Panel Twenty-Two: Distant Communication

Virtual multidimensional video communication is a technology capable of simulating all five senses through realistic projection, enabling seamless integration across multiple environments. It is the most widely adopted communication method among advanced civilizations—and one of the technologies Xiao Jin is eager to steal.

As Sena initiated the video request, Xiao Jin shifted into work mode. Sang Sang placed her on her shoulder and stepped into the projection zone designated by Sena.

The light in the room changed, and the scene of Bishop Anthony’s private spaceship materialized. In just three seconds, the illusion sharpened until the entire room was cloaked in a vivid, lifelike recreation.

This was the ship’s main control room. Sang Sang stood before the observation window, gazing out at the starry void. Three meters to her right sat a typical young man, utterly unthreatening, who turned to see Sang Sang. His brows arched, and he broke into a smile.

“I heard the temple was sending a video call to the Celestial Emperor. I wondered if it would be you—and sure enough, it’s Xiao Jin and Sang Sang.” Ye Xiu rose, waving the book in his hand at Sang Sang. “Xiao Jin is as diligent as ever, working even during a call, but Sang Sang—you’ve shrunk more and more over the years. Congratulations.”

“Ye Xiu, you haven’t changed at all. Oh, I forgot—your kind, the Time Clan, never age, thanks to skipping the rite of passage. I’ve been shrinking thanks to genetic refinement. Grandpa Anthony promised to help us evolve genetically on the journey—has it begun?” Sang Sang felt light as air, seeing her long-lost companion. She scanned the control room for others, but found no sign. “Where is everyone? How far have you gotten? When do you expect to reach the temple?”

“So many questions—which should I answer first?” Ye Xiu moved closer, pulling up a wicker chair for her. “Sit. We’ve arrived at the Thousand Thunder Starfield. At our current pace, we’ll reach the temple in about two and a half planetary years—or two and a half months of interstellar time.” He tapped his book, his smile widening. “As for the Celestial Emperor, Captain Knight Cain took him, Green Sprout, Young Dragon Lord, and Hu Yang out hunting; they’ve been gone most of the day, but should return soon. Tom is in the kitchen preparing the celebration feast for everyone’s successful refinement. White Thorn is soaking in the nutrient pool—seeing it for yourself will ease your mind about the gene evolution.”

Two bubbles appeared at the front of the projection, showing Tom and White Thorn’s respective scenes.

White Thorn had shrunk to the size of a three- or four-year-old, curled up fast asleep in the nutrient pool. Next to him, Tom’s kitchen was bustling despite only one person present. Knives of every size danced through the air, and an array of ingredients—many unfamiliar to Sang Sang—filled the space. Tom stood before a row of stoves, tending to dozens of pots, pans, ovens, and grills.

Ye Xiu tapped Tom’s bubble, turning the main projection scene into the kitchen, while Ye Xiu’s control room floated as an airborne bubble.

“Ye Xiu, hurry the Celestial Emperor along—don’t let him forget the real purpose while playing. I’m almost ready, just waiting for his Thunder Cloud Star Beast meat... Oh, Sang Sang!” Tom stole a glance at the floating projection, startled enough for his mental control to falter, causing a cascade of knives and ingredients to rain down. He waved his hand to restore order, his cheeks puffed and golden hair shining like sunlight. “So you’ve shrunk too! We were betting on how young you’d get—looks like the Celestial Emperor lost.”

“You look no more than thirteen or fourteen yourself,” Sang Sang laughed, her eyes crinkling. “Wonderful—you succeeded in the refinement.”

Tom kept an eye on the cooking, replying, “We owe it to Captain Knight Cain. Lord Anthony only left him in charge of the ship and to look after us. The priest, Emy, who was supposed to guide us in training, had an accident and had to retreat. Cain took the initiative, especially with the Celestial Emperor, and trained him rigorously. Everyone passed the refinement, all above fifteen times concentration—even Cain himself was surprised. Ye Xiu can’t refine; Green Sprout must return to her clan for hers; Young Dragon Lord was sent home after completing his by Uncle Long.”

“Wow,” Sang Sang breathed, understanding just how impressive fifteen times concentration was, genuinely happy for her friends. “What were everyone’s refinement concentrations? The Celestial Emperor’s must be the highest, right?”

“Because the ship’s supplies were limited, we all overshot the expected concentration. Aside from Xiao Lang and Jun Shi, only a few of us undertook the refinement; the others are still training. Jun Shi and I had the lowest scores—just fifteen times. White Thorn a bit more than fifteen, Xiao Lang slightly better, Hu Yang exactly sixteen. As for Young Dragon Lord, he wasn’t sure of his exact number, but it’s no lower than ours. The Celestial Emperor’s? You’ll have to ask him yourself.” Tom’s smile turned coy. “He’s a monster—you’ll be shocked.”

Xiao Jin, who had been working, suddenly darted forward. “Is it above twenty times?”

Tom paused, reaching out to touch Xiao Jin’s projection. “No wonder you’re the all-knowing, all-powerful god of the network. Still, Captain Knight Cain said it’s confidential. Wait until you meet the Celestial Emperor and let him tell you himself.” He glanced at the corner, where Sena’s excitement had caused her foot to slip into the projection zone.

“Definitely a record-breaker,” Xiao Jin brushed Tom’s hand away, her little head nodding, green light flickering in her eyes as she returned to work mode.

Sang Sang knew Xiao Jin was trying to crack the principles of the video communication. She herself was curious—how could a virtual projection allow one to touch another and even smell food, making her long to cross over and feast? Tom’s culinary skill was leagues above any machine’s; her usual snacks paled in comparison to even simple home-cooked dishes.

Her attention was quickly drawn to a new bubble.

In the vast, mysterious starry sky, clouds of dust swirled, charged with lightning energy. Thunder boomed, deafening, while arcs of lightning dazzled the eye.

“Tracking the Celestial Emperor’s location. Video window merging.”

Ye Xiu’s figure appeared beside Sang Sang as a bolt of lightning pierced through him and radiated outward. On the other side, Tom, wielding a spatula and clad in a ruffled, floral apron, stood. White Thorn floated behind them, still soaking in the nutrient pool.

The camera penetrated the chaotic storm of lightning, and suddenly the view cleared—the dust dispersed, thunder silenced. Before them, a colossal unicorn beast, the size of a small planet, howled in agony. Blue-violet blood, coursing with electricity, streamed like rivers. Its head crashed down, blood surging like a tsunami to engulf the group.

As the blue waves receded, four figures could be seen atop the beast’s head, like ants clinging to an elephant.

Hu Yang knelt with his sword, eyes closed, catching his breath and restoring his mental energy. Green Sprout's hair had transformed into long vines, wrapping around the beast’s horn, her body swaying in midair. Young Dragon Lord, Chi Xi Ling, reverted to his plump dragon form, gripping the beast’s tongue and dangling outside its mouth, tail twitching. The final figure stood atop the tip of the horn, his silver-white armor fading to reveal black knight’s attire. He turned, surprised to see Sang Sang.

As the camera drew closer, Sang Sang could make out his face. She performed the formal greeting of a holy clergy member. “Uncle Cain.”

Cain’s expression was complicated as he nodded gently, vanished back aboard the ship, and abruptly cut the connection, disappearing from the projection.

Sang Sang squinted, then turned to Tom. “Uncle Cain seems to have an issue with me. Did the Celestial Emperor do something?”