Chapter 50: Flight Wings
The first step to moving: call all the believers back through the group chat.
The second step: find a suitable new home.
The third step: ask the “current owner” of the new home for its address.
As early as two months ago, Cheng Qisheng had already begun recalling her followers. By now, about half of the residents who had been away had returned, and the remaining half were expected to make it back within another half month.
At the moment, they were stuck on step two.
After becoming Blue Sea’s advance scouting team, Song Xi and the others picked a direction and rode their snowmobile straight toward it without hesitation.
This was a mission personally entrusted to them by the Great Creator God. Compared to that, everything else could wait.
Along the way, they traveled day and night without stopping.
During the day, Wang Moning did most of the driving while Song Xi and Shen Jinyang caught up on sleep.
At night, the two native Blue Sea residents—whose night vision was exceptionally sharp—took over the driving while Wang Moning slept.
They no longer went out of their way to hunt snow beasts. They only stopped to fight when they were attacked or when they needed to replenish supplies.
For three whole months, the three of them ate and slept on that snowmobile, racing onward around the clock.
Wang Moning’s long-standing dedication to physical training, combined with the enhanced physique granted by becoming an ability user, had finally come to fruition.
She had successfully achieved what most Blue Sea residents possessed—
an indestructible steel butt.
She firmly insisted that she could endure it.
The three of them had remained seated on that snowmobile for a full three months. An ordinary Velvet Star native would have long since been suffering from aching hips, a sore back, and a body full of complaints. Yet they merely looked a little worn out.
They would loosen up during battles, and after receiving a reassuring pat on the head from their Great God, they would be full of energy again.
In short, even Cheng Qisheng was deeply impressed by the effort the three of them had put in.
The Great Creator God said nothing—she simply kept increasing the bonuses for her loyal followers.
But Dazzling Star was simply too vast.
No matter how hard they worked, the three of them still hadn’t found another Safe City.
Cheng Qisheng decided to wait about another half month.
That was roughly how long it would take for the rest of Blue Sea’s scattered residents to return.
Most of the item cards that supported everyday life in Blue Sea required some form of energy. The fireplace inside the wooden cabins needed firewood as fuel, the snowmobiles ran on diesel, and although cold-weather suits required no energy, they did accumulate wear and tear.
It was much like the Safe City’s walls. Once damaged, they either had to be repaired with Repair Item Cards from Gold Cards, or replaced entirely after they were completely worn out.
As a result, once all the snow beasts in the surrounding area had been wiped out, Blue Sea effectively lost its source of energy.
True, the warehouses were already filled with boxes upon boxes of Item Cards.
And more residents were returning every day carrying stack after stack of additional cards.
But the Blue Sea government still felt it wasn’t enough.
For Blue Sea, there was no such thing as living off their existing stockpile.
There was only one option:
Conquer more.
Besides, in this frozen wasteland, the Blue Sea residents had been fighting to their hearts’ content not long ago. If they suddenly lost all enemies to battle, they would genuinely become depressed.
If, after another half month, the advance scouting team still hadn’t found a suitable, evaluated landing site, then Blue Sea Safe City would have no choice but to make a blind selection.
Like drawing a mystery box, they would choose a random set of coordinates and leave everything to luck.
They might end up in a region with very few snow beasts.
Or they might get incredibly lucky and arrive in an area teeming with them.
Unless absolutely necessary, Cheng Qisheng generally disliked relying on luck.
Mainly because ever since she was little, whenever it came to this sort of “lottery,” her luck had never been good.
If they ended up at an unsatisfactory location, the 1,000 crystal relocation fee would have been wasted.
Since this world produced no crystals, she wanted to conserve them as much as possible.
However…
Her gaze shifted to the pair of jet-black, four-winged skeletal wings soaring experimentally through the sky above Blue Sea Safe City.
Now, there seemed to be another option.
Cheng Qisheng pictured it in her mind.
More than a hundred million Blue Sea residents spread four skeletal wings behind their backs, rising into the sky from the Safe City in an overwhelming, densely packed swarm, flying through the endless snowstorm toward the distant horizon.
Then they would bring back Item Cards one after another—
Carry them back. No, not carry them in their mouths—
Deliver them back to Blue Sea Safe City.
That actually doesn’t sound bad.
The only question was: how many of these skeletal wings that could be mounted onto residents could they produce?
“As long as there are enough Flight Wings, the current vein network of the Long-Tendril Leaves is capable of supporting two million people.”
