Xu Zhi felt genuine anticipation.
After all, just a single Eldritch Eye had already given him countless surprises. Imagine what other extraordinary species these online players could produce—there were plenty of talented minds out there, after all.
Creating a world with infinite species all by himself was impossible. It was far too complicated, requiring endless wisdom. Borrowing the intelligence of others to help construct a fully-realized sandbox world was the logical way to go.
The second beta test had already begun.
Earlier that morning, while Xu Zhi had been eating breakfast and bidding farewell to the Three Witches, fifty newly selected beta testers had entered the sandbox. They were already stumbling through the darkness, evolving from spores.
Old players had also logged back in, immediately noticing something different:
"Damn, the second beta is way more immersive—even an intro soundtrack now!"
"Yeah, it's much richer now. They kicked things off with Beethoven's Symphony of Fate. Symbolic, isn't it? We're about to live through the rough journey of spore evolution."
While the veteran players speculated, even their small sandbox was affected by the music Xu Zhi had played for the witches' sendoff.
New beta testers, having studied extensively beforehand, logged in at 5 AM. Four hours had passed; most had already evolved basic eyes, marveling at the vibrant ocean around them.
"This is insane! Real virtual reality—I can literally feel everything!"
"Hahaha! Every move I make, every breath I take, costs $600,000 worth of computational resources. This is the real smell of money!"
These clueless players.
Not a single penny had been spent—this was Xu Zhi's yard!
Did they seriously still think this was a virtual game?
Xu Zhi sat in his courtyard, munching an apple with legs crossed, gazing at the tiny sandbox as if he were a feudal landlord overseeing his tenants. "Hurry up and evolve some decent species for me!"
Meanwhile, tiny ant-like players spotted their landlord supervisor, secretly observing him while whispering excitedly:
"Oh my god! The legendary giant himself—he's really enormous."
"He's eating an apple again. Think it triggers a hidden storyline? I'm gonna check it out—maybe I'll unlock a secret evolution path."
"Don't. All the veteran players who've approached him ended up getting stepped on. This game's full of mysteries we haven't explored yet."
The second beta test ramped up pressure dramatically.
Every beta slot was now recognized as priceless—industry analysts had calculated each slot consumed nearly $600,000 worth of computing resources, the equivalent of half an entire MMO server. This sandbox was burning money every second it operated.
Chen Wenshan, better known as AutumnMountainSpeed, the hardcore gamer who'd first evolved the Eldritch Eye, certainly wasn't slacking off.
His room now overflowed with textbooks: Cell Evolution Theory, On the Origin of Species, Molecular Biology, Structural Biomechanics, History of Neurotoxin Evolution...
A genius who had scored 656 points on the college entrance exams to enter a top university, Chen now applied all his academic talents to gaming.
"This time I'll first evolve exoskeletal arthropods that feed on plankton," he muttered, planning his evolutionary path step-by-step. "Then shift to herbivory, evolving internal organs. Eventually, shed my exoskeleton, evolve a vertebral structure, and climb onto land. Move into marshes, evolving neurotoxins. Then, I'll hunt marsh frogs to perfect my venom glands."
After days of obsessive research, he'd meticulously filled over ten pages of notes detailing his complex evolutionary pathway—each decision branching out like stars in a galaxy.
It wasn't an exaggeration to call evolution one of humanity's deepest sciences.
Chen's meticulous plan, scrawled across pages, was finally ready: "I've plotted this long enough—it's time to execute my 'Last Supper Chicken' plan to poison the Boss!"
Indeed, he intended to do something sensational right on day one of the second beta.
The new achievement system required players to evolve species with extraordinary potential. And what was "extraordinary"? The definition wasn't clear.
But if his species could poison the Boss, wouldn't that clearly count?
Naturally, Chen had abandoned the joke idea of evolving something disgusting. Instead, he'd evolved an appetizing creature that happened to be lethally toxic—a delicious-looking bright-red rooster he called the "Last Supper Chicken."
He wanted to become the first player to earn an achievement in Spore Evolution. Given the incredible generosity of the developers—each player costing hundreds of thousands in computational resources—the rewards would undoubtedly be spectacular.
Logging in, he received the usual prompt:
"Please evolve your eyes!"
Having restarted with a new spore precisely for this moment, he'd spent nearly ten hours non-stop since 5 AM, meticulously evolving his toxic chicken. Now, at just after 3 PM, he finally succeeded.
"Finally done—even if it's not perfect!" Chen cheered, exhausted but excited.
Time for the climax!
He posted on the forums, live-streaming his grand plan:
[Spore Evolution Beta Day 1: AutumnMountainSpeed will treat newcomers to a spectacular show—poisoning the Giant Boss eating apples in the courtyard!]
The forums instantly erupted.
Everyone knew the first beta players had only managed clumsy, malformed creatures doomed to extinction.
Commenters rushed in disbelief:
NoPayNoGain: "Dude, did you study evolution hard enough to win a Nobel Prize or something?! You're actually ready to challenge the boss?!"
DragonGirlWannaFly: "New player here. I just evolved eyes and I'm still studying the basics from Origin of Species. You guys are crazy!"
How could they challenge the giant Boss? Even the largest evolved creature was no bigger than a beetle. Most were just ant-sized!
But veteran players quickly caught on:
LeviathanMaster: "Holy crap, bro—you really going to poison the boss's lunch like you joked about before? Lethal chicken dinner?! (Laughing emoji)"
MoeDragonSister: "OMG! The madman's serious—he's evolved a neurotoxic species called 'Last Supper Chicken!' (Laughing emoji)"
Forum spectators, amazed by the game's freedom, admired Chen's creativity: evolving a toxic creature specifically to assassinate the boss.
Chen posted again: "Who wants to volunteer to test my neurotoxin? Preferably a king-level organism, full sensory feedback on. Tell me exactly how it feels."
Unsurprisingly, no one volunteered their king-level creature—but a few players did sacrifice some of their lesser spore creatures. They all died instantly, confirming the deadly toxin's potency.
"All right!" Chen announced gleefully. "The poison works! It's past 4 PM now. According to my careful observations, the Giant eats his lunch around 5 PM. Brothers, help me climb onto the giant chair. I'll jump into his lunch, sacrifice myself heroically, and poison the boss!"
The forum exploded in excitement, chanting enthusiastically:
"We'll help you!"
"Second beta's first day, let's watch the boss get poisoned live!"
Players formed an enthusiastic "ant caravan," helping Chen's chicken hop toward the giant chair, planning to execute the poisoning on day one.
Xu Zhi: "???"
He'd just casually checked the forums to see player reactions to the second beta, only to discover a ridiculous assassination plot unfolding live against himself.
Now, sitting at the very chair in his courtyard, munching on his apple, Xu Zhi clearly saw the tiny ant-sized creatures scurrying eagerly from the sandbox toward him, hiding behind miniature bushes, watching him excitedly, planning their boss kill.
He was completely dumbfounded.
"I'm literally just sitting here minding my own business, observing your sandbox evolutions. What have I ever done to you?"
Xu Zhi couldn't believe it. This ridiculous player, AutumnMountainSpeed, still hadn't given up. Here Xu Zhi had generously opened the second beta, adding more player slots—and now they were ungratefully plotting to leap into his lovingly prepared dinner to assassinate him?!