The Frenzied Savior - Chapter 1

The earth was scorched, littered with ruins and broken walls. Skeletal remains, shattered and torn, were piled like mountains, while rusted iron parts lay scattered across the wasteland.

This was the current state of Earth, following the inhumane devastation wrought by the inhabitants of the A48 galaxy.

The once-vibrant planet had been reduced to a dilapidated battlefield, scarred by the traces of alien invaders, with no signs of human life to be found. This was the vengeful retaliation of the A48 galaxy people, driven by blind fury against humanity.

During the early days of the Dark Age, the A48 invasion met with desperate resistance from mankind. Suffering heavy losses, the A48 fleet retaliated by dropping energy cannons and the “Spirit-Extinguishing Virus,” a biological weapon capable of destroying genetic codes, plunging humanity into utter despair.

It wasn’t until they discovered the astounding genius of Fu Qingya in the fields of biology, chemistry, and intelligent machinery that a flicker of hope was rekindled in the hearts of those facing extinction.

By Star Calendar Year 67, out of a global population of billions, only about a thousand people remained, hidden deep within a subterranean shelter beneath the Kunlun Mountains. Among them was Fu Qingya, the scientist regarded as humanity’s final light of hope.

At the foot of the barren Kunlun Mountains, fierce winds whipped up blood-stained rags and rattled the corrugated iron windows of ruined buildings. Beneath one such dilapidated structure lay the last sanctuary and laboratory of the human race.

Inside the lab, Fu Qingya was conducting the most critical phase of his research on the “Spirit-Extinguishing Antidote.”

After going without food or sleep for a full day and night, he finally cracked the virus’s code and formulated the master antidote.

However, to maximize its effectiveness, the antidote required a human genetic primer.

This necessitated a specific individual, someone intimately familiar with the chemical makeup of the vaccine—to ingest the master formula. At a precise moment, they would have to induce genetic collapse, allowing their breaking DNA to fuse with the formula, turning their entire body into a “seed” or “primer.”

Finally, by adding the blood of this “primer” to the secondary batches of the antidote and dispersing it via cloud-seeding aircraft, the virus ravaging the Earth would be completely neutralized.

Had Fu Qingya shared this information with the other survivors, they likely would have held a grand ceremony to find a volunteer to memorize the data and sacrifice their life.

But Fu Qingya had no intention of doing that.

While humanity struggled to survive, Fu Qingya craved death.

If he hadn’t considered this land his home and its people his compatriots, and if they hadn’t fought so hard to protect him over the years, he would have long ago embraced the cold arms of the Reaper.

Now that the antidote was complete, his last reason for living had vanished.

Fu Qingya decided to show some mercy to the other survivors by taking the “unlucky” role himself.

Before his end, he took a final walk through the shelter. Feeling a twinge of “heartache,” he tucked his beloved robot army near the bed of the shelter’s leader. He also “borrowed” several mechanical parts from unsuspecting survivors to fashion a multi-functional bed for himself in his lab.

Leaving behind the instructions for the antidote, Fu Qingya drank the master formula and lay on his bed with an expression of profound peace.

As the agony of shattering bones and bursting blood vessels took hold, familiar faces flickered through his fading consciousness.

They were emaciated and sickly, their yellow skin riddled with horrific parasitic growths that looked ready to claim them at any moment.

Yet, these very people, who seemed so close to death, had shielded him on the battlefield time and again, tending to his daily needs with meticulous care so he could work without distraction.

“It won’t hurt anymore,” he whispered.

In the end, Fu Qingya admitted to himself that his rush to sacrifice his life was because his compatriots had reached their limit. Even if he viewed them as weak or foolish, they were his people, and he refused to let them die on his watch.

The rush of impending death felt almost like a pleasure. Fu Qingya contentedly closed his frost-cold eyes.

The solitary, proud eagle had ultimately given its life for the fragile fledglings.

In the basement of a small villa in Beijing, cold, clinical mechanical walls reflected a stark white light. Black and white shelves stood in orderly rows, stocked with various components. On either side of the shelves, a pair of iron mechanical arms moved steadily, performing maintenance on the parts.

On the cold floor, a robot with a cylindrical tread base and a spherical upper body worked diligently to scrub away stains.

In the center of the basement, a mechanical assembly workbench operated with rhythmic precision.

To an expert eye, this workbench was a masterpiece of intelligent design, capable of not only assisting in assembly but also monitoring data and providing real-time alerts for the slightest deviation. Such technology was far ahead of its time and worth an astronomical sum.

