Ye Mo twisted the tab on the Red Bull, and as the bubbles rushed up his throat, he squinted. The car still smelled of the metallic scent left behind after Emma Frost read his memories, like rust mixed with burnt wires. Scott was squatting in front of the passenger seat, fiddling with the controller, his fingers moving so fast it sounded like he was playing a scratching tune no one had ever heard before.
"If you keep banging on it like that, it's really going to explode on the spot." Ye Mo crushed the empty can and tossed it into the recycling bin at his feet. "We haven't even set off yet, let's not blow ourselves up into Ant-Man barbecue."
Scott didn't even look up. "This is the final stress test. What do you know? When this thing shrinks to the nanometer scale, a signal delay of a fraction of a second can trap you in a wall and turn you into a stone."
A soft chuckle came from the back row. Emma Frost leaned back in her seat, her fingertips pressing against her temples. Her face was still a little pale, but her eyes had regained their composure. "You two, one's afraid of explosions and the other's afraid of getting stuck, might as well not go. I'll just use Telepathy to defuse the bomb myself."
"Alright, then you can also teach the Earth's crust how not to shake." Ye Mo opened the terminal, and the holographic projection unfolded with a "whoosh." A topographic map of the southern foot of Mount Fuji floated in the air, with a red dot marking the coordinates Darren mentioned—36.2° North latitude, 139.8° East longitude, eight kilometers underground.
"Eight kilometers," Scott whistled. "That place is deeper than my basement; the pressure there could crush your bones into a biscuit."
"So we can't just force our way in." Ye Mo pointed to the map. "We need to proceed in three steps. First, you go down first."
Scott was taken aback. "Me? Lead the charge?"
"Otherwise what?" Ye Mo raised an eyebrow. "Your suit can shrink to the cellular level, making it as easy for you to squeeze through ventilation ducts as going home for dinner. You go in to scout ahead, and while you're at it, plant a few jammers at key points to cut off their internal communication links. Once the signal is cut off, they'll be groping around like blind men feeling an elephant."
"Then I'll step in," Emma Frost continued, her voice as calm as a weather forecast. "When they panic, the guards' judgment weakens. I remotely monitor their thought processes; I hear everything—who gets suspicious, who triggers the alarm, who secretly sends a distress signal. Advance warnings prevent you from making mistakes."
"Finally, I'll make my appearance." Ye Mo smirked. "A direct EMP attack, a grenade, all the lights go out, the system crashes. They thought it was a technical glitch, but actually, I gave them a blackout night."
After listening, Scott slowly raised his head. "So I'm a scout, she's an intelligence officer, and you're a suicide squad member?"
"No," Ye Mo corrected, "You're the spearhead, she's the radar, and I'm the smokescreen. The three of us together make a complete tactical procedure."
There was a moment of silence in the car. Scott grinned. "You really think you're the command center."
"If I don't do it, who will?" Ye Mo switched the projection to a 3D structural simulation. "There are only 48 hours left. Their equipment is almost ready to be delivered. If we don't make plans now, and Tokyo becomes an earthquake zone after their successful test, we'll have to give a speech at the United Nations on 'How to Apologize to the Survivors.'"
Emma Frost sat up straighter and pulled a pair of silver-gray earphones from her pocket; the connector was as thin as a sewing needle. "I'm all set up. The neural interface is connected to the vehicle's main control unit, and the thought projection delay is controlled within 0.2 seconds. As long as one of them has a thought, I'll hear it."
"You just finished reading Darren's memories, are you alright?" Ye Mo stared at her. "Don't let the enemy not be stunned while you suffer a stroke."
"Don't worry." Emma Frost put on her headphones, her ears slightly red. "I recorded a directional interference audio clip, specifically designed to disrupt low-to-mid frequency thought processes. It's like sprinkling chili powder into a Wi-Fi network—the signal is constant, but nobody can connect to any legitimate websites."
"Sounds pretty ruthless." Scott packed the upgraded suit modules into his backpack. "I added a few extra touches too. The thermal imager's pressure-resistant shell is double-sealed, and the Pym Particles Spray is divided into six capsules—two for you, two for her, and I'll stick the remaining two to my chest, just in case."
He pulled back a corner of his shirt, revealing a small medicine box next to his ribs. "Particles are prone to instability under high pressure, so I added a frequency stabilizer. It won't break down within three scaling cycles."
Ye Mo nodded, got up, walked to the hidden compartment in the trunk, pulled open a camouflage panel, took out four electromagnetic pulse grenades, and checked the fuses one by one. "The cooldown time is thirty minutes. You can only throw two at a time; throwing more than that will overload the system. The anti-gravity zipline is mounted on my waist for emergency evacuation. The Steel Bone Form activation program has a hotkey, but don't use it unless absolutely necessary—last time I used Regenerative Phasing to Wall Phasing, and I almost ripped my right arm in."
As he spoke, he rolled up his sleeve and glanced at the blue mark on his right arm. The mark of light lay there quietly, like a hibernating snake.
"Speaking of which," Scott suddenly lowered his voice, "That ' Tide ' and ' Raven,' can they really make it continue sending signals?"
