The countdown reached 60.0Hz, and Ye Mo's finger was still on the confirm button.
He didn't move, as if he were nailed to the spot.
My right hand twitched again, more noticeably than before.
He immediately tucked his right hand into his hoodie sleeve, pressed his left hand against his wrist, and felt his pulse. His heartbeat was normal, and the rhythm of the electric arc pulsating in his palm was also normal. The blue light from the chip flashed on and off, synchronized with the frequency of the lightning. Thankfully, his consciousness was still in his head.
He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to walk towards the exit.
Tony had already charged out, his armor leaving a red and gold trail in the snowstorm, heading straight for the high ground of Area A. The storm was too strong; frost began to form on the outer layer of his armor, and the sensors only transmitted terrain data after a half-second delay. He cursed, forcibly switched to manual mode, and flew low along the ridge. The electromagnetic interference module had just activated when a camouflaged signal popped up on the communication channel—a S.H.I.E.L.D.. emergency code, indicating "Target evacuated."
Tony's finger paused, almost clicking it.
But he didn't move.
The dual authentication process is stuck: the voice spectrum doesn't match, and the encryption key doesn't match either. It's fake.
He scoffed, marked the signal as "spam," and continued forward.
Bruce is walking slowly.
He walked into the monitoring station in Zone B, only his own breathing could be heard in his earpiece. The data stream was connected normally; the core temperature, pressure waveform, and vibration frequency were all stable. But one set of data was too perfect, without any fluctuation for ten consecutive minutes, as if it had been copied and pasted.
He frowned, deliberately cut off this output, and switched to manually recording the original parameters. The curve on the screen was regenerated, showing slight fluctuations. This was the real thing.
He whispered, "Don't trust those who seem normal."
Emma Frost closed her eyes, her Mental Network already in place. Her consciousness spread along the C-zone communication link, listening to the emotional fluctuations on every frequency band. Suddenly, a " Silent Zone " appeared on a certain channel—no thought activity, no emotional ups and downs, as if someone had deliberately hidden themselves away.
She immediately set up three layers of filtering barriers and marked abnormal nodes.
Just then, a whisper entered her consciousness:
He's almost there.
The sound was very soft, as if it came from a very far place.
She traced it back and discovered similarities between the voiceprint frequency and fragments of Odin's incantation. The danger level immediately jumped to red.
She immediately sent a warning signal to Ye Mo, using their agreed-upon encrypted heartbeat rhythm—three short beats followed by one long beat, representing "Level 1 Suspicion."
Ye Mo was walking forward in the underground passage.
This place was originally an abandoned energy pipeline, but now it's the only path to the relay point. The signal is severely weakened, and his communication equipment can only maintain a minimal connection. The walls are damp, and the seeping water carries a weak electric current, making his feet numb when he steps on it.
He wasn't wearing protective boots, and the hem of his work pants was already soaked with sweat.
He raised his hand, releasing a faint arc of electricity from his palm to detect the concentration of air ions ahead. The value was normal; no one was lying in ambush. He then tested his connection with Emma Frost and received a faint heartbeat response. Sector C was still operational.
He continued forward.
The passage grew narrower and narrower, and most of the overhead lights were broken, leaving only a few emergency lights flashing red. More and more cracks appeared in the ground, some of which were still sparking. He crouched down to examine one of them and discovered that the residual energy contained trace amounts of Asgard metal. This metal was only found near the Bifrost.
He realized the problem.
This is a natural resonance trap. If he uses his lightning abilities here, he could be remotely detected, or even have his location reversed.
He stopped and took out a lightning rhythm generator from his backpack—a palm-sized black box that could simulate his electric arc frequency to disrupt the enemy's judgment.
He first tested the synchronization stability by applying a tiny current to his palm. The arcing was normal, and the chip's blue light remained unchanged. It was safe.
He then got up and continued to move forward another ten meters.
