"A bunch of suck-ups," Xu Zhi muttered with a faint smile. "Though I must admit—I rather like it."
Only fifty new beta slots were available, and demand vastly outstripped supply. Like wolves circling limited prey, eager applicants flooded Xu Zhi's inbox. Back in his university days, he had been a diligent student himself—a rural kid who had clawed his way upward through relentless study and sheer determination. He rarely played games back then, spending every spare moment on schoolwork instead.
Now, as the mastermind behind this ambitious sandbox experiment, Xu Zhi had no intention of making things easy for these players. They needed pressure, competition—urgency. He intended to leverage their collective intelligence and ambition to propel the sandbox world's evolution to new heights.
"Let's see what level they're at," Xu Zhi said as he sat at his computer. Casually, he opened an evolutionary proposal submitted by a hopeful player—after all, as the great Creator, he had to assess the caliber of his potential underlings.
The document was titled:
"The Fighter-Jet Bio-Construct: An Evolutionary Hypothesis of Hollow-Boned Avian Vertebrate Morphology."
It was an extraordinarily detailed treatise, nearly ten thousand words in length, filled with meticulous diagrams of anatomical structures and hypothetical evolutionary pathways. Every detail was cited from academic journals, logically argued, and scientifically sound.
Xu Zhi was taken aback.
Terrifying! Absolutely terrifying!
How long had these players spent preparing such proposals? How much suffering had they endured—grinding through obscure biological textbooks and evolutionary theory—for the sake of a mere game beta slot? The academic rigor displayed here vastly exceeded any paper he had written during his own university days.
He thought this must be an isolated case, yet when he opened another email, he discovered another extensive proposal, complete with professional-level biological illustrations:
"Electrophorus Structural Projection: A Hypothetical Evolution of the Lightning Bird Species."
Xu Zhi quickly realized that these players had gone utterly mad in their pursuit—approaching their gaming with a seriousness that bordered on obsession. Their passion and intensity had elevated the standards far beyond his initial expectations.
Feeling somewhat overwhelmed, he passed these complex submissions to the hive mind to evaluate and select. Ghostwritten essays would be ignored—after all, with the strict elimination system, players who lacked genuine knowledge would soon fall by the wayside.
"It seems our 'Origin of All Worlds' sandbox—the birthplace of transcendent life—has finally entered the right track," Xu Zhi remarked, glancing toward the miniature sandbox in his courtyard.
Within the mini-sandbox, tiny ant-like creatures frantically raced to evolve new species, determined to secure their beta slots and avoid elimination.
Meanwhile, Xu Zhi's attention shifted toward the main sandbox world. It had been just over a day since he'd transmitted Hermes's teachings, yet in the sandbox, more than a hundred years had passed, and the early signs of a flourishing civilization were already emerging.
Over the past century, Babylon had entered an era of remarkable growth. At the mystical Amia Pool, tensions between the Three Witches had diminished following the appearance of the god of wisdom, Hermes. Inspired by his revelations about alchemy, meditation, and sorcery—the three great pathways to truth and immortality—the witches delved into rigorous study.
By Babylon Year 36, the Three Witches had successfully developed structured meditation techniques, documented in a foundational text called "An Introduction to Basic Meditation for Wizards." Under pressure from Medeia and Cassandra, even the rebellious Cersei had publicly abandoned her former reckless behavior, adopting orthodox meditation techniques that greatly enhanced psychic strength.
In Babylon Year 47, a mighty Baboko Behemoth attacked the tribe. In a desperate battle, Medeia experienced a sudden breakthrough—her sorcery manifested as a warlike psychic aura, shattering entire groves and crushing the giant beast. That same year, Cassandra achieved an epiphany while healing wounded tribesmen, developing her renowned restorative sorcery, the "Spring Nectar." Shortly afterward, Cersei developed dark curses by combining psychic force with crafted effigies.
By Babylon Year 57, sorcery had matured significantly. The witches documented seventeen distinct spells, compiling them into a tome titled "The Gate to Witch Truth." Clad in animal-hide robes and wielding wooden staffs, they dominated battles against giant beasts, cementing humanity's rising place in the ecosystem.
By Babylon Year 103, Babylon had unified more than ten surrounding tribes, boasting a formidable council of thirty witches. Their civilization thrived—fields expanded, populations grew, and the threat of extinction faded into distant memory.
But peace was fleeting. In Babylon Year 139, the nation formally established its royal court—only to plunge into internal conflict almost immediately. Palace intrigues escalated into open warfare. Cersei, whose power had secretly outpaced her sisters', launched a devastating psychic assault against Medeia and Cassandra. Unable to fully suppress her, they forced Cersei and her followers to flee, founding their own dark faction—the "Rose Thorn" sect. Thus began Babylon's turbulent era of internal strife.
Watching this unfold through his telescope, Xu Zhi sighed softly. "I knew Cersei would never truly change," he murmured. Although she had outwardly conformed to orthodox meditation—vastly superior to her crude, hedonistic methods—in secret, her restless spirit remained untamed.
To ease her isolation, Cersei secretly imprisoned several Eldritch Eyes, using their psychic properties to satisfy her forbidden cravings. Over the years, these rituals evolved into a uniquely potent—albeit dark—meditative practice, quietly amplifying her psychic strength. By the time Medeia and Cassandra discovered her actions, it was already too late. The confrontation shattered their fragile unity.
Xu Zhi didn't concern himself with their political conflicts; his goal remained singular: the advancement of civilization. Meditation and sorcery had clearly taken root, but the most elusive and transformative of Hermes's gifts—alchemy—remained beyond their grasp.
Yet, despite his impatience, Xu Zhi was optimistic. The witches had carved a clear path forward—one that he himself could follow. With his own genes now fused with the Eldritch Eye's psychic power, nothing prevented him from personally cultivating meditation and sorcery as well.
"Who knew," Xu Zhi whispered with quiet amusement, "that one day, I'd seriously consider becoming a wizard?"
As absurd as it sounded, this fantastical journey had become his new reality.