After A-Ling left, Director began to ask Professor Zhou for more details. Professor Zhou responded truthfully, answering each question in turn.

Director listened for a long time before finally speaking. “Old Zhou, better to believe that it exists than to assume it doesn’t. Personally, I tend to believe that such a thing is real. But, as you said, even if it does exist, with our current technology and capabilities, we wouldn't be able to detect it. On the contrary, a misstep could even provoke it. Besides, it hasn’t caused any tangible harm to humanity yet.”

“But...” Professor Zhou tried to protest, only for Director to raise a hand to stop him. “I know what you’re going to say—that it tried to kill Lam and Wei, and there’s that mysterious organization. Yes, but these are isolated incidents, and there’s no evidence that it harbors any ill intent toward humanity as a whole. So, I suggest we stay vigilant, but for now, observe the situation.”

“But we can’t afford to take that chance,” Professor Zhou said after thinking for a moment. “From what we’ve seen so far, it doesn’t seem to have much goodwill toward humans. Wouldn’t it be better to nip it in the bud?”

“Old Zhou,” Director replied, “I still maintain that there’s no proof it intends harm to all of humanity. Look at that mysterious organization—they’re still humans, aren’t they? As long as it’s a sentient being, there’s room for negotiation. And sometimes... necessary sacrifices can be made. Besides, how could we even stop it? We don’t know what it is or where it is.”

Professor Zhou knew exactly what Lin Feiteng meant by "necessary sacrifices." He frowned, feeling displeased, but could only sigh in the end. He had said all he could, done all he could as a member of the human race. If something happened, at least his conscience would be clear.

Seeing that Professor Zhou had dropped the matter, Director changed the subject. “By the way, the Nuwa Project needs to move forward. The development of AI doesn’t just concern our nation’s future; it’s tied to the future of humanity as a whole. From what I understand, Tom Zhang and his team at your old organization have already made progress, even some breakthroughs. We can’t afford to lag behind.”

At the mention of Zhang’s name, a hint of disdain flickered in Professor Zhou’s eyes, though he quickly concealed it. “Rest assured,” he said to Director. “I’ll have Lam and Wei start drafting the experimental plans and push the Nuwa Project forward.”

The Nuwa Project was a multi-generational endeavor, something both Director and Professor Zhou understood would take immense time and effort. Each generation had its mission, and Professor Zhou’s had laid the groundwork. Now, he hoped that Lam and Wei’s generation could build a solid foundation for the future. After all, standing on the shoulders of giants made it easier to reach for the apple.

After exchanging a few more words, Professor Zhou took his leave. When he returned home, he paused at the door, pretending to look for his keys, ensuring no one was around before opening the door. Once inside, he quickly locked every lock on the door and stared at the dust-covered sandalwood cabinet in the corner of the living room, lost in thought.

He stood there for quite some time before snapping back to reality. Eagerly, Professor Zhou approached the cabinet, unlocked the decorative lock, and took out a red box. The wooden box had gathered dust from years of storage, and Professor Zhou blew the dust away, causing a small cloud that made him cough. After the dust settled, the box was still dirty, so he wiped it clean with his sleeve.

After staring at the box for a few moments, Professor Zhou slowly opened it, suppressing his excitement. When the box was fully open, his heart began to race.

As he expected, Lam and Wei had not been lying—what they described was real. This confirmed to Professor Zhou that such an entity did indeed exist.

Inside the box lay a wooden carving of an eye, made from desert poplar. Strange markings adorned the eye, which exuded an ancient aura. The wood was weathered, with visible cracks, indicating that it had existed for countless years. Professor Zhou gently picked it up; it was remarkably light, almost weightless, and its surface was unnervingly smooth, as if it had been caressed for ages.

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After examining it for a moment, he turned the carving over. On the back was an inscription of strange symbols, clearly not part of any known written language on Earth. Yet, beneath these symbols were two hieroglyphs, resembling ancient Chinese oracle bone script.

