PCJ – Chapter 614 Instinctive Consciousness

“Genius remembers in a second, bringing you wonderful reading.”

Publishing in one’s own journal has the greatest benefit of allowing a paper to be released as quickly as possible. As for the journal’s influence, no one was concerned. Xu Qingze had already made preparations. The academic journal would publish the two results separately in monograph form, in both English and Chinese editions. These monographs would then be sent to top universities and research institutions around the world.

However, what Xu Qingze valued most was sending the monographs to the Executive Committee members of the International Mathematical Union and the judges of the International Congress of Mathematicians (ICM), which was scheduled to be held in Beijing in August. At that time, the Fields Medal—the highest honor in mathematics—would be awarded.

So far, no Chinese scientist had ever received this distinction. Naturally, Xu Qingze hoped that Zhang Jiaohua’s breakthrough would allow Chinese mathematicians to be more than just spectators at the ICM held in China.

As for the monograph on the complete in-vitro embryo cultivation experiment, there was less urgency. Its influence was already strong enough, and even if it were quickly recognized by the world, winning a Nobel Prize wouldn’t happen overnight. As long as Zhang Jiaohua could successfully replicate the results, the award was just a matter of time.

At this point, Zhang Jiaohua himself was no longer concerned with those things. What he focused on was the formation of the sac-like structures observed in the experiment. In fact, this batch of experiments was identical to the previous one, except for the addition of spirit spring water.

All specimens in this batch had successfully developed sac-like structures. Even more intriguingly, tiny flagellum-like structures had grown from the sacs. These were likely crucial for nutrient absorption, but how had they formed? What factors regulated their growth? These structures shouldn’t exist in normal embryonic development, and certainly not from known genetic instructions. So, where did the information come from?

It couldn’t have come from the spirit spring water—its effects were mysterious, but it couldn’t dictate biological form.

Zhang Jiaohua doodled on paper with his pen. Suddenly, he paused and murmured, “Could it be from the soul flame itself?”

He pondered again—this seemed the most likely explanation. The soul flame might carry the instinctive consciousness of life. In such an environment, the embryo needed to absorb nutrients from its surroundings in order to survive.

“I wonder what kind of monster will come out of this embryo,” Zhang Jiaohua muttered. He sensed that this embryo was fundamentally different from normal mouse embryos. A regular embryo wouldn’t survive such conditions. This one, however, demonstrated extraordinary adaptability and would likely develop into something far stronger.

“I’ll repeat this batch and see exactly how these sac structures form,” Zhang murmured.

The experiment wasn’t yet complete, and publishing the paper at this stage was a bit rushed. But the school needed the prestige. Breakthroughs in both mathematics and biology would bring immense honor. For a long time, the school’s name would be mentioned among scholars worldwide, and media from across the globe would cover the events.

A solution to a world-class mathematical problem rarely faces much skepticism. The logical steps are clear and universally verifiable. As for Zhang Jiaohua’s biological embryo experiment, it had likewise drawn global attention. The implications for biotechnology were immense. Upon seeing the experimental data in the monograph, many researchers came to Beijing hoping to witness the embryos firsthand. Some institutions even wrote to Huang Zhongfang requesting samples.

Of course, Huang Zhongfang refused such requests. Visitors were welcome, and even allowed to participate in the experiments, but samples would not be shared.

Zhang Jiaohua’s replication experiment was progressing well. Early results looked promising, but Huang Zhongfang remained cautious and checked in daily.

“Zhang Jiaohua, how’s the experiment going? Can you replicate the previous results with this batch?” Huang asked.

“Shouldn’t be a problem. And even if we don’t, those previous embryos are still there. Others can verify them anytime. There’s no way they’re fake,” Zhang replied confidently. That batch of embryos was developing steadily.

“Regardless, reproducibility is key. You don’t need to worry about anything else—just stay in the lab and oversee this batch. The school’s Party Committee has already decided: if this replication succeeds, you’ll be approved to defend your PhD thesis and directly awarded a doctorate. They also have another proposal,” said Huang, eyeing Zhang.

“What proposal?” Zhang asked.

“They want you to stay and work at the university, with full professor status. You’ll get a housing unit—either on campus or in any city neighborhood you choose. You’ll also be given a private lab with over 10 million in research funding. Settlement fees are negotiable.”

Huang knew these perks wouldn’t sway Zhang. With his abilities, he could get such offers anywhere.

“Professor Huang, can we talk about that later?” Zhang didn’t agree or decline, but Huang could sense that convincing him to stay wouldn’t be easy.

