Translator: AnubisTL
Inside the locomotive cabin of the Stellaris train, docked at the edge of the Equatorial Core Island in the Seven-Colored Zone, Chen Mang sat in a chair, tilting his head to watch the army of mining robots marching deeper into the island.
The robots had already begun their mining work for the day.
Even the residents had joined the fray.
When resources were abundant, the residents still took to the field, cherishing every hard-won opportunity to mine.
Time had changed many things.
From their early days as slaves on other trains, mining like mindless drones, to now, where even mining on the Stellaris was something to fiercely compete for.
The leading mining robots carried refrigerators on their shoulders, used to store the extracted resources.
The Seven-Colored Zone was rich in resources. There were even four Tier 7 Iron Mines.
These four Tier 7 Iron Mines could yield 40 billion units of iron ore.
However, the highest-level mine in the area was still only Tier 7.
No Tier 8 mines had been found.
At that moment, the Stellaris was the only train in this zone, marking the final destination of Aquablue Star.
He glanced at the Seven-Colored Accessory Blueprint in his hand—the Wormhole Opener. This would be the second Seven-Colored grade accessory on the Stellaris, following the Wormhole Radar.
The train still held 6.95 billion units of iron ore.
He consumed 1 million units of iron ore to craft the Wormhole Opener, then another 45 million units to upgrade it to Tier 10 in one go.
"Wormhole Opener?"
Chen Mang sat in his chair, gazing at the miniature dagger embedded in the control panel. This was the Wormhole Opener, looking quite adorable.
The Wormhole Opener's function was self-explanatory:
It could assess the stability of space within a certain range, determine suitable locations for creating wormholes, and then generate them.
For Tier 1, the range was 1 light-year.
For Tier 10, the range was 10 light-years.
Moreover—
If he knew the coordinates of a wormhole's endpoint, he could directly create a passage to that location. For example, even if his current Wormhole Opener was only Tier 10, as long as he knew the coordinates of a wormhole near the Zerg Civilization's homeworld, he could "cut the line" and create a direct passage to that wormhole, even if the distance far exceeded 10 light-years.
This was precisely why, throughout the cosmos, each civilization's wormhole coordinates were kept as their highest-level secrets. If their wormhole coordinates were leaked, it could lead to their own civilization's created wormholes accelerating their own demise.
After upgrading to Tier 10, he also obtained two overpowered effects:
Wormhole Opener Tier 5 Overpowered Effect: Energy consumption halved.
Wormhole Opener Tier 10 Overpowered Effect: Wormholes created have a higher stability rate.
"..."
Chen Mang pressed a button on the control panel. As the energy stone rapidly depleted, the Wormhole Opener activated. After several minutes, it detected stable space coordinates suitable for wormhole creation near the mining star, located 0.3 light-years from Aquablue Star.
The nearest stable coordinates for wormhole creation were 3 million kilometers from the mining star.
At Stellaris' current maximum speed, reaching the mining star would require 595 hours of continuous travel—nearly 24 days without rest.
He glanced at the control panel screen. This scan had consumed 11% of the Tier 5 Energy Stone's capacity, roughly equivalent to completely depleting a Tier 4 Energy Stone.
Creating a wormhole from Aquablue Star to the 3 million kilometer coordinates near the mining star would require 50 million units of iron ore.
"That's a bit pricey," Chen Mang murmured, glancing at the data on the control panel screen.
Fifty million units of iron ore might not sound like much.
But the wormhole Chen Mang had just created was only 0.3 light-years long. The cost of building one to a more distant location would be unimaginable.
Moreover, this was a relatively cheap type of wormhole:
One-way, single-use wormhole.
As one might imagine.
Not long ago, the Zerg Civilization had mass-produced hundreds of thousands of these one-way, single-use, random wormholes, all just to find a single civilization. The resources consumed in that effort must have totaled at least tens of trillions of units of iron ore!
"The Zerg Civilization couldn't possibly consume that many resources to create wormholes," Chen Mang murmured with conviction.
