Scheming in Secret, Locking onto the Target

When Ye Mo returned to the private lounge, the lights were on automatically. He didn't turn them off or sit down, but stood by the table staring at the offline laptop for three seconds in a daze. The screen was black, but his fingers were already touching the power button. He knew that once he took this step, there was no turning back—not that he would be exposed, but that from this moment on, he had to take responsibility for something that hadn't even happened yet.

He pressed the power button.

A blue light appeared, and the system startup screen showed no network connection indicator; the time in the lower right corner was 1:17 AM. He plugged in the USB drive, imported the waveform data that his phone had just captured in the background, and then pulled up all the records about Scott Lang in the S.H.I.E.L.D.. public archives. He was stunned for a moment when his name popped up.

The name "Scott Lang" seems so ordinary, like an old man queuing at the supermarket checkout—no one would give him a second glance. But on the night of his release from prison three years ago, this man triggered a quantum-level oscillation signal, which happened to have a 91.7% frequency overlap with that thing approaching deep in the universe. This is not a coincidence; it is a high matching value that the system has never given before.

He opened the first document. "New York State Prison Inmate Behavioral Evaluation Report." Scrolling to the bottom, the psychological assessment section read, "Possesses strong emergency response capabilities, social adaptability is below average, and exhibits a slight anti-authoritarian tendency." Ye Mo snorted; this assessment was practically meaningless. What truly made him sit up straight was the attached surveillance footage summary—this guy had been involved in three failed prison break attempts: twice when he intervened to rescue others from fights, and once when he attempted to crack the cell's electronic lock.

"Saving lives isn't a skill," Ye Mo said in a low voice. "Only modifying circuit boards counts."

He switched to another document: a technical analysis briefing on the theft. Scott had stolen the headquarters server of a security company under Stark Industries. His method was clean and efficient—first, he used a forged work order to sneak into the underground server room, then climbed up to the top of the core area through the air conditioning ventilation duct, and finally used a homemade jammer to cut off the backup power for thirty seconds, completed the data copy, and then withdrew along the same route. He didn't touch the alarm system or leave any biological traces.

"This isn't a thief!" Ye Mo leaned back in his chair. "This is clearly a special operations drill."

He started to visualize the scenario in his mind: a person who can accurately execute complex operations under high pressure has excellent psychological qualities; daring to use non-standard methods to break through the defenses means that his thinking is unconventional; more importantly, he stopped after he finished and did not continue to cause damage or extort money, his motives were so pure that they did not seem like those of a professional criminal.

Such people are either insane or frighteningly lucid.

Ye Mo opened the two documents side by side, drawing a relationship diagram on a draft paper as he read. He underlined "Adversity Adaptability" with two lines, marked "Tactical Intuition" with an asterisk, and finally circled the words "Creativity," writing a note. "Underlying wisdom overflows the conventional framework."

At that moment, a warm sensation suddenly came from under the cuff of my right arm.

He rolled up his sleeve and glanced at it. The blue markings weren't lit, and there was nothing unusual on his skin, but that familiar resonance returned, like someone gently tapping his nerve endings. He knew it was the residual system's senses still at work. Although there was no notification sound or energy feedback, it was definitely reminding him that something was wrong in more than one place.

He retrieved the original waveform of the NY-4479 signal source and compared it with the new fluctuations he had just detected. The two curves almost overlapped, the only difference being the amplitude decay rhythm—the new signal would delay by 0.3 seconds each time it fell back, as if deliberately dragging out a tail to see if anyone would respond.

"A test?" Ye Mo narrowed his eyes. "Or... a summoning?"

If it's the former, the other side is merely testing the reaction speed of Earth's defense system; but if it's the latter, it means that some potential connection is being activated—and Scott Lang may be that interface.

He suddenly realized something: if this person truly had such a high potential connection, why hadn't anyone discovered it all these years? Even someone like Tony, who was so paranoid that he encrypted even his coffee machine, hadn't been flagged in his file?

There's only one answer: Scott himself didn't know he was special.

This is troublesome.

You can't just randomly pick an honest guy who's been released from prison and say, "Brother, you're actually a hidden boss." They'd think you're crazy. Besides, we don't even know if he's the key or the lock yet.

Ye Mo rubbed his temples, deciding to try a different approach.

He created a new document, titled it "X-7 Operation Draft," and then began listing the options:

A. Chance Encounter: Create a street conflict, pretend to be a passerby to help someone escape, and establish initial trust.

Risks: Being too deliberate makes it easy to be detected; and the limited information available upon first contact makes it impossible to assess the depth of the response capability.

B. Set up a test: Arrange a simulated crisis (such as a fake kidnapping or a sudden fire) within three days of his release from prison to observe his instinctive reactions and decision-making process.

