Shen Yi desperately tried to recall, but his mind went blank. He couldn’t remember the unease he felt when burrowing into that Spiritual Flower, nor the warm current that had flowed toward him after returning.

When a marked bumblebee dies, it returns its life energy to their King.

Their souls and bodies belong to their King—from life to death, always.

Shen Yi’s mind felt hazy, intoxicated, as if in a dream. It didn’t seem much different from the excitement the little sprite had brought him earlier, and he didn’t feel particularly sad either.

Sluggishly, he gathered the bumblebees, his tone equally sluggish, sounding both like a notification and a question, unsure who he was even asking: “Old Three seems—gone.”

The bumblebees gave no reaction. They just stared at him blankly, waiting for further instructions. It was like a stone falling from a cliff into a lake without a single ripple—complete indifference, unconcerned.

Shen Yi’s emotions suddenly erupted without warning: “Old Three is dead.”

“Do you understand death?”

Standing high on a tree branch, his wings flared and antennae trembling wildly, he tried to explain the concept of death to a group of little bees.

“It means we’ll never see it again. There’s no little bee named Old Three in this world anymore.”

In truth, he himself was still dazed. Though he had died once before, death always felt like something distant.

For these bumblebees, death was an ordinary occurrence—as common as gathering nectar or eating. So ordinary it wasn’t worth mentioning.

They would all die, but the larvae they nurtured would grow into adult bees to replace them. The hive they built would remain.

The bumblebees sensed their King’s anger and breakdown, twitching uneasily, at a loss.

Watching the indifferent bumblebees, despair surged from all directions. The loneliness and fear he had repeatedly pushed aside with optimism finally broke through the flimsy barrier and overwhelmed him.

These fluffy, adorable, soft little creatures were hollow inside. Shen Yi tried to fill them, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t.

Like a black hole, staring too long would be swallowed by despair.

Bees have no tears. Shen Yi looked at the still unresponsive bumblebees, his antennae twitching. Suddenly, he didn’t want to say anything more. Slowly, he returned to his leaf nest, dug in, and sank into complete darkness.

Only after becoming a bee did he realize that every bee is unique.

The shade of their color, the size and thickness of their stripes, even the curve of their antennae, the size and shape of their eyes—all different.

Old Three’s compound eyes were larger than the other bees’. Not just its eyes—its body was stronger too, with the largest pollen basket of them all. It was always good-natured and particularly slow-witted.

But whenever there was danger, it was always among the first to shield him.

How did it die? Eaten by a bird? Caught by a praying mantis? Or did it greedily fall into a Venus flytrap?

In this vast and fantastical forest, even the slightest disturbance could easily crush a little bee.

Only after becoming a bee did he realize how fragile life is—so insignificant.

Shen Yi suddenly realized he didn’t know the lifespan of a worker bee. A few days? A month? Or a few months?

In his impression, it was always short—over in the blink of an eye.

And he sensed intuitively his own life wouldn’t be brief—it might even be longer than a human’s lifespan.

It was only then that Shen Yi truly understood how important these little bumblebees were to him—far more than he had imagined.

An indescribable sense of urgency welled up inside him.

As Shen Yi stood dazed and confused, he suddenly felt a weight on his rear—something had leaned against him.

“Big Brother.”

“Don’t—” Dark antennae gently touched him. Shen Yi felt comfort both in his Mental Sea and in reality—“be sad.”

Don’t be sad.

Shen Yi turned his head in surprise. It was Little Seven.

He stared blankly at it: “Little Seven… You can talk?”

Little Seven tilted its head to look at him, its left antenna resting on him, its fluffy belly as soft as ever.

Maybe even black holes can be filled—as long as you find the right way.

>

That night, half-asleep, Shen Yi was suddenly pulled into a new perspective—that of a flying bumblebee.

He immediately realized it was Old Three.

It was as if he had entered Old Three’s body, flying through dense branches and deadwood from its perspective for a long time. In the distance, a small patch of flowers appeared in view, yellow blossoms swaying in the wind. There were no traces of other bees on the flowers—this was an untouched nectar source.