The resource consumption was simply too extravagant. If the Zerg Civilization needed to expend such vast resources to deal with a low-tier civilization, they would have gone bankrupt long ago.
After a moment's contemplation, Chen Mang decided against further upgrading the Wormhole Opener, the Seven-Colored Accessory. Tier 10 was sufficient for now; a 10-light-year range was more than enough for his current needs. He had no immediate plans to venture beyond that distance.
He decided to conserve the resources for upgrading other accessories instead.
For example:
The Seven-Colored Grade Accessory, the Arcanon Light Energy Main Cannon.
A true game-changer!
At Tier 10, this accessory's firepower outstripped the Doomsday Cannon by several streets. Chen Mang had hoarded so much iron ore specifically to upgrade this top-grade firepower accessory. When it came to upgrades, he always aimed for the best.
The Doomsday Cannon might be energy-efficient, but in the cosmos, it was utterly useless—about as valuable as a chicken feather.
After consuming a million units of iron ore to forge it, Chen Mang stepped off the train.
He gazed at the massive, pitch-black main cannon mounted on the locomotive.
After expansion, the train's width had reached ten meters. Yet the main cannon, extending from the locomotive cabin to Carriage No. 2, was even wider—seven or eight meters across.
This was the largest firepower weapon ever mounted on the Stellaris.
But that wasn't the most remarkable thing.
Even by the standards of firepower weapons from his previous world, its size was unremarkable, let alone when venturing into the cosmos.
The cannon's barrel was etched with crimson, honeycomb-like patterns.
Chen Mang couldn't decipher them.
He simply found the design aesthetically pleasing.
Tier 1 Firepower Accessory: Arcanon Light Energy Main Cannon.
Chen Mang piloted the Stellaris train through the air, leaving the Seven-Colored Zone's "Equatorial Core" and heading to a nearby zone. His target: a small island in the ocean, roughly the size of the islands within the Seven-Colored Zone.
[Activation of the Arcanon Light Energy Main Cannon requires a minimum of one Tier 3 energy stone.
Do not look directly at the firing process.]
He slowly pressed the crimson button on the control panel.
The massive cannon barrel on top of the Stellaris train slowly opened, its honeycomb-like structure glowing with a faint blue light, as if a long-dormant beast had just been awakened.
Below, the sea's waves were pushed back by an invisible force.
The air began to distort wildly.
It was as if the entire ocean feared the impending judgment.
Charging progress: 67%.
Charging progress: 99%.
Then, in the next instant—
A blinding white light pierced the heavens. This was no ordinary light, but a plasma torrent compressed to extreme density, its core temperature rivaling that of a star's nucleus.
Like a pillar of light.
The moment the beam struck the sea island, the massive landmass virtually disintegrated in an instant, its ancient foundations, which had stood atop the ocean for countless ages, instantly vaporized.
There was no sound.
No thunderous roar of cannon fire, only an eerie silence, as if this weren't war at all.
Boom!!!
The sound finally arrived, not from the main cannon's discharge, but from the supersonic shockwave created by the vaporized seawater and rock. The sea surface beneath the former island first sank into a massive crater thousands of meters wide.
It was a spectacle that defied human comprehension.
A violent rebound triggered a tsunami thousands of meters high, sweeping outward in all directions.
Where the island once stood, only a massive spherical ball of lightning, enveloped in a sea of water, remained faintly visible for several seconds. The entire sky was stained a purplish-red.
Even the seabed fractured under the residual energy, as massive amounts of seawater rushed in to form a colossal whirlpool, devouring all debris on the ocean surface.
"..."
Chen Mang sat beneath the control panel table, his eyes wide with awe as he watched the scene unfold on the screen. Since the system had warned him not to look directly, he naturally avoided using his eyes.
But...
The sheer power was far beyond anything he could have imagined!
After all, this was merely the Tier 1 Arcanon Light Energy Main Cannon!
