The red light in the training pod went out, and Ye Mo opened his eyes.
It didn't stop on its own; the system forcibly interrupted the connection.
A buzzing sound filled his head, as if someone had gently rubbed the seams of his skull with an electric drill. He raised his hand to rub his temples, his fingertips touching a thin layer of sweat. The fusion hadn't finished yet; the blue and red energies were just beginning to mesh when suddenly the entire 20th floor of the Gene Spiral Tower shuddered violently, as if someone had kicked him from a distance, directly pulling him out of the depths of his consciousness.
"What's going on?" he asked to himself.
The system didn't respond. It never offers any explanation, like an old air conditioner outdoor unit that only reports fault codes.
But he could feel it himself—the unactivated fragments of genes within his body were resonating. A slight, continuous, rhythmic tremor, like a cell phone on vibrate mode in your pocket, and you've just sat down.
Ye Mo pulled down his hoodie, wiped his face, stood up, and walked out of the training cabin. The corridor lights were rather cold, making his glasses reflect light. The crack in his silver half-rimmed glasses was still there, and the left nose pad was a little loose, wobbling when he walked fast. He was too lazy to change them; after wearing them for a while, he actually felt that his worn-out appearance suited his current life: unkempt, but capable of handling things.
The main control room wasn't far, just a few steps away. It automatically sensed when the door opened, and the lights switched from dim to bright. He didn't open the full-screen star map, but only pulled up the energy fluctuation logs for the last seventy-two hours. The data stream rolled down, densely packed with background noise— Cosmic Rays, warp remnants, self-destructing abandoned satellites... boringly normal.
But at the thirty-seventh line, his finger paused.
A high-frequency pulse signal is embedded within, like a dehydrated vegetable packet in instant noodles, completely out of place. It's not a one-time occurrence, but rather it appears repeatedly, with intervals so regular they seem unnatural. Even stranger, its propagation path spreads in a network pattern, as if it's constantly "posting" outwards from a central point.
" Regenerative Phasing " hasn't cooled down yet, so he can't Wall Phasing to investigate the physical source. But he has other tricks up his sleeve.
Ye Mo accessed the authorized interface, connected to the biosensing node data previously deployed by Groot, and then overlaid it with the EMP monitoring network records left by the Rocket, performing a triple cross-comparison. He operated the screen in split mode, using his left hand to pull the time axis and his right hand to switch to spectrum analysis, his eyes fixed on the inflection point of the signal change.
Five minutes later, he leaned back in his chair and whistled.
"This thing can learn."
This isn't a metaphor; it's a genuine learning process. The initial signal jumps felt somewhat clumsy, like a novice driver struggling to shift gears. Later, the transition frequency became increasingly stable, energy loss decreased significantly, and it even began to avoid known interference zones—typical characteristics of intelligent iteration.
He casually took a screenshot of the signal waveform and saved it as [ Unknown Project-A ], then dug out old files for comparison.
Group 1: Residual communication bands of Ronan's fleet. Match rate 68%. Not high, but not low either. This indicates that the person behind it has at least been exposed to Kree military encryption protocols.
The second group: Records of the Wakanda Vibranium Resonance experiment. Ulysses Klaue's little tricks back then caused quite a stir. The comparison results are in—the peak mode similarity is 73%, especially the "compression before explosion" energy release rhythm, which is almost exactly the same.
"Tsk." Ye Mo narrowed his eyes. "This isn't a coincidence; it's copying homework."
The third group was the most difficult to deal with. He hesitated for a moment, but still pulled up a piece of data he had kept privately: a fragment of Mental Resonance intercepted from a secret meeting of the Hellfire Club. Emma Frost was still there at the time, and he managed to get a slight edge of the fluctuation through the " X-Gene Resonance System ".
Halfway through the signal comparison, the system suddenly prompted: [A weak energy fluctuation was detected, resonating with an inactive gene fragment in the host body, with a frequency match rate of 51.6%]
Ye Mo's finger stopped in mid-air.
51.6%, exceeding the critical threshold. This means that this active "mysterious project" likely involves some undiscovered Mutants ability, or... artificially simulated Mutants- like technology.
As he was thinking, the communication panel lit up. Star-Lord's face appeared in the lower right window, with the Milano's cockpit in the background. He spoke while munching on an energy bar, "Bro, you're up late doing research again? I just passed by the control room and saw the lights were on."
"It's not scientific research, it's garbage collection." Ye Mo sent over three sets of comparative data in a package. "Look at this signal, doesn't it look like someone is building Lego? The parts are pieced together haphazardly, but the more they're assembled, the more realistic it looks."
