That mysterious, unidentifiable ID was not defending. It was devouring.
Like an ancient deity descending upon the digital dimension, it tore apart and pulverized the torrents of attacks those elite hackers took such pride in, turning them into nourishment for itself.
The livestream came back online.
The maliciously altered product page was restored.
Everything was done in just 0.1 seconds.
Meanwhile, in 108 darkened rooms around the globe...
Those elite hackers who called themselves "Network Ghosts" stared at their computer screens as though they had seen an actual ghost.
Their screens no longer displayed cascading code, but an abyss that swallowed every trace of light.
At the center of that abyss, a line of Huaxia characters blazing with hellfire seared their retinas:
[Trash should be prepared to be disposed of.]
"FUCK!!"
A German hacker let out a scream like a dying man and frantically reached to yank out the power cable.
Too late.
Before his fingertips could touch the plug, a piercing wail erupted inside the computer case-the death cry of electrical circuits overloaded to their limits.
In one ten-thousandth of a second, a terrifying surge of current powerful enough to melt steel flooded the graphics card, CPU, and motherboard.
BOOM!
The computer exploded on the spot.
A white-hot fireball suddenly swelled, illuminating the hacker's face, utterly contorted by sheer terror and despair.
The same scene played out simultaneously at 108 locations worldwide, without a single millisecond of deviation.
At Pfizer headquarters, the screen in front of CEO John Miller also sank into eternal darkness.
Then all his personal devices-his phone, tablet, and smartwatch-simultaneously emitted shrill alarms announcing their demise.
The office door burst open. His assistant scrambled inside, his voice choked with tears as though the world were ending:
"Sir! It's over! The 'Purifier' legion... we've lost