Old Three flew over unsuspectingly, heading straight for the most vibrant flower. As the flower drew closer, the scent of pollen filled the air. In a flash, a green afterimage suddenly sprang up in its peripheral vision. Then, its vision spun into chaos, and its back was tightly grasped by something.

Something was gnawing at its belly. The pain came suddenly and ended just as quickly. The world plunged into complete darkness.

Shen Yi jolted awake from the dream. An inexplicable instinct told him this was Old Three’s final experience.

The empty mental thread in his Mental Sea had retracted. The contract thread, carrying the marked one’s memories, had fulfilled its final duty and returned to the Spirit Core.

There were no traces left of Old Three in this world, but Shen Yi would remember a good-natured bumblebee named Old Three with a large pollen basket, always hardworking. On the twenty-sixth day after he became a bee, they had once made a home together in the leaves.

The next morning, Shen Yi followed the remembered route to that patch of flowers.

Perhaps having tasted sweetness, the green caterpillar hadn’t moved. Below its head were six sharp forelegs, spread open like a trigger-style trap.

Now, its tail gripped the stem beside the flower, its body arched and extended, disguised as a flower stem blending into the greenery, utterly inconspicuous.

If he hadn’t seen its hunting process in the dream yesterday, he would have likely mistaken it for an ordinary stem and paid it no extra attention.

Whether it was the Creator’s whimsy or life finding its own way through natural selection, it was astonishing.

A carnivorous caterpillar catching a little bee—a link in the food chain, the strong preying on the weak, perfectly natural. Nothing more to say.

Shen Yi held no grudge.

Concealing his presence, he covered himself with psychic energy and shot straight from behind the caterpillar. A sharp stinger extended from his abdomen, ready to strike. He grabbed the caterpillar’s back and fiercely drove the stinger in.

The sharp stinger met slight resistance but continued plunging without hesitation, piercing into soft flesh. A faint *pfft* sound seemed to echo, audible only to the stinging bee.

A bumblebee’s stinger has no barbs and can sting repeatedly. Shen Yi never underestimated these creatures at the bottom of the food chain. Going all out, he stung over a dozen times until the caterpillar completely stopped moving, green ichor splattering everywhere.

Shen Yi released his forelegs, patted the almost shapeless tail of the caterpillar, and slowly retracted his left antenna, sighing calmly: “This is also the strong preying on the weak.”

He let out a relieved breath and flew to the other side of the stem to clean his soiled fur. It was this flight that made him discover sparks of starlight emerging from the caterpillar’s body, chasing him from afar like a stream of light, streaking into his body.

A warm, comfortable feeling washed over him, as if he had just consumed royal jelly, filling his entire body with strength.

“Life Energy Collection and Conversion Module equipped successfully. Captured Life Energy +10. System Update Progress +0.1. Current Progress: 86/100.” What the…?

Life energy?

Shen Yi attempted to summon the system, and the interface appeared before his eyes the next second, displaying only the recent notification.

Ever since the system began updating, it had shown no response, and the interface couldn’t be opened. He had almost forgotten about the system’s existence.

Shen Yi stared at the notification on the interface, then glanced at the caterpillar nearby, suspecting the system was hinting at something.

He shook his damp fur, reached out with his psychic senses, and quickly located another caterpillar hiding under a flower receptacle. Once his fur had dried, he repeated his stealth attack, shooting forward.

“Captured Life Energy +30. System Update Progress +0.3.”

“Captured Life Energy +15. System Update Progress +0.1.”

“Captured Life Energy +20. System Update Progress +0.2.”

…

Life energy—it sounded like a valuable resource. You could never have too much.

Shen Yi grew more adept at dispatching caterpillars. Soon, he could eliminate one with a single lash of his stinger before moving decisively to the next target, each kill promptly followed by a system notification.

The queen bee’s toxin was not to be underestimated. Cool guys don’t look at explosions.

Soon, every insect in the flower patch had been wiped out completely, but the system update progress had only increased by two points, now standing at 88/100.

Shen Yi’s heartbeat quickened once more—racing, excited, itching for action—as if some big prize was waiting just ahead, there for the taking.

Without hesitation, he flew toward the nearest giant banyan tree. In the forest, insects were plentiful.