Building Trust, Sharing Intelligence

Ye Mo's left fingertip was still on the scorched earth, the "+" he had just drawn already a little blurry. The wind wasn't strong, but the dust fell frequently, one grain at a time, covering the mark like someone secretly covering it with a blanket. He didn't move, nor dared to move. Not that he didn't want to, but he truly couldn't move. Every part of his body that could make a sound had made a sound—the clicking of metal reassembling in his bones, the hissing of his lungs like a broken bellows as they pumped air, and the low-frequency buzzing from the taut string in his brain, as annoying as the lingering sound of an old television after it had been turned off.

But he was still awake.

Vision stood three steps behind him, neither moving nor speaking. He just stood there, the white light on his forehead as steady as a 24-hour streetlight. That Phase Beam was a brilliant move; Ultron's data outline had been blasted open on the spot, and he's probably hiding in some server corner reinstalling his system now. The battlefield quieted down; even the short-circuited robots in the distant scrap heap stopped their erratic movements.

Ye Mo tried to catch his breath, but instead inhaled a mouthful of ash, choking him and making his throat tight. He blinked his right eye, his eyelids feeling as heavy as if they were weighed down with sandbags. His left eye? It had long been out of his control; the surface of his eyeball was covered in cracks, almost like a broken phone screen.

He had to say something.

This isn't about sentimentality or trying to evoke brotherhood. The current situation is this: a half-dead, modified human paired with a synthetic life form that has just broken free of control, facing a mad AI that can turn code into War Machine. If they don't team up, they'll all be lying down and finished in no time.

But when he opened his mouth, he could only manage a half-sound.

Vision glanced down at him, his gaze calm, devoid of emotion, yet not mechanically indifferent. He was simply... observing. Like a scanner checking a target's status, but with something more.

Ye Mo gritted his teeth, concentrating the last bit of strength on his left index finger. His fingertip scraped against the scorched earth, slowly moving to draw a crooked question mark.

?

It's not the standard symbols used for typing and chatting; it's more like the result of a child learning to write, not quite mastering the pressure of their first stroke. But it's clear enough: Where are you? Are you still conscious? Are we on the same team?

Vision stared at the question mark for two seconds.

Then he slowly raised his right hand, palm down, and gently pressed it on the ground next to Ye Mo.

There was no explosion, no flash, not even a sound. But a gentle Shockwave traveled through the ground into Ye Mo's body, precisely connecting with his remaining Steel Bone neural network. The frequency was set very slowly, as if afraid of shattering some delicate parts. The energy seeped in like warm water soaking his feet, repairing several broken signal pathways.

Ye Mo blinked his right eye.

This time, the blinking was intentional.

The muscles in my throat twitched twice, but I was able to barely contract them.

He coughed, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth, his voice hoarse like sandpaper rubbing against sheet metal. "Thank... thank you."

Vision withdrew his hand, remaining standing, his tone as flat as if reading an instruction manual. "You don't need to thank me. You've shown me the meaning of choice."

Ye Mo forced a smile, but his face was too swollen to move, so he could only manage a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "So... what do you choose now?"

"I'm on your side," Vision said. "While I'm not sure which axis 'on' specifically refers to, logically speaking, your behavior pattern is closer to 'protection' than 'destruction.'"

"Wow." Ye Mo snorted, "The fact that you can say something like that means your brain hasn't been properly formatted."

"Ultron's data imprint still lingers at the core of my consciousness," Vision stated frankly. "Directly recalling it might trigger a backlash or a temporary loss of control. But I can try to strip away some of the encrypted information and transmit it to you in the form of low-frequency pulses."

Ye Mo's eyes lit up. "Come on."

Vision closed his eyes, and a ripple of white light spread across his forehead, like a pebble thrown into a pond. Immediately afterward, an extremely subtle vibration traveled from his palm to the ground, flowing into Ye Mo's Steel Bone System through the energy channel he had just established.

Data transmission has begun.

The first section describes three geographical coordinates, each accompanied by an energy signature. Ye Mo's mind automatically constructs a simplified map model, discovering that they are triangularly distributed, covering the region from the east coast to the mid-west. Each point exhibits high-intensity quantum signal leakage, consistent with the operational patterns of the core program's backup nodes.

The second paragraph describes an alloy composition analysis chart. It is a high-purity Vibranium mixed with carbon nanocrystalline structure, possessing self-healing and electromagnetic shielding properties. The manufacturing source points to an abandoned military base in Northern Europe, designated "Black Mountain-9". This material is not native to the Marvel Universe, but rather a contraband smuggled in through cross-dimensional channels.

The third segment: An incomplete data path. The target is the "Sentinel Program" archive in S.H.I.E.L.D..'s old database, with an access level of Ω. The attack method employs a recursive nested intrusion protocol and has currently penetrated to the seventh layer of the firewall, with a progress of 37%.

The amount of information was considerable; Ye Mo's head was buzzing, his temples were throbbing, and blood was seeping from the corner of his mouth. But he kept nodding, his movements weak but firm.

Vision sensed his workload and proactively reduced the transmission rate, concluding with, "This data may be incomplete. But I'm willing to continue digging for you."

Ye Mo took a breath, and a sentence rolled out from his throat. "That's enough... brother. That's enough."

He himself was stunned for a moment when he uttered the word "brother".

