It was 11 p.m.
Chen Mo sat upright in front of the computer like a madman about to press a nuclear bomb launch button.
In front of him was not a complex console, but an ordinary electronic map of Donghai City. But this map was presented in his consciousness with a faint blue glow.
His final preparation was to frantically search for real-time updates about "Yanguigui Lake" on various social platforms and local forums.
"Any sisters want to go night running together? Let's meet for the Yanguigui Lake loop route?" — Posted two hours ago. Below were replies like "It's too late, I'm not going" and "Sister, stay safe."
"There are so many mosquitoes at Yanguigui Lake Park at night—I got bitten all over my legs. I'm never going there again!" — Posted one hour ago.
Everything was normal.
Chen Mo breathed a sigh of relief, but his mouse wheel accidentally slipped, and an inconspicuous post came into view.
[Donghai Night Fishing Enthusiasts Club].
Pinned post title: "Latest Fish Situation Analysis for Yanguigui Lake Night Fishing Spots".
A user with the ID "Air Force Brother Wang" replied half an hour ago: "The wind is calm and the waves are still tonight—it's the perfect time to catch big fish! Lao Li and I are going to set up our rods at the old spot next to the central island, fishing all night!"
Chen Mo's heart skipped a beat, instantly rising to his throat.
The central island! That was exactly the core area of the energy reaction he had planned!
Cancel the plan?
The thought flashed through his mind for only a moment before he firmly suppressed it.
The pitiful double-digit balance in his bank card and the landlord's cold ultimatum were like two invisible hands, choking his throat.
There was no turning back.
He had to take a gamble—bet that the two night anglers would leave early because of too many mosquitoes, or be so scared by the upcoming anomaly that they would have no time to think about anything else.
Fortune favors the bold!
Chen Mo gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and completely immersed his consciousness in the [Reality Editor].
With his invisible mouse, he precisely selected the entire area of Yanguigui Lake Park. A translucent blue cube covered the green space and lake on the map.
An instruction input box slowly appeared in the center of the cube.
Chen Mo's fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, then, with a hint of trembling, he typed word by word.
"Within the target area, water molecules resonate with a specific magnetic field, with a 0.1% probability of converting into 'Spiritual Energy'."
The instruction was concise and brutal, full of the crude aesthetics of a science student.
Just as he was about to press the confirm button, the corner of his eye caught an optional box in the lower right corner of the interface labeled [Additional Attributes].
A secret pleasure of playing the Creator, mixed with the playful mentality unique to a geeky young man, quietly welled up in his heart. He moved his mouse as if possessed and clicked on that option.
He thought for a few seconds, a mischievous smile appearing on his face, and added another instruction.
"In its disordered state, the Spiritual Energy in this area has an extremely small probability of spontaneously organizing into simple geometric patterns."
After doing this, he felt like he was adding an insignificant easter egg to a game map editor.
He took one last look at the striking number in the upper left corner of the editor interface—[World Essence: 1.3].
Goodbye, all my savings.
Chen Mo closed his eyes, as if pressing the button of a fateful gamble, and fiercely hit the Enter key for [Compile and Execute]!
In an instant, the only 1.3 units of World Essence in his account were swallowed up like a black hole, dropping to zero in a flash.
The interface of the [Reality Editor] suddenly turned gray. All function buttons dimmed, leaving only a line of cold text appearing in the center and a slowly moving progress bar.
[Compiling world rules... 0.1%]
At the same time, an indescribable feeling of extreme mental exhaustion, like a flood breaking its banks, suddenly overwhelmed his consciousness.
Chen Mo's vision went black, the world spun around him, and he felt as if his bones had been pulled out. He collapsed forward weakly, his forehead hitting the desk heavily, and he completely lost consciousness.
While he was in this vulnerable state of "post-casting lag," an unprecedented change—unknown to anyone—was quietly unfolding at Yanguigui Lake Park, ten kilometers away.
Under the night, the central island was utterly silent.
An invisible wave, like a stone thrown into water, spread out from the geometric center of the lake.
Beneath the water surface, in the mud at the bottom of the lake—undisturbed for a hundred years—some anaerobic microorganisms experienced a slight mutation in a base pair of their double-helix structure, a mutation that defied the theory of evolution.
The trace elements dissolved in the lake water, as if seized by an invisible hand, began to be drawn and reorganized according to a brand-new pattern.
A few seconds later, anomalies began to appear in reality.
A layer of mist—visible to the naked eye, mixed with a hazy seven-colored glow—began to curl up from the vast lake surface, like the morning mist of a fairyland, yet appearing in the middle of the night.
By the lake, the branches of a willow tree swayed in the night wind. Suddenly, its soft green branches began to turn crystal clear at a slow and eerie speed, as if carved from a single piece of green jade, glowing strangely in the moonlight.
Plop!
A fat carp jumped out of the water. Its scales were no longer the ordinary silvery-white, but refracted an unnatural, cold metallic luster in the moonlight.
And in a remote corner of the park, under the dim street lamp.
A thin figure was using a wire to awkwardly pick the lock of a merit box. He was Qiao, the "Ghost Hand"—a well-known habitual thief in the nearby neighborhood.
"Damn it, this lousy box even got a new lock..."
Ghost Hand Qiao cursed, about to change tools, when he suddenly smelled a strange scent—like fresh grass after rain mixed with ozone. He looked up and saw the strange seven-colored mist spreading towards him.
"What the hell! When did the cops start using tear gas?!"
Guilty as sin, his first reaction was that the police were carrying out a surprise arrest. He was so scared that he abandoned the merit box and ran away, rushing blindly into the deep woods in the park—the area with the highest concentration of Spiritual Energy.
He crashed into the thick mist and was immediately choked into violent coughing. But the next second, he felt something was wrong.
This "tear gas" didn't sting his eyes. Instead, when he inhaled it, it felt like a cold yet burning airflow, rushing down his throat into his lungs, then aggressively surging towards his limbs and bones.
Ghost Hand Qiao's legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the grass, his body twitching uncontrollably.
The huge seven-colored mist completely enveloped the entire Yanguigui Lake, isolating all noise and trivialities of the mortal world.
A huge, mysterious stage—exuding a fatal allure—was already set up.
Under the quiet moonlight, it waited for the first audience to step in.