Winslow brought his trip down memory lane to a halt. He continued to observe his surroundings with an expressionless face. From the moment he realized he could perform mental grooming for so many military insects without feeling exhausted, he knew his mental domain must be vast. However, truly seeing it was still a shock. It was beyond merely vast; it was an endless galaxy. It was an entire Milky Way, though it was currently dark, with only a few stars flickering in the distance.
Winslow allowed his consciousness to drift through his mental domain for a long time before reaching a conclusion: this was a rather pitiful looking galaxy with only a few stars.
It looked somewhat shabby. Other people’s mental seas contained villas or structures, Winslow thought. His had started with nothing at all. Those few stars had only appeared after he organized and refined the stray energy. This suggested that by grooming female insects and absorbing the polluted black mist from their mental seas, he could convert it into energy for his own use. Perhaps, in time, he could use that energy to decorate this massive galaxy and even recreate his old courtyard.
The idea seemed feasible. To achieve it, he would need to perform mental grooming for even more military insects. First, however, he would have to negotiate with Chris to extend his working hours. Two star-hours, even with continuous grooming, were simply too few. He had no idea how long it would take to fill this galaxy like mental domain at that rate.
Having finished his observations and planning, Winslow felt a renewed sense of vitality.
On the snow-white bed, the young man with silver-white hair, possessing a beauty that seemed otherworldly, slowly opened his eyes. His long eyelashes swept upward, but he sensed a slight resistance. His vision was obscured and felt strangely heavy.
Drawing on his previous experience, Winslow raised his right hand and snatched the little white snake resting on his eyes. He tossed it to the foot of the bed and stood up naturally to wash.
The little snake, having recently eaten its fill and been about to settle into a deep sleep, lifted its head in a daze. Realizing it was now at the precarious foot of the bed where a single roll could send it tumbling, it silently crawled back onto the pillow and collapsed there to continue its nap.
When Winslow emerged from the washroom, he saw the little white snake sprawled twistedly across the pillow like a discarded piece of rope. He pondered for a moment why his spiritual body loved eating, sleeping, and shiny objects so much. They say a spiritual body is the embodiment of its master’s will, yet he clearly had no interest in such things.
The silver-haired young man changed into another outfit Chris had prepared: a silver-white formal suit that closely matched his hair color. It featured a V-shaped collar with ruffled edges, subtly revealing his exquisite collarbones. A corset cinched his waist, emphasizing his broad shoulders and narrow frame. The waistline curved down toward his hips in a way that was exceptionally attractive, while silver chains and silk ribbons dangled from his neck and shoulders, swaying as he moved.
The outfit was extremely form-fitting, accentuating every line of his body. Just as he was about to head out, Winslow paused. He turned back to the wardrobe, found a matching shawl-style cloak, and draped it over his shoulders. The delicate cloak, embroidered with floating flowers, covered his waist and hips, though his silhouette remained visible beneath the fabric as he walked.
As he passed the bed on his way to the door, Winslow reached out and scooped up the sleeping white snake to take it with him. He could not have it sleeping all the time. His little white snake needed to work alongside him to build their mental domain.
And so, the half-awake little snake was snatched up by its master and placed on his shoulder. Taking advantage of the fact that no one, or rather, no insect could see it, Winslow decided not to banish the little snake back to the mental domain. That realm was quite boring anyway. Thinking of that pitch-black galaxy, he did not blame the snake for preferring the outside world.
Upon learning that Winslow had left his room and returned to the mental grooming area, Chris immediately stood up. He wanted to have a robot insect check Winslow’s current physical and mental condition.
Seeing Chris bid a hasty farewell and depart, Samuel’s eyes darkened. He rose and followed. He wanted to see this legendary Male for himself.
Both insects stood nearly two meters tall with exceptionally long legs, and they quickly reached the only mental grooming room in the district. When they arrived, a long queue had formed outside. Because a battle had just ended, many military insects required grooming, and Winslow’s workload had become heavy once more.
Samuel watched as the process moved without a moment’s pause. As soon as one insect left, the next went in. Such speed was unheard of in the entire galaxy. His dark red eyes scanned the military insects emerging from the room. He wanted to see if they were truly under mental control. Could someone really perform mental grooming and mental control in such a short window of time? A trace of doubt surfaced in Samuel’s mind.
He observed each exiting insect carefully. Their mental states had visibly improved, but they looked a bit, well, as if they had been electrocuted. Aside from that, they all wore dazed expressions, as if they had seen something utterly shocking.
A sharp glint flashed in Samuel’s eyes. He wondered if this was a side effect of recent brainwashing. He stepped forward, intending to enter and investigate the truth.
“Marshal! Colonel Chris!” Upon seeing their familiar commanders, the insects in line and those who had finished their sessions bowed respectfully. Samuel and Chris both nodded distractedly.
Chris was distracted because he worried that Winslow, having just groomed the high-risk prisoners in the jail, would harm his health by working today without rest. He wanted to go in and check but feared interrupting the grooming; few Males tolerated others watching them work.
Samuel, however, was determined to verify if Winslow was truly controlling these insects. He needed to see it with his own eyes.
Between sessions, Chris called a halt to the next insect in line. He needed to go inside. Chris entered the room with the robot insect, followed by the imposing figure of Samuel, leaving the remaining insects to stare at each other in confusion.
“Why did two of them go in? And it is the Marshal and the Colonel.”
The other insects shook their heads, equally puzzled, but with no one to provide an answer, they could only wait silently at the door.
Inside, Winslow had already learned to press the electric shock button to wake the insects without a hint of emotion. He was leaning against the side of a soft chair. He was not sitting; he was simply waiting for the next insect to enter, as this position allowed him easy access to the button.
Hearing someone open the door, he did not even turn around. He simply said a quiet, “Sit.”
After a few seconds passed without a response or a sound, he turned around in confusion. Behind him were a dazed Chris and a startled Samuel, whose eyes flashed with a look of pure wonder.