Chapter Twenty-Three: Plans Set in Motion Ahead of Time

To express gratitude for all they now possessed, the ancient ape tribe chose a high ground and erected a colossal statue over ten meters tall. The figure was simple—a gigantic, oval-shaped seed. They called it the God of Hope, symbolizing abundance and happiness. Every time before harvesting the wheat seeds, the ancient apes would kneel and bow three times in front of the statue, repeating this nine times, following an intricate and elaborate ritual.

It’s worth noting that, after years of arduous labor and to better dissipate heat, the thick fur that once covered their bodies like a mantle grew sparser with each passing generation. Though their hair remained dense, it no longer resembled that of true apes; in some places, large swathes of bare skin were visible, dark as though smeared with layer upon layer of charcoal.

Having survived the great famine, the ancient apes abandoned a life of indulgence. They became industrious and resilient, spending every waking hour, save for rest, sowing and harvesting.

In the thirty-six thousandth year of the ancient era, social productivity advanced further, and the first signs of private production emerged among the tribe. This shift was led by the strongest and most hardworking apes, tireless and uncomplaining. They toiled with unmatched diligence, yet when the food was distributed, they received no more than the cunning and lazy. Once or twice they endured, but as it happened more frequently, their discontent festered and erupted into rebellion.

With decisive action, they seized the plots of land they had long coveted. Around their wheat fields, they built fences of forest branches, standing guard day and night. No other ape was allowed to enter or share the grain they had sown; violators risked a severe beating.

Naturally, such behavior caused an immediate stir. The ancient ape tribe split into two factions—one in support, the other opposed. At first, their disputes were mere arguments, but soon tempers flared and they came to blows.

There were at least dozens of fierce clashes, some small, some large, spanning a great length of time. This turmoil shattered the once-glorious Xia Tribe, which splintered into hundreds of small clans. These clans, bound by blood and kinship, ranged from a few dozen to over a thousand members, scattered across the Black Soil Continent. Driven by disputes over grain, they frequently resorted to violence.

By the eighth year of tribal civilization, the ancient ape population across all clans surpassed half a million. This volcanic surge in numbers brought renewal and a vast labor force, but also intensified competition for food. The struggle for sustenance became ever more acute and fraught. Every tribal leader sought to claim the best land and the most grain for their people. Having endured the harshest famine, their obsession with food was more intense, more absolute, than any that had come before.

This was a conflict with no easy resolution.

Fortunately, the Black Soil Continent was vast enough to hold them all. So, despite frequent wars, these rarely became struggles of life and death. In fact, it was common for ten battles to pass without a single fatality, for the apes were merciful in their blows.

Such restraint was almost inevitable, as the ancient apes had not yet entered even the age of cold weapons. All fighting was done with bare hands, and they were remarkably tough—killing one required a group to gang up and batter him for a long while.

Moreover, the losing side seldom fought to the bitter end. Usually, after exchanging a few harsh words, they would turn and flee. The continent was so vast that anywhere could be home; they’d simply find a plot, sow seeds, and in a few months be flourishing once again.

At such times, the victors never bothered to pursue. Their only concern was grain; all else was of no consequence.

Initially, these tribal battles arose spontaneously. But as conflicts became more frequent and intense, certain apes—those born with unusual strength and ferocity—began to attract admiration from the others. Towering and formidable, a single one could defeat a dozen peers, charging into battle like a living tank.

They came to be revered as Shen—the supreme chiefs of the tribe, responsible for all affairs, whose commands none could defy.

Thus, power slowly took the stage of history.

With it came hierarchy. The tribe was no longer a society of equals; differences in status began to emerge.

Most crucially, after the seed of power had sprouted on the Black Soil Continent, Fang Zhuowei could clearly sense the flow of time in the aquarium world begin to slow.

“Power is a special catalyst. With its arrival, a species truly enters a period of rapid development. In a few hundred, or a few thousand years, it may achieve what was never attained in the preceding tens of thousands. Civilizational fruits may soon be born.

“If time still passes too quickly, civilization cannot fully evolve. Even if something emerges, it will vanish in a flash, and its achievements cannot be harnessed for my use.

“Therefore, let it slow further…”

With a sweep of his hand, Fang Zhuowei caused time in the aquarium world to decelerate until one day equaled a hundred and ten years—one hundred years of perpetual day, followed by ten years of polar night.

“However, if the ancient apes develop along this trajectory, it will amount to little more than a simplified replay of Earth’s history. The resulting civilization holds little value for me.”

Fang Zhuowei continued to observe the tribe.

Civilizational achievements are the accumulated wisdom of a species at a certain stage, and as creator, he could share this wisdom without restriction.

Having gone to such lengths to foster a civilization, Fang Zhuowei would not settle for a mediocre fruit.

“Why not spice things up… and forge a supernatural civilization?”

Opening an online marketplace, he found a shop, thought for a moment, and bought a steel longsword, an exquisitely crafted millstone, and a tiny set of toy armor. Each was a miniature trinket, smaller than his own thumb, yet cost him nearly a hundred yuan in total.