Ye Mo was still floating beside that floating rock, his helmet visor reflecting the blue light of the Power Stone like a black mirror. Five people—plus a tree—no one moved first. Star-Lord's hand was on the gravity anchor, Gamora's position remained unchanged, Rocket's gun was holstered but the safety was still half open, and Groot's roots were embedded in the rubble, his branches swaying slightly like an old pine tree in the wind.
This quiet won't last long.
Ye Mo blinked. The system remained silent in his mind, just as usual—no prompts, no urging, not even a beep. He had to do it himself.
He slowly raised his hand, pretending to adjust the helmet's view, but actually using the movement as cover to sink his consciousness into the third level of the " Gene Spiral Tower." There lay a Telepathy Fragment that had just been activated, which he had borrowed from Emma Frost. It would get hot after one use, and the cooldown time was entirely a guess. Last time he tried it, he had a headache for two hours, as if someone was drilling into his brain. But he couldn't care less about that now.
He moved forward half a meter, then another half meter, until he was within three meters of Star-Lord. Close enough.
A sweep of the mental field isn't the kind of ruthless brain-searching; it's just a light touch on the edge of thought, like lifting a curtain to peek inside.
The moment the fragment activated, my head buzzed.
On Star-Lord's side, an emotion surged forth—not from the visuals, but from the feeling: an empty spaceship, an old photograph pasted beside the control panel, a woman smiling, then suddenly lifeless. Loneliness, and a suffocating sense of responsibility weighed heavily on him.
Turning his gaze to the Rocket, the guy was seething with anger: the iron cage in the lab, the people in white coats laughing and recording data, while he was treated like expendable material and thrown into the trash heap. But beneath that anger lay a phrase he kept repeating. "We can't let anything happen to them again." He was clearly referring to his freakish teammates in front of him.
Groot was simpler; his thoughts were like tree roots deep underground—silent, profound, with only one thought constantly echoing within him, "Protect. Protect. Protect."
Finally, there was Gamora. Her mind flashed an escape route—the sealed hatch exploding, the corridor stained with blood, a tall shadow roaring behind her. She wasn't afraid of death, but of becoming a tool again. But she also thought: this mission wasn't just about transporting cargo; it was about stopping a Carnage.
Ye Mo withdrew his power, his temples throbbing.
These people aren't doing this for the money, nor are they just aimless slackers in space. They're a group of people who were kicked off a cliff, but they stubbornly clung to the rocks and formed a team, determined to climb back up.
He took off his helmet.
"I didn't read all your thoughts." The voice came through the helmet's built-in communicator, as calm as if discussing the weather. "I only sense one thing—you're afraid this thing will explode, not because you can't afford the compensation, but because many people will die."
Gamora's eyes narrowed, and her hand slid towards the weapon at her waist.
Ye Mo didn't dodge, and continued, "You escaped the rule of a tyrant, so you know best how terrifying uncontrolled power can be." He looked at her, "Every time you look at this gem, you think about how many planets it could destroy, right?"
Gamora neither denied nor nodded, but her fingers moved half an inch away from the knife.
He then turned to the Rocket: "You were used as an experimental subject before, so I will never allow anyone else to be used as a tool. You don't believe me now because you're afraid I'll be another one who uses you as pawns."
Rocket's ears twitched, and he retorted defiantly, "Huh? You've memorized your lines pretty well, haven't you? Did you write out cheat sheets beforehand?"
"If cheat sheets worked, S.H.I.E.L.D.. would have unified the universe long ago." Ye Mo smirked, put his helmet back on, and his tone turned serious. "But this gem isn't a weapon; it's a plague. It amplifies greed, attracts madmen, and drives rational people insane. I'm not here to join you; I'm here to prevent another Ronan from taking advantage of the situation."
The scene fell silent for a few seconds.
Star-Lord frowned. "How do you know Ronan?"
"I know more than that." Ye Mo raised his hand, pointing to the gem. "Its current pulsation frequency is 17 times per minute. The surface is stable, but the internal energy has begun to stratify. In seven hours, the outer protective layer will collapse. Even if it only cracks for a second, the signal will travel to three star systems away. At that time, not only Ronan, but everyone watching it will rush here."
Rocket sneered, "Then why don't you say when it's going to explode? Fortune teller?"
