Ye Mo's fingers were still pressed against the wall. The current traveled along his fingertips into the ground, and the moment it connected to the vibration pile network, the signal light three hundred meters deep flashed.
This is not a false alarm.
It's not a geomagnetic shift either.
It's data transmission back.
He withdrew his hand, his palm burning hot, as if he had just been struck by lightning. A system notification sounded in his mind: [A complex Mental Resonance field has been detected; a remote triggering device may have been activated.]
He didn't say anything, but turned his gaze to Emma Frost.
Emma Frost stood still, her brow furrowed. Her eyes were closed, her mental senses still tracking the lingering brainwaves Thor had left behind. A few seconds later, she opened her eyes, her voice low and menacing. "Something's wrong."
"What's wrong?"
" Thor's memory waveform... is completely identical to the psychological implantation experiment Loki conducted on the Asgard priests three years ago," she said. "The images, the rhythm, the emotional fluctuations, even the subconscious frequency are the same."
Ye Mo sneered, "So he really did tell the truth, but the content of his words was pre-arranged?"
"It wasn't hypnosis," Emma Frost shook her head. "It was induced memory release. The other person didn't alter his memories, but rather made him 'just happen' to recall that pre-arranged scene. It's like... someone planted a timer switch in his brain, and now they've pressed the play button."
Ye Mo looked down at his palm. The scorch marks were still throbbing, and the temperature was at least three degrees higher than before. He knew this was no coincidence.
He pulled up the system log and quickly replayed the entire conversation with Thor. The system automatically marked three high-frequency fluctuation nodes: "Sealed Files," "Mother's Key," and "Unmentioned in the Dream."
The last word made his pupils shrink.
"Wait," he said, "Did Thor mention dreams just now?"
"No," Emma Frost replied immediately, "But the scene he described... the little boy in the corner, holding a rune book... was exactly the same as the scene Loki instilled in his target during his last hypnosis experiment."
The air fell silent for a moment.
Ye Mo suddenly laughed, a cold laugh, "We thought he came to reveal the truth on his own initiative, but actually he was pushed to deliver intelligence to our door?"
"It's not just intelligence," Emma Frost, her voice even softer, "It's the key to activating the program. Every word he said was helping someone complete a chain of instructions."
Ye Mo stopped talking, turned around and walked to the control panel, his fingers rapidly typing on the keyboard. The vibration pile array on the third underground level began to trace back to the source, attempting to pinpoint the path of the information leak. The data stream on the screen scrolled faster, and a few seconds later a coordinate point appeared—300 meters to the north, 120 meters deep.
"Something is receiving signals," he said. "It's not passive eavesdropping; it's responding."
"Who would know we're investigating this?" Emma Frost took a few steps closer and stood beside him.
"I don't know." Ye Mo stared at the screen, "But one thing is certain—this move isn't aimed at me, nor at you. It's aimed at 'what we believed'."
He paused, his tone slowing, "They don't care whether we hear the truth or not; they care whether we accept this version of the truth. Once we accept it, the next step will automatically trigger."
Emma Frost was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly asked, "So, do you believe it?"
"Believe in what?"
"Believe what Thor said— Loki is an orphan of the Jotuns, Odin adopted him to control the planet, and he was raised as a weapon from childhood... these things."
Ye Mo leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin. "Logically, it makes sense. But from a tactical perspective, it's too smooth. It's like playing a game where you haven't finished defeating the boss, and suddenly a cutscene pops up telling you that he was actually in a terrible situation. Do you have to forgive him?"
"You think it's a trap?"
"I think it's a multiple-choice question," he said. "They gave us a seemingly realistic option, making us think we were making an independent judgment. But in reality, our judgment had already been pre-set."
He stood up, walked to the electrical distribution box by the wall, and pulled down the switches on several lines. All the active detection equipment outside the base was turned off, leaving only the vibration piles to maintain minimum power consumption monitoring.