Even the Tier 1 Doomsday Cannon, which could exhaust itself firing repeatedly, couldn't achieve such devastation.
After a long while,
the lingering light in the air gradually dissipated. The sea surface was now littered with floating molten rock fragments. The once-island-filled sea was now a vast expanse of water, leaving behind only a still-rotating, boiling ocean vortex.
"Xiao Ai."
"I'm here."
"You're certain that an attack of this magnitude, even at Tier 1, can't kill a Tier 2 zombie?"
"Yes," Xiao Ai's voice came from the locomotive cabin. "All prominent civilizations in the cosmos, despite their varied expressions, share a core focus: how to better utilize core energy."
"Whether it's for attack or defense, everything is generated through core energy, which operates under a strict, unbreakable tier system."
"But..."
"According to the Mechanical Civilization AI's database, when a civilization reaches a certain tier limit, it may be possible to break through this system. However, this is still a theoretical conjecture in the experimental stage, with no concrete results yet."
"..."
Chen Mang sat back down, his gaze distant as he stared at the swirling vortex on the sea surface.
Arcanon Light Energy Main Cannon.
This was his third Seven-Colored Accessory. The previous two had been purely functional, making it difficult to appreciate the true power of Seven-Colored Grade Accessories. But this accessory finally revealed what Seven-Colored meant!
What it meant to be a Tier-Capped Accessory!
A single shot from this cannon was enough to explain everything.
If he could upgrade this to Tier 100, he estimated it could single-handedly bomb a planet.
He consumed 4.5 billion units of iron ore to upgrade it to Tier 50 in one go, and gained four Overpowered Effects.
Arcanon Light Energy Main Cannon Tier 5 Overpowered Effect: Charging time drastically reduced.
Arcanon Light Energy Main Cannon Tier 10 Overpowered Effect: Attack does not degrade with distance.
Arcanon Light Energy Main Cannon Tier 20 Overpowered Effect: Can track targets.
Arcanon Light Energy Main Cannon Tier 50 Overpowered Effect: Energy consumption halved.
This was the most expensive accessory he had ever upgraded. Reaching Tier 50 alone had consumed 4.5 billion units of iron ore—virtually all the iron ore he had extracted from the Pink Zone!
But—
It was completely worth it!
A single Tier 3 energy stone was enough to power a Tier 1 beam attack from the Arcanon Light Energy Main Cannon.
A Tier 50 attack required a Tier 8 energy stone.
That's 5 billion units of iron ore.
The cost was exorbitant, far exceeding the cost of crafting the cannon itself.
Even with the energy consumption halved, it still required 2.5 billion units of iron ore.
Though expensive, he could afford it. He desperately wanted to test the power of a Tier 50 Arcanon Light Energy Main Cannon, but he didn't dare.
Tier 50.
This was no longer about bombarding small islands.
He was a bit worried about blasting a massive crater into Aquablue Star, or even splitting it in two. This level of power was no longer suitable for experimentation on Aquablue Star.
When the opportunity arose, he'd try firing one at a Zerg Civilization Planet.
But among these four Overpowered Effects, the one he valued most was:
Tier 10 Overpowered Effect: Attacks do not diminish with distance.
And since the Arcanon Light Energy Main Cannon's attack form was a beam of light, this meant that, theoretically, he could play a rather interesting game.
"Target locked. Parameters adjusted."
"Ready to fire."
"Please give the firing command, Train Conductor."
"Perfect."
Chen Mang stood in the locomotive cabin, a glint of mischief in his eyes. He slammed his hand down on the crimson button on the control panel and fired a Tier 1 intensity beam from the Arcanon Light Energy Main Cannon at a planet on the very edge of the Zerg Civilization zone.
The cannon's aperture at the top of the train car opened slightly, and the honeycomb-patterned lines on its barrel glowed with a soft blue light. A blinding white beam pierced the sky, shooting straight upward!
In the blink of an eye, it pierced through the atmosphere and vanished into the cosmos.
