Across the real-time trending lists of major search engines worldwide, searches for "Yongye Wakanda" surged by 700 percent in just forty-eight hours.
Two days later.
United States media headlines brazenly thrust Yongye into the spotlight:
"President Yongye says Wakanda should share its Vibranium!"
"Yongye furious over Wakanda's selfishness, plans to teach it a harsh lesson!"
"Golden Armor God of War blasts Wakanda: In a global crisis, your shield isn't there so you can stand by and do nothing!"
Every word was attributed to Yongye, though he had not said a single one of them.
The United States leadership needed him in that position. They needed someone with enough weight to serve as the blade pointed at Wakanda.
Even in Wakanda, deep in the heart of Africa, residents who accessed the outside world through satellite networks began seeing the overwhelming flood of news.
Wakanda's official account posted a brief statement at noon that day:
"Regarding recent discussions of Wakanda's Vibranium resources, our position remains unchanged. Wakanda's technology and resources belong to the people of Wakanda and are not subject to interference by any outside power."
"The alleged remarks by Mr. Yongye, President of the Eye Society, are outrageous! We reserve the right to seek redress and retaliate!"
Within an hour, more than two hundred thousand comments poured in, ranging from "You're garbage" to "Golden Armor God of War, beat them to a pulp." Wakanda's social media team had no choice but to disable comments.
Yongye sat in his office on the top floor of the Eye Society, three screens in front of him.
One played a Fox commentary program, another showed Twitter's live trends, and the third displayed an encrypted access portal to the CIA's internal intelligence network.
He watched the media headlines refresh one after another, the smile on his