When Emma Frost opened her eyes, Ye Mo was already typing on the keyboard.
The screen is filled with dense streams of data, and signal paths extend outwards like crawlers.
"Here we go again." He didn't even look up. "Four o'clock and three seconds, one tenth of a second longer than last time."
"They're testing your reaction time," Emma Frost said, sitting up straight. "It's not random; they're escalating the pressure rhythmically."
Ye Mo didn't reply. He slid his finger across the touchpad, bringing up the ability module for the thirteenth layer of the Gene Spiral Tower.
Regenerative Phasing, combined with Radar Sense, form an underground tracking mode. Consciousness sinks in, and the geological model begins to reconstruct.
The structure of the secret room five kilometers away slowly came into view.
The rock strata had been blasted and the four walls reinforced. There is an irregular depression in the center, shaped like the grooves of a human brain.
"This isn't the command post," he said. "It's an amplifier."
"What?"
"They don't need screens or buttons." Ye Mo magnified the reflected waveform of the recessed area. "This thing can receive the fluctuations of collective consciousness and then amplify them using divine encoding. Look at the resonant frequency here—it's perfectly synchronized with the human REM sleep cycle."
Emma Frost closed her eyes, and the Mental Network reconnected to the narrowband scan.
All the "touch" records from the past 72 hours were replayed. Each touch occurred at a sleep transition point, with a time error of no more than two seconds.
"It's not a coincidence," she whispered. "They're taking samples."
"It's not just sampling." Ye Mo dragged the data into the analysis interface. "They're creating a collective dream."
He opened the comparison window; on the left was the baseline brainwaves of a normal population, and on the right were the signal characteristics transmitted from the closed room. The seventh layer of harmonic overlap reached 98.6%.
"After each encounter, similar elements appear in the dream reports of residents within a three-kilometer radius." He clicked on an anonymous survey report, "Water, doors, whispers. The repetition rate has risen from 12% the first time to 67% now."
Emma Frost's breathing became heavy. "They're building a consensus."
"Yes." Ye Mo closed the chart. "When enough people dream of the same thing at the same time, reality will crumble. What they want isn't to blow up the bridge and seize power, but for everyone to open that door themselves."
The room quieted down. The sounds of the equipment running became very clear.
"So Loki isn't afraid of being discovered?" Emma Frost asked.
"He'd love for us to see it," Ye Mo sneered. "He knows no one will believe him if he says it out loud. If you say the whole world is being hypnotized, people will just think you're crazy."
But we believe.
"So we can't move." He leaned back in his chair. "They think we're defending against intrusion, but we've seen through their game. The best thing to do now is to play dumb and let them keep acting."
How do I install it?
"Let them think we're in disarray." He pulled up the vibration pile control panel and added three fake signal sources. "I'll create the illusion of eight people in a meeting, and then add some internal conflicts."
He input a forged command stream:
Mr. X advocates a direct assault on the abandoned station.
Emma Frost suggests prioritizing evacuation from the base.
[Unnamed member supports Tony's reinforcement plan]
"They'll be tempted to fill in the missing information," Ye Mo said. "The moment greed takes hold, the flaws will appear."
Emma Frost nodded, then gently pressed her fingertips against her temples. The edge of her Mental Network unfolded, and two new bait packets were quietly released.
A report about " Tony's impending arrival with armored reinforcements" only reveals the timeframe, without specifying the exact number of troops.
Another indication is that "the main AI has a logical vulnerability," leaving behind a crackable encrypted interface.
"The most intriguing part of the information is the half-finished piece," she said. "They'll definitely investigate."
"Then let them investigate." Ye Mo stared at the monitor screen. "We won't stop them, nor will we warn them. We'll just watch from here and wait until they think they've won."
His finger hovered over the communication key, but he didn't press it.
He knew that with just a little effort, he could notify the people outside. But he couldn't now.
"What do you think they'll do next?" Emma Frost asked.
"Deepen the connection," he said. "That 4.3-second contact just now was a signal. They're preparing to move to the second phase, no longer just sampling, but beginning implantation."
What to implant?
"A thought," his eyes turned cold, "Like 'opening the door is the right thing to do,' or 'resistance is pointless.' Once that thought becomes a consensus, the door will open by itself."
Emma Frost was silent for a moment, then asked, "How long do we have to wait?"
"Wait until they lower their guard." Ye Mo pulled up the 3D model, connecting all the known nodes into a network. "You see, every step is proceeding according to plan, but they've overlooked one thing."
"What's up?"
"They were too confident in their own rhythm," he said, pointing to the blank area in the center of the model. "They didn't know we were already standing outside, watching the whole game unfold."
He restarted the jamming program, forging more fake communications. The data stream was mixed with snippets of arguments, retreat instructions, and incorrect location coordinates.
"Let them think we're panicking," he said. "Let them think victory is just around the corner."
Emma Frost closed her eyes again, her consciousness slowly moving along the edge of the Mental Network. Her breathing was steady, but her nerves were extremely tense.
The monitor screen suddenly flickered.
A new signal has emerged.
This lasted for four and a half seconds.
It was 0.3 seconds longer than before.
Ye Mo's fingers stopped on the keyboard.
He neither refreshed the logs nor brought up the analysis tools.
He just stared at the screen, watching the wave line lengthen, end, and disappear.
"They're accelerating." Emma Frost opened her eyes. "It's not a test anymore, it's an advance."
"That means they think the passage is stable," Ye Mo said in a low voice. "They're preparing to increase their output."
Should we continue pretending?
"Of course," he smiled, "And we need to make it even more convincing."
He opened a new command window and entered a line of commands:
[Abnormal high-level Mind Stone fluctuations detected. Immediate relocation of command center recommended.]
Then delete the send option, keeping only the draft state.
"Let them discover this information themselves," he said. "Let them think we've finally found something amazing."
Emma Frost's lips curled into a slight smile. "You're so cunning."
"The system taught me that," he shrugged. "When in danger, play dead first, and then make your move when the other party relaxes."
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze returning to the monitor screen.
The 4.6-second signal has been recorded in the database, numbered 198-07.
He did not assign a priority or set an alarm.
It was just another routine detection contact.
But he had actually memorized the number.
July 198 was the first time the enemy revealed their impatience.
It was also the first time they had come so close to failure.
Emma Frost's fingers tapped lightly on the table, the rhythm matching her heartbeat.
Her consciousness still patrols the edge of the Mental Network, awaiting the next contact.
Ye Mo picked up his water glass and took a sip.
The water was a little cold, but he didn't care.
He put the cup down, which just covered an inconspicuous red mark on the control panel.
That was the starting point of the countdown he had set ten minutes earlier.
The trigger time hasn't arrived yet.
He glanced at the time display in the bottom right corner of the screen.
23:47:12
Thirteen minutes remaining.
There was no sound outside.
The wind didn't stop, and the rain didn't come.
The only sounds were the operation of the equipment and the calm breathing of two people.
He raised his hand, hovering it over the communication key once more.
It still wasn't pressed.
He knew that the best thing to do right now was to do nothing.
The monitor screen flickered again.
The signal lasted for 4.9 seconds.
Ye Mo's fingers moved.