The repeater box is just ahead, a metal cabinet mounted on the wall with an anti-interference coating on its surface. You can get connected in another ninety meters.
Things are starting to go wrong with Tony.
He had just completed his deployment at the high ground in Area A when the storm suddenly intensified. The ice on the outer layer of his armor grew thicker and thicker, affecting his mobility. The AI suggested activating the high-temperature defrosting program, but he remembered Ye Mo saying that any automated operation could potentially be implanted with a backdoor.
He refused.
Just then, a new message popped up on the communication channel: it was a clip of Natasha's voice saying, "Site B has fallen, Bruce is under control."
Tony looked up abruptly.
Impossible. Natasha wasn't even in the plan.
He brought up the dual verification interface, but the voice spectrum display didn't match, and the encryption key couldn't be verified either. It was fake again.
He coldly deleted the message and sent Ye Mo a short message: "Illusion upgrade, don't trust the audio."
He only realized after sending it that the message took three seconds to send.
Communication delays are getting worse.
Bruce also began to sense something was wrong at the monitoring station in Zone B.
He kept staring at the manually recorded data when he suddenly noticed an unexpected peak in the pressure waveform. He checked the equipment, and everything seemed normal. But when he looked at the screen again, the peak had disappeared, as if it had never existed.
He rubbed his eyes.
It's not a problem with the equipment; someone is interfering with his vision.
He immediately took off his glasses and observed the instrument pointer with his naked eyes. The pointer swung normally, showing no abnormalities.
He whispered, "Don't believe what you see."
He put his glasses back on, but this time he activated the physical filter layer on the lenses, blocking all dynamic image rendering. The screen returned to its original digital display.
The real data is back.
He noted down the current reading, intending to pass it on to Ye Mo.
Emma Frost's mental burden was becoming increasingly heavy.
She not only had to maintain three layers of filtering barriers, but also had to continuously track the source of the whisper. The voice seemed to be coming from multiple nodes simultaneously, making it impossible to pinpoint its location. She tried injecting a disruptive thought in reverse, but the other party immediately and cleanly severed the connection.
Professional-level mind control.
She judged that the other party was at least an Asgard- level sorcerer.
She sent Ye Mo a red alert again, this time using double encryption—a heartbeat rhythm and an electric arc frequency synchronization verification.
Ye Mo received it.
He was walking deeper into the passage, ninety meters away from the relay box. He glanced at the warning message and frowned.
He knew the enemy was already making a move.
He quickened his pace, but each step was firm. The arcs of electricity in the cracks in the ground began to flicker frequently, resonating slightly with the rhythm of his palms. He immediately slowed down, adjusted his breathing, and made the arcs flicker irregularly.
You can't let the other party figure out your rhythm.
As he walked, he checked his equipment. The Steel Bone Structure was intact, the Regeneration program was ready, and the Lightning Control cooling was normal. The chip inside the Faraday cage quietly flashed blue light.
Everything is under control.
He looked up and gazed ahead.
The repeater box is mounted on the wall, and its indicator light is green. Once connected, it can become the final verification node for the three-way signal.
But he didn't rush over.
He stopped ten meters away from the container, crouched down, and shone his flashlight on the ground. The color of the electric sparks in the crack changed from white to pale blue, somewhat like Thor's lightning.
He reached out to test it, and felt a faint suction.
This is not a natural phenomenon.
Someone has set up an energy traction field here, trying to lure him closer and then trigger a trap.
He withdrew his hand, took out a lightning rhythm generator from his backpack, set it to random pulse mode, and tossed it forward.
The moment the device hit the ground, a burst of intense electric light erupted from the crack, illuminating the entire wall.
The trap has been triggered.
He waited a few seconds to make sure there was no further reaction before slowly getting up.
It took him twenty minutes to walk a distance of ninety meters.
Now, he stands in front of the repeater box, his finger hovering over the access port.
The electric arc in his palm was still jumping, and the blue light from the chip was flashing in sync.
My right fingertip twitched again.