The laboratory returned to silence, broken only by the faint rustling sounds Li Si made as he moved about, absorbed in his work.
Once he entered work mode, the indescribable aura around him grew even stronger—commanding, confident, focused, and carrying a powerful sense of control over the laboratory, as though everything came effortlessly to hand.
With conventional gene-editing techniques, most methods borrowed the properties of certain viruses to cut and paste genetic fragments. If a gene chain were viewed as an actual chain, then the entire editing process essentially used viruses as scissors and glue—cutting off one section, then attaching it to another.
But Li Si's approach shattered the understanding of the other three. He merely wrote and sketched across a whiteboard, and after filling a large section with disjointed, intermittent equations, the gene chains seemed to have become nothing more than familiar toys in his hands.
He tore apart all the genetic samples extracted from the little lizard and his own body, then sifted through them. Like an old market lady casually picking ingredients for dinner, he selected countless scattered fragments and began assembling them in an orderly fashion.
The difference might not sound all that significant, but in reality, it was a fundamental gap.
To use the simplest analogy, the former was merely cutting a privately saved movie from the C drive and moving it to the G drive, or editing two movie clips together. The operator did not need to understand the data code that made up the movie or how it had been filmed; they only needed a rough idea of its contents and a few editing techniques.
The latter, however, involved selecting different code fragments from multiple software programs, making slight modifications, and piecing them together into a complete piece of software. He also had