The overpowered effect of Tier 20 was tracking.
That planet was a staggering 57,000 light-years from Aquablue Star. In other words, under extremely unlikely circumstances, this "beam" might precisely hit the planet in 57,000 years.
It would bring a tiny tremor to that distant world.
During this vast journey, the beam's power would not diminish. With its tracking effect, it would constantly adjust its trajectory to account for the planet's movements.
The attack intensity was merely Tier 1.
It couldn't possibly kill a Zerg Monster. It was just for fun.
Besides, 57,000 years was far too long. He was unlikely to live that long, and who knew what might happen in the meantime?
The probability of hitting the target was vanishingly small.
Far smaller than the chance of a coin landing upright on its edge when tossed.
After all, the path between Aquablue Star and the Zerg Civilization Planet was far from obstacle-free.
"Pretty interesting, isn't it?"
Chen Mang chuckled, gazing at the now-invisible beam in the sky. He suddenly realized the greatest advantage of this "beam" firepower weapon: its attacks traveled at the speed of light.
Trains can't travel at the speed of light.
But the attacks they fire can.
"Xiao Ai, adjust the target. This time, aim for the mining star 0.3 light-years from Aquablue Star."
Target locked. Parameters adjusted.
Ready to fire.
Chen Mang slapped the control panel button again, sending another small gift to the nearest mining star. The attack would reach its target in 0.3 years—about 3.6 months.
By then, he should already be at the mining star.
Perfect timing to observe firsthand what it's like to be hit by an attack coming from 0.3 light-years away.
Then, almost addicted, he randomly fired ten more shots into the cosmos, aiming at nothing in particular!
A single shot from the Arcanon Light Energy Main Cannon, at Tier 1 attack strength, required only one Tier 3 energy stone—equivalent to 50,000 units of iron ore. That was practically free to him; the cost of a few units of iron ore was negligible.
"The cosmos is still the most fun."
Chen Mang gazed at the ten beams of light piercing through the clouds above, a faint smile playing on his lips. He rather enjoyed this sensation—randomly firing beams into the vast expanse of the cosmos.
No one knew when these attacks would finally hit their target—after millennia, tens of millennia, or even millions or hundreds of millions of years. Or perhaps they would collide with a meteorite fragment shortly after leaving Aquablue Star's atmosphere.
But...
It felt strangely intriguing.
If only he could equip each beam with a Mechanical Eye and a data transmitter. Then he could track the ultimate fate of every beam.
And finally understand why the cosmos is such a chaotic mess.
Even he, after obtaining the Arcanon Light Energy Main Cannon, couldn't resist firing a few shots into the depths of space. How could other civilizations possibly resist doing the same? If everyone kept lobbing shots back and forth, how could the cosmos not devolve into chaos?
Add to that resource conflicts, disputes over legitimacy, Civilizational Wars, and countless other factors, and the cosmos had long since become a thoroughly chaotic melting pot.
This was precisely why the detection range of his special item, the Galaxy Map, was limited to 100,000 light-years. If its range were any greater—say, hundreds of millions of light-years—he might discover that the entire universe had already devolved into utter chaos.
Every civilization was attacking the nearest civilization to them.
Without any reason.
Just fighting.
Raw and pure killing desire: if I don't exterminate you now, once you grow stronger, you'll exterminate me. That's the greatest reason to exterminate you.
Of course, this was just his conjecture.
Perhaps the entire cosmos was peaceful, and only this corner was a chaotic mess. But that seemed unlikely. Given the competition for resources, Civilizational War, and other factors, maintaining peace didn't seem plausible.
"I finally understand the meaning behind the Civilization Token's inscription."
"When a civilization's level exceeds 1, it officially enters the game."
"Without the strength of a hunter, you'll only become prey."
"Only the strongest or the weakest civilizations seem relatively safe in the cosmos."
Xiao Ai's voice echoed in the locomotive cabin, "Train Conductor, which type of civilization do you want to become?"
