Ye Mo stared at the word on his phone screen without moving.
"Explain."
That single word, as if carved from beneath the ice, was cold and hard, but it certainly made a sound. The Echo he had been waiting for arrived.
He didn't reply immediately; his finger hovered over the screen, as if waiting for his heartbeat to calm down. He knew this step was crucial. The first person to connect had to be genuine, otherwise, the rest of the game would be lost.
He typed. "Which expedition team did you rescue when you last appeared at the Murmansk border? What was the captain's name?"
This wasn't information Tony provided, nor was it written in the file. It was something only someone who had truly experienced that blizzard would know. If the other party was just an imposter, or someone was manipulating him to test him, he wouldn't be able to get past this hurdle.
He placed his phone on his lap and looked up at the sky. The sun was higher than before, shining on the back of his hand, which felt a little warm. But he didn't try to hide from it.
Half a minute later, the vibration began.
He looked down.
"The leader of the Third Polar Exploration Team, Ivan Lebedev, suffers from an old leg injury that causes him pain during blizzards."
Ye Mo's expression changed.
It wasn't because the information matched—it was because of the details. That old wound wasn't even mentioned in the medical records; Ivan only brought it up when he was drunk by the campfire. The only people who could know that were present at the time.
It's true.
He closed his eyes and silently recited in his mind. "Mark ' Frostmark ' as a high-credibility candidate, initiate affinity reassessment."
Deep within consciousness, the Gene Spiral Tower trembled slightly. The text in the eleventh level area began to flicker and refresh automatically:
[Friendliness: Medium (Remain cautious, but willing to communicate)]
[Risk Level: Low (No organizational affiliation, independent behavior)]
The system didn't make a sound, but its functionality had changed. Before, it could only store names; now it can generate structured archives. This shows that "initialization" wasn't just empty talk, but actually unlocked a new module.
He opened his eyes, swiped his finger, and brought up the list of borderline cases that had been deleted. He hadn't completely deleted them; he'd just pushed them to the backend. Now, it was time to put them to use.
He opened a hidden channel and entered the command, "Activate unofficial contact node, push encrypted announcements."
It wasn't called "recruitment," nor "plan," nor did it have any fancy names. He simply wrote one sentence:
You don't have to be a hero; as long as you can stand and breathe, there's a place for you here.
Then add a line of smaller print, " Safe Haven Project - Flexible entry and exit, anonymous, no time limit."
The announcement was disseminated through seven offline channels. Abandoned research station relay radios, underground frequencies used by homeless people, fragments from several neglected dark web forums... all were crammed into this code. The language was fragmented, and only those who had experienced extreme events could piece together the complete meaning.
After he finished doing all that, he turned his phone upside down and placed it face down on his knee, then waited.
The first tremor came faster than expected.
From Cape Town, South Africa.
A young man briefly made a collapsed tunnel "transparent" during a mining accident; witnesses saw him emerge through the Wall Phasing to call for help. His message was only one sentence. "I've seen light shine through the rocks. Who are you?"
Ye Mo didn't reply immediately. He first entered the information into the system, going through the process. Ability Tendency: Spatial Perception; Affinity: Low; Risk Level: Medium. After confirming there was no external signal interference, he typed a single word in the chat box. "Person."
The other party was silent for a few minutes before replying with "Okay".
The second signal came from the Yukon Territory of Canada.
A woman stood under the aurora borealis for seven hours, and the surrounding ice and snow spontaneously formed a ring-shaped barrier, protecting a lost mountaineering team. She didn't ask any questions, only sent a set of coordinates with the message: "If you can find me, I'll believe you."
Ye Mo glanced at the string of numbers, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. He knew this type of person—they didn't talk, only act. He saved the coordinates to his map database, marking them as "responder awaiting verification," and then replied, "We'll go find them, but not now."
She didn't reply, but the system showed that her connection remained online.
The third signal came from another outpost in Siberia, from a man who looked like an old hunter, capable of drawing animals to him even in minus fifty degrees Celsius. He sent a recording of the wind and wolf howls, ending with the words: "I don't need rescue, but I can guard a section of the road."
