The cats wondered if it was an illusion, but above the cube, the cover seemed to be thinning, and some chaotic disorder seemed to be flooding in. The sky was overcast, and the distant Primitive Jungle was continuously collapsing. The Pteranodons' unchecked hunting and the ever-spreading mycelium were destroying the entire ecosystem. If they couldn't quickly identify the problem, they might end up trapped here to death.
When a few cats moved along the cube's walls, they appeared like tiny black dots. Relative to this immensely huge cube, the cats were as insignificant as grains of sand in a desert, and the pale exterior wall of this giant structure resembled a desert under the moonlight, standing coldly and eerily in a blood sea made of mycelium.
They proceeded in the direction Peter indicated and, as expected, the mycelium grew denser. In some places, it even formed a complete sheet, obscuring the ground. Finally, they saw the damaged area full of red; mycelium was continuously pouring out, seemingly trying to engulf the jungle as quickly as possible.
At this moment, a small drone had returned. The cats couldn't go down, but it could. It flew down and brought back good news; there was a small gap on the left side that wasn't filled by mycelium. Although the gap was very narrow, the cats could just fit through. However, it was dangerous—if they failed, given the density of the mycelium below, there was no chance of climbing back up.
But the cats had no other choice. They directed the small drone to the designated position, and Shiller was the first to jump. He leaped lightly, landing steadily on the small drone's head and, before it descended, kicked forward hard, passed through the gap, and, with the fastest speed, jumped onto the platform on the side wall.
Without a doubt, the interior had completely turned into a sea of mycelium. Fortunately, the fungi seemed eager to exit and feed, with all the mycelium pouring out through the damaged area. Wall-crawling was undoubtedly the long way around, so most of the mycelium remained on the ground, with hardly any on the walls, providing a passage for the cats to infiltrate.
The other cats performed well this time and smoothly jumped inside. The area they were in looked like a pipe corridor, appearing to have great vertical depth, with deep blackness at the far end, where nothing could be seen. The walls were fixed with pipes, and below was a sea of blood red.
Peter had a clear idea and said, "We must find the original storage area for these fungi to understand what they are used for. After capturing prey, the Pteranodons drop it from the top layer, and since the fungi are saprophytic, there's no need for long-term cultivation. It's very likely they are slaughtered post-deployment, so the feeding ground won't be far from the slaughterhouse, probably also above. We need to find a way up."
The cats proceeded along the pipe, venturing into the darkness. The building wasn't silent, as faint echoes could be heard, sounding more like biological growth than mechanical operations, adding to the horror.
Reaching the end of the pipe passage, they turned left and soon entered a vast space. Possibly because the space itself was huge, and with the cats being so small, it all felt very expansive. Without the Night Vision Ability, the cats wouldn't be able to see anything in here.
But even with good night vision, the cats' visual range was too short. Due to the room's size, they couldn't see what was in the center, but the small drone flew around and described the situation to them.
"There are several jars in the middle of the room, like tree trunks, but they're containers for holding things, with pipes above—just a kind of cylindrical hollow..."
Peter bared his teeth impatiently and scratched the ground with his claws. The small drone immediately noticed his displeasure and asked, "Do you have a problem with my description?"
Peter suddenly looked up.
The small drone asked again, "Is there a part you don't understand?"
Peter began clawing the ground again.
The small drone pondered and said, "Do you think I'm being too verbose?"
Peter looked up again.
The small drone thought for a moment and said, "I'm just unsure whether you can perceive certain things as I do, so I can only describe them as thoroughly as possible."
Peter, left with no options, was so frustrated that he paced back and forth in the narrow pipe, then suddenly stopped and began tapping Morse code on the metal pipe using his claws, spelling out words in Morse code.
Previously, they had attempted some text communication, but the cats' body structure was unsuitable for writing. Even after scratching the ground for a while, they could only write one or two words, and their situation was too complex for a mere couple of sentences. The survival pressure in the Primitive Jungle was considerable, leaving no time to waste on writing.
Still, they did write some to communicate the basics; otherwise, they couldn't cooperate so well. As for tapping in Morse code, it's similar to writing—inefficient. Peter wouldn't resort to it unless extremely frustrated.