"The weakest, of course," Chen Mang retorted irritably. "The latter is controllable, but can I control the former? Even if I develop rapidly, what about the transition from a Tier 1 Civilization to the strongest? Other civilizations don't seem likely to let me develop gradually."
"Moreover, haven't you noticed?"
"In our galaxy, the Zerg Civilization is the most powerful. Even if there are many other strong civilizations nearby, they've all been held back by the Zerg. We're located behind the Zerg Civilization's main base, which is undoubtedly dangerous."
"But from another perspective, we're also being protected."
"Other powerful civilizations won't come here."
"Under the Zerg Civilization's protection, we can secretly develop unnoticed, until we make a stunning debut!"
"Fire another 10 shots!"
Still unsatisfied, Chen Mang slammed his hand against the crimson button on the control panel. If these beams really hit a civilization, they'd surely feel his goodwill. After all, he was only firing Tier 1 beams—weak enough to not kill anyone.
The feeling...
It was like receiving a letter from an old friend you hadn't seen in centuries.
Time always imbues such letters with profound meaning.
Like fine wine, it's rich and intoxicating.
After indulging himself, he finally piloted the Stellaris back home. He couldn't test the attack levels any further in the cosmos. He'd try out the Tier 50 Arcanon Light Energy Main Cannon on other planets after leaving the universe, to see its true power.
The only regret was...
The resources consumed by upgrading were simply too vast.
Upgrading from Tier 1 to Tier 50 consumed a staggering 4.5 billion units of iron ore.
He had just checked and saw that the resources required for further upgrades would only become more expensive. Without several hundred billion units of iron ore, he wouldn't be able to reach Tier 100. However, he didn't need such a high-tier main cannon for now.
In the Seven-Colored Zone, at the Equatorial Core—
A middle-aged man glanced around, ensuring no one was watching him. He propped his pickaxe against the ground and feigned busyness while whispering to a man working diligently beside him, "Buddy, the guards aren't looking this way. Why work so hard? No one's watching."
"Let's take a break together."
Humans are social animals.
The true value of a criminal gang isn't so much in what its members can do for you, but in how it allows you to commit wrongdoings with a clear conscience.
For example, if a single student is punished with a standing timeout, they might feel anxious. But if seven or eight students are punished together, they might feel a sense of collective security.
This is the fundamental purpose of gangs.
Take this lazy man, for instance. He wanted to slack off, but seeing everyone else working hard made him uneasy. He desperately needed someone to share his laziness to ease his conscience.
"..."
The mining man glanced at the middle-aged man and chuckled. "You're new to the Stellaris, aren't you? Just arrived from the Pink Zone, the Tropical Jungle?"
"You've missed the good times."
"When we started, resident benefits improved quickly. By the time it's your turn, there's hardly any ore left to mine. Now that we've finally found this vein, you should be rushing to mine as much as possible. I'm worried for you—how are you going to upgrade your resident benefits?"
"You've got quite the ambitious heart."
"Current resident benefits are already decent. We have enough to eat and a place to live," the middle-aged man muttered, crouching on the ground. "I know in Neon City, one unit of iron ore can be exchanged for a Stellar Coupon."
"But you dig all this ore and only get a handful of Stellar Coupons in return. I don't understand what you're thinking."
The miner hadn't originally intended to waste time on this man, but when he saw Trainmaster Zhu approaching out of the corner of his eye, he spoke earnestly. "Brother, your understanding is a bit lacking."
"Firstly—"
"You need to understand that Neon City's customers are train conductors. Would you even use those train accessories if you got them?"
"Secondly, you need to understand that the reason we've been able to mine so much iron ore isn't because we're particularly skilled, but because Lord Mang can find so many iron mines. You can't claim all the credit just because you were the one digging it up."
"Finally!"
"Lord Mang protected my safety during the apocalypse, provided me with shelter and food, and allowed me to maintain basic dignity in this harsh world. I have no problem whatsoever with handing over some iron ore."