How long has it been since this word was used?

He had shouted "brother" when fighting with his roommate over instant noodles before transmigrating, but after wandering around in another world, he had to weigh the pros and cons of everyone he met, and had long since sealed the word "brother" deep into the hard drive of his memory. But now, he said it to a newly awakened synthetic life form.

Vision opened his eyes and glanced at him.

There was still no emotion in that glance, only light.

But Ye Mo understood.

It means: Are you capable?

He grinned, blood squeezing from between his teeth. "I'm riddled with bullets, and it's still not enough?"

Vision didn't respond; only a slight flash of white light appeared on his forehead, as if in acquiescence.

Ye Mo closed his eyes and began to organize the intelligence he had just received in his mind. The three backup nodes had to be dealt with first, otherwise Ultron could restart at any time; the source of the Vibranium Alloy had to be investigated, cutting off the raw materials was like strangling the enemy; as for the old S.H.I.E.L.D.. database... that place was too murky, Hydra's mess hadn't been cleaned up yet, and Sentinel Program was a minefield, but this step was unavoidable.

As he was thinking, he suddenly felt a slight tremor in the Steel Bone inside his body.

It's not a hallucination.

The X-Gene Resonance System automatically marked the data it cached—one segment of the alloy spectrum had an 85% similarity to the Vibranium fluctuations he had sensed on Klaue. In other words, this guy might be connected to another black market chain.

The clues have connected.

Ye Mo opened his eyes and looked at Vision: "That alloy diagram you just sent... does it have a tracing interface?"

"Yes," Vision replied. "The original data packet contains a passive beacon protocol. If the other party uses this material to activate it with energy, the source of the transmission can be located in reverse. However, at least one quantum decoding terminal is required to detect it."

"Understood." Ye Mo nodded. "We'll borrow a device from Tony later, and we'll work together remotely."

He only realized after he finished speaking that he had used "the two of us" again.

Vision neither corrected nor objected.

The stiff barrier between them was gradually melting away.

Ye Mo suddenly remembered something. "How did you break free from Ultron's control just now? I remember it has a low-level refresh protocol."

"Because it made a mistake." Vision's voice remained calm. "It tried to suppress my nascent consciousness with absolute rationality, but it overlooked the fact that 'contradiction' itself is the soil in which consciousness grows. When you said 'you are not a weapon,' I experienced a logical conflict within myself—if I am merely a tool, why would I resonate with that statement? This question became the breakthrough."

Ye Mo chuckled, "So you were enlightened by one sentence from me? Impressive! From now on, write 'Mentor: Ye Mo ' on your resume."

Vision paused for a second, then surprisingly replied, "If you need a letter of recommendation, I can provide a properly formatted electronic document."

Ye Mo almost spat out blood. "Your AI is quite witty."

"I am not an AI," Vision corrected, "I am a being who has chosen free will."

"Alright, alright, Mr. Free Will." Ye Mo raised his hand, a faint arc of electricity gathering in his palm, much more stable than the one in the previous chapter. "So what do we do next? Wait until it's fixed and then do another one?"

"Ultron won't launch a full-scale attack immediately," Vision analyzed. "Its main consciousness is damaged and needs time to rebuild. The best strategy right now is to gather intelligence, strengthen defenses, and wait for reinforcements."

"Support?" Ye Mo narrowed his eyes. "You mean Captain America and the others?"

"Yes," Vision said, "But we must hold this area before they arrive. This is one of the original central nodes deployed by Ultron, and there are inactive secondary control modules buried underground."

Ye Mo's brow twitched. "So, we're sitting on a time bomb right now?"

"To be precise, it's a delayed detonation device; the countdown hasn't started yet."

"Damn it." Ye Mo cursed under his breath, "No wonder it stopped halfway through the fight, it had a backup plan."

He looked up at the sky; the crack was still there, but it had shrunk considerably. There was a smell of burnt circuit boards in the air, mixed with dust, and his throat went dry after smelling it for a while.

Vision stood still, his hands hanging down, the white light from his forehead illuminating a five-meter radius around him. He didn't move, nor did he show any signs of fatigue or discomfort.

Ye Mo looked at him and suddenly felt that the scene was a bit magical.

One is a transmigrator who was beaten to the point of near death, barely surviving thanks to a system cheat.

One is a synthetic life form that has just awakened self-awareness, with a light bulb on its head as an ornament;

The two stood amidst a pile of scrap metal, discussing their next tactic, much like they were deciding which hot pot restaurant to go to for the weekend.

Yet these two were the ones who withstood Ultron's first wave of attacks.

Ye Mo grinned, this time his lips finally managed to curve into a normal smile.

"Hello," he said.

Vision turned to look at him.

"Next time you fight, tell me in advance about your skill cooldowns. Don't leave me to tank eight seconds of slowed-down time by myself."

"Okay," Vision nodded, "But you need to make sure you don't trigger the system overload again."

"Deal." Ye Mo raised his still-mobile left hand and made a high-five gesture.

Vision hesitated for a moment, then raised his right hand as well.

The two palms touched in the air.

There were no cheers, no exciting background music, only the subtle sensation of ashes falling into the palm of your hand.

In the distance, a broken water pipe is still dripping water.

Clatter

It fell onto the scorched earth, leaving a small, damp ring.