The air in the garage was somewhat stuffy, and the residual heat from the engine being turned off slowly dissipated in the cramped space. Ye Mo didn't get out of the car immediately. Instead, he took out a pair of silver half-rimmed glasses from his pocket and slowly wiped them with the corner of his shirt. The lenses reflected the dim overhead light inside the car, as well as his calm, almost indifferent gaze.
Emma Frost sat beside him, arms crossed, leaning slightly forward. Her aloof demeanor was particularly oppressive in the enclosed carriage. "What are you still hesitating about?" Her voice wasn't loud, but it pierced Ye Mo's carefully constructed tranquility like a needle. "Just now in the square, your silence was interpreted as an attitude. Now, public opinion is spreading much faster than you think."
Ye Mo put his glasses back on, his fingertips lightly tapping the steering wheel, making a rhythmic "tap, tap" sound. "It wasn't hesitation, it was observation," he finally spoke, his tone as calm as if discussing the weather. "What did you think I was waiting for? Until the wind completely shifted? But reality slapped me in the face."
He raised his left hand, the light from his phone screen illuminating half of his face. The screen was no longer a simple news notification, but a densely packed data graph. The red and blue lines were like two intertwined venomous snakes, biting each other tightly with no buffer zone in between.
"Look here." Ye Mo pointed to a node in the center of the screen. "The people who support the Superhuman Registration Act were originally just driven by a desire for security, but now, their fear has been amplified. The situation is even worse on the opposition's side; radical rhetoric is spreading like a virus, and offline clashes have already occurred three blocks away. My 'neutrality' strategy seems like a joke in the face of this chart. Neutrality itself has become a dangerous signal. Whoever wants to remain neutral will be seen as an enemy by both sides."
Emma Frost glanced at the fluctuating data, her brow furrowing. "So what? What are you planning to do? Continue to be a coward?"
"Of course not." Ye Mo's lips curled into a self-deprecating smile. "Since the disguise has been torn off, let's try a different approach."
Just then, another encrypted terminal on the passenger seat vibrated. The screen lit up, displaying a message from an unknown number. There were no pleasantries, no small talk, only a complex set of coordinates and a brief timestamp: 11 PM tonight, abandoned docks in Brooklyn, Warehouse 3. The sender ID was a black widow's mask icon.
Ye Mo's gaze froze on the icon. Black Widow. The representative of the remnants of S.H.I.E.L.D.., a woman skilled at dancing on the edge of a knife.
"Someone's come knocking," Ye Mo said calmly, swiping his finger across the screen to quickly copy and delete the message, leaving no trace.
Emma Frