The Insect King of the End of the World

When I crawled out of the fungus carpet culture tank in the subway tunnel, my carapace was still as soft as soaked rotten flesh. The acid rain "sizzled" at the cracks. The low-level crystal core I swallowed for the first time burned the core of my brain as if a steel needle had been inserted into it. There is no free evolution in this fucking world: swallowing crystal cores will crack the carapace, burn the nerves, and cause bone-eroding pain every time you become stronger. Fortunately, a researcher named Lin Mo crashed into the crack of my carapace. His blood was the only coolant - the moment the blood dripped down, the stinging pain in the brain core could be suppressed by 30%. His pulse beat fast, and my tentacles tightened. Such a bullshit bond is the only life in this broken farm. Gray Hair is afraid of my venom, humans are concerned about the source of blood in my carapace, and Compound Eyes only sees us as animals enclosed in Petri Dish No. 9, Waiting to be harvested when the cycle comes. They all said that it was a breeding farm built by the Gods and humans, and that we were specimens waiting to be slaughtered. But they forgot that there were also those with fangs in the specimens. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.