When Professor Zhou had first acquired this wooden carving, he had written down the two characters and gone to great lengths to consult experts on their meaning. The experts confirmed they were indeed oracle bone script. One character appeared to depict a person walking through a river. The expert explained that the ancient people had discovered that following rivers could lead them to distant places, and so they created this character to symbolize something continuous and unbroken. Over time, it evolved into the modern character for "eternity."

The other character depicted something like sprouting branches or grass growing out of the ground. It symbolized vegetation, and over time, it had evolved into the modern character for "life." Together, these two characters formed the concept of "eternal life."

As for the row of strange symbols, no linguistics expert had been able to decipher them. So Professor Zhou had gone to the region where the wooden carving had been found, hoping to uncover clues. Eventually, in a remote village near the discovery site, he found traces of similar symbols carved into the beams of houses.

At first, the younger villagers were baffled, knowing only that the symbols had been passed down for generations. They had no idea why they adorned the beams or what they meant. However, after speaking with the elders, Professor Zhou gleaned a few hints. According to the elders, this was a special language used during ancestral rituals, though no one knew how far back its origins stretched. The language had been lost to time, and even the oldest villagers could only interpret a few symbols—such as “hands and feet,” “war,” “emptiness,” “blessing,” and “prosperity.” The rest were beyond their knowledge.

As for why these symbols were carved onto door beams, the villagers said they represented protection and peace, intended to ward off evil. Based on the villagers’ recollections and linguistic habits, the first two symbols likely had no specific meaning and were simply preparatory words used at the beginning of rituals.

After combining their current understanding of the language’s pronunciation with the sounds of other symbols, the linguistic experts believed the first two symbols were pronounced “Daka.”

At first, Professor Zhou assumed that this was merely some ancient local tradition and that the wooden carving was just a totem of worship. He hadn’t thought much more of it and had locked the carving away, partly due to a past event he preferred not to recall. Since then, the carving had remained hidden in the box, though he always took it with him when moving house.

However, after hearing Lam describe the dying words of the mysterious organization’s believers, Professor Zhou’s memories slowly resurfaced.

As he pondered the situation, he began to connect the dots. The meanings of the symbols on the wooden carving—“hands and feet,” “war,” “emptiness,” “blessing,” “prosperity”—aligned with the content of the believers' chant: “You shall feel it with your hands, recall and struggle, once and no more. To capture it is but illusion; to see it, dread. Who first bestowed upon me, now I repay; what the world owns, all belongs to me.”

Professor Zhou boldly speculated that the row of symbols on the wooden eye represented the meaning of that chant. It was some sort of incantation, and the chant could only be complete when preceded by the words "Daka."

Given the inscription of "eternal life" on the back of the carving and Lam and Wei’s encounters, Professor Zhou became convinced that this was no mere coincidence. There must be an entity capable of bestowing eternal life, and that chant was a prayer to it.

Professor Zhou also speculated that this entity had existed on Earth for a long time, with worship of it dating back to ancient times. The wooden eye carving was likely made by people who worshipped this entity, and the villagers were their descendants. However, over time, the original worshippers died out, and with them, the prayers and rituals dedicated to the entity faded away, leaving only fragmented remnants.

The original worshippers may have anticipated this eventual decline, which was why they inscribed the symbols on door beams—to preserve the prayer and pass it on to future generations. They hoped their descendants would continue to pray to the entity for eternal life. But history’s relentless passage was too powerful, and the truth of the matter was lost. Still, a faint trace of it remained.

Professor Zhou had pieced together the story of the wooden eye carving and the intentions of those ancient people, based on the fragmented clues and Lam’s experiences. However, he still had no further information about the nature of the entity or its origin. For now, his investigation was at a standstill.

As Professor Zhou gently caressed the ancient wooden eye, his mind drifted into the past.

He knew the carving had been around for at least several thousand years—not only because of the oracle bone script on its back but also due to the circumstances surrounding its discovery.