Undeniably, he achieved a feat unprecedented in human history—transforming the human body's life form from carbon-based to pure energy, achieving a perfect combination of consciousness and matter.

This was not merely a scientific breakthrough but a philosophical redefinition—life was no longer constrained by a physical shell but existed in a freer, higher-level form.

A Mao's gaze moved from her palm, slowly sweeping across the Laboratory.

Wherever her sight landed, countless tiny green light points seemed to silently dance and respond in the air. She subconsciously raised her fingertip, pointing at the charred remains of a metal instrument nearby, its surface scorched from an energy overload.

Without any incantation or obvious movement, at the instant her will stirred, the cold metal rapidly lignified at a visible speed, and a layer of moist greenness appeared on its surface.

Tiny tender shoots, as if drawn by an invisible brush, quickly spread and intertwined, covering the scorch marks in the blink of an eye, forming a vibrant miniature tundra.

The tender leaves unfurled, even blooming a few rice-grain-sized white moss flowers, exuding a fresh, moist, earthy scent.

Professor Yan's eyes widened; he could hardly believe his senses.

He had always thought A Mao's abilities were limited to energy control and shapeshifting, but he never expected her to be able to change the essence of matter through sheer will, instantly transforming lifeless metal into wood and imbuing it with vibrant life.

"This..."

Professor Yan gasped, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

He staggered to the instrument, his fingers trembling as he touched the new life through the screen, as if feeling the breath of life on the plant, his voice distorted by extreme excitement:

"Direct transformation at the material level... at the elemental level! Catalysis! No, it's creation! A Mao, what... what do you feel? How did you do it?"

A Mao didn't answer immediately; she just stood there quietly, her expression dazed, clearly not expecting to have achieved this herself. She slowly closed her eyes, seemingly sensing the strange yet familiar energy flow within her body.

After a moment, she said softly, "I don't know... it's like an instinct. I can 'see' its structure, and then... it just became the wood I wanted it to be."

Her voice was soft and clear, carrying an inexplicable certainty. Professor Yan held his breath, afraid to miss a single word.

Zuo Feng was also stunned, speechless. An ancient saying spoke of immortals having the art of "turning stone into gold," but that was merely a mythical legend. Yet, the ability A Mao displayed before them truly turned myth into reality.

Although it wasn't "turning stone into gold," it was "turning gold into wood," and most incredibly, she even imbued this wood with life!

Zuo Feng muttered to himself, as if trying to convince himself that none of this was an illusion.

He recalled countless legends of "creation" throughout history—from the alchemist's Philosopher's Stone to the mythical Nüwa molding humans from clay, all pointing to humanity's most primal desire: to transcend natural laws and control the creation of life itself.

And now, this desire was manifesting before him in an unprecedented way.

He suddenly realized that what A Mao did was not just change the form of matter, but in a sense, simulate the most fundamental creative power of the universe—the power to create from nothing, to turn the ethereal into the real.

All of this was more shocking than immortality.

Professor Yan's fingers flew across the instrument as he roared into the communicator:

"Quick! Record all data, pull up A Mao's brainwave spectrum and energy fluctuation curves!

This might be the first time in human history that real-time data of the 'creation' process has been captured!

Bring me a sliced sample of that new plant body from the Laboratory; I need a full-spectrum molecular scan!"

His voice was almost trembling with fanaticism, his eyes gleaming with the primal passion of a scientist facing the unknown.

The lights in the Laboratory seemed to become blinding at this moment, and the entire space was filled with an almost sacred tension.

Professor Yan's expression was fervent, and he constantly muttered to himself, as if repeatedly confirming the reality of it all.

"Controllable genesis... controllable transformation... perfect structural reorganization, without any energy loss... consciousness guides energy, energy reshapes matter! This is... this is a living Creator!"

Zuo Feng's expression twitched slightly, looking at Professor Yan, who seemed to have fallen into a frenzy, fearing that this old scientist might suddenly drop dead from excitement. This was Firefly's precious treasure, after all.

However, Zuo Feng also knew Professor Yan's temperament; whenever he encountered a major discovery, he would completely immerse himself in it, forgetting everything else.

He wondered how, at his age, he managed to maintain such a state of excitement without any ill effects. It seemed the pre-apocalyptic experts' advice on maintaining a peaceful mindset for health might not apply to everyone.

Watching the researchers completely engrossed in their busy and frenzied work, Zuo Feng quietly exited the Laboratory.

"Immortality... creation..." he repeated silently.

Professor Yan's fervent words and the miracle of life blooming from A Mao's fingertips intertwined repeatedly in his mind.

To escape birth, aging, sickness, and death, and to imbue inanimate objects with life with a wave of a hand—this was indeed the ultimate form humanity had dreamed of for thousands of years.

It was like a comet suddenly streaking across the dark sky of the apocalypse, dazzlingly bright, yet with an unknown trajectory, uncertain whether it would ultimately ignite hope or bring destruction.

Zuo Feng's steps paused as he slowly walked out of the Laboratory.

The fervent atmosphere in the Laboratory still echoed in his ears; Professor Yan's almost delirious shout of "Creator" hammered at his reason.

An existence with nearly infinite life that could freely transform matter and create life... this power itself already transcended the scope of human understanding.

A Mao still recognized them now, her consciousness stable, but how long could this stability last?

When her power grew to the extent Professor Yan predicted, enough to break through existing energy forms, could that familiar soul still maintain its 'A Mao' essence in the vast torrent of energy?

He dared not delve deeper into the profound meaning behind Professor Yan's phrase, "a living future blueprint."

Was this "future" the dawn of collective evolution for all humanity, or did it belong only to Firefly, with its successful case?

To put it another way, was humanity, struggling between zombies and mutated beasts, truly ready to welcome such a "miracle"?

Even more unsettling was the power level A Mao displayed at this moment—having only lit the eighth Lotus Seed, her strength was equivalent to the Ten-Bar Zombie stage!

She could "turn gold into wood" and bestow life with a wave of her hand. What terrifying power would those existences at the even higher Eleven- and Twelve-Bar stages, and the potentially even higher Thirteen-Bar stage, possess?

Would they also touch upon the realm of "creation," or even... surpass it?

A layer of cold sweat seeped into Zuo Feng's palm.

Pre-apocalyptic understanding was overturned so thoroughly; humanity's once firm belief in the world, life, and the laws of the universe now seemed as fragile as a weathered sandcastle before A Mao's lotus-heart-like eyes.

Humanity once mocked the cognitive limitations of a frog in a well, but now it had become a self-deprecating reflection.

In the face of higher life forms, wasn't humanity of old just that frog at the bottom of the well?

Their perceived worldview and survival logic were merely naive fantasies from a higher life form's perspective.

Humanity prided itself on civilization, ruling Earth with technology and wisdom, yet had never truly touched the surface of cosmic laws.

Now, A Mao's existence was like a mirror, reflecting humanity's insignificance and ignorance.

What was called the peak of science before the apocalypse was merely the self-indulgence of blind men feeling an elephant.

Zuo Feng couldn't help but wonder, if all of this became known to more people, how would humanity react?

Would they prostrate themselves, be terrified, or eagerly pursue this power that far surpassed their comprehension?