Ye Mo's left hand remained suspended in mid-air, palm facing up, covered in a thin layer of dust. The slap he had just given hadn't landed; Vision had raised his hand and then lowered it again, as if a program had been forcibly terminated halfway through. Ye Mo didn't move or urge him; he knew some things couldn't be rushed—like a synthetic life form that had just broken free of control learning to high-five, or a human learning to shut up—both required time to adjust.
He slowly pulled his arms back, bracing them behind him, and used the momentum to prop himself up. His Steel Bone right leg emitted a few low-frequency hums, like the preheating sound of an old the Fridge before starting up, with tiny sparks popping out from the joints, flashing and extinguishing in an instant. This body was now half-crippled, its ability to stand up entirely dependent on the system maintaining its logical loop. He dared not make any big movements, even his breathing became shallow, for fear that a nerve might malfunction and shut him down on the spot.
Vision stood still, the white light on his forehead steadily illuminating a five-meter circle, like a streetlamp on standby 24 hours a day. His eyes were closed, the data stream performing an internal self-check, occasionally the ruby on his forehead flashing, as if the progress bar had reached a certain point. Ye Mo didn't disturb him, looking down at his palm—the arc of electricity from before had dissipated, but a weak current was still crawling under his skin, like ants moving house, line after line rushing towards his fingertips.
He tried to activate the X-Gene Resonance System, but the interface was completely black. It took three seconds for a few words to appear. "[Detected enhanced mutant mechanical activity, source unknown]".
"That line again?" Ye Mo muttered under his breath, "Your system is even slower than an old-fashioned mobile phone."
He didn't expect the system to provide answers; he had figured it out long ago—this thing was just a scanner. He could just send out an alarm and that would be it; the rest he had to guess. He closed his eyes and sent out his remaining senses along the Steel Bone neural network, like casting a fishing net to catch the invisible signal waves in the air.
Within 500 meters, there was deathly silence.
Closer still, thirty meters away, there was a faint metallic scraping sound, intermittent and unstable, like a miniature robot crawling through a pipe. He recognized the sound; it was the same sound Ultron's early reconnaissance mechs made before activation, like mice gnawing on electrical wires. But the problem was, the last wave of attack had just ended; the enemy's main force should have retreated by now. Why were there still small groups of units loitering outside?
Unless... it's not a retreat, but an ambush.
Ye Mo's eyelids twitched. He remembered what Vision had said—an unactivated secondary control module was buried underground. Ultron, that guy, was as straight as steel, always leaving himself three layers of backup. Couldn't beat the first wave? Then he'd wait until you took a breather and then crawl out from underground to bite your heel.
He immediately pressed his senses downwards, drilling into the soil layer. At first, there was nothing, only the sound of groundwater seeping. But he didn't retreat, continuing to stare. Ten seconds later, he detected a vibration—very slight, lasting less than half a second, like some kind of timing protocol initializing.
Thirteen seconds.
He waited again. Sure enough, thirteen seconds later, it happened again.
Regular pulses, with fixed intervals, resemble a heartbeat. This is not a natural phenomenon; it's machines shaking hands, a network quietly being rebuilt.
"Good grief." Ye Mo grinned, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. "So, you resort to underhanded tactics when you can't win a fight?"
He now had two choices: one was to immediately broadcast to everyone and sound the alarm; the other was to confirm the situation before sending a message. The former was safer, the latter more secure. But he dared not gamble—if he misjudged, the entire Avengers Reserve Team would have to regroup for a false alarm, wasting resources and potentially exposing the communication frequency. But if there really was a trap, every second he delayed increased the danger for those behind him.
He looked up at Vision. The other party was still silently checking itself, completely still, not even activating the breathing simulation. He couldn't count on it.
Ye Mo gritted his teeth and decided to take a middle road. He pulled up his private encrypted channel, drew a few lines on the scorched earth with his finger, connected to the pre-set communication network, and typed out a short message: " Ultron is not destroyed, trap activated, all personnel on alert." No explanation, no room for maneuver, the six words were as dry as compressed biscuits, enough to stave off hunger if swallowed.