Ye Mo sat down and brought up the monitoring interface. " Scott, you are now Darren's brain double. How he usually replies to messages, how fast he moves, his word choices, whether he likes to use spaces or not, you need to replicate it all. The more realistic the fake messages are, the less suspicious they will be."
"I've set up an auto-response program." Scott on his tablet. "Keyword triggers, like 'progress,' 'transport,' or 'detonate,' and the system automatically generates a response that matches his style. It even mimics his typos perfectly—he always writes 'debug' as 'tuning,' a habit he can't seem to break."
Emma Frost closed her eyes and whispered, "His fear is still there. That feeling of being rejected is deeply ingrained. As long as he wants to prove himself right, he won't easily give up on the plan. He'll believe everything is normal."
"Then let him believe it." Ye Mo turned off the projector. "We're not in a hurry. The more secure they feel, the bigger their flaws will become."
Just then, the car alarm suddenly beeped.
All three looked up at the same time.
On the screen, an encrypted signal waveform appeared, with its frequency characteristic marked as [Code: Tide ].
"Coming." Scott's fingers flew across the keyboard, typing a series of commands. "Simulating Darren's coding habits... Sending 'Progress normal, awaiting instructions'... Attaching a fake log file containing the parameter table he modified last night."
The waveform flickered twice and then gradually subsided.
"Did you respond?" Emma Frost opened her eyes.
"No." Ye Mo stared at the screen, "But the signal was received, they didn't ask any further questions, nor did they request video verification. That means they believe it for now."
"It's only temporary." Emma Frost rubbed her temples. "They'll be more cautious next time we contact them. We have to act before then."
"Then let's set it for 3 a. m. the day after tomorrow." Ye Mo pulled up the timeline. "They expect the detonation window to be 48 hours later, which is tomorrow night. We'll break in 12 hours earlier, just before they complete their final calibration. We'll strike at their psychological blind spot of 'imminent success.'"
Scott nodded. "That's when we're most relaxed, and also when we're most prone to making mistakes."
"Go through the equipment one more time." Ye Mo stood up and checked each item one by one.
Scott slung his backpack over his shoulder, tightened the straps, and the green light for the suit fit test illuminated. He moved his shoulders, his joints making a slight "click" sound. "Scaling stable, heat shielding normal, communication channel locked."
Emma Frost connected the neural interface headset to the car's power supply; the brainwave monitoring curve remained stable. "Consciousness projection preparation complete, interference audio loaded, monitoring range can cover twenty targets within eight kilometers underground."
Ye Mo donned a black hooded sweatshirt, the Vibranium fiber armor plates embedded in the inner layer silently conforming to his torso. He put on silver half-rimmed glasses, a data stream flashing across the lenses. "Electromagnetic pulse grenade at full capacity, anti-gravity zipline preheating complete, Steel Bone program ready."
The three stood in the middle of the car and exchanged glances.
"No unnecessary words," Ye Mo said. "We're not going to fight, we're going to sabotage. Whoever exposes themselves, whoever drags the team down, whoever acts impulsively, the mission will fall apart. Stick to the plan; not a single step can be disrupted."
Scott gave a thumbs up. "Got it. I'll sneak in quietly, without triggering the alarms or attracting the attention of the guards, just bury the equipment."
Emma Frost nodded. "I'll keep an eye on their minds. I'll let you know in advance if anyone has murderous intentions or tries to run away."
"I'll be in charge of creating chaos," Ye Mo patted the steering wheel. "Then, while they're groping for the power switch in the dark, I'll disarm the bomb and leave them a note: 'Next time, find a different spot to detonate it, don't disturb the neighbors.'"
Scott laughed out loud, "You wrote this note with more composure than a suicide note."
"I'm used to it." Ye Mo walked towards the driver's seat. "On my first day after transmigrating, I even left a message for the system: 'I don't want to die today, please don't kill any monsters.'"
The atmosphere inside the car relaxed for a moment.
But soon, it sank again.
Ye Mo turned off all external light sources, and the vehicle switched to underground parking mode. The vehicle's outline slowly sank down and disappeared into the muddy depression. Inside the car, only the faint light from the terminal screen illuminated three faces.
Scott leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes to rest.
Emma Frost lightly touched the earphone with her fingertips, her consciousness beginning to warm up.
Ye Mo stared at the monitoring interface, his finger hovering over the attack button.
Time ticked by, second by second.
No one spoke again.
Until a wild dog barked in the distance, piercing the darkness.
Ye Mo suddenly spoke, " Scott."
"Um?"
"When applying the capsule to your chest, don't press it too tightly. Sweating will affect the seal."
"Knew."
Emma Frost.
"Explain."
"If something feels wrong, disconnect immediately. Don't force it."
"Um."
The car fell silent again.
The map on the terminal screen remained lit, the red dots did not move, and the signal was stable.
Everything is as usual.
It's as if the world is truly still asleep.
Ye Mo glanced down at his watch.
2:17 AM.
There are 53 minutes left before the operation begins.