Golden hues painted across the mountainous forests, a reflection of the seasonal transition of deciduous trees.

The sky, draped in a somber grey.

A gentle drizzle, like the fine hairs of a cow.

Birds flew south, while snakes and rodents sought refuge.

In this subtropical winter, cold took on a different guise.

With temperatures hovering above freezing but below 10 degrees Celsius, ordinary insects either froze or entered hibernation. The pervasive dampness became the perfect conduit for the chill.

The forest fell into silence.

Once bustling peaks now stood silent, save for the occasional scurrying of two cockroaches.

The frequency of hunts among the Red Roach tribe warriors diminished. Their excursions lengthened, sometimes taking two to three days to return.

Their prey were large warm-blooded creatures like deer and wild boars, likely subdued with the help of nearby companions. The carcasses brought back were often incomplete, enough only for a small share among them.

The warriors grew frugal, cherishing every morsel of meat, mindful of the scarcity.

One roach, named Spangle, speculated on the reasons behind their winter activity. He attributed it to the radiation from the dominant-level metal core, which led to soul mutations and subsequent genetic changes. Another part, he surmised, was the strengthening of cell activity due to raspberry fruits, enhancing their cold resistance.

Spangle remained conscious and mobile, albeit with a slow growth rate.

The warriors noticed Spangle's ability to move during winter, marveling at his anomaly. Each time they returned from a hunt, they would cut off a chunk of fresh meat and leave it at Spangle's nest entrance.

Spangle appreciated the gestures, reciprocating by diligently gathering dried leaves when the rain ceased, stacking them beneath his planted Force plants.

Plant growth required nourishment, and Force plants were no exception.

The Red Roach tribe's collective memory seemed to lack substantial knowledge of cultivation. Spangle had never seen any of his tribe warriors tend to the Force plants he'd planted, tilling the soil or fertilizing them.

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The soil at the mountain's slope was barren, but decaying branches could enrich it.

Spangle focused on nurturing the raspberry bushes, with another motive in mind: Force plants weren't readily available, and this particular warrior was weak, unable to consume too many Force fruits. Perhaps, by next autumn, after becoming a Force being himself, he could share some with them.

The warriors couldn't fathom Spangle's complex thoughts nor the purpose of his peculiar behavior. Nevertheless, they didn't intervene. During idle moments, they'd silently observe Spangle bustling around the raspberry bushes.

The winter in the forest was quiet but not peaceful; death lingered.

The roach mothers were nowhere to be found.

Spangle ventured out in search but to no avail.

To endure the harsh cold, roaches followed the guidance of their inherited memories, crowding together in nests. But the results were bleak; only a fraction survived, and among those, only the strongest young roaches thrived.

The long winter eventually passed, but only one in ten made it through.

Nature's harsh culling selected the fittest genes for survival and reproduction.

Come spring, those who survived would feed on the corpses of their fallen companions, either fueling their rapid growth or frenzied reproduction.

Then, across the mountains, the Red Roach tribe flourished rapidly, becoming the most populous "dominant insect race."

"Succeeding in absorbing Force energy and completing the 19th molting marks the ascent to Red Roach tribe warriorhood."

"Only those who endure the winter and summer tests can sense the cosmic Force."

"Rest during the day, cultivate energy, and exercise at night to strengthen the body."

"Always consume plenty of meat to maintain peak physical condition."

"To become a Red Roach warrior, the first chosen seed should be a low shrub seed..."

Boom!

The spring thunder rumbled, jolting Spangle from his slumber.

His 18th molting was nearing its end, interrupted by the disturbance.

Dazed, he checked for any side effects, finding none thankfully.

Looking up, he saw the "swastika" symbols drawn on the stone above his nest, each representing six days and nights.

These marks began when Spangle arrived, totaling 25 symbols now—equivalent to 150 days, making it the 151st night.

Adding the 64 days he spent on the adjacent mountain before coming here, it had been 215 days since he arrived on this planet. That was over seven months, experiencing half a scorching summer, a desolate autumn, and a barren winter.

Spangle inspected his new shell, a dull grey in color. He couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia—it was finally his 19th age!

After nibbling on a few leaves, he hastily consumed his discarded shell and some stored animal meat.

Peering outside the nest, the spring rain persisted, not ideal for venturing out.

He settled inside, patiently awaiting better weather.

As the new shell met the air, it slowly hardened, deepening in color until it gleamed with a metallic black in the early morning.

Guided by his soul, genetic mutations occurred with each molting, subtly altering his physique. After over ten times, Spangle's appearance differed significantly from a male roach.

His forelegs were robust and powerful, ending in sharp, scythe-like tips with fine serrations. These could easily cut through leaves, the joints bristling with long spines, shimmering with a dangerous metallic sheen.

He resembled an insect predator, a mantis, but without the cumbersome abdomen, allowing for swift agility.

After relentless training, his wings had also developed, granting him some ability to glide.

Spangle wondered about the new memory gained during his molting—becoming a Red Roach warrior and choosing the first seed. The details were fuzzy.

Of particular interest was the mention of "seed of destiny." Spangle was almost certain it was related to Force plants, but beyond that lay mystery. Excitingly, this planet boasted an abundance of Force plants, offering him choices.

As a human, Spangle hailed from the illustrious House Hoss, a powerhouse in its own right. Ancestors had held positions as governors of a B-level industrial planet, leaving behind a wealth of political connections. In commerce, the family controlled a high-tech company and held stakes in several interstellar corporations. In martial arts, they possessed exclusive techniques, while in the military, elder members served in the Thunder Expeditionary Army's 702 Vanguard Regiment, earning prestigious ranks.

Such a multifaceted family, yet they had only cared for a single Force plant.

"All signs indicate that as a Red Roach warrior, I can cultivate numerous Force plants, establishing my own orchard with an abundance of Force fruits each year!"

Such thoughts filled Spangle with excitement whenever he pondered them.