"Your understanding of this situation is completely out of place. It's as if you still live in the pre-apocalypse, not the apocalypse."
Just then—
Trainmaster Zhu strolled over with a cheerful smile, looking at the man in surprise. "Quite enlightened, aren't you? True to the reputation of the Stellaris residents."
He then turned to the middle-aged man, who had hastily stood up and pretended to start working again, and casually said:
"Take him away. He needs a few days of political re-education."
"This fellow's ideological understanding is rather lacking. It needs improvement."
"Yes, sir."
Two burly guards immediately stepped forward, hoisted the middle-aged man under their arms, and marched him toward the nearby refrigerator.
Neon City's streets swelled with crowds.
As the number of people continued to grow, the originally designated zones became insufficient. An additional street was opened to accommodate the increasing numbers.
At that moment, many train conductors had gathered around the bulletin boards lining both sides of the street.
Neon City is now property of the Stellaris.
It is with great regret that we must inform you:
Aquablue Star is expected to collapse and be destroyed within 2-3 years. This process is irreversible. The Stellaris will depart Aquablue Star in one month, heading into the cosmos to escape the Zerg Civilization's encirclement and seek survival.
Train conductors interested in joining the Stellaris for the Interstellar Exodus should proceed to Sun City for detailed information.
This announcement had been displayed for over two weeks.
It detailed the current state of the cosmos, informing everyone that Aquablue Star was located behind the Zerg Civilization, and made them fully aware of how terrifying this civilization was.
Escape was their only option.
Join or don't join.
This had become the critical choice facing every train conductor who entered Neon City in recent days.
"Two or three years," a bearded man said, his expression complex as he stood rooted to the spot, staring at the information on the notice board. His voice was hoarse as he continued, "Given the current strength of my train, we absolutely couldn't achieve an Interstellar Exodus within two or three years. This means that if we don't join the Stellaris, we're likely to perish with Aquablue Star."
"Me too," a young man beside him said quietly. "I haven't even managed to get Bunny Cloud Wheels. How could I possibly achieve an Interstellar Exodus?"
Sun City, skyscraper.
Chen Mang stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the bustling crowd below. He leaned on his cane, listening quietly as Uncle Li reported the detailed data from Neon City over the past few days.
He didn't know how many survivors remained on Aquablue Star.
But—
He had done the calculations.
The Stellaris train couldn't carry many survivors; it simply didn't have the capacity. Carrying a civilization on one's own was an incredibly draining task on one's foundation.
Just as Noah's Ark could only selectively take one male and one female of each species, he was in the same position.
He could only selectively take some survivors. He didn't know how long his "Interstellar Exodus" plan would last, but he was certain that staying on Aquablue Star would mean certain death.
In recent days, no one had signed up for the high-level trains.
It was obvious.
These train conductors, who had enjoyed their privileges for so long, would never be willing to submit to someone else's authority. He could fully understand this; it was only natural human nature.
After all, in the eyes of those high-level train conductors, the Stellaris train only gained the ability for interstellar escape after reaching the Seven-Colored Zone. They were already in the Red and Golden Zones, not far from the Seven-Colored Zone.
Two or three years—wasn't that enough time for them to reach the Seven-Colored Zone?
Logically, that was true.
However...
There was only one "Wormhole Opener" accessory blueprint on the entire planet. Only the first train conductor to reach the Seven-Colored Zone could take it. For the other trains, without the ability to create a wormhole, how could they leave Aquablue Star? That was a major problem.
He hadn't revealed this information.
He deliberately abandoned the high-level trains.
In a few days, he planned to start from the North Pole and circumnavigate the globe, pulling as many survivors from the low-tier trains into the Stellaris as possible.
His limit was one billion people.
This was already the maximum the Stellaris could withstand. The daily consumption of food, water, and waste management for one billion people was an astronomical figure. Even the most basic food requirements alone demanded one hundred million units of iron ore per day.
But the Stellaris could handle it. After all, these people weren't just eating for free; they would contribute in other ways.
