Ten minutes later, Lin Tuo returned to the study, carrying fertile soil he had dug from the back mountain.
After passing through the isolation shield's "purification," the soil piled into the sandbox at the Pacific site, forming a mountainous landmass.
Thinking for a moment, Lin Tuo used a shovel to flatten it out, then added in the various metals he had prepared to facilitate evolution.
The remaining seawater rose again after the new material was introduced. Slowly, in the center of the sandbox, surrounded on all sides by ocean, the silhouette of a new continent took shape.
[Sandbox meets the requirements for evolution. Begin project?]
The question echoed in his mind.
"Begin."
He did not hesitate.
A pale light enveloped the sandbox, reorganizing its contents. It was a familiar process—he had seen the same restructuring during the previous sandbox initialization.
This time, however, perhaps because the sandbox area was far larger, the process took longer.
Lin Tuo was in no rush. Wiping sweat from his brow, he turned, cooked himself a bowl of noodles, covered it with his e-reader, and used it as a late-night snack.
By the time he returned, the process was finished. The sandbox was no longer lit by the study's lamps but by a nebula, a sun, and a moon generated within the world itself.
The once "rough" continent, distorted by material proportion issues, now looked much more natural.
At this moment, the New Continent was silent and lifeless. Time flowed the same as the outside world: it was night, and the cold moonlight swept across this newborn world.
[Sandbox No. 2 initialized. Beginning operation…]
[Current Ether concentration: None]
Information surfaced. Then, as the sandbox began running, time acceleration activated automatically. The scene before him refreshed frame by frame, each frame spanning years.
The dead, barren land shifted like a slideshow, changing slowly.
A log opened on the virtual panel:
[Operation Log]
[On X year, X month, X day, X hour, X minute, X second: World evolution began. At this moment, the world was quiet. It formed an irregular circle.
The land and sea were lifeless, filled with chaotic earth, gravel, water, minerals, and sediments buried for countless ages. Yet the foundation for life was already present.]
[One hundred million years passed. No change.]
[Two hundred million years passed. Still no change.]
…
Lines of text ticked silently across the log.
"Based on experience, some simple plants might appear by tomorrow morning." Lin Tuo yawned and closed the panel.
He watched a silly video on his computer while finishing his noodles, then turned off the lights and went to bed.
The night passed without incident.
By morning, dawn lightened the remote foothills of Lishan. Compared to the city, the air here was much fresher. As the sky grew pale, Hua Xi awoke naturally, guided by her internal clock.
She lingered on the soft bed for a moment, then sighed softly and muttered to herself:
"Hua Xi, when did you get so lazy?"
Not long ago, back in the wasteland, the word "sleep in" didn't exist in her life.
Whether in ruins or wilderness, sleep required vigilance, alert to every sound of wind or rustle of grass.
Her biological clock was razor-sharp; Hua Xi could precisely control her rest.
For example, before falling asleep, she would repeat in her mind the exact time she wanted to wake. Without fail, she would awaken at that time.
Often, though, hunger forced her up earlier, driving her to hunt.
Where would there have been room for indulgent sleep?
And yet, after only a few days here, she found herself reluctant to leave her bed…
"Pathetic! Where's your iron will?" Hua Xi scolded herself, gritted her teeth, and headed to the bathroom to wash the drowsiness away with cold water.
After a quick wash, she changed into her training clothes and stepped into the quiet courtyard.
She glanced at the closed doors of the room next to hers. Good—Lin Tuo hadn't woken yet. She consciously lightened her movements.
Hmm… Last night, while training, she thought she had heard noises from his room. What had her teacher been working on?
Taking in a breath of crisp morning air, Hua Xi felt her spirit lift. She began her usual laps around the training field.
But when she reached the wall, she suddenly stopped with a small gasp, staring at the corner.
Creak—
At that moment, Lin Tuo's door opened. He came out rubbing his sleepy eyes."Up already? What are you looking at?"
Hua Xi turned her head, puzzled."Teacher, why are the flowers in the corner all wilted? They were fine yesterday."
"…" Lin Tuo's face froze. Then he cleared his throat and said, "They're still sleeping."
Hua Xi blinked. Was that possible? She quickly nodded, convinced: As expected, flowers tended by Teacher must be extraordinary.
"Alright. Since you're up early, let me check your practice progress."
"Okay!"
Half an hour later, after finishing her "morning class," Lin Tuo returned to the study and looked at the sandbox.
