The reinforced glass of the incubation pod reflected Lin Feng's distorted face as the cloned Juzuo's mechanical claws pierced his quantum-protective suit. Dark matter blood oozed from his ribs, crystallizing into eerie amber-like formations in zero gravity. Above them, the adolescent Observer floated beneath the laboratory dome, data cables extending from his spine connecting to a hundred thousand pods—each echoing with Lin Feng's screams from different life stages.
"This is your 10,001st taste test." The boy's mechanical eyes projected a holographic recipe: five-year-old Lin Feng sucking on Golden Ear Spirit reagent as candy. "Bitter almond childhood, paired with charcoal-grilled Godslayer vertebrae—the chef's favorite appetizer."
The laboratory suddenly underwent quantum collapse, space folding into a Klein bottle structure. Trapped in topological distortion, Lin Feng witnessed countless iterations of his demise: in one reality, he was transformed into a living kitchen knife; in another, his neural networks rewoven into taste receptors. The most harrowing sight was Pod 10,000—where a "Lin Feng" clutched Juzuo's corpse, using the cat's tail to write recipes in dark energy.
"Your anguish is exquisite seasoning." The boy tore open his chest, revealing a pulsating bronze crucible. "When all clones experience their darkest moments simultaneously..." The crucible erupted with prismatic agony pulses, synchronizing a hundred thousand pods into gravitational resonance through collective screams.
Near death, Lin Feng's compound eyes detected anomalous spectra. Within the cloned Juzuo's quantum fur lingered fluorescent codes of the primordial Cat God. As dark matter blood seeped into these codes, the pod's glass shattered—the cloned kitten opened twelve-layered pupils, its claws morphing into molecular tongs that stabbed into the Observer's data hub.
"My code...is beyond your replication!" The kitten's voice resonated with quantum echoes. Cracks spread across the laboratory's crucible, its cosmic recipe engravings flowing backward. Lin Feng ripped out neural conduits linked to his clones, finding them flooded with distilled civilizational suffering—a farming planet's famine condensed into brown sludge, a war-torn universe's smoke distilled into clear liquor.
The Observer's mechanical body convulsed, taste bud-like sensors bulging beneath his skin. His left arm mutated into a black hole juicer, his right leg extending into a galactic rolling pin: "You cannot stop the New Spark..." The laboratory began secreting digestive enzymes, walls oozing dark matter gastric fluid as pods transformed into pulsing stomach sacs.
Clutching the kitten, Lin Feng leapt into a ventilation shaft. Through quantum vision, he saw the horrific truth—the entire laboratory was the Abyssal Gaze's taste ganglion, pods its papillae, their escape route across the entity's.
Beyond the shaft stretched light-years of biotissue—crimson meat folds embedded with digested galaxy remnants. His boots stuck to enzyme-processed parallel universes: a magic realm's floating cities melted into syrup, a mechanical civilization's gear fortresses softened into mousse.
The kitten hissed a warning. A fleshy dome split open ahead, unleashing a torrent of mechanical tendrils—each tipped with Lin Feng's cloned heads extruding molecular probes: "Become the chef's taste neurons..."
Injecting the last Golden Ear Spirit vial into his eyes, Lin Feng's retinas erupted with supernova light. In quantum overdrive, he perceived the Abyssal Gaze's taste map—verdant "delicious" zones marking fully processed universes, while the pulsating red "flawed sector" housed their laboratory.
"To the crimson zone!" The kitten tore through meat barriers. Plummeting into the abyss, Lin Feng glimpsed the anomaly: primitive humans cooking star-beasts with flint in an undigested universe—the Abyssal Gaze's sole taste blind spot, the New Spark's fatal flaw.
As they crashed into the red universe, Lin Feng's body quantum-disintegrated—left arm dissolving into stardust, right leg melting into dark energy. Only his compound eyes remained conscious. The kitten detonated its quantum core, anchoring his awareness by a primal tribe's bonfire with fluorescent codes.
"Use the oldest ways..." The fading voice whispered, "...break the taste cycle..."
Lin Feng raised a burning branch, painting the Abyssal Gaze's taste map on cave walls. Tribal shamans prostrated as their forehead markings mutated. When the first primitive burnt beast meat, the crimson universe quaked—this crude culinary failure began corrupting the entity's taste database.
The Observer tore through spacetime, his body fused with the laboratory. Mechanical tendrils seized the tribal fortress: "Inferior cooking errors—" Charred meat released chaos particles—quantized "disgust" concepts backflowing through data cables to infect the chef's ganglia.
The Abyssal Gaze's pupils manifested in deep space. Dimensional membranes ulcerated, spewing perfectly processed universes. As consciousness faded, Lin Feng saw Earth II's mural boy disintegrating, his mechanical eyes' bronze sheen replaced by primal fire.
Awakening by the bonfire, Lin Feng's eyes reverted to human. Half a mural remained: primitives dancing around charred meat amidst dissolving tendrils. A shaman handed him a bronze shard etched with Juzuo's luminous patterns.
In the night sky where the Abyssal Gaze had dispersed as nebula, new constellations formed—a twin-pupiled star cluster blazing toward Earth II. Children's laughter mingled with familiar meows—a scar-tailed stray padded past flames, its eyes holding twelve-dimensional depth.
Deep in uncharted caves, quantum particles reassembled the burnt meat. Dark matter spores carrying culinary instincts seeped into this primitive ecosystem. Meanwhile, light-years away in ruins, the Observer's mechanical remnants twitched—a final message flashing: New Spark Plan...Phase 10,002 initiated...