In the courtyard, under the blazing summer sun, the wind stirred up by his fists slowly subsided.
Yet Lin Tuo couldn't calm down for a long while.
For years, due to work, he had kept up his martial practice only sporadically—lazy, half-hearted.
He had thought that after resigning and returning home, he'd need time to pick up his skills again. He never expected… just by absorbing the Ether of Yang City, his entire being would undergo a rebirth. In one stroke, he had fused twenty years of training, pushing the Weapon-Forming Fist to the Minor Accomplishment stage.
"No… with Ether's blessing, this is no longer mere martial arts. It's close to sorcery." Lin Tuo exhaled forcefully.
His whole body felt relaxed, his spirit brimming with vitality, his body light as air. But he knew—just now had been a special case.
To reproduce that strike would not be easy. He would need time to fully digest the Ether stored within him.
This attempt also confirmed what the Evolution Sand Table had said: this mysterious gas truly had immense benefits for life.
"How much Ether do I have now?" he asked once his mind steadied.
[Current Ether value: 98]
"Only ninety-eight? Out of a city with several million people?" Lin Tuo was startled.
Immediately, the Sand Table's explanation surfaced in his mind:[Collecting Ether through the Sand Table causes massive conversion loss…]
The explanation was long, but after parsing it with closed eyes, Lin Tuo understood.
Simply put, the Ether above Yang City wasn't so little, but activating the Sand Table to collect and convert it consumed most of it.
What he received was only the remainder.
Theoretically, Ether could be absorbed without the Sand Table—by using the Breath-Eating Technique he had just unlocked.
But that efficiency was even lower… and far too time-consuming. Compared to training by himself, using the Sand Table was far more cost-effective.
"How can I get more Ether? Do I just wait for it to regenerate slowly?"
Lin Tuo pressed further. With just ninety-eight points, he had experienced such a leap—it was something no intelligent being could resist.
Yet according to the information, Ether regenerated very slowly. After this harvest, Yang City's Ether concentration would take days to recover.
[Keyword detected. Providing two feasible solutions based on host's request.]
[Solution 1: Purchase additional area in the Shop to expand Observation Mode range.]
Lin Tuo paused, then quickly understood.
If Ether existed across all cities and countryside, then by expanding the Sand Table's observation range, he could absorb Ether from other cities as well.
Imagine one day, if he expanded it enough to cover the whole Earth—he could, in theory, harvest globally.
"But… that won't work." Lin Tuo grimaced.
The Shop's price was steep: 1,000 points per 10,000 square kilometers. He had only ninety-eight.
Even if he emptied himself, he couldn't afford it. He would have to save up to a thousand before expanding.
But who knew how long that would take?
Sensing his frustration, another message surfaced in his mind:
[Solution 2: Use the Evolution Sand Table's "Creation Mode" to generate new Ether sources.]
"Creation Mode?" Lin Tuo's gaze shifted to the virtual panel.
It was right below "Observation Mode," though its meaning was unclear.
In the next moment, a flood of information poured into his mind.
To summarize:
Observation Mode lets him view real regions of Earth.
Creation Mode lets him select a real-world area and "cut it out," turning it into an isolated sandbox.
Within that sandbox, he could use the Sand Table's powers to evolve civilizations, giving rise to intelligent beings… and then harvest the Ether they produced, with accelerated time flow compared to reality.
The principle was simple, but the implications struck him like thunder.
"Cutting out part of Earth to evolve civilizations and harvest Ether… isn't that too much?"
This wasn't just creating a fictional simulation.
The civilizations he evolved would truly exist on Earth.
Everything he created inside would exist at a 1:1 scale.
Once Creation Mode activated, in this age of information, the whole world would know.
Imagine if he turned Antarctica into a sandbox—the news of the entire continent's "disappearance" would spread worldwide in minutes.
And when the isolation was lifted, humanity would suddenly discover that the barren land had transformed completely…
What a global upheaval that would cause!