Star-Lord chewed a couple of beats slower, then leaned closer to the screen. "Wait... this frequency... this isn't something an ordinary smuggling crew could pull off, is it?"
"If they were really that capable, they would have already upended the Milky Way." Ye Mo nodded. "So I suspect this is something new. And it's been particularly active lately, like it's testing something."
"Nine out of ten alarms are false alarms, you know how it is." Star-Lord shrugged. "Last time I thought I'd discovered an alien Bitcoin mine, but it turned out to be a bunch of stray cats licking solar panels."
"But this time is different." Ye Mo tapped the table. "It even got involved with Earth's satellite network."
Star-Lord's expression changed. "When did this happen?"
"Three hours ago," Ye Mo pulled up the access log, "Brief access, the path pointed to an abandoned database node of Stark Industries. No content was transferred, no downloads were made, it just 'knocked on the door' to confirm whether anyone was there."
"That old paranoid Tony definitely set a trap," Star-Lord whistled. "But the question is, who's knocking?"
"I don't know." Ye Mo closed the terminal, "But I know why it chose this time. During the six hours I was in seclusion, the base's defense priority was lowered, and the monitoring system took turns resting. It calculated the gap perfectly."
Star-Lord paused for two seconds. "So you mean, this thing has a brain and can read the timing?"
"Not only that." Ye Mo stood up and stretched his shoulders. "It also knows fear. Every time a signal breaks out, it deliberately blends into the background noise to avoid several rounds of scanning. This isn't a program; it's a habitual risk avoidance—just like how we deal with pursuers."
"Holy crap." Star-Lord finally sat up straight. "That's giving me the creeps."
"So I have to investigate." Ye Mo walked towards his personal cabin. "I can't wait for it to grow up."
The hatch slid open, and he pulled out a spare equipment bag from the cabinet. He changed into a new black hooded sweatshirt, throwing the old one into the recycling bin. He checked the pockets of his work pants: a military knife, a portable spectrum analyzer, a charging pad, and a note that read "System prompt told me to do this" (for emergency blame-shifting). He took off his glasses and put on a new pair, with reinforced nose pads.
"Are you going back to Earth?" Star-Lord's voice came through the communicator.
"Yes." Ye Mo slung his bag over his shoulder and casually stuffed the black chip he'd smuggled from Ronan's spaceship into his pocket. "The signal's last known location was near Earth, and this might involve Tony's past. I don't trust anyone else; I'll have to see for myself."
"Do you need me to keep an eye on this side for you?" Star-Lord asked.
"Just keep an eye on this signal for me." Ye Mo walked to the main control panel and activated the deep space listening array. "If it resurfaces, especially if it moves towards Earth, notify me immediately. Regardless of whether you're on duty or not, bombard my communicator."
"Alright." Star-Lord nodded. " The Milano's listening array is now under your control. I've set up an automatic alarm in the system; it will immediately send a notification to your device whenever the frequency match exceeds sixty percent."
"Thanks." Ye Mo tapped the communication screen. "I'll treat you to some Universe Brand instant coffee later, the kind that costs two yuan and fifty cents a cup."
"Remember to add creamer." Star-Lord blinked and hung up the call.
Ye Mo put away his terminal and turned to walk towards the helipad. The lights in the corridor gradually illuminated with each step, and his footsteps echoed on the metal floor. He knew that this step might be his last—not death, but the fact that once the truth came out, things would never be as relaxed as they were now.
But he also knew that some things couldn't wait.
The shuttle was docked at berth B-7, its hull painted a matte black, as unassuming as a piece of space debris. He swiped his card to board, the system recognized him, the hatch closed, and the interior lights came on. He sat down, fastened his seatbelt, and entered his return coordinates: Earth, 40.7 degrees North latitude, 74.0 degrees West longitude, safe landing zone outside the former Stark Tower site.
The engine warmed up with a deep, steady sound.
He glanced one last time at the Guardians of the Galaxy base's surveillance footage: Star-Lord had left the control room, the lights in the Milano's hangar were on, seemingly undergoing system calibration. Everyone else was still resting, and no one had noticed the silent alarm from earlier.
Ye Mo reached into his pocket and touched the chip, then tapped his glasses frame.
"System," he thought to himself, "Don't wait until I'm almost there before reminding me next time; it's too nerve-wracking."
The system did not reply.
He's gotten used to it.
The thrusters ignited, and the shuttle slowly detached from orbit, heading towards Earth. Outside the window, the stars were silent, the Milky Way stretched like a ribbon, and everything seemed normal.
But he knew that something had already awakened.
Moreover, it is learning how to become smarter.