However...
The trains simply couldn't accommodate that many space gates. Each space gate required a massive number of refrigerators and other infrastructure. Coordinating one billion people within the trains was also a challenge. The trains were only so large, and the vast majority of people would essentially never leave the space gates.
Managing such a population would be fraught with difficulties.
It would be extremely chaotic.
He believed that after these one billion people helped him rebuild civilization in the future, they would undoubtedly play an even greater role. That was beyond question.
But in the early stages, he had to endure the resource strain caused by this massive population.
This was already the limit of what he could withstand. It meant he had to selectively abandon some survivors. He couldn't take all of them; he would have to screen them and take as many qualified survivors as possible.
In truth, if Chen Mang only needed to build trains, he wouldn't have needed to bring so many survivors. But since he intended to rebuild human civilization and make a bold appearance in the cosmos as a representative of human civilization, he had to bring these survivors—and the more, the better.
"Lord Mang."
After reporting the data, Uncle Li began reporting other recent developments in Neon City: "The Neon City Free Entry Ticket can only guarantee that train conductors on this planet will reach Neon City after activating the ticket."
"President Ai is currently researching how to allow train conductors from other planets to reach Neon City after activating the Neon City Free Entry Ticket. This is essentially equivalent to creating a one-way, single-use wormhole, which is quite complex. There's no conclusion yet."
"But according to President Ai, even if the research is successful, the production cost of this Neon City Free Entry Ticket will skyrocket. It will no longer be possible to mass-produce it as before, let alone produce it infinitely."
"Hmm."
Chen Mang nodded slightly. Neon City's main client base in the future would still be other planets, or in other words, other civilizations. He wanted to facilitate trade between different civilizations within his Neon City. To achieve this, how to make the Neon City Free Entry Ticket function as intended was a problem that had to be solved.
"There's one more thing, Lord Mang. We've acquired the accessory blueprint you requested."
He glanced sideways at Uncle Li and took the blueprint from him.
Back in the locomotive cabin, Chen Mang watched the screen displaying the Cyber Mine. He now had 50 cyber miners. After Big Mao's training, their output rate had improved significantly.
But not by much.
After all, the base output rate of these things was inherently low.
The main issue was the scarcity of cyber miners. If their numbers increased, the output rate would improve dramatically. A low probability wasn't a problem as long as the sample size was large enough.
The only factor limiting the widespread development of cyber miners was the insufficient supply of Dreamstones.
Apart from the first acquisition going smoothly, subsequent purchases only yielded scattered pieces, keeping the total quantity at an embarrassingly low level, completely unscalable.
But that was the past.
When the Stellaris had 6,000 residents, it could produce one Dreamstone per month.
That meant 180,000 residents could produce one Dreamstone per day.
His plan was to take one billion survivors with him when he left Aquablue Star. If the train carried one billion survivors, it could produce approximately 5,556 Dreamstones in a single day!
5,556 Dreamstones in just one day!
At that time—
The Cyber Mine would officially expand and reach its peak!
Chen Mang looked down at the blue-grade accessory blueprint, "Dream Spray," that Uncle Li had just handed him. It was a good thing. By installing it in a carriage or space gate, one could quickly induce sleep or wakefulness through a mist, eliminating the need for pinpricks.
Although the pinpricks didn't cause significant harm and the survivors would receive perfect bandaging after leaving the Cyber Mine, the method still sounded inhumane. This accessory would serve as an excellent alternative to the needles.
"..."
He remained silent, not immediately upgrading the newly acquired blue-grade accessory. Instead, he silently stared at the screen, at the four remaining Seven-Colored Grade Accessories he had crafted, wondering how many units of iron ore it would take to upgrade the space gate to Tier 200.
He wanted to see if the Stellaris train could actually accommodate so many people.
"Train Conductor."
Xiao Ai's resigned voice echoed in the locomotive cabin. "I think you might be too optimistic. Your plan is for the Stellaris train to carry a maximum of one billion survivors, leaving the rest behind on this planet."