He only sent a line to the small drone: "I am a scientist."
Visible to the naked eye, the small drone froze. This matter demands research even with artificial intelligence. He had known before that the cat's body might host a higher-dimensional soul, but claiming to be a scientist while in such a cute cat's body was a bit hard to accept.
More importantly, Peter showed strong animal traits; he was quite adept at being a cat. Among several cats, he was the most agile, whether running or jumping, possessing the nimbleness of a feline. It's hard to believe he is actually a research scientist.
But the world is full of wonders, Peter is the type of scientist who, if you don't discuss physics, he knows boxing.
Yet the small drone proceeded based on his request to start the report. There were several giant containers in the center of the room, but the interior could not be seen. Pipes were connected top and bottom, initially judged to be liquid pipes. There is a path upward which might be accessible.
After thinking, Peter said, "Not being able to see inside the containers is normal. After all, unlike in movies, people generally don't put dangerous items in glass containers and exhibit them in the center of a hall, fearing they'd get broken and release whatever is inside. At least Iron Man wouldn't do that; he's quite concerned about experimental safety."
They then used the drone to jump up. This time was a bit challenging because jumping up required considerable strength. Fortunately, this room wasn't perfectly square; there was one side wall relatively close to the containers, allowing them to jump on.
Upon reaching the top, they climbed along the pipes. As Shiller climbed, he felt something surging inside, unlike liquid flow, but more like something within the liquid, though he still couldn't decipher the cause.
Peter might have guessed, but he didn't explain, perhaps not intentionally withholding, maybe just wanting others to witness. But Shiller keenly noticed that since entering this enormous building, Peter's mood was quite poor, similar to earlier when he vented at the small drone. Don't be fooled; the actions of a housecat when angry may seem cute, but translating those to human equivalents is like punching a wall twice.
If this were the young Spider Man, emotional fluctuations would be normal; after all, Spider Power speeds up Peter's thinking, thus making his emotional expressions frequent. However, the Peter of the Prime Universe has weathered great storms, and such strong negative emotions are rare.
Shiller also noticed that during the wedding in the Prime Universe, Peter called Iron Man "Iron Man," but after coming here, he referred to him several times as "Mr. Stark," and just changed back to "Iron Man."
Though referring to someone as 'Mr.' is a sign of respect, for Spider Man, "Mr. Stark" signals closeness, while "Iron Man" appears slightly distant. What caused this change?
Considering his previous conjecture regarding the relationships between the Prime Universe Iron Man and Prime Universe The Avengers members, Shiller already knew the answer. Therefore, he didn't point out that Peter was withholding information. Sometimes, avoiding the topic seems more like evasion.
The cats began climbing the pipes upward, needing to speed up because clearly, the mycelium also found this pathway very convenient. The walls were blood-red, even on the pipes, though not much, but going slow might lead to being caught.
Several cats exerted all their strength to climb up. Once up, they didn't need to look—another identical room awaited, with containers and pipes again. They paused for a rest before continuing the climb, through many such rooms, until utterly exhausted, where they gathered on the containers to sleep and recover strength.
The entire cube had no windows, leaving them unsure if it was day or night outside. Perhaps in this ecosystem, day and night were irrelevant, considering everything was simulated. The cats slept, but their muscles remained sore, prompting another rest before climbing onward.
Still, the endless repetitive rooms felt like returning to that lousy game, though the scenes somewhat differed. As the journey progressed, the mycelium increased in quantity and vigor, many times nearly capturing the cats. Fortunate for the drone's help, they managed to escape.
Days passed like this, confronting a severe dilemma—no food to eat.
Cats need food, and the previous tortoise had provided much energy, but enduring hunger with high-intensity activity was untenable. They were now starving, too weak to climb down.
The fear lay in possibly being too late to retreat, since the ecosystem is likely significantly damaged by the fungi outside, potentially leaving no food. They hadn't stocked food before entering because the fungi had preempted them, and trying to snatch it back was futile; best to gamble inwards.
They were left with one option—trying to eat the fungi. It might sound absurd, but it was indeed feasible.