The lights in the monitoring room came back on, not automatically, but because Ye Mo manually restarted the main control terminal. The screen flickered a few times, and the deep space map reloaded. The red dot in the Orion direction was still there, but the ripples were denser than at 10 o'clock. He stared at it for three seconds, and the blue markings on the inside of his right arm itched again. This time it wasn't expanding, but throbbing, like a thread pulling under his skin.
He didn't take off his coat, but rolled up his sleeves. The edges of the blue stripes were getting hot, and the color changed from light blue to bluish-gray, synchronizing to once every 0.7 seconds. He looked down at the console and entered commands, pulling up the neural load curves from the past two hours; the peak intervals were indeed shortening. This wasn't an illusion, nor was it system overload—it was accelerating.
"It's not a false alarm," he said into the communicator, his voice low. "It's compressing its cycle, and the expected time for full integration into the real-world structure is being brought forward."
The message was sent only to Tony. The encrypted channel showed it as read, and a reply popped up three seconds later, "Received. Wait five minutes."
Ye Mo didn't move. The catheter was still connected to the back of his neck, and the brainwave graph on the monitoring screen was fluctuating. He casually uploaded the data from yesterday's training session, adding a note, " Regenerative Phasing cooling extended by 12%, suspected to be related to the system's passive response." Only after sending it did he realize that Tony would definitely nag him again, "Don't test the system with your body," but he couldn't explain now. He could feel himself getting heavier every second.
The corridor lights dimmed briefly, then came back on. The air from the vents was still rough, like a machine caught halfway through its journey. He looked up at the ceiling, tapped his fingers seven times on the table, the rhythm matching the blue bars of his phone. The red dot on the screen flashed in sync.
Five minutes later, Tony arrived, not in his armor, but carrying a portable quantum analyzer. His first words upon entering were, "If you had sent this data thirty seconds later, I would have suspected you'd been brainwashed by alien signals."
"So you believe me now?" Ye Mo took off his glasses and wiped them.
"Believe it or not." Tony connected the instrument to the main console. "But I have to admit, this thing's propulsion mode matches what you called 'pulsed.' It moves forward 0.02 light-years every seven seconds, not randomly drifting, but racing against time."
He pulled up a 3D star chart, with the predicted trajectory marked in front of the red dot, its endpoint pointing directly to Earth's orbit. "The problem is, it doesn't consume energy, doesn't disturb magnetic fields, and doesn't even distort the curvature of space. What can we use to stop it? Shout 'Don't come in!'"
"We can't stop it now," Ye Mo, putting on his glasses. "But we can prepare. The Gray Shield Protocol has been activated; if it gets any closer than 0.01 light-years, the system will automatically flag it as a Level 1 anomaly."
Tony stared at the screen, then suddenly laughed, "You know what's the most outrageous thing? The world's most advanced defense system, ultimately relying on a guy in a hoodie looking at the lines on his arm for early warning."
"The advantage of being thick-skinned is that you can withstand pressure." Ye Mo took a sip of the now-cold coffee on the table, this time without burning his teeth.
"Alright," Tony said, his smile fading. "I'll go modify the filtering logic of the quantum array right away and add your 0.7-second model. At the same time, I'll disable AI autonomous analysis and have everything verified manually to prevent it from back-infiltrating."
He turned to leave after saying that, then stopped. "And you? Will you continue guarding this place?"
"What else can I do?" Ye Mo looked at the screen. "It's awake; I have to keep an eye on it."
Tony didn't say anything more, just patted him on the shoulder and left.
After the door closed, the monitoring room fell silent again. Ye Mo re-secured the conduit and pulled up the global low-frequency anomaly distribution map. Just as he opened it, his communicator vibrated; it was an encrypted file from Black Widow, titled. "7 low-frequency anomalies detected globally in the past 24 hours, already marked."
He clicked on it, and seven small red dots were distributed in different cities: Tokyo, Cairo, Buenos Aires... Each dot corresponded to a brief equipment malfunction or a report of collective dizziness in a crowd. He zoomed in on the Tokyo and found that the timestamp matched the first blue stripe expansion on his right arm.
"It's not a coincidence," he said softly.
Not long after, the lights in the main control room came on. Tony didn't make an announcement, but instead called out Captain America, Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Thor in turn, citing "routine tactical verification." The four arrived one after another, none of them wearing combat suits, but their movements were heavy. Captain America entered with his hands behind his back, his combat boots making a solid sound on the floor; Black Widow carried a tablet, her quiver slung over her shoulder; Hawkeye carried his quiver, his fingers habitually rubbing the bowstring; Thor carried Mjolnir, his brow never relaxed.
