Ye Mo stood in the center of the armory hall, the purple electric net pressing down layer by layer, like an automatic security door that lowers in a supermarket, only missing a red "No Entry" sign. He was panting heavily, his left arm's Steel Bone still humming, like an old-fashioned electric fan covered in dust, making a lot of noise and struggling to turn. The Regeneration he had just experienced had almost killed him, and he was only able to stand up because of his indomitable spirit.
He knew he couldn't hold out much longer.
But in those few deathly quiet seconds, a very slight tremor came from the western crack—not footsteps, but a fluctuation of mental energy. Emma Frost was moving.
She didn't run or shout. Instead, she crouched behind the broken pillar, her eyes tightly closed, a vein throbbing slightly on her forehead, and a trickle of blood that had just seeped out from under her nose, already half-dried. Her fingers dug into the cracks in the stone, her knuckles white, and she looked like a bowstring stretched to its limit, ready to snap at any moment.
Ye Mo understood what she meant: she was looking for the way.
He didn't make a sound or move closer, but slowly took half a step, shifting his body slightly behind the southeast-facing ruins to give Emma Frost a safer space for mental probing. He knew he couldn't disturb her at a time like this, like if your deskmate was guessing multiple-choice questions in the last minute of an exam and you suddenly tapped him on the shoulder and asked, "Have you finished your essay?", you'd just be asking for trouble.
But he still blurted out, "The system says there's a delay in the energy output."
He wanted to slap himself as soon as the words left his mouth. At a time like this, blaming the system? Who would believe that?
But these words weren't meant for the system; they were a coded message for Emma Frost. He knew she could hear and understand them—the purple electric grids weren't operating independently; they had a rhythm, like a heartbeat, strong and weak, with a 0.6-second pause in between. Normal traps wouldn't behave like this; delays only occur when remotely controlled or when signal transmission is obstructed.
Emma Frost's eyelashes trembled.
It's done.
Her consciousness, like a net, flowed upstream against the faint fluctuations, piercing through layers of illusionary interference, like searching for a broken fiber optic cable in a blizzard. The first few attempts failed, the mental backlash causing a throbbing pain in her temples and a metallic taste in her mouth. But she gritted her teeth and continued pushing.
The third time, she touched it.
That wasn't a mechanical Circuit, nor was it a magical rune linkage; it was a "thread" so thin it was almost invisible—a mental connection. The other party was remotely controlling the entire trap system through some kind of deep consciousness, its frequency perfectly synchronized with the purple electric grid.
She saw the scene: a dark space, a figure sitting on a high platform, draped in a black mist robe, his hand resting on Crystal, each light tap of his fingertip causing the electric grid in the hall to drop a little.
Malekith.
He wasn't physically present, but rather controlling the situation remotely. His physical body might still be on the main ship, or even on this planet, but his consciousness covered the entire area like a Wi-Fi signal.
Emma Frost almost burst out laughing—isn't this just remote working? Working from home and still having team-building games and murder mystery games? Truly the nemesis of corporate slaves.
But she had no time for banter. She quickly constructed an information model, drawing an energy Circuit diagram in her mind: the core of the trap was supported by seven stone pillars, but what truly drove it was the Mind Stone link extending from a distant space. If the link was disturbed, even for a second, the formation would become unbalanced.
She opened her eyes and stared directly at Ye Mo.
The next second, a clear thought echoed in Ye Mo's mind, devoid of emotion, containing only the content:
"It's not destruction, it's frequency interference. He's distracted, and the formation collapses."
Ye Mo paused for a moment, then grinned, revealing a set of teeth that looked like they'd been stained with cigarette smoke. "Wow, girl, you can even break this?"
He immediately lowered his body, crouched down next to Emma Frost, leaned against the broken pillar, and whispered, "Where's Thor? This job requires a three-person team."
Emma Frost shook her head. "Can't get in touch. He's on the west side, but the patrol is blocking him."
Ye Mo squinted at the direction of the crack and saw dark figures moving back and forth. At least three squads of Dark Elves were taking turns on duty. It was impossible to pass on a message; shouting would attract a mob.
He thought for a moment, then tore off a corner of his hoodie, his movements as gentle as if he were afraid of waking a sleeping cat. He then pulled a small piece of Vibranium from his pocket—about the size of a fingernail, its edges slightly dulled. It was a scrap he had taken from Klaue and had been carrying around as a talisman.
He wrapped the cloth strips around the fragments, then casually pressed them onto the Steel Bone arm. The metal instantly enveloped and secured the fragments, forming a makeshift catapult.
"I'll make a call," he said.
Emma Frost rolled her eyes.
The next second, Ye Mo's arm jerked violently, Vibranium fragments shot out like bullets, striking the stone wall in the northwest corner with a crisp clang. He then fired two more shots, spaced slightly apart, with a peculiar rhythm—the Asgard emergency rallying notes Thor had taught him, meaning "Come back quickly, this is serious!"
The two held their breath and waited.
Three seconds later, in the shadows of the western rift, a blurry figure paused slightly, then slowly nodded.
They've arrived.
Ye Mo breathed a sigh of relief and turned to look at Emma Frost: "What's the next step? How much longer can you hold on?"