…
Ruo Buyan was seated in a bright, spacious conference room.
The setting left her feeling slightly dazed, with a trace of excitement welling up inside her.
Even now, land within Blue Sea Safe City was still in critically short supply. Although the government had constructed towering skyscrapers that stretched into the clouds, all they really accomplished was allowing everyone to squeeze into the city.
Housing rented by ordinary residents was so inexpensive that it could practically be called dirt cheap.
But if an individual wanted to rent land, office space, or commercial property, the prices were far less pleasant.
Ruo Buyan had poured every last point in her account into founding her small research institute.
There wasn’t even such a thing as a conference room or an office.
Nearly every inch of space inside was occupied by equipment. To save room, the entire layout resembled a maze. In some places, if you wanted to squeeze through, you actually had to suck in your stomach.
Even so, Ruo Buyan treasured that workplace.
There was no need to even mention the period when she had been a slave in the Cosmic Lord Safe City. That time had been incomparably worse.
Even though Cosmic Lord was dead, Ruo Buyan still remembered that piece of trash.
He would ask her for ideas, yet wouldn’t even let her eat her fill.
Ordinarily, no matter what kind of environment people live in, they can usually learn something from it.
A peaceful life may teach tranquility.
Hardship may teach endurance.
Pain may teach people to cherish what they have.
But from the Cosmic Lord Safe City, Ruo Buyan learned nothing.
If she absolutely had to name one thing she’d learned, it was how to keep a perfectly blank expression while unleashing an endless stream of curses in her head.
When comparing life in Blue Sea, Ruo Buyan naturally measured it against her original world.
Her home world had actually been prosperous—but only for those at the top of society.
It was a rigidly stratified society. She had been born into the lower class and had clawed her way up from the bottom, so she knew better than anyone how difficult the early stages of scientific research could be.
Research burned through money.
Basic equipment.
Everyday operating costs.
Knowledge monopolies.
Technical barriers…
Although Ruo Buyan was more intelligent and more talented than many children of the upper class, she didn’t manage to establish a research institute of her own until she was in her forties.
Even then, she had only done so by taking on an enormous loan.
One of the kind where, if she couldn’t repay it, she’d have to undergo limb amputation as repayment.
Yet in Blue Sea, despite likewise having no influential backers, she was still able to establish a small research institute.
She could obtain government funding.
She didn’t have to go through countless fees and charges.
After verifying her identity and signing a contract, she could rent all kinds of research equipment without paying a deposit.
She could also apply for various research loans, access Blue Sea’s public databases, and—even under the name of her tiny research institute—apply for a portion of the Long-Tendril Leaf, a resource considered precious throughout all of Blue Sea.
When she’d submitted that application, she had honestly done it with the mindset of “It can’t hurt to try.”
At the time, Ruo Buyan had thought the most likely outcome was an outright rejection.
Or perhaps they would ask her to explain in detail why she needed the Long-Tendril Leaf. After layers of review, if she were lucky, she might receive a tiny leftover fragment trimmed from one of its leaves.
At the time, Ruo Buyan had been full of uncertainty, because she wasn’t actually sure whether the Long-Tendril Leaf would prove useful.
But Blue Sea approved her application.
Less than an hour after it was approved, two staff members personally delivered the Long-Tendril Leaf to her small research institute.
For a moment, even Ruo Buyan—with her normally quick and agile mind—went completely blank.
After that, she buried herself in her research.
Once she achieved results, she cautiously recorded the entire research process and uploaded the footage to the AI network, just in case someone tried to claim her achievement as their own.
That sort of thing had happened to her several times in her original world.
It wasn’t until she had steadily climbed the ranks and become a well-known figure that people finally stopped stealing her work.
Ruo Buyan knew perfectly well just how remarkable her invention was.
The greatest concession she was willing to make was sharing the benefits of her research with others.
But she had to remain the lead researcher.
However, the person she had expected never appeared.
No gilded official stepped forward to say,
“This is excellent. Let’s submit it together. I’ll handle all the approval procedures and the patent application.”
Instead, the moment the Flight Wings were experimentally confirmed to work, she was invited to the conference room of this major research institute.
There was no lengthy approval process.
The head of the district where Ruo Buyan lived didn’t appear to add their name to the achievement, either.
The entire process even felt… surprisingly simple, almost rough around the edges.
The panel of expert reviewers.