“Oh, one more thing. The math department also wants to award you a PhD. You’ll be the fastest dual-PhD graduate in the school’s history—a record unlikely to be broken,” said Huang.

Zhang chuckled. “There are probably plenty of geniuses more talented than me.”

“If I meet just one like you in my lifetime, I’m content,” Huang sighed. He used to struggle for funding; now it came knocking on his door—both from the government and foreign biotech companies. But Huang wasn’t going to hand over experimental results for a few dollars. He enjoyed these days—working quietly in the lab, mentoring students. Zhang might outgrow the lab, but others like Mei Qing and Ma Nanli would become its pillars.

There were a few sofas in the lab, but nobody used them casually. They were there for overnight experiments—when exhaustion hit, one could take a nap. Though it was cold outside, the lab was heated, so there was no fear of catching cold.

Zhang Jiaohua didn’t need rest like others did. As a cultivator doing scientific research, he had certain advantages.

Although adding spirit spring water sped up embryo development, the change wasn’t visible to the naked eye. The process was extremely slow. Only through time-lapse video could changes be observed.

Someone was indeed doing that. The lab borrowed a high-resolution camera from the TV station to continuously film the embryos—for both scientific observation and documentation.

Mei Qing grew worried that Zhang hadn’t rested for days. “Zhang Jiaohua, go get some rest. I’ll watch things. You don’t need to be here all the time—you’ll wear yourself out.”

“Don’t worry, Professor Mei. I’m fine. Really, I’m not like everyone else.”

“You’re a strange one. How can you stay this alert after days without rest?”

“Look at me—do I seem unwell? If I couldn’t handle it, I wouldn’t be here. This experiment is important to me. I need to catch every crucial moment. They’re fleeting and easy to miss,” Zhang said.

Mei Qing nodded. “The experiment is important, but so is your health. If you ever feel tired, let us know.”

Zhang smiled. “If I get tired, I’ll say so. But really, I am resting constantly—like a cultivator meditating.”

“Stop with your cultivation nonsense,” Mei Qing laughed, not realizing a real cultivator was beside her.

A few days later, Zhang noticed a strange phenomenon in the reactor—around the fertilized cell, a vortex formed. The spirit spring water was suddenly absorbed around the cell, forming a halo just larger than the cell. The halo shrank, but grew brighter.

Zhang was startled: Could the soul flame be related to spiritual energy?

He stared without blinking. The halo shrank to smaller than the nucleus, but became intensely bright—

Boom!

A golden flame burst from the nucleus—it was clearly the soul flame!

No one but Zhang could have seen this. His heavenly eye allowed him to see structures smaller than nuclei—like a human-shaped high-powered microscope—and also to see spiritual energy. Without this, the light and flame would be invisible.

Apparently, the oocyte could gather spiritual energy—something normally only possible inside a body. But with enough ambient energy, it could do so in vitro. When that energy gathered in a special way, it ignited the soul flame—the seed of the soul.

Zhang had already seen that the soul flames in the earlier embryos were growing stronger. Though weaker than in adults, they were clearly increasing. Once they reached a certain strength, that might mark the soul’s true maturity.

“Zhang Jiaohua, a biotech academic team is visiting the lab today. They’d like to discuss your paper with you. Can you spare time?” asked Huang Zhongfang politely, knowing Zhang had sacrificed all his rest.

“I’m afraid not. This is the most critical phase of the replication experiment. I must observe the formation of the sac structures,” Zhang replied.

“Alright. I’ll receive them and make sure they don’t disturb your work,” Huang said, understanding the importance of the experiment.

He had hoped Zhang could meet them because they were no ordinary team—they were top biotech experts from the U.S., leaders in their field. Direct exchange with them could benefit Zhang greatly.

Yorks, the team leader, had once been nominated for the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine—just narrowly missing the win. He was a heavyweight in life sciences.

“Mr. President, we came to meet the author of this paper. Why can’t I see him?” Yorks asked with dissatisfaction.

Xu Qingze didn’t mind at all and remained calm and composed. It wasn’t him who needed something now — others needed him. That’s the kind of confidence you have when you hold cutting-edge core technology. Xu Qingze leisurely took a sip of tea, cleared his throat, and said, “There’s nothing I can do. I just got in touch with the scientist leading the experiment, but his replication trial is at the most critical stage. Some experimental data must be collected continuously, so he simply can’t spare the time.”

What Xu Qingze really meant was: You came at the wrong time. The replication experiment isn’t even finished yet, and here you are, eagerly showing up uninvited.

Originally, Yorks came to visit mainly to snoop around — to find out how far Huang Zhongfang’s lab had progressed with the research. And if possible, see if he could get his hands on the research technology.