Herodotus watched his body.
His body grew faster and faster—thirty-six times, thirty-eight times. He rapidly aged, as though he had entered a wondrous state of enlightenment at impossible speed, stepping into an inconceivable realm.
His consciousness and thoughts raced. The essence of his body suddenly appeared before him with astonishing simplicity. The genetic code that all the gods prided themselves on became, before his eyes, a crooked, hastily stitched-together unfinished building.
"Creation Arts are flawed."
"These life-gene codes have form but no spirit. They were randomly spliced together—an utter mess."
Herodotus's thoughts turned.
If creating life was compared to painting, then the gods were not even mediocre copycat AI painters. They gathered fragments from various masterpieces and manually synthesized a plagiarized painting.
Such paintings were stitched-together plagiarism, lacking the seamless artistic conception pursued by true masters of painting.
"Our works have no artistic conception. They're just pieced together."
"The Third Awakening should be the completion of the body."
His consciousness shifted slightly.
He removed the powerful two-star genes from his body—the elf, fly, and mosquito genes.
He kept only the two-star "Electric Eel Gene" as his primary gene, adding a large number of weak, auxiliary one-star genes to highlight the primary gene and create a perfect combination.
He repaired the entire building, and it gradually transformed into a beautiful, seamless genetic structure.
Crash, crash, crash!
He was like a great master of painting whose name would go down in history. His genetic structure was recompiled and rearranged, becoming perfect and harmonious, like nature's own miraculous craftsmanship, radiating a rounded, harmonious beauty.
On Earth, every earthly life-form except Li Qing, that alien, was crude and ugly, devoid of beauty. They were all mountains of garbage code.
Even after billions of years of evolution on Earth, life still retained vast amounts of