The owner of this priceless setup was a mere eighteen-year-old youth.

He was tall and slender, with a sharply defined face. Behind gold-rimmed glasses, his youthful features carried an unshakable frost, particularly in his sharp, blade-like eyes. The coldness there was so heavy it could make anyone feel as if they had fallen into an ice cellar.

The youth’s mid-length hair was tied back with a touch of casual elegance, with stray strands framing his face perfectly. With his striking looks, he appeared to have stepped straight out of a manga.

Standing by the workbench, his focus was absolute. His long, slender fingers moved at a speed difficult for the naked eye to follow, quickly assembling the “human-like” leg frame of a robot.

Minutes later, Fu Qingya tossed the finished leg to a nearby boxy robot. “Xiao Fang, what time is it?”

The square robot carefully placed the leg on a shelf and replied in a high-pitched, girlish voice, “The current time is 7:30 AM. Master, it is time for you to go to school.”

Patting the robot, Fu Qingya let out a yawn. With drooping eyelids and his head tilted down, he sluggishly dragged himself out of the basement.

For the next ten minutes of getting ready, he remained half-asleep. He brushed his teeth, changed clothes, grabbed his books, and locked the door—all while squinting. He even stood at the entrance for a few minutes to nap before finally staggering away from the villa.

He maintained this state throughout his commute. To any observer, he looked utterly exhausted, walking with his head down and shoulders slumped, looking like he might pass out at any moment.

Surprisingly, despite his eyes being nearly closed, he navigated around obstacles with the agility of someone who possessed an extra pair of eyes. This “skill” earned him plenty of admiration from his classmates in Class 3-1 at Huangquan High School, who witnessed his daily performance.

After finishing a piece of bread from the school store, Fu Qingya entered the classroom. Without opening his eyes, he navigated past his seatmate and sat down. He propped up a book to hide his face, pulled out a small pillow, and immediately fell into a deep sleep.

This routine was so seamless that his desk mate still found it magical, even after seeing it a hundred times over the past few months.

How does he avoid hitting things with his eyes closed? And how does he have the guts to sleep through everything?

The desk mate, who wore oversized black glasses, grumbled to himself. He harbored a deep respect for his “scholar-god” roommate, who never listened in class yet scored near-perfect marks on every test. That respect had only grown recently, as Fu Qingya shifted from reading professional foreign-language books to simply sleeping.

After all, not everyone could “flex” their knowledge in front of teachers so effectively that the staff officially sanctioned his naps.

The boy in the black glasses watched as the teacher, instead of being annoyed, actually closed the window to make sure Fu Qingya didn’t catch a cold. He could only marvel at the sheer audacity of it all.

Unaware of his classmate’s internal monologue, Fu Qingya spent almost the entire day in a “deep sleep.”

It had been several months since he had accidentally fallen through a space-time rift and returned to the year before the alien invasion.

Adhering to the philosophy of making the best of his situation, Fu Qingya had analyzed the principles of his time travel and quickly stepped back into the role of the scientist he had been in the Star Calendar era.

For convenience, he had moved out of his family home and bought a small villa near the school, converting the basement into a lab to build robots and recreate the antidote.

During these months, he had discovered something fascinating about his own body.

The energy leaking from the rift, combined with the effects of the antidote he had carried, had collided within his younger self. This energy surge had modified his DNA, pushing him past the limits of human potential.

In short, Fu Qingya had evolved.

This evolution was primarily centered in his brain. Data suggested that his neural capacity and development far exceeded human limits, rivaling even the most advanced species.

Furthermore, his highly developed brain had caused his brainwaves to undergo a qualitative change.

To put it simply, his brainwaves had transformed into a new form of energy, similar to the “psychic power” or “telekinesis” seen in sci-fi movies.

This new energy system fascinated him. He had even performed experiments on himself, resulting in a brief, though incomplete, research report.

His transformed brainwaves granted him a mind comparable to a supercomputer. He could also manifest this energy into simple physical forms or use it to defend against low-level threats.

However, this sudden evolution placed a massive burden on his physical body. His current vessel was too fragile to contain such immense neural energy, leading to a rejection reaction.

This reaction left Fu Qingya feeling incredibly weak. To recover, he had to spend significant time and energy synchronizing his brainwaves with his body.

The best solution he had found was to use his brainwaves to hypnotize himself, allowing his consciousness to manage the integration while his body remained in a relaxed, undefended state.

Essentially, until the synchronization was complete, Fu Qingya would remain a perpetual “Sleeping Beauty.”