Advantages: True strength can be revealed under real pressure; variables can be controlled through environmental setup.

Drawback: High moral cost; what if he really breaks down?

C. Indirect referral: Promote them to relevant resources (such as technical repair shops or non-governmental rescue organizations) through third-party channels and wait for them to naturally awaken.

The safest option, but also the slowest. By the time it matures, it'll be too late.

He stared at the three options for five minutes, then finally placed the cursor on option B, deleted the words after "defects," and changed it to a note. "As long as there is no loss of life, everything is under control."

This is his bottom line.

The plan was tentatively called "Character Probe," which sounded like a psychology experiment, but he didn't care. The important thing was that it had to be done quietly, without any system detecting any unusual data flow, especially Tony's ubiquitous surveillance network.

He unplugged the USB drive, plugged in another encrypted storage device, and cut off all internet access. Only the local editing interface remained on the screen, with a plain Song typeface and a moderate font size, without any fancy effects. He liked it this way—the simpler something is, the harder it is to track.

Next, he began to plan the timeline.

T-day is designated as the day of Scott's official release. According to public records, release procedures are usually completed at 9:00 AM, and he is expected to leave the prison area around 11:00 AM. He needs to set up the first observation point before then.

The target area was narrowed down to a commercial street within three kilometers of the prison. While there were many surveillance cameras there, there were also blind spots—for example, the back alley of a 24-hour laundromat, which faced away from a traffic intersection and was also a zone of interference from public Wi-Fi signals, making it suitable for covert surveillance.

He planned to rent the abandoned parcel collection point next door, ostensibly as a community service pilot project, but actually to set up miniature sensing devices. Whenever Scott passed by, they could detect the faint field fluctuations emanating from him.

As for the "first test incident," it already had a rough outline: an out-of-control truck suddenly veered onto the sidewalk, the driver was unconscious, the passengers screamed, and the surrounding crowd scattered. In this situation, ordinary people would choose to run away or call the police, while truly capable people would immediately look for solutions—even if it's just knocking down a roadside billboard as a roadblock.

This scene doesn't require live actors; it can be done with remotely controlled model cars and pre-recorded sound effects. The key is timing—not too early, not too late—it must be done at the moment when his emotions are most relaxed.

He wrote down the details one by one: vehicle model, speed, impact angle, rhythm of sound and light... he even marked the positions of the onlookers. This wasn't acting; it was a stress test.

After finishing writing, he read it through again to make sure that no part involved violence, illegality, or content that could cause real harm. After all, he wasn't there to harm anyone; he was there to poach people.

The last item is risk avoidance measures.

He turned off all cloud sync, deleted browser history, and even physically removed the laptop's wireless module, leaving only a network cable port, which wasn't even plugged in. The entire device was now an isolated island, completely cut off from the outside world.

He also set a strict rule for himself: never make contact with Scott unless he saw him in person and confirmed that he was in good health. Plans could be prepared, but actions had to be taken with caution.

After doing all this, he closed the laptop, took out the USB drive, and held it in his hand. The metal casing was cool, but his palms were a little sweaty.

The night sky outside the window remained calm, with few stars and the moon hidden behind the clouds. The base was quiet, with only the occasional hum of the ventilation ducts. He knew everyone was asleep, or at least pretending to be. The fatigue from the recent battle hadn't completely dissipated, and everyone was catching their breath.

But he couldn't breathe.

He sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the USB drive in his hand, thinking: What am I doing this for? I'm not a philanthropist, nor a life coach. I could have chosen to play dumb and continue playing a supporting role, so why did I have to get involved in this mess?

But he understood the next second.

Because he saw his own arm.

It wasn't because of Blueprint, nor because of the system, but because during the final attack at Ultron Base, he was clearly on the verge of collapse, yet he still charged forward. At that moment, he didn't have any calculations about "whether it was worth it" in his mind; he only had one thought: he couldn't let it win.

The same applies now.

If there is anyone in this world who can be the next breakthrough, even if there is only a sliver of a possibility, he has to try. Not to save anyone, but to prevent that feeling of "it's too late" from happening again.

He tucked the USB drive into his inner pocket, stood up, and walked to the window. His face was reflected in the glass; he looked a little haggard, but his eyes were bright.

Tomorrow, or even in a few hours, Scott Lang will walk out of the prison gates.

He would think he was finally free.

But he didn't know that some people, once they embark on this path, can never go back to a normal life.

Ye Mo said softly, "Brother, I'm sorry, you're in for some trouble."

Then he turned around, opened the drawer, took out a pen, and wrote four words on the cover of the project proposal: X-7, Start.