"We can't send any signals out now," he said. "And we can't receive any more 'accidentally sent' intelligence. Who knows if the next one to report will be another living USB drive?"
Emma Frost nodded. "I can block information intrusion at the mental level, but if it's transmitted through normal channels like language, images, or memories... I can't defend against it."
"Then don't let it in," Ye Mo said. "From now on, all information from the Asgard will be tagged three times: who said it, how they said it, and why they said it at this particular time."
He walked back to the console, opened the encrypted logbook, and wrote down: [Fate manipulation information stream, source unknown, countermeasure level one activated].
The system notification sounded again: [Resonance level increased: Information weaponization tendency detected; it is recommended to cut off unnecessary cognitive input].
"You're quite knowledgeable," Ye Mo said in a low voice.
Emma Frost glanced at him. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," he waved his hand, "Just chatting with the system."
She didn't press further, but simply closed her eyes and re-established her Mental Network. This time, instead of scanning the distance, she focused on near-field fluctuations, capturing any unusual energy ripples.
Time ticked by, second by second.
The city lights still twinkled, and the distant sounds of traffic could be faintly heard. Inside the base, only the soft hum of the equipment running could be heard.
Suddenly, Emma Frost opened her eyes.
"Things have changed," she said.
"What?"
"There's a break in the high-altitude energy fluctuations." She pointed to the radar screen, "At two o'clock, eight kilometers above the ground, a brief mental signal flashed by, like... some kind of confirmation feedback."
Ye Mo immediately retrieved the data and zoomed in on the waveform. The signal lasted less than 0.3 seconds, had an extremely low frequency, but a complex structure with obvious encryption features.
"It's not a natural phenomenon," he said. "It's a human confirmation action. Like... someone received a receipt and is checking it off."
"What does that mean?" Emma Frost asked.
"It means," Ye Mo stared at the screen, "That our reactions just now have been recorded. They know we've discovered clues, and they know we've started to suspect. But that's not important."
Why isn't it important?
"Because their plan doesn't require our cooperation until the very end," he said in a low voice. "It's enough that we get to this point. Like a virus, once it successfully infects the first host, the rest of the spread will be automatic."
Emma Frost looked at him. "So what do we do now?"
"Don't move," he said. "Don't contact anyone, don't go out, don't investigate new leads. We'll just stay here and play dead."
"But what about Tony..."
" Tony has to wait too," Ye Mo interrupted her. "Every step now could be a trap. If I call right now and say, 'Bro, come quick, I've discovered a shocking secret,' there might be ten sniper rifles pointed at my head the next second."
He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. "Let them think we're still processing the information. Once they think everything is going according to plan... then we'll make our move."
Emma Frost looked at him, and after a moment nodded gently. "You've changed."
"Um?"
"You used to always want to be at the forefront," she said. "Now you've learned to wait."
Ye Mo smiled and said, "I wasn't afraid of dying before. Now I'm afraid of dying without knowing why."
He raised his hand, watching the scorch marks on his palm slowly cool. The system fell silent, issuing no further notifications.
But his eyes never left the screen.
The signal point 300 meters to the north disappeared.
It's not blocked.
The transmission is complete.
He knew that something had already happened.
It just hasn't shown up yet.
Emma Frost stood behind him, her Mental Network continuing to cover him, her fingers trembling slightly. She sensed another faint energy fluctuation high above, like the wind blowing through power lines, or like someone gently tapping on a keyboard.
Ye Mo suddenly spoke up, "You tell me... if a person speaks the truth their whole life, but every single word is written down in advance by someone else, does that still count as being true to themselves?"
Emma Frost didn't answer.
Because she didn't know either.
On the control panel, a new data stream quietly flowed in, the last recording from the underground vibrating pile. The image froze at a certain moment—a thin crack appeared in the ground 300 meters to the north, and a metal tentacle slowly retracted into the darkness.