"Isn't there… a gentler option?" Lin Tuo asked nervously.
[...]
"…Alright, guess not. I won't force you." He sighed, rubbing his face, and began to think seriously.
At first glance, it seemed absurd. But in truth, Earth had many uninhabited regions.
Choosing barren land as a sandbox might not be so bad…
After all, no one would know it was him.
"Why not… try it?"
The thought once born, could not be suppressed. After a moment's hesitation, Lin Tuo returned to the old house, stood before the Sand Table, and tapped "Creation Mode" with his mind.
The display shifted.
Yang City's image dissolved into countless motes of light.
In its place appeared… a flat, world map.
Yes—!
A dynamic world map filled the Sand Table.
Unlike Observation Mode, however, it was hazy, without fine details—only continents and oceans.
Directly before him lay the white expanse of Antarctica. Shifting his gaze, he found an isolated landmass in the ocean.
"Australia."
Even without labels or borders, its shape was unmistakable.
"If that's Australia, then on the right must be the Pacific Ocean… and on the left, the Indian Ocean…"
Lin Tuo muttered as he oriented himself.
Without borders, colors, or names, the world map suddenly felt unfamiliar.
Only China's outline stood out—something he had seen countless times.
He then noticed faint gridlines dividing the world into blocks.
[Creation Mode activated. Please select sandbox area.][Note: Selected area must be under 300,000 square kilometers.]
Lin Tuo blinked. The rules resembled Observation Mode, except this time the limit was 300,000 square kilometers.
Would it be expandable later? Unclear.
"Too small, and no civilization can emerge. Too large, and it's not allowed… I need to use all of it wisely…"
His gaze swept across the seven continents.
"Populated places are off-limits, or I'd become a doomsday villain… it has to be barren… Antarctica's huge, but too remote and unique… hm?"
Suddenly, his eyes stopped at China's northwest.
The country's largest "no man's land"—the Taklamakan Desert.
"I recall… its total area is about 330,000 square kilometers…" The number sparked an idea.
Perfect size.Utterly barren.Close to home.
And with China's long-running desert greening projects, countless people wished to see it turned into an oasis. If he chose it, perhaps he could even change its ecology.
When the sandbox closed, it might leave behind a blessing.
As for problems—he, the "creator," would be there to manage them.
"What if people or buildings exist inside the chosen area?" Lin Tuo asked.
[During sandbox creation, host may choose to relocate intelligent beings and special constructions.]
"It can do that?"
His final doubts vanished.
He bent over the table and began selecting grids.
Each touched grid lit up, representing part of the desert.
Because the Taklamakan was irregular, it took effort. Along the way, he marked out existing highways to be relocated.
By the end, he had chosen just under 290,000 square kilometers.
[Selection complete. Create sandbox in chosen area?]
"Yes!"
[Confirmed. Cleaning selected area… Relocating constructions… Generating isolation barrier…]
As the words echoed in his mind, the Sand Table shifted. The world map vanished, leaving only the desert region he had selected.
Around it rose a translucent dome, sealing the area from the outside world.
…
At that moment.
In the endless Taklamakan Desert, afternoon sun beat down.
On a black ribbon of highway cutting through the wasteland, several cars sped along.
It was a small but well-known film crew, shooting on location.
Inside one car—
"How long until we get there?" a crew member fanned himself, sweating as he glanced at the roadside poplars.
"Almost. What's the rush? The sun's brutal right now, you don't want to be out there," the assistant replied.
"Hey… my GPS just glitched. The map app's broken?"
"What happened?"
"The location jumped. It says we're dozens of kilometers away from where we actually are…"
The assistant frowned, but before he could say more, the driver swore loudly.
The car slowed sharply.
"What now?" everyone asked.
The driver's face was pale, eyes wide, finger trembling as he pointed through the windshield. His words stuttered in fear:
"The road… the road… it… moved!"
…
That moment, across the Taklamakan Desert—
All four highways shifted.
Silently, without warning.