The intellectual property examiners.
The Blue Sea Academy of Engineering.
The military equipment evaluation team.
Departments whose names alone sounded like towering institutions had each sent representatives.
And so they all sat together in this large conference room, listening as Ruo Buyan explained the Flight Wings.
She had even been invited to sit in the seat of honor at the head of the table.
Feeling somewhat uncomfortable, Ruo Buyan subtly shifted in her chair.
As she continued explaining, she couldn’t help but secretly observe the distinguished figures present, instinctively checking whether anyone was showing even the slightest sign of dissatisfaction.
There wasn’t.
Every single person listened with complete seriousness, giving their full attention to someone who held no official position whatsoever.
“The vein structure of the Long-Tendril Leaf is extremely unique. According to the research materials available in the government’s public scientific database, it possesses microscopic suction-cup structures and biomimetic neural fiber bundles…”
“…After creating an interface like this and inserting the extracted leaf veins into it, there is no rejection response…”
“This is a non-invasive neural interfacing technology. I didn’t invent the technology itself—I merely discovered that the Long-Tendril Leaf’s vascular network naturally possesses it…”
At first, Ruo Buyan kept sneaking glances at everyone else.
But once she started talking about her research, she gradually became completely immersed in it, speaking nonstop for well over an hour.
“At present, Flight Wings can’t be manufactured from scratch. So if we want more of them, we’ll have to hunt this species of snow beast called the Skywing Dragon.”
“I’ve already consulted the staff at the Botanical Garden. The Long-Tendril Leaf will continue to grow, but as for the Skywing Dragon, we can’t be sure whether it exists in other worlds as well. Therefore, my recommendation is that, while we’re still in this world, we should hunt as many Skywing Dragons as possible to produce Flight Wings.”
A photograph of the ferocious-looking Skywing Dragon appeared on the large projection screen.
The experts who had been listening attentively, along with the leaders from various departments, immediately fixed their eyes on it.
Among the creatures of Dazzling Star, flying snow beasts had always been considered troublesome and rather useless.
They had little meat.
And they almost never dropped Item Cards.
But now, every Blue Sea official in the room stared at the image of the flying snow beast with longing in their eyes.
Skywing Dragon = Flight Wings = Blue Sea people growing wings = Blue Sea people being able to fly wherever they wanted.
How could this possibly be useless?
This was clearly a treasure!
The longer everyone stared at the picture, the fiercer the gleam in their eyes became.
As the meeting drew to a close, a staff member who had prepared everything in advance stepped forward and placed a document in front of Ruo Buyan.
“Professor Ruo, this is the patent application for the Flight Wings. Just sign here and everything will be taken care of. From now on, whether the Flight Wings are used by the government or commercially, you’ll automatically receive patent royalties in accordance with the regulations.”
Ruo Buyan froze.
Th-That’s it?
Is it really this straightforward?
She didn’t even have to file the patent application herself?
They had simply brought the paperwork directly to her?
She carefully opened the document and read through it page by page.
The legal language was clear, with no hidden traps or unfair clauses.
Every single provision was entirely in her favor.
At that moment, Ruo Buyan finally understood why so many researchers and scientists from Velvet Star converted into believers within a month of arriving in Blue Sea.
She signed her name and let out a long, relieved breath.
Then… I’ve climbed the first step of the staircase.
Next, I’ll build on the success of the Flight Wings and keep moving forward. I’ll keep working until I become the director of a major research institute and bring honor to Blue Sea.
“Professor Ruo, have you finished signing?”
Another staff member approached with a smile.
“Because of your outstanding contribution with the Flight Wings, you’ve been reassigned. Your new position is Director of the Blue Sea Western District Research Institute”—he gestured around the room—”which is this very institute where we’re holding today’s meeting. Would you like to accept this appointment? If so, please come over here and sign the employment contract.”
“And in recognition of your outstanding contribution, Blue Sea has awarded you a 130-square-meter apartment. Here’s the key. The AI will send you the route home shortly.”
“Professor Ruo, this is your new salary package. Please have a look and let us know whether you’re satisfied.”
Ruo Buyan stood there in a daze.
I…
I’m the director of a major district research institute now?
I even have my own home?
My salary is this high?
But… hadn’t I only just reached the first step?
…
While watching Wang Moning and the others continue their journey, Cheng Qisheng suddenly sensed that another link had appeared in her chain of believers.
And it was an exceptionally thick one.