Ye Mo also recorded this in the file, marking the risk level as "low". This kind of person doesn't care about status, only whether they have something to do.
The fourth person was from a poor neighborhood in Mexico City, a mother of a teenager. Her child had a fever of 40 degrees Celsius, and she was carrying him as she walked down the street, but her temperature remained at 36.5 degrees Celsius. Neighbors said that wherever she went, the air conditioner units outside stopped. She asked, "Can I bring my child with me?"
Ye Mo replied, "Yes, we can. We don't discriminate here."
With each new piece of information received, the Gene Spiral Tower vibrates once. More and more points of light appear on the eleventh floor, like stars slowly brightening in the night sky. They have no names, only code names and status bars. They haven't met yet, but they're already standing on the same map.
Finally, the notification tone sounded again.
This time, it's clearer than last time.
"Recruitment successful, the Gene Spiral Tower Mutants team is formed."
Ye Mo didn't move.
He looked down at the piece of paper on his lap. The three words "ability, will, freedom" were almost translucent in the sunlight. He didn't touch it, nor did he put it away. He just left it there to dry in the sun.
He knew things would get even harder. These people wouldn't trust him immediately, nor would they rush into battle at his mere word. They all had pasts, wounds, and reasons why they dared not trust again.
But he doesn't care about speed. What he cares about is stability.
He opened his terminal, created a new category, and named it " Mutants Response Group." It had three sections: Confirmed, Pending Contact, and Under Observation. Before each name could be added, it had to pass three tests: authentic ability, autonomous expression, and no signs of external manipulation.
He didn't want to build a team; he wanted to create a place where he could breathe.
My phone vibrated again.
This is the second piece of news about " Frostmark ".
"The safe haven you're talking about, is it a place you can actually leave, or just another place to lock people up?"
Ye Mo smiled after reading it.
He knew what she was afraid of. Many people initially said they wanted freedom, only to find the door had long been welded shut. He typed. "You can leave anytime. If you feel something's wrong here, just disconnect. We won't chase you or look for you."
She replied quickly, "What if someone forcibly takes me away?"
"Then fight back," he said. "I'll go with you."
She didn't reply for a long time this time.
Ye Mo didn't urge him. He knew this was a very serious matter. Not everyone could immediately believe that the word "freedom" could still be taken seriously.
Half an hour later, she sent a video.
The scene was shaky, with a blizzard in the background and lights in the distance. She stood in the snow, raising her hands, and the surrounding air instantly froze into ice crystals, like an invisible net covering the entire area. Then she released her hands, and everything melted away.
Finally, she said to the camera, "I'm waiting for you to prove it."
The video has ended.
Ye Mo saved this message in his file and marked it as "Ability Verification Completed". He didn't reply, but simply moved her to the "Core Responder" list in the system.
He knew this was just the beginning.
More signals are being connected.
A man who disappears and reappears in Tokyo subway station; an old woman who makes a withered tree bloom overnight in the Australia desert; a child who can make a storm revolve around Norway fishing village.
Their messages varied widely; some only sent coordinates, some asked if they could bring their families, and some simply said, "I don't want to fight, I just want to get a good night's sleep."
Ye Mo read through each entry and recorded them one by one.
He wasn't in a hurry to respond to everyone. He wanted them to know that this wasn't charity or an order, but a choice.
You came because you wanted to come.
We respect your decision to leave.
As he was processing the seventh new message, a system notification suddenly popped up on his phone.
"Abnormal energy fluctuation detected. Source: Unknown individual. Ability type: Mental Resonance. Strength rating: S-level."
Ye Mo frowned.
S-rank is no small matter. A person with this level of ability is either a monster, a madman, or someone who simply doesn't want to be found.
He clicked on the details and found that the other party had not sent any text, but only uploaded a waveform image. The frequency was strange, like some kind of heartbeat, or like some kind of language.
He stared at it for a few seconds, then suddenly realized something.
This frequency is almost identical to the brainwaves he had when he first activated Regenerative Phasing.
He raised his hand and touched his temple.
This person probably already knew about him.
He typed. "Who are you?"
The other party didn't reply with their name, only sent two words:
"Similar."