Chapter 18

With Professor Li’s help, Tang Xiao had finally gained a little confidence in his paper, and he spent the next few days in the game polishing it as quickly as he could.

To prepare for the questions he might face at the research conference, he also put all his remaining points into biology. His current subject experience was Biology Lv. 1 (406/1000).

There hadn’t been another qualitative leap, but when Tang Xiao looked over his paper again, he immediately spotted several places he could improve.

Perhaps because the research conference was drawing near, Babbit hadn’t come looking for trouble these past few days. He was even away from the lab much of the time, which saved Tang Xiao a lot of hassle. If he’d had to deal with NPC harassment while killing himself to finish his paper, he really would have gone mad.

Unfortunately, there still wasn’t enough time. With just over a week left, he couldn’t really produce anything new, so all he could do was compare the existing data with his earlier analysis.

The lab had been working overtime around the clock these past few days. Its lights were almost never off, and everyone was in an intensely keyed-up state. Tang Xiao had assumed Bard was putting pressure on them, but when he asked around, he learned that this major event wasn’t just for senior scholars—it was for researchers, too. They had enough results from this period to write papers of their own, and if a senior scholar took an interest in them at the conference, they might be discovered and rise through the ranks in one fell swoop.

But that had nothing to do with Tang Xiao. He’d joined the experiment too late for anyone to expect him to write a paper, so he was perfectly happy to slack off. In his spare time, he quietly collected real data on 428.

Before long, it was the night before the research conference.

After grinding away for several days, Tang Xiao had finally finished everything. He could no longer keep going and slumped over his desk to rest for a while.

Just then, a faint sound came from the ventilation duct. A thin strand of hyphae crept down from above and slipped into Tang Xiao’s pocket.

The entire lab floor was unusually lively the next day. When Tang Xiao logged into the game, he noticed everyone crowded around the printer, holding stacks of papers.

He was no exception.

Tang Xiao even spotted Rocky in the printing room. But unlike usual, Rocky didn’t greet him. He lowered his head and walked past as if he hadn’t seen him.

Tang Xiao lowered his half-raised arm, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.

Come to think of it, he really hadn’t spoken much with Rocky lately... What was going on with him?

“Hey, are you going to print or not?”

“Oh, right. Just a second.” Tang Xiao came to his senses and started operating the printer from the computer.

The guy behind him was probably from a different lab. He glanced idly at Tang Xiao’s paper, then let out a puzzled “Huh?” “Buddy, you’re the only corresponding author on this paper? Your professor or supervisor isn’t listed?”

“No,” Tang Xiao replied calmly.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried sending the paper to Bard and hoping he’d change his mind. Instead, he’d been blocked...

It went without saying that Bard wasn’t going to put his name on Tang Xiao’s paper.

“But you’re the only author listed... It’ll be hard to get this published in a journal,” the guy said tactfully.

“It’s fine. I’ll see what I can do at the research conference first.”

“Oh...” The guy understood. His gaze toward Tang Xiao instantly turned peculiar. So he was just hoping to get lucky. The fact that even the big shot in his lab wouldn’t put his name on the paper said enough about its merit. Every year, plenty of independent researchers thought their talents went unrecognized and tried to make a splash at the research conference.

But the outcome was only too predictable.

Tang Xiao knew it would be difficult, too, but giving up on 428 was out of the question. It was the main quest, after all.

That made this conference his only hope.

Early that morning, Bard, who was rarely seen around, showed up at the lab. Once everyone was ready, they all left the building together.

The academic conference had a dedicated venue and would run for three days. There were more than a dozen halls set aside for presentations, each a different size. Apparently, the venues were assigned according to the scholars’ rank and the importance of their papers. The whole conference was much like an academic meeting in the real world.

Of course, newcomers like Tang Xiao who had only just joined a lab generally didn’t get their own presentation hall. Their work wasn’t qualified to be showcased in an official session unless they had a supervisor backing them.

Their stage was the lobby or the lawns outside the meeting rooms. The Third Eye had a strong academic culture: as long as you had the ability and your paper attracted other scholars, the doors to a presentation hall would open for you. Senior scholars might even extend an offer on the spot.

The big shots’ presentations hadn’t started yet, but people were already eager to display their work and papers in the lobby. Some were even bold enough to hand their papers to scholars who had been famous for years.

At the start of the conference, most scholars were quite approachable. After all, the presentations they wanted to see hadn’t started yet, and they had time to kill. They might as well browse the lobby for promising prospects—who knew, they might find a few researchers worth recruiting.

By the time Tang Xiao arrived, people had already claimed many of the most conspicuous spots. He found an unoccupied corner of the lobby, looked around, then followed the example of the more experienced researchers nearby and set up a whiteboard. In huge, eye-catching black letters, he wrote the title of his study.

On the Development of Level-Five Project Specimen 428: Inferences Based on XX Data Analysis and Their Supporting Evidence. Having learned a thing or two about clickbait titles in the real world, Tang Xiao deliberately enlarged the words “Level-Five Project.” Sure enough, people nearby immediately turned to look.

