Zhang Yang stared at a spot in the universe. Under the transforming influence of creation power, an explosion rang out, and a hundred planets were born.
Just like Zhang Yang back then, they were blasted away by the explosion, scattered in every direction.
As the planets spun ceaselessly, Zhang Yang sensed that thirty-one of them had developed wills. With the explosion, they fell into slumber.
Zhang Yang immediately used his will to guide the other planets, constantly suggesting to them that planets were alive, that planets possessed wills.
It was like autistic patients unwilling to wake up, with a psychologist offering constant reassurance, slowly guiding them out of their predicament.
Even the thirty-one planets that had developed wills immediately were now asleep.
Their newborn wills were still fragile. They needed to absorb the creation power lingering in the universe to nourish their wills. When they next awakened, their wills would be fully formed.
Zhang Yang knew this feeling intimately. When he had first been born, an explosion had made him feel like a top, spinning nonstop. He had soon realized that he was a ball.
With his memories intact, he had thought he had transmigrated. Looking back now, he found it amusing.
As Zhang Yang continued suggesting and guiding, another forty-three planets developed faint wills, then fell asleep.
No matter how Zhang Yang prompted the remaining planets, they showed no response. They were probably wasteland planets.
Zhang Yang tried once more, but the result was the same. There was still no response, so he could only give up.
Seeing that seventy-four planets had developed wills, Zhang Yang was already very satisfied.
That was a very high proportion. Without Zhang Yang's intervention, probably no more than forty planets would have developed wills-not even a fifty-percent success rate.
Zhang Yang waited eagerly,