maintained the precise formation instinct, but the twenty old inmates, including Ngweiwu, simply couldn’t return to their former ultra-precise, low-tolerance positions, nor could they move in perfectly uniform synchronicity. The scene looked a little messy.

This state of affairs left Ngweiwu and the others somewhat ill at ease. They were on the verge of forgetting their genetic instincts, yet the new compatriots kept on stimulating and awakening their inherited memory.

Another change was that the Fluffy-Whisker 331s’ original stationing had been completely random, no distinction of rank or status. For example, Ngweiwu had previously stood in the third row, third column, a totally ordinary spot.

But this time, Ngweiwu was standing in the sixth row, sixth column—the exact center of the whole formation.

The feed from the camera showed that there had originally been a newcomer Fluffy-Whisker 331 at that spot, but Ngweiwu had moved over of its own accord, trying to occupy the position.

The newcomer didn’t resist. It only seemed a bit lost, shifting left and right in place twice, but each time Ngweiwu blocked it. It just couldn’t stand correctly, like a program that’s thrown a BUG during runtime.

The BUG had hung for a long while, and order on-site never restored; instead, things grew even more chaotic. That was because Ngweiwu’s other nineteen old cellmates all actively pressed closer toward the middle, apparently planning to shield Ngweiwu in the center.

In the end, the formation of these one hundred and twenty-one Fluffy-Whisker 331s took a full half-hour to barely assemble.

Yet just a few days earlier, when Ngweiwu received its first batch of cellmates, they’d needed only two minutes to form a standard array.

Immediately afterward, the pheromone concentration in the cell spiked abnormally again.

On the sixth day, another fifty-one of the new Fluffy-Whisker 331s died. This time, the mortality rate from mouthpart evolution dropped to just over 50%.

And then, an even more spectacular grand chorus began.

On the seventh day, Ngweiwu was tightly wrapped by an organic spiderweb sprayed down from the cell ceiling, then grabbed by a mechanical arm and yanked out through an opening that opened above.

The other Fluffy-Whisker 331s once again did something they’d never been capable of before: they all tried to tear and bite the mechanical arm with their mouthparts, attempting to rescue Ngweiwu.

In previous experiments, the Fluffy-Whisker 331s had shown no reaction at all when companions beside them were taken away.

Ren Zhong stood off to the side with his hands clasped behind his back, watching Ngweiwu, which was now tightly bound to the lab table.

Right now it was struggling with all its might, another reaction that had never appeared before.

At the same time, it aimed its mouthparts toward Ren Zhong’s direction, bouncing out brand new syllables that had never existed before, continuing for several hours without a single break—and without a single repetition.

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