Tony stood in front of the screen and waited until everyone had arrived before speaking, " Ye Mo's data has jumped again; we need to keep an eye on it."
No one asked "what data?" or questioned "whether it was a false alarm." Everyone nodded and took their seats, silently watching the frequency spectrum and star coordinates on the screen. The only sounds in the conference room were the hum of the equipment and the occasional soft sound of turning pages.
Five minutes later, Captain America stood up. "I'm going to check on the sandbags in the training area."
After he left, Black Widow also left to take her turn at the command post. Hawkeye went to the firing simulation room to begin static calibration. Thor didn't go far, going to the rest pod to check the charging status of Mjolnir. Tony returned to the lab to continue debugging the armor's underlying code.
On the surface, everything at the base seemed normal. People were eating, training, and adjusting equipment. No one was shouting slogans or giving speeches. But everyone knew that something was different.
Ye Mo emerged from the monitoring sub-area and walked along the corridor towards the training ground. He encountered Black Widow along the way, and the two stopped at a corner. She handed him a new encrypted file. "A new anomaly has been detected beneath the Greenland ice sheet; the deep space monitoring network has just captured a weak resonance."
He took it and nodded, "Thank you."
"Don't thank me too soon," she said. "If this thing really gets in, we won't even know what it looks like."
"Then let's wait for it to show itself." Ye Mo stuffed the file into his pocket. "We can't keep hiding forever."
She glanced at him, said nothing more, and turned to leave.
The training ground lights were on. Captain America stood in front of the punching bag, practicing fighting moves slowly and powerfully. A punch, a kick, a twist—his rhythm was steady. The words he'd written on the bag yesterday still lingered, "We don't fight for victory, we fight to prevent the world from changing too much."
Ye Mo leaned against the doorframe and watched for a while, but didn't go in. He knew Captain America didn't need an audience or dialogue. This person was simply using his body to memorize the rhythm, the power, and who he was.
He turned to walk back, and the blue markings on his right arm twitched again. This time it was more pronounced than before, like an electric current running through his bone. He stopped, rolled up his sleeve, and looked at it. The bluish-gray markings had spread to the outside of his forearm, and the twitching frequency was still once every 0.7 seconds.
Back in the monitoring sub-area, he reconnected to the system. The red dot on the deep space map had moved forward again. He brought up the calculation model, input the latest data, and a line of text popped up on the screen: [Estimated time to fully enter the real structure: 72 hours ahead of schedule].
He stared at the string of numbers for a long time, then pressed the communication button and sent Tony a message: "It's not just rushing to meet deadlines, it's adapting to our reaction speed."
After finishing, he took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. The catheter was still connected to the back of his neck, and the brainwave pattern on the monitoring screen continued to fluctuate. He picked up the now-cold cup of coffee on the table and drank it all in one gulp.
Outside the window, the starry sky was silent.
The lights in the main control room were still on, but no one was there. The tactical team's briefing board was still there, and the task assignments were still displayed. Ye Mo's name was listed first, and his task was "Analysis of the linkage between abnormal signals and bodily feedback."
He stopped watching and turned to walk towards the monitoring console. The red dot on the screen blinked silently, each blink synchronized with the blue markings on his right arm.
Inside the base, Captain America was still practicing his moves on the training field, his fists slamming into the sandbags with a dull thud; Black Widow sat at the command console, staring at the waveform on the communications channel; Hawkeye was adjusting his scope in the shooting simulator, his fingers moving with unsteady steadiness; Thor sat cross-legged on the floor of the rest pod, holding Mjolnir in his palm, his eyes closed, as if listening to some sound no one else could hear; Tony was coding in the lab, humming an off-key tune.
Everyone is waiting.
Ye Mo sat back down in his chair and reconnected the catheter. He pulled up a full-body scan; the blue markings covered an area that was now larger than half an hour ago. He didn't call for help, but simply added a note to the system log: [ X-Gene Resonance System Passive Response Intensity +15%, External Monitoring Recommended].
Then he put on his glasses and stared at the screen.
The red dot flashed again.
He raised his right hand and tapped it seven times on the table.
At the same time, the alarm in Tony Labs sounded softly, not a piercing one, but a low-frequency vibration, like a heartbeat.
He stopped tapping his fingers and looked up at the ceiling.
At the end of the corridor, a light suddenly went out and then came back on.