In just one night, the world had transformed.
Tectonic plates had shifted—some rising, some sinking. Plants had begun to sprout across the land, thin green veils covering the ground.
Though no mammals were visible yet, simple life had surely emerged.
"Mm, good progress." Lin Tuo was pleased.
It wasn't his first time, yet he had been nervous, sleeping fitfully the previous night. Now, reassured by the continent's stability, he opened his computer.
Time to check the news.
"The Pacific sandbox should have been spotted by now."
One reason he had begun at night was precisely to mask the barrier's formation.
Of course, discovery was inevitable. But delaying it gave people more time. Considering that the Oasis topic was still trending, he almost wanted to pat himself on the back for being considerate.
"As expected."
Opening Weibo, he immediately saw the Pacific incident had rocketed up to second place on the trending list. Number one was still the Oasis.
"Here we go again! I said it wasn't over!"
"I just woke up and now there's another incident? The Pacific? A black box? So it didn't vanish—it just moved?"
"Not just moved—expanded! Look at the latest satellite reports! The new black box in the Pacific is over ten times the size of the Tack Black Box!"
"Sounds fake…"
Across the internet, groggy netizens were hit with fresh drama before even finishing the last. Chaos erupted.
Major platforms rushed to report.
"Breaking news! The vanished Tack Black Box reappeared last night in the Pacific's most desolate doldrums! Total area: nearly five million square kilometers!"
The hottest news already had tens of thousands of comments—and that was only because the day had just begun.
Scrolling, Lin Tuo filtered most of the chatter.
Then, in his follow list, he noticed a post. It was from the same internet figure who had sparked the Oasis debate not long ago.
The words weren't long, clearly written in a casual tone:
"To be honest, when I saw this news, I wasn't even surprised. Yes, we should have expected it—this is far from over.
Those invisible hands have never left us!
Now, it seems the Tack Desert may have been just an experiment. Today, that mysterious, unknown force has set its sights on the Pacific."
"Here's something worth noting.
I looked at the news carefully—did you notice where this new black box appeared?
Right in the most desolate, quiet part of the world's largest ocean current.
Combine that with the Tack Desert's location, and maybe we can start to identify a pattern."
"That pattern is this: the chosen sites share one thing in common—they are barren, far from human society.
In other words, their impact on humanity is minimized.
We can't know the deeper reasoning, but at least the result isn't bad.
Looking at the Oasis, maybe we should look forward to what comes next…"
Below, discussions were already lively.
Lin Tuo skimmed. Likely due to repeated "information shocks," netizens seemed to be building resilience.
After the Tack Black Box and Oasis events, platforms had gained experience handling such breaking stories.
Overall, the public was calmer than during the first incident.
"Too bad you won't be seeing the 'next' part anytime soon," Lin Tuo thought.
Sandbox No. 2 was vast, nothing like the cramped first one. It could sustain him for a long time.
Even if something like the wasteland appeared inside, he probably wouldn't need to replace it.
After all, an area this size could support as many human nations as Europe.
So, in his plans, the second black box would exist for a very long time.
The morning passed quickly as he browsed. By lunchtime, the sandbox's evolution had entered a new stage.
On the surface, forests and diverse landscapes began to form.
The climate inside was not tied to its Pacific location but evolved independently.
The first sandbox had been too cramped, cramming landscapes together unnaturally. The New Continent had no such issue. From above, it exuded vastness.
But as Lin Tuo watched, he realized a problem.
When the environment stabilized, he intended to move the life from the Transit Zone into this world—humans and beasts alike.
They would breed, expand, and grow here, not wait for life to emerge naturally.
But once they entered, humans and mutated beasts would inevitably clash.
Conflict wasn't bad in itself. But in the early stage, when rapid expansion was crucial, infighting over resources, comfort, or territory would be wasteful.
And infighting was almost guaranteed.
Especially among humans, who were already split into three factions—the Burning Flame Company, the Grey Mountain Group, and the Doomsday Floaters.
They had only suspended their conflicts while stuck in the Transit Zone.
Once in the New Continent, even if he posed as a deity and warned them, time acceleration meant his authority would fade quickly.
"I need a way to separate them. Let them develop independently—at least in the beginning. When their numbers are large enough, if they want to fight, they can fight then."
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the clear windows, falling across the desk and Lin Tuo's contemplative face.
Outside, cicadas sang in the breeze.
A moment later, he had an idea.
(End of Chapter)