The clouds ran dry.
The rainy season ended swiftly and decisively.
The floodwaters in the Samei Rainforest fell still across vast stretches. Mud dried and cracked, and the tributaries connecting to outside waterways rapidly receded, breaking apart into individual mud pools.
Xing Rui did not return either. The Green Typhon went back to her Mara River Bend.
Famu stayed on the small island at the center of the swamp,
shedding his skin before the dry season arrived.
He was growing so fast that, although it had not been long since his last shed, he was shedding again.
Shedding was a difficult, lengthy process for snakes, and the same was true for Typhons.
Typhons were powerful, but their skin was tough. His old scales, hard as black iron, split as he rubbed against the rocks. Like a thick black steel cable, he struggled to pull himself free of his faded old skin.
He picked up the empty shell in his jaws and stuffed it into a crevice between the rocks underwater. It was Famu's habit.
He disliked leaving things that carried information about him exposed, such as his droppings. In the rainforest, Famu did not relieve himself just anywhere. He returned to his nest and went in a specially prepared spot, often leaving one huge pile at a time. As for his sloughed skin, which was even more conspicuous and could reveal his size, he took even greater care to hide it.
Famu crawled into the swamp, sending ripples across the water.
His newly renewed black body gleamed with a sharp, dark luster beneath the shimmering water. His serpentine body swayed, stirring up mud as Famu sank into the pool and swam close against the silt.
He had grown larger again.
Muscle clung more tightly to his thick frame, and the overlapping edges of his scales had a thick, wear-resistant, horny texture.
He was hungry again.
He was growing, and growth came at a cost.
Famu emerged from the eastern side of the swamp and wound his way across land. Headscar followed him, knowing what prey could be found in the area.
But the dry season had made the animals cautious, and Famu's hunts sometimes came up empty.
This was the last thing he could do to prepare for the coming low-water season. Afterward, food would become harder and harder to find, and his efficiency would keep falling. While he could still eat, feeding himself into the best possible condition was the wise choice for now.
Fortunately, he hunted down enough food before the dry season sealed off the swamp.
The Black Typhon enjoyed a feast.
After that came the long dry season.
The dry season lasted longer than expected.
Blackwater Swamp shrank into a shallow pool. The water level dropped day by day, until even the hidden nest deep beneath the black water was exposed.
It was a fissure running across the enormous bedrock at the center. During the rainy season, it had lain dozens of meters underwater. Now, dried mud marks clung to the rock face, and a corner of the cavern was exposed.
After Famu fell asleep, the troop of White-Faced Monkeys also grew quiet.
Headscar's whereabouts were unknown. Even without the Black Typhon's protection, he remained one of the rainforest's finest hunters. He did not need anyone to provide for him; he could feed himself.
But without these fellows, Blackwater Swamp grew quiet as well. Occasionally, animals ventured over to drink, only to be attacked by the swamp's crocodiles.
The crocodiles had found this haven before the waterways dried up. They lurked in the swamp and attacked prey that came to drink, filling the ecological niche left by Famu's slumber.
Famu was entirely undisturbed by it.
In the darkness, the Spiral Tree's roots took hold in his consciousness.
Stars lit up one after another. Beneath each bright star was a body Famu had swallowed.
The frequent hunts before the dry season had lit up the entire network of roots. The points of light joined together, like the lights of a city seen from the night sky.
The Staff of Life recorded them and the genes they had left behind.
Famu slowly moved his consciousness, passing over one point of light after another.
They displayed different information: genetic sequences, life structures, and evolutionary paths.
He had once been familiar with these things.
In his human days, he had studied countless similar systems.
But now, all he could do was slide over the points of light representing genetic entries in his consciousness. The terminal could not respond.
Long ago, in his human days, a Staff of Life terminal of this level had required the highest level of information authentication and operating procedures. But now, the supercomputer had been reduced to dust, and his human body had become that of this cold-blooded behemoth over ten meters long. How to operate the system had become the problem facing Famu.
In the laboratory, his younger self seemed to have asked a similar question.
What exactly did the Scepter System's authentication terminal represent?
At the time, he had still been a researcher. His teacher, sitting at a desk piled with documents, had glanced at the screen.
"Do you think a terminal necessarily needs a person to log in?"
"The system requires authorization."
"Where does authorization come from?"
He fell silent for a moment.
"Identity authentication, to verify whether the operator is qualified to use the Scepter System."
His teacher nodded. "So the answer is simple. An advanced system doesn't have a password. A password is only the key to the safe that protects the Scepter System. As far as the Scepter System is concerned, the most important means of authentication is letting it know who you are."
Another way to log in to the Scepter System: as a super-terminal, the Scepter System could independently authenticate the information of the person logging in.
But how could he get the Scepter System to authenticate him on its own?
Famu had long since ceased to be that human scholar, and the Scepter System was probably no longer a supercomputer either.
He had little idea where to start.
But he had plenty of time, and the dormant period was long enough.
Famu kept trying. He tried directing his consciousness to contact the core region and changing the way he perceived things. This way, he could simulate the human operating permissions he had once possessed.
Failure.
He created a login window on the Scepter System and tried entering a login command.
Another failure.
Though even as Famu tried it, he did not believe the second method would work.
The life information provided by his prey was already sufficient.
It was like a piece of software that had already been installed, needing only the final step to start it up—a key.
Famu was looking for that key.
He continued trying.
Until one day, vibrations traveled into his body, interrupting Famu's latest round of experiments.
Famu woke. His senses spread out along the vibrations, and his first thought was that his nest had been discovered and an enemy had invaded.
But Famu soon discovered there was no outside enemy, nor any prey fit to eat, only a group of swamp puppies happily playing in a mud pit.
The vibrations came from inside his own body, from the Furnace Core that had not yet fully formed.
It was vibrating. It was craving.
It needed more life, more energy.
Dormancy was a form of self-protection for a Typhon, but the Furnace Core's growth did not accept such protection. It had its own rhythm, and it would not slow its craving for flesh and blood in the slightest just because its owner had chosen to lie dormant.
Famu's consciousness fully awoke.
He adjusted his body. Beneath his heavy iron scales, his muscles gradually began to move, and strength surged through him.
The dry season was still waiting outside, but he could no longer go on sleeping.
Ultimately, he had simply been woken by his own hunger.