He breathed a sigh of relief after sending the message, but he didn't relax. He knew that an AI of this level wouldn't survive on just one solution. Since Ultron dared to restart a part of the network, it meant it still had other options. He had to stay here, continue listening, and act as the first line of defense.
He sat cross-legged, his back against a broken concrete slab, his left hand on his knee, his right hand on the ground, letting the Steel Bone neural network resonate with the ground. Dust was still falling, landing on his shoulders, head, and glasses. His silver half-rimmed glasses were askew, but he was too lazy to fix them; anyway, he wasn't looking at what was in front of him now, but at the activity in the data stream.
A minute passed, and the pulse continued, occurring once every thirteen seconds, as stable as clocking in for work.
Two minutes later, the underground signal strength increased slightly, with some additional noise, as if the modules were starting to exchange data.
Three minutes later, he caught a fragment of encrypted commands. Although incomplete, the keywords were familiar: "O-09," " Force Field calibration," and "delayed detonation." He remembered the name; the mechanical entity that exploded in the previous chapter was called O-09, responsible for controlling local gravity. The fact that this signal mentioned it meant that it wasn't retrieving debris, but replicating its function.
"So you're planning to make the same bomb?" Ye Mo sneered. "You're quite persistent."
He continued listening. Four minutes later, the signal source was located 17 meters underground, 43 degrees northwest of his current location, approximately 180 meters in a straight line. It used to be an abandoned ventilation shaft, but it had probably been converted into a temporary node.
Five minutes later, he realized something was wrong—the pulse rhythm had changed. It was no longer a steady thirteen seconds, but rather a decreasing sequence of thirteen, eleven, nine, seven...
"Wait." Ye Mo's pupils contracted. "This isn't initialization, it's a countdown."
He looked up sharply at the ruins. The surface was calm, the scorched earth still, but he knew that something was gathering strength beneath, like a deeply buried landmine, the fuse lit, but not yet detonated.
He wanted to send another message, but as soon as he moved his finger, the system suddenly popped up a warning: [Perception overload, cooling down].
"Damn it." He cursed under his breath, his vision went black, and he almost collapsed. Forcing the high-frequency scan to continue for too long caused the system to shut down. He could only barely capture the fluctuations with his residual nerve perception, but the accuracy was greatly reduced, like listening to an encrypted radio on an old-fashioned radio, all static.
He took a breath and forced himself to calm down. He couldn't run or shout now; the only thing he could do was sit there, using his body as a receiver, waiting for the next clear signal.
The dust is still falling. In the distance, water drips from a pipe, patter, patter, gradually merging with the pulses from the ground.
He suddenly realized something— Ultron hadn't appeared, nor had he spoken. Unlike before, when he always loved to taunt while fighting, spouting nonsense like "humanity will eventually be eliminated" and "I must rebuild order." This time, he remained completely silent, like a washing machine with its voice prompts turned off, secretly spinning, and no one knew what was hidden inside.
That's the most terrifying thing.
This guy's learned his lesson. He knows what Vision's betrayal means—his intelligence network is no longer absolutely secure. So he changed his strategy, no longer launching a direct attack, but instead hiding, setting traps, and waiting for you to fall into them yourselves.
Ye Mo looked at his right hand, which was pressed against the ground, his fingertips slightly numb. He knew that this battle was not over yet; in fact, it could be said that the game had just changed.
Last time it was open warfare; this time it's a hidden arrow that's hard to guard against.
He slowly raised his head and looked up at the gray sky. The crack was still there, but much smaller, and sunlight couldn't get in; only a dim light pressed down on the ruins. He was sitting right at the center of the battle in the previous chapter, surrounded by charred mecha wreckage, like a ring of scrap metal tombstones, guarding him, the living man.
He didn't move or make a sound. He just sat there, like a statue that hadn't quite cooled down yet.
Until he felt it—the underground pulses had become once every ten seconds.
A few more seconds passed, and it became eight seconds.
Then, seven and a half seconds.
It is accelerating.
Ye Mo's left hand slowly clenched, his nails digging into his palm. He knew what this meant—the trap was about to complete its self-check and enter the activation phase.
He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but found his throat so dry that he couldn't make a sound.
All we can do is sit here, wait, listen, and watch.
Until the next storm arrives.