As the setting sun completely sank into the buildings, the light in the control room dimmed. Ye Mo's fingers were still on the keyboard, and the countdown for " Regenerative Phasing " on the screen ticked down to 87 seconds, the numbers falling one by one like an old-fashioned alarm clock with a cassette tape.
He suddenly raised his hand and touched the back of his neck.
It's not an illusion.
That chill returned, creeping up his spine like someone gently poking his nerves with an ice needle. He frowned, bringing up the Gene Spiral Tower interface—the bottom layer of the data stream suddenly flashed red, and then a line of text jumped directly to the top layer:
[A high-risk energy frequency band has been detected approaching; threat level: orange; source unknown]
Ye Mo stared at the line of text without even blinking.
Three seconds later, he turned off the terminal, grabbed the black hooded sweatshirt draped over the back of the chair, pulled it up to his chin, and casually adjusted his silver half-rimmed glasses. He pressed the side of his wristwatch twice, and the encrypted channel automatically connected.
"X signal flashing red, meet at the usual place."
As soon as he finished speaking, he was already out the door. The corridor lights hummed. He walked slowly and didn't look back, but each step was steady, as if he already knew what awaited him.
Tony Stark was sprawled on a sofa in the repair bay, munching on a sandwich, armor parts scattered all over the floor. The palm cannon module rested on his stomach like a hand warmer. He nearly choked when the communications came through, coughed, and tossed the sandwich into the trash can.
"Not again?" He sat up, putting on his tactical exoskeleton. "Last time you said 'X signal flashing red,' and it turned out Emma Frost's Diamond Form overloaded and blew a hole in my living room."
He activated the wrist projector, accessed the global monitoring log, and quickly scanned the heat source spectrum, electromagnetic wave bands, and satellite movements. There were no large-scale armed gatherings, no unusual flying objects, and not even a single street fight.
"So clean it looks like it's been washed by AI." Tony clicked his tongue, got up and walked out. "Have you been using Regeneration too much? Has your brain started to Self-Healing too?"
When he pushed open the conference room door, Ye Mo was already sitting at the table, twirling a pen in his hand, his eyes fixed on the holographic projector on the table, as if waiting for it to light up by itself.
"So, what system alerted you this time about an 'assassin'?" Tony pulled out a chair and sat down, switching his exoskeleton into hibernation mode. "I just finished repairing the armor's thirty-seventh interface; you'd better not tell me it was because of some weird wind."
Ye Mo ignored him and simply projected the warning message onto the central screen. It had a red border, bold font, system number 001, and a timestamp accurate to milliseconds.
Tony squinted for two seconds, then whistled. "... This time it really isn't gibberish."
He connected his scanning program and began cross-validation. A few seconds later, his brows furrowed.
"Civilian communication nodes have a delay of 0.3 seconds, concentrated in the East Zone Hub 3. This synchronization deviation..." He paused, "... is somewhat like the technical characteristics of remnants of AIM, but cleaner, like an upgraded version."
Before he could finish speaking, the door was pushed open again.
Emma Frost walked in, didn't speak, and immediately sat down in the chair with her eyes closed, her fingertips pressed against her temples. Three seconds later, she opened her eyes and looked at Ye Mo: "There's a disturbance at the East District's Third Mind Stone Beacon, at an extremely low frequency, as if someone is blocking thought waves. It's not natural interference, nor is it equipment malfunction."
She paused for a moment. "I trust your system's judgment."
Tony glanced at her, then at the screen, finally putting the exoskeleton into standby mode and leaning back in his chair. "Alright, you two are right. But the problem is—we know nothing right now. We don't know who's moving, where they are, what they're trying to do, or even whether this is a probe or a full-scale attack."
"But we know they don't want to be discovered," Ye Mo finally spoke, his voice as flat as reading an instruction manual, "That's why they used this low-frequency interference, both to hide themselves and to probe our reaction. If they were going to attack directly, they would have done it already."
"You mean, are they watching to see if we panic?" Tony raised an eyebrow.
"It's not about whether we panic or not," Ye Mo shook his head, "It's about whether we're alert. If we patrol as usual tonight, hold meetings as usual, and drink your expired coffee as usual, then they'll know—we haven't noticed. Next time they take action, it'll be real."
The air was still for two seconds.
Tony raised his hand, remotely accessing the Stark Tower defense system to raise the AI warning threshold, and simultaneously authorized Ye Mo to urgently deploy two backup mechs. Once the operation was complete, he glanced at the time. "It's 7:42 PM. I suggest—from now on, everyone switch to low-exposure standby mode."
"Agreed." Emma Frost nodded. "I'll activate a wide-area Mind Stone scan, covering the main urban area and surrounding transportation hubs, recording baseline changes every five minutes. If any abnormal mental fluctuations are detected, I'll detect them immediately."
She closed her eyes, slowed her breathing, and her mental field slowly spread out, like an invisible net, silently covering the entire city.
Ye Mo stood up, walked to the control panel on the wall, and slid his finger to shut down unnecessary external ports one by one. Public channels were silenced, patrol drones returned to base, and base lighting was switched to covert mode. All external signals were reduced to a minimum, leaving only one emergency line.
"Public missions are suspended," he said. "All personnel are on Level Two alert, no one may act alone, and communications will use one-time keys on a rotating basis."
Tony watched him finish, then suddenly asked, "Do you really think he's one of Killian's?"
"Not necessarily," Ye Mo shook his head, "But the method is similar. After the failure of Extremis Project, their technological route didn't end; instead, it became more covert. This energy frequency band has a similar coding logic to the mental interference from the previous drone swarm."
"But Killian himself is finished," Tony said. "Even if he still has men, he shouldn't be able to make a comeback so quickly."
"So it might not be one of his people," Ye Mo, staring at the screen, "But someone who imitates him."
The three remained silent for a moment.
Tony broke the silence. "They might be after us. Or they might be after the whole system. But either way, they chose a good time—we just finished a game, we haven't completely shut down yet, our Regeneration is still cooling down, and our spirits are relaxed."
"Then let them think we're letting our guard down." Emma Frost opened her eyes, her gaze cold. "Stay vigilant, strengthen our defenses. They want to see us in disarray, so we'll remain still."
"Well said." Tony stood up and slammed his hand on the table. "I'll go recharge the spare mech right now, and while I'm at it, equip the armor with a new algorithm specifically to counter this kind of low-frequency interference. You two—one keep an eye on the system, the other on the brain, and I'll keep an eye on the gun."
He walked towards the door, then stopped. "By the way, Ye Mo."
"Um?"
"Next time you feel a chill down your neck..." Tony turned around, a smirk playing on his lips, "Don't wait for the system to warn you, just kick my door down."
The door closed, and the footsteps faded into the distance.
Only two people remained in the meeting room.
Ye Mo sat back down, staring at the slowly scrolling monitoring data stream on the screen. Emma Frost kept her eyes closed, maintaining the scan, her breathing steady, but her fingers tightened slightly, the tips of her fingers resting on the edge of the table turning white.
It was completely dark outside.
The city lights remained on, traffic flowed as usual, billboards flashed, and convenience stores kept their lights on. Everything seemed peaceful and normal.
But in some corners--
Underneath the subway maintenance manhole cover, the current sensor flickered slightly, deviating from the normal range by 0.6 seconds before returning to normal.
The suburban radar station experienced a 1.2-second signal interruption; after restarting, the log displayed "temporary calibration."
Inside the distribution box of the Beiqiao substation, a relay emitted a barely audible click, as if someone had remotely triggered a switch.
These details are so small that even AI might overlook them.
But they did happen.
A new notification suddenly popped up on Ye Mo's system interface:
[Three weak energy pulses detected, spaced 47 seconds apart, arranged in a triangular pattern, suspected to indicate reconnaissance node activation]
He didn't say anything, but simply marked the information as "to be checked" and casually wrote it down in the temporary log.
Emma Frost suddenly opened her eyes and whispered, "There's an emotional fluctuation in the West End, very weak, like repressed anxiety. It's not an individual issue, it's a collective one."
"It's probably due to rush hour traffic," Ye Mo said.
"No," she shook her head, "It's that feeling... like nothing's wrong, but you always feel like something bad is about to happen. Like the calm before a storm."
Ye Mo glanced at her but didn't refute her.
He knows that feeling.
Just now in the control room, when he touched the back of his neck, it was the same.
It wasn't fear, it wasn't tension, but a physical reaction that preceded the brain's response—like muscles remembering what danger looked like.
He glanced down at his watch; 53 seconds of cooldown remained.
The Regenerative Phasing isn't fully recovered, the Steel Bone Transformation arm is still a bit heavy, and the delay in reassembly after Wall Phasing hasn't been completely resolved. If the enemy knew these weaknesses, they could easily unleash a perfect combo.
But he can't think about these things right now.
He could only ensure one thing—that they were in position before the other side made a move.
"When do you think they'll come?" Emma Frost suddenly asked.
"Not tonight," Ye Mo said. "They just finished scouting the area and still need to analyze the data. The earliest they can do it is tomorrow morning, when we're at our most relaxed during shift change."
"Shall we wait?"
"Wait." He nodded. "But they think we're waiting, when in fact we're already waiting to see how they're waiting for us."
Emma Frost twitched the corner of her mouth, which could be considered a smile.
She closed her eyes again, and her mental field continued to expand.
Ye Mo stared at the screen, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the table, one tap after another, as if counting his heartbeats.
Outside the window, the city lights were blazing.
The wind swept through the buildings, swirling up a piece of waste paper, which hit the glass and then fell.
The conference room lights flickered slightly, then quickly returned to normal.