The Multiverse Coordination Committee passed the buck; the Liaison Office sent a probing letter

The White Bone Hall.

The atmosphere at the long table fell into an even thicker silence because of Gwen Stacy's last words.

"He didn't say a single useful word."

This summary, though overly straightforward, is exceptionally accurate.

Hela's lips curled into a mocking smile as she looked at Lynn, her eyes conveying a clear message: the so-called rules and procedures are nothing more than a fig leaf for the weak.

Wanda looked down at the terminal in front of her, her fingers rapidly tapping on the Virtual Keyboard, seemingly searching every character of the reply, trying to find hidden loopholes in those smooth, official documents.

Jean Grey sat a little further away, her face still pale. She didn't speak, but listened quietly. The lesson she learned last time made her extremely wary of any "official documents" from higher-ups.

Lynn did not immediately respond.

He picked up the thermos on the table and tapped the rim of the cup rhythmically with his fingers. Once, twice. The only sound in the hall was this monotonous tapping.

"Director Gwen, what are your thoughts?" Lynn's gaze fell on Gwen, who had just finished her report.

Gwen Stacy adjusted her glasses and closed the electronic version of the reply in front of everyone.

"Sir, the Coordination Committee's attitude is actually clearer than we expected."

She paused, organizing her thoughts.

"Throughout the document, they only acknowledged the existence of 'procedural flaws' on the other side, while avoiding any mention of our characterization of 'illegal extradition.' This demonstrates that, within their rule system, the validity of the Interdimensional Extradition Treaty No. 7 exists, or at least is disputed."

"Secondly, they defined this matter as a 'legacy project' and used this as a reason to declare that it 'is not under the jurisdiction of the current parliament.' This is a very typical bureaucratic rhetoric."

In other words, "We're aware of this matter, but we can't and don't want to get involved. You handle it yourselves, and whatever the outcome, it's none of our business."

Hela scoffed, "A bunch of opportunists sitting on the sidelines watching the tigers fight."

"Not only that," Gwen Stacy shook her head, adding, "They also hope to use us to test the waters of this ' Battleworld.' If we win, they can conveniently step in to clean up the mess and claim our victory under the guise of 'maintaining order.' If we lose, they can also intervene with a legitimate reason: 'regional stability has been undermined.'"

"No matter the outcome, they are winners."

This analysis caused the expressions of the people present to darken.

The feeling of being used as a pawn, placed on a chessboard to wear down the other side, made them feel extremely uncomfortable and angry.

"Therefore, submitting any further appeals or protests to the Coordination Committee is pointless." Gwen Stacy's tone was calm, as if stating a given fact. "It would only get us bogged down in endless paperwork and wrangling, wasting our precious time."

Lynn's knuckles stopped tapping.

He looked at Gwen Stacy and asked, "What suggestions does the Liaison Office have?"

"I suggest that we temporarily suspend all petitioning procedures against the Coordination Committee."

Upon hearing this, even Wanda looked up from her terminal, staring at her with some surprise.

In any system, proactively cutting off communication with superiors is an extremely risky move.

"And then?" Lynn pressed.

"Then," Gwen Stacy's gaze swept across everyone present, "We'll find someone else to communicate with."

She pulled up a new document template with only a simple heading. "Request for Establishment of a Working Mechanism".

"Since the Coordination Committee has passed the buck to us and ' Battleworld,' then we'll talk to ' Battleworld ' directly."

"I propose that the liaison office, in the official name of the Negative Zone Management Committee, send a 'work coordination letter' to the unknown coordinates of the ' Battleworld '."

Hela frowned. "Sending letters to a group of kidnappers? Discussing how to return the people to us?"

"Director Hela, please watch your wording," Gwen Stacy immediately corrected. "This is not negotiation, nor is it begging. This is a standard official letter."

"The letter did not address any specific matters concerning Mr. Erik, nor did it mention 'release' or 'return.' We only discussed one thing: procedural alignment."

"Since the other party took the person away by exploiting procedural loopholes in the old treaty, then we will follow their logic and demand that they establish formal and regular communication channels with us regarding a series of issues such as the subsequent implementation of 'Treaty No. 7,' the reporting of personnel information, and the handover of asset supervision."

"We do not recognize the legality of their actions, but we acknowledge the existence of 'procedure' itself. We demand that they, as equals and rule-abiding entities, sit down at the table and discuss procedures with us, just like a formal organization."

Gwen Stacy's ideas changed the atmosphere in the meeting room.

Wanda's eyes lit up; she instantly understood the brilliance of this move.

Jean Grey nodded slightly, a hint of approval on her face.

This is a calculated move, a strategic retreat in the name of advancement.

You like to follow rules and procedures, don't you? Fine, then I'll play along to the end. I'll assign a dedicated person to a specific role, form a special team, and send an official letter requesting to coordinate with you.

If the other party responds, it's tantamount to admitting that they are a communicable entity, thus falling into the pre-set procedural framework of the Negative Zone. Countless official documents and processes can then be used to test and erode them.

If the other party does not respond, it is tantamount to tearing off their pretense of "following procedures" and confirming that they are a group of unruly kidnappers. At that point, any further hardline measures taken by Negative Zone will give them absolute legal advantage, and the Coordination Committee will have no reason to compromise.

This letter is like a probing stone; whether the recipient accepts it or not, it splashes water, allowing those in the Negative Zone to see the depth of the pool.

"I agree with the Liaison Office's proposal," Lynn said, making the final decision.

He looked at Gwen Stacy and added, "The letter must be impeccably worded. The tone must be authoritative and businesslike. We're informing them, not asking them for anything."

"Understood." Gwen Stacy nodded in agreement.

"Furthermore," Lynn turned to Wanda, "The transmission channel will be handled by the Department of Technology. Use the encrypted band from the opposition that we intercepted earlier, but don't use any identity verification; just use our own official sources."

Wanda immediately understood Lynn's intention.

This is both a letter to the "Battleworld" and a message to the opposition within the Coordination Committee: we have given up seeking your help and are prepared to solve the problem independently.

This will put new pressure on those who want to sit back and watch the fight.

"Meeting adjourned. I need the final draft of the letter within half an hour." Lynn said, standing up and leaving the meeting room.

Half an hour later.

Liaison Office.

Gwen Stacy personally proofread every word and punctuation mark in the letter. After confirming that everything was correct, she pressed the send button.

A specially encrypted Data Stream was sent by the Department of Technology's faster-than-light communication array to the cosmic coordinates deciphered from the B-15 Death Code, which pointed to a void.

The Data Stream disappeared into the darkness, vanished without a trace.

It was like a clay ox sinking into the sea.

A day has passed.

Two days have passed.

The void coordinates did not respond.

Just when everyone thought the letter had been lost forever, on the morning of the third day, a forward outpost of the Negative Zone Stability Maintenance Office in New York's Chinatown suddenly received an unusual alarm.

The alarm did not originate from any energy detection device.

It came from the physical mailbox disguised as a mailbox at the entrance.

A field staff member opened the mailbox according to procedure and found that there was something extra inside.

It was a physical letter wrapped in black kraft paper.

The envelope had no stamp, no address, and no signature.

Only on the front, branded with scalding hot wax, was a distorted "Battleworld" symbol, identical to that on the black card.