"I don't know," Ye Mo shook his head. "But I can monitor every fluctuation and give you a 15-minute warning. I can tell you who's approaching, from which direction, and how much equipment they're carrying. I'm not here to command, nor to steal credit. I'm just an alarm bell; when it rings, you'll know whether to take cover or fight."
After he finished speaking, he stepped back three meters, returned to his original position, put his hands in his work pants pockets, and stood like a passing repairman.
No one spoke.
Groot slowly retracted a few of the attacking branches, but its roots remained embedded in the rock, ready to spring back at any moment.
Star-Lord glanced at his teammates, then at Ye Mo. "You can go," he paused, "But there are three conditions: First, you can't touch the gems, nor can you get within two meters of the anchoring device; second, you can issue warnings, but we'll make the decisions; third, if you exhibit any unusual behavior, Groot will immediately pin you into the rock."
"Deal." Ye Mo nodded. "I won't touch it, nor will I give orders. The alarm system has no decision-making authority."
Rocket snorted, "Fine, man in black. You're now a 'temporary collaborator,' number 06. Your benefits will be at the lowest level—no overtime pay, and no psychological counseling."
"That's fine." Ye Mo smiled. "I don't want to get too familiar with you guys yet."
Gamora finally took a step forward and stood at the front of the group. "If you really want to cooperate, then prove you can afford the price—come with us and carry it for a while."
"As long as you don't kick me out," Ye Mo looked at her, "I won't let go."
Star-Lord glanced down at the device readings; the blue light was still pulsating, but the frequency was more stable than before. "We need to change routes," he said. "The original plan was to take the Kreeta Route, but now someone is definitely watching the signal trail. Let's detour through the Dark Nebula and use the magnetic interference as cover."
"I can help monitor energy leaks," Ye Mo said. "Every time you adjust the anchoring parameters, I can predict the spread. I can also remind you when to turn off the lights and mute your microphones."
"Sounds like a living alarm," Rocket muttered. "I wonder if it's the kind that can kill both friend and foe."
"You can give it a try," Ye Mo shrugged. "Anyway, I have nowhere else to go right now."
Star-Lord looked up at him and suddenly asked, "Who sent you? S.H.I.E.L.D..? The Nova Corps? Or some government agency that doesn't want to be seen?"
"Nobody sent me," Ye Mo shook his head. "I was just passing by. I noticed this energy was so bright, like someone walking around the slums at night with a searchlight—it was hard not to notice. I can't control others, but at least I can stop a reckless driver from driving recklessly."
"A brute?" Star-Lord glared. "I'm a professional interplanetary transporter!"
"Then who cleaned up your mess when you crashed into the gravity well in Kreeta last time?" Ye Mo retorted. "Don't tell me it was routine maintenance."
Star-Lord opened his mouth, then finally managed to utter, "... You really hold grudges."
"I only remember warning signs," Ye Mo, looking at the blue light. "And this thing is already at the red alert level."
Gamora slowly. "He's right. We can't act alone. Someone needs to monitor the perimeter and provide early warnings. Since he's already involved, refusing to cooperate would only increase the risk."
"So we're a six-man team now?" Rocket looked reluctant. "I thought team culture was just 'four people plus a talking tree'."
"Now it's five people plus a tree, plus a mysterious man in black," Star-Lord corrected. "It's a temporary observation period; he's not officially part of the team yet."
"Understood." Ye Mo smiled. "I don't care about titles, I'll just do the work."
He slowly drifted to a slightly farther position, placing himself within the team's line of sight, but not squeezing into the inner circle. His hands were in his work pants pockets, and the helmet visor reflected a jewel-like blue light, like a silent black lens.
In the distance, the outline of the B-7 shuttle hovered silently in the darkness, its engines vibrating slightly. Closer, five people—or rather, four intelligent beings and a Sentient plant—surrounded a cosmic-level danger that could explode at any moment, probing and assessing each other.
No one made another move.
No one left.
Groot said softly, "I am Groot," in a tone that sounded like a nod.
Rocket checked the weapon; the safety was finally engaged, but the magazine had been replaced with a high-explosive one.
Star-Lord began adjusting the course coordinates, Gamora stood to his side and behind him, her gaze sweeping over Ye Mo's direction before settling back.
Ye Mo stood on the edge of the broken rocks, his palms slightly warm. The system hadn't given any notification, but he knew that the Telepathy had taken quite a while this time, and the cooldown period would probably be long as well. He had to be careful with it.
He looked up at deep space.
The magnetic field in the direction of the Dark Nebula has begun to fluctuate.