"It sounds cruel and heartless."
"But—"
"Train Conductor, is it possible that Aquablue Star doesn't even have a hundred million survivors?"
"Definitely over a hundred million."
Chen Mang spoke calmly. "After all, Aquablue Star had hundreds of billions of people. How could less than a hundred million have survived?"
"The real question is whether the space gate can handle so many people."
"And how we'll manage such a massive population."
The most powerful space gate on the Stellaris train was the Tier 100 Space Gate in Carriage 10, measuring 10,000 meters by 10,000 meters.
Constructing this Tier 100 Space Gate had consumed 1,310,000 units of iron ore.
He did the math.
If people were packed tightly, with each person allocated only 10 to 20 square meters, a single Tier 100 Space Gate could theoretically accommodate 5 million to 10 million people.
This approach simply wouldn't work.
After all, this was Ideal Datafication. Five million people couldn't possibly be packed into a space gate as neatly as sand spread across a flat surface.
Tier 10 refrigerators were necessary.
Each Tier 10 refrigerator, costing 4,500 units of iron ore, could be stacked to form "tube buildings" to accommodate the one billion survivors he intended to save.
This would allow a single Tier 100 Space Gate to hold up to ten million people.
This was the maximum population capacity with enough space to move around, a realistic number for accommodating people.
One billion survivors.
One hundred Tier 100 Space Gates would be sufficient.
But.
Space gates could vary in size. If all the gates were built to the minimum standard, a single carriage could hold up to twenty gates. Therefore, five carriages, supplemented with a massive number of Tier 10 refrigerators, could accommodate the entire billion-person population.
However,
the quality of life would be barely sufficient for survival.
The daily death toll would remain high.
Moreover, the resource consumption would be enormous.
A single Tier 100 Space Gate required at least fifty thousand Tier 10 refrigerators to accommodate ten million people. The cost of crafting two hundred thousand refrigerators alone would amount to 225 million units of iron ore.
One hundred space gates.
That equates to 2.25 billion units of iron ore.
This is just the cost of building the refrigerators, not including the space gates, daily rations, management costs, and other expenses, which would amount to an astronomical sum.
Therefore—
He wanted to try, to see if there was a better solution.
Chen Mang glanced at the data on the control panel screen and murmured, "Does the AI Database not contain any information about the overpowered effect of a Tier 200 Space Gate?"
He placed his greatest hope on the Tier 200 Space Gate's effect being able to make the space gates a little bigger, even larger, and even bigger still, beyond the improvements from upgrading the accessories.
That way, he wouldn't need to build so many refrigerators.
Building refrigerators was too expensive.
Moreover, the residents' living experience was extremely poor.
"No."
In the locomotive cabin, Xiao Ai's voice chimed in, "The database doesn't contain any information on the overpowered effect of upgrading the space gate to Tier 200. Unless there's an error, it seems no one in the entire Mechanical Civilization has ever managed to upgrade the space gate to this level."
"Right."
Since there was no answer, Chen Mang would have to test it himself.
He glanced at the control panel screen, focusing on the 3D model of the Stellaris train, specifically the "space gate" accessory.
Upgrading from Tier 100 to Tier 200 required an increasingly larger number of Murphy Stones, with the resource cost skyrocketing far beyond what was needed to upgrade from Tier 1 to Tier 100.
But.
He possessed Tier 0 Authority, meaning he only needed to pay the cost for the final upgrade, ignoring all previous costs.
The next moment—
[Upgrading Tier 100 Space Gate to Tier 101 requires 3 Murphy Stones.
Detecting that the train conductor possesses Tier 0 Authority. No Murphy Stones required.
Continue upgrading?]
(End of the Chapter)
📖Read [MAT] ahead on Pa.treon@AnubisTL upto c354. [+2/+7.7k]
🎁All [2] Novels can be accessed for just $6/mo.
🔥Translated [1k+] Chapters and [2.17M+] Words.