After all, a Level-Five project was roughly equivalent to a major research project in the real world, one that only a leading expert could direct. A study of this importance would be known even to researchers outside its field. Whether it succeeded or failed, it would become a topic of discussion in the academic world.

A short-haired guy nearby burst out laughing. “No way, buddy. You’re really that bold?”

Tang Xiao glanced at him coolly, then turned away without answering.

The short-haired guy didn’t take offense. There weren’t many people around yet, so he walked over, picked up Tang Xiao’s paper, and began reading. “I see. You found new gene expression in 428, so you’re arguing against the previous findings.”

Tang Xiao said, “What’s wrong with that? The curves show that every aspect of 428’s capabilities is growing rapidly, much faster than during the original project. That completely contradicts the previous data model. And the previous project failed because 428 couldn’t select genes on its own, which led to chaotic gene expression. But now it’s developed two new capabilities: secreting an acidic substance and forming a vocal structure. Do you really think that’s all coincidence?”

The short-haired guy shrugged. “Even setting aside whether this data is real, this alone isn’t enough to convince the people in charge to restart the project. What if it’s just a fluke?”

Tang Xiao said, “There are so many genes in the gene bank. Is it really that much of a coincidence that it expressed genes capable of solving 428’s predicament in such a short time?”

The short-haired guy seemed to think it was a bit of a coincidence, too. “...There’s only one, though. What about the vocal structure? Are you saying the test subject wants to open its mouth and curse us out?”

Tang Xiao said, “Maybe it’s there to call for help?”

“Hahahaha, you’re right.” The short-haired guy clearly thought Tang Xiao was joking. But when he saw that Tang Xiao wasn’t laughing, he scratched his head and looked down to read the paper more carefully. “Your sample size is still too small, and the evidence isn’t very strong. Also, you’re only speculating about 428’s mutation here. If you could confirm it instead of just guessing, you might get some scholars interested.”

Tang Xiao sighed. “There isn’t enough time. 428 is going to be disposed of soon, and I don’t have time to conduct more experiments.”

The short-haired guy looked at Tang Xiao with pity, sighed, and patted him on the shoulder. “Ah, choose your supervisor more carefully next time. I understand how you feel, but do you know how many resources this project has already consumed?”

Tang Xiao had studied the project materials carefully. Of course he knew what the Third Eye was trying to do.

They wanted to cultivate 428 to learn how the King of Fungi altered plants and animals, and how it controlled fungi.

The invasion of fungi could even drive parasitized organisms to evolve in defiance of the natural order. For humanity, it was a disaster. All kinds of fungal diseases—and even genetic diseases—were becoming more common. With the addition of unusual fungal diseases like zombie fungus, humanity had no choice but to huddle in its cities.

If things continued like this, human civilization might be wiped out in one disaster after another.

That was why the Third Eye had entertained such a misguided idea. If they could artificially create a “King of Fungi” under their control—or at least discover something that could hold fungi in check—perhaps the situation would change.

But the previous project had failed because 428 hadn’t evolved the ability to control fungi like a fungal mother organism, or the ability to alter flesh and genes.

That was why the project had been declared a failure.

But Tang Xiao didn’t agree. He had already seen 428 alter flesh—or, more accurately, accelerate evolution—with his own eyes.

The problem was that 428 was clever. Whenever a third person was present, it never showed its other forms. And the fact that it had escaped the lab time and again was proof enough that it had awakened other abilities.

If 428 were willing to trust him, the current predicament could be resolved. If the Third Eye were willing to believe in 428’s potential and extend the deadline even a little, Tang Xiao could try to produce more significant results, or make the experimental data more convincing.

But there were no ifs. All Tang Xiao could do now was find scholars interested in his paper—even two or three would do. Only then would he have the leverage to earn 428’s trust.

But reality dealt him a harsh blow.

The words on the whiteboard did attract some scholars, but after reading the paper, they either shook their heads, set it down, and left, or scoffed at it.

People came and went quickly. No one stopped for long, and not a single person even asked him a question.

Tang Xiao had never imagined things would turn out this way. Unable to help himself, he stopped a scholar who was about to leave and asked, “Do you think there’s something wrong with the paper?”

The scholar thought for a moment. “There’s nothing wrong with the content. You’ve explained it clearly. If the data is real, then it’s certainly possible.”

“Then why is everyone reacting like this?”

The scholar sighed. “Because it doesn’t matter. The project is already over. A Level-Five scholar led a research team for a year. They invested too much and put in far too much effort. How could they restart it so easily?”

“...But this growth curve shows that something really has changed with 428 recently. Shouldn’t that be investigated further?”

“It’s only a possibility,” the scholar said. “Maybe it’s just another beautiful misunderstanding in biology. We’ve seen far too many examples like that.”

With that, the scholar turned and left without another thought. Tang Xiao stood silently where he was.

Just then, the pocket of his lab coat twitched. A tiny red strand of hyphae emerged and looked silently at Tang Xiao.

Surely this should make him give up now...!