Creator of Infinite Realms

Xu Zhi searched patiently through the myriad tiny creatures until he finally discovered an outstanding specimen—a beetle-like insect clad entirely in dark armor. Agile and robust, its smooth head was capped with a sleek, helmet-like carapace—utterly devoid of hair.

"You'll do just fine," he murmured, amused. "With such a splendid bald crown, you're destined to become the majestic, hairless ruler of an entire epoch—perhaps even multiple eras."

Carefully grasping it with metal tweezers, Xu Zhi transferred this ant-sized beetle into a clear test tube. Next, he gathered suitable nourishment for the species before carrying it to a carefully prepared, pristine experimental plot, barely one square meter in area. There, he introduced food and allowed the beetles to multiply.

He issued a silent command:

Accelerate cellular division by ten thousand times.

Within moments, the tiny beetle multiplied rapidly—generations rising and falling like waves crashing upon a shore—until hundreds of thousands filled the soil. Xu Zhi lined up numerous transparent test tubes across the ground, instructing the hive, "Come now, line up neatly. Each tube will contain exactly three hundred individuals."

Guided by invisible impulses, the miniature beetles obediently marched into the tubes, forming orderly rows like disciplined soldiers.

Xu Zhi numbered each test tube methodically before diluting gorilla blood and carefully dripping a small amount into each. Then he commanded the hive, forcing the beetles to puncture their armored bodies, allowing their bodily fluids to mix with the foreign blood. Instantly, violent genetic rejection followed, swiftly exterminating nearly every specimen.

Xu Zhi was no refined biologist—his methods were direct, even primitive: only those robust enough to endure genetic assimilation would survive.

After two full days and countless failed trials, tens of millions of beetles perished. At last, mutations appeared in three batches—numbers 1042, 2041, and 2415. Among these, batch 2041 contained the most promising mutation: a tiny, perfectly formed humanoid insect-ape, even smaller than an ant, clad in black armor and unexpectedly sporting thick, lustrous hair.

He named this new species the "Insect Ape."

However, contrary to Xu Zhi's expectations of a hairless species, the little creature had a full head of luxuriant black hair. Worse, it began striking the test tube repeatedly, emitting a furious and bizarre cry:

"Bald head! Bald head? Bald head?!"

Gradually, its shrill, repetitive noises clarified into unmistakable taunts directed toward Xu Zhi:

"Bald head!"

Xu Zhi stared blankly in disbelief. He'd specifically hoped to create a hairless race, yet here it was—hairier than he'd ever imagined, mockingly chanting "bald head" at him!

"This little bastard has quite the nerve," he muttered sourly. "It dares to mock the very Creator who granted it life?" After all, his baldness was merely temporary—his hair would grow back naturally after chemotherapy stopped and his health improved.

Sighing, Xu Zhi realized he was perhaps the only Creator in existence openly ridiculed by his own creation. Yet, despite his irritation, he felt strangely compelled to let this insolent species live. It had survived brutal genetic trials after countless others perished—a lone victor amidst endless cycles of natural selection.

"I'll tolerate you for now," Xu Zhi whispered with grudging amusement, sensing that this defiant creature might have inadvertently cursed its descendants, condemning future generations to struggle under an ironic fate. "Someday, we'll settle this."

Breathing deeply, Xu Zhi released the creature back into the experimental field, allowing it to multiply.

Again he commanded:

Accelerate cellular division—ten thousand times.

Instantly, the original creature perished, dying heroically with a final mocking chant: "Bald head!" Yet within seconds, thousands more emerged, crawling and scrambling over the soil like a dense swarm of black ants, all shouting incessantly: "Bald head! Bald head!"

Xu Zhi rubbed his forehead, exasperated. "Are you creatures insane?"

Next, Xu Zhi attempted to introduce another genetic component: the genes of termites—famed for their strength. However, this experiment failed catastrophically. After repeating the process more than seventy times and sacrificing over a hundred thousand Insect Apes, not a single successful fusion occurred.

"Perhaps their bodies are still too primitive," he mused reluctantly. Giving up on the termite genes, he allowed the Insect Apes to proliferate freely at ten-thousandfold acceleration, hoping that intelligence and civilization would naturally emerge.

Yet no matter how many generations passed, the Insect Apes remained utterly mindless, marching aimlessly across the miniature land and shouting endlessly, "Bald head!"

After careful reflection, Xu Zhi had an epiphany. "I'm being naïve. With a lifespan compressed into mere seconds, how can they possibly develop intelligent thought, language, or civilization?"

Contemplating this, he asked the hive's secondary brain for advice. He learned that extreme acceleration—ten thousand times—forced creatures to rely purely on instincts and numbers for survival, leaving no time to cultivate thought or civilization. However, if he reduced cellular acceleration to one hundredfold, neuron and nerve-cell division could still be sufficiently swift to accelerate mental cognition by a hundred times, giving the creatures time enough to think, evolve intelligence, and build civilization.

Xu Zhi immediately issued a new order: "Adjust the cellular division speed within this region to one hundredfold."

Under these new conditions, the tiny Insect Apes began to move rapidly. Their bodies and minds synchronized perfectly, appearing almost ghost-like in their agility, their actions and cognition harmonizing beautifully. Xu Zhi gazed in awe at this accelerated miniature civilization blossoming before his eyes.

A curious thought occurred to him, prompting a question to the hive's secondary brain: "Can I also accelerate myself a hundredfold?"

The mechanical reply came immediately: "Impossible. Only beings possessing Insect Race cells can survive a hundredfold acceleration. Their nerve cells divide rapidly enough for accelerated cognition, and their body cells multiply swiftly, producing vast amounts of energy to support matching speed."

Xu Zhi sighed softly. "If I tried that, my cancer cells would accelerate too—I'd instantly fall into late-stage cancer."

Two days had passed since he began experimenting with the Insect Apes, during which the larger sandbox, accelerated at ten-thousandfold speed, had advanced another twenty thousand years. It had developed formidable new species—towering trees, strange Jurassic-like beasts, and colossal armored creatures now roamed freely. These largest beasts reached Xu Zhi's preset maximum size—about that of a domestic cat—which, from their tiny perspective, was as massive as ancient dinosaurs towering over a human.

Curious to observe further evolutionary progress, Xu Zhi adjusted the larger sandbox's acceleration from ten thousand to one hundred times, allowing more complex thought and civilization-building.

Satisfied, Xu Zhi finally gave his command: "Experiment concluded. Locate a suitable area within the sandbox and release the Insect Apes."

Stepping across the orchard in his familiar blue plastic shoe covers, Xu Zhi casually crushed delicate miniature valleys and forests beneath his feet, sending countless tiny animals fleeing in panic as the ground quaked beneath his steps.

"This spot will do," he murmured, depositing the surviving Insect Apes into a lush, verdant canyon in the sandbox's southern region—a sheltered place enclosed by dense, miniature trees.

Xu Zhi stood back, watching solemnly as the small creatures scurried forward, oblivious to the towering giant gazing down upon them. An era unlike any other had just begun beneath his watchful eyes—one destined to echo with irony, resilience, and perhaps redemption.