Emma Frost didn't speak, but simply raised her hand to wipe the blood from her nose, leaving her fingertips stained with blood. She closed her eyes to regulate her breathing, which gradually became steady, but her face grew paler and paler, like a cold drink just taken out of the freezer.
"One minute of high-intensity sensing at most," she finally spoke, her voice hoarse. "It must be successful in one go."
Ye Mo nodded, stretched his shoulders, and his Steel Bone emitted a low-frequency hum, like the warm-up of an old motorcycle before starting. He looked in Thor's direction, raised his left hand, and made a "prepare-control-attack" tactical gesture: first clench his fist, then open his palm and press down, and finally raise his index finger and thrust forward.
In the distance, Thor slowly raised Mjolnir, gently tapping the ground in confirmation.
The three of them didn't exchange a single word, yet they had already reached a consensus.
Emma Frost took a deep breath, closed her eyes again, and focused her consciousness like a needle, precisely piercing the mental link. She couldn't sever it, as that would immediately trigger an alarm; she could only interfere, creating a brief "signal interruption," like a sudden frame drop during a live stream.
She began simulating noise, injecting it little by little into the other party's channel. At first, there was no response; Malekith's mental strength remained as steady as a rock. But she wasn't in a hurry; she continued to increase the intensity, like secretly limiting the speed in the router's backend.
Finally, the descent rhythm of the purple grid showed a barely perceptible delay—it slowed down by 0.3 seconds.
It's done!
She suddenly opened her eyes and hissed, "Now!"
Ye Mo immediately stood up, his Steel Bone extending from his arms to his shoulders and back, forming a half-shield. Instead of charging at the enemy, he turned to face the control platform in the center of the hall and kicked the metal box, making a loud noise.
"Hey! I'm back!" he shouted with a booming voice, like a square dance leader warming up before the show. "That was just a warm-up, now let's get started!"
This shout indeed attracted the attention of all the Dark Elves. They all turned to Ye Mo, their spears locked on again.
At the same time, Thor leaped out of the crack, his hammer tip touching the ground, and the current instantly spread, forcing back the two patrol teams.
Emma Frost, at this moment, unleashed her full mental interference—no longer simulating noise, but directly projecting a false message: "Enemy main force has broken through the southern area, reinforce immediately!"
This is psychological warfare.
Even the most composed Malekith would instinctively be distracted to confirm. That moment of wavering was the key to breaking the deadlock.
Ye Mo stared at the purple electric net, waiting for it to collapse.
But after a few seconds, the power grid remained completely still.
His heart sank.
Something's not right.
Emma Frost noticed it too, cold sweat pouring down her forehead. "He... didn't fall for it. The connection was too secure, like a double backup."
Ye Mo gritted his teeth. "So, you mean they didn't even take our little tricks seriously?"
Emma Frost nodded, her breathing slightly unsteady. "We need stronger interference. Either a physical impact combined with mental shock, or... someone who can get close enough to interrupt."
Ye Mo glanced to the west. Thor was still fighting off three groups of enemies and couldn't break free at all. He himself wasn't in good shape either; his Regeneration was still on cooldown, and his Steel Bone system was as sluggish as a gear with sand stuck in it.
Just then, the purple light overhead dropped even further, leaving it only five meters above the ground.
Time is running out.
He suddenly remembered something and asked in a low voice, "You just mentioned 'frequency interference,' does that mean all you need to do is make his consciousness fluctuate? It doesn't necessarily have to be cut off?"
Emma Frost nodded. "Yes. Even a second of distraction will cause the formation to become unbalanced."
Ye Mo's eyes lit up. "Then stop with the pretense. Just give him something real."
Emma Frost was taken aback. "What do you mean?"
Ye Mo grinned, revealing a set of white teeth. "Can't you read minds? Find a secret he least wants anyone to know and read it aloud right now."
Emma Frost froze, then realized. "You mean... psychological humiliation?"
"Pretty much." Ye Mo shrugged. "Anyway, he can't see you. Just pretend he spammed 'The boss is actually afraid of his wife' in his live stream, and he'll definitely have a meltdown."
Emma Frost almost burst out laughing, but quickly composed herself. She closed her eyes, reconnected to the mental link, and this time, instead of pretending, she directly infiltrated Malekith's surface consciousness.
Instead of searching for memories, she focused on emotions—fear, anger, obsession... Ultimately, she locked onto a recurring image: a collapsed palace, a little girl standing in the ruins, reaching out for help, while Malekith stood motionless in the distance.
She didn't understand what this meant, but she knew it was a thorn in his side.
So, with her last ounce of strength, she clearly projected a sentence into her mental channel:
Why didn't you save her back then?
Somewhere in the hall, a very faint muffled sound seemed to come, like a crack appearing in the glass.
Immediately afterwards, the purple grid suddenly paused, and its descent speed decreased sharply.
Ye Mo looked up, a smile playing on his lips, "It moved!"
He immediately gave the signal, Thor understood, raising Mjolnir high, crackling with electricity, ready to strike.
Emma Frost collapsed to the ground, her face deathly pale, blood gushing from her nose again, but she still stared intently at the overhead electric fence, her voice weak yet resolute. "Just... just one more... and it'll break..."
Ye Mo straightened up, his Steel Bone Shield activated, and grinned as he faced the approaching Dark Elves from all sides:
"Come on, I haven't finished singing karaoke yet."