A few days later, in a corner of the botanical garden.
Ryan held his breath, his fingertips wreathed in fine electromagnetic fields, covering a patch of overgrown fern leaves.
He carefully adjusted field strength and frequency, guiding the flow of charged ions within the leaf cells.
At first, the leaves only trembled slightly.
Gradually, the abnormally proliferating areas began slowing down, while the previously undernourished regions regained their green.
The leaves became visibly more symmetrical and healthy.
Success.
Ryan pumped his fist in excitement—but the motion was too large, and he accidentally hooked a hanging vine overhead.
Instinctively, he used his electromagnetic field to grab another vine, swinging himself out like a pendulum.
“Whoa—!”
He couldn’t help letting out a strange cry as he swung through the dense canopy, his movements becoming increasingly practiced.
Herta happened to come by to check on progress just then.
Seeing Ryan swinging nimbly between vines, the doll’s face displayed an extraordinarily lifelike look of disgust: “I don’t recall raising monkeys in my laboratory. Has Dr. Primitive been conducting de-evolution experiments on Canglan Star?”
Ryan quickly let go and landed, coughing awkwardly.
“Ahem. Madam Herta, I was testing… um… environmental adaptability.”
Herta ignored him, her gaze sweeping over the restored fern patch.
She raised an eyebrow slightly.
“It seems your experiments have made some progress—primitive methods notwithstanding.”
At that moment, the familiar notification sound rang in Ryan’s mind.
[Module: Cell Biology]
[Mastered Chapters: Chapter One—Fundamentals of Cell Cognition. Chapter Two—Cellular Material and Structural Support Systems]
New knowledge flooded his consciousness.
Ryan’s eyes lit up.
He immediately refocused on a leaf.
This time, he could not only guide material transport but also sense and subtly influence cell membrane permeability—even “reinforce” key cytoskeletal nodes.
Even more remarkable: he could simulate specific bioelectric signals to “deceive” cells, making them enter defensive or growth states prematurely.
In other words, before the cell even detected environmental changes, Ryan had already prepared its response.
This was far beyond trial-and-error with electromagnetic fields.
This was direct manipulation.
He made one leaf close its stomata before intense light hit, and another leaf shut its water channels before dehydration signals arrived.
The cells obeyed his commands like pre-programmed robots.
“This ability… is kind of incredible.” Ryan marveled at the obedient plants.
It was still limited to simple plants and extremely draining, but it meant he’d truly entered the realm of life sciences.
From electromagnetics to biology—was this cheat a bit too comprehensive?
The ability was his, the knowledge was his.
Might as well use them.
Five years passed in the blink of an eye, flowing through daily experiments, study, and Herta doll criticism.
Ryan had grown accustomed to this nearly isolated research life.
He delved deeper into the knowledge the system kept unlocking while attempting to combine electromagnetic field theory with cell biology, producing various strange creations.
The “hybrid Arbor” was eventually brought under control—at least on the biological level.
Like performing physical therapy on an over-energetic giant, he continuously fine-tuned its cellular material distribution, redirecting energy from frantic upward growth toward root consolidation and xylem reinforcement.
The tree was still massive but no longer expanded at a visible rate.
Though he couldn’t control the energy within it.
Using his magnetic field and cell manipulation abilities, he created things that were useless but entertaining.
For example, he enhanced mosquito fat layers and chitin exoskeletons to create super-mosquitoes that could survive harsh winter conditions.
Even better, he solidified a weak inverse bioelectric field on their body surfaces—if someone tried to swat one, their hand would be repelled on contact.
This completely solved the problem of Canglan Star lacking winter mosquitoes.
Ryan considered the research entirely worthwhile.
He could now precisely disrupt all electronic devices within roughly a football field’s range—a walking electromagnetic jammer.
But honestly, this ability was useless in a peaceful laboratory.
The biggest benefit was that telemarketing calls and spam advertisements could no longer reach his communicator.
One signal, one death.
Peaceful.
Occasionally, he thought about Aerido Star—that nuked hometown.
He wanted to go back and look, but he was also a bit afraid.
Afraid that the moment he left the aurora’s range, something might notice him.
Speaking of the aurora—it had become an unsolved mystery in Canglan Star’s scientific community.
Five years, and its brightness, range, and energy signature showed almost no decay.
Scientists had studied it for over a year, losing plenty of hair, without figuring out how it formed.
Eventually, they attributed it to some rare, long-lasting interaction between cosmic rays and the planet’s magnetic field—then dropped it.
Of course, the theory that anything inexplicable was the work of an Aeon also held up.
Either way, besides looking pretty, it caused no harm, so everyone just got used to this eternal green curtain in the sky.
Ryan knew the truth but saw no reason to reveal it.
He’d even secretly used aurora energy to charge some of his experimental equipment—with excellent results.
Financially, he was in a state of being kept.
Herta provided room, board, and materials.
He’d barely touched the so-called credits and had few opportunities to spend them anyway.
But the benefits were obvious.
Five years, and he hadn’t caught a single cold.
Whether his body had been subtly modified by his abilities, or the lab environment was just too clean, or the aurora overhead was silently nourishing him—he didn’t know.
He preferred to think Herta’s food was just that good.
He’d only ever seen various dolls.
The real Herta had never appeared in person.
Remote interactions were becoming rarer too.
He understood—a Genius Society heavyweight was probably somewhere in the galaxy, busy challenging Aeons or dismantling star systems.
Who had time to check on a small fry like him every day?
Still, as his research deepened, an occasional philosophical question arose: Was every experiment he performed, every little invention he created, already calculated by Nous, the Aeon of Erudition hovering above the universe?
Was all his effort just following a pre-programmed trajectory?
Had that cold machine head ever glanced at him?
These thoughts occasionally dampened his spirits, but only briefly.
“Who cares!” Ryan always told himself.
“Even if it’s all been calculated, the process is mine, the knowledge is mine. It can calculate all it wants—I’ll keep playing my game.”
Five years of accumulation had given him real confidence.
His electromagnetic manipulation had become increasingly refined.
Cellular-level intervention was second nature.
He’d also worked through advanced knowledge in materials science and astrophysics.
Still light-years away from Herta’s level, but self-defense shouldn’t be a problem now.
He casually picked up several pieces of ordinary carbon-based material from the workbench and held them in his palm.
A few seconds later, he opened his hand to reveal a crystal-clear diamond.
Simple.
Boring.
Ryan weighed the artificial diamond and tossed it into a nearby collection bin, already filled with similar items.
Then Ryan conjured a golden orb of light, tiny star-points pulsing rhythmically within.
This was a miniature nuclear fusion reactor he’d assembled from lab scraps—the size of an egg.
By precisely manipulating atomic nuclei movement and collision, he’d successfully achieved controlled fusion of deuterium atoms in his palm.
Of course, he didn’t dare go too far.
This tiny sun’s output was only enough to power a desk lamp, and maintaining it required intense concentration.
If it went out of control, it wouldn’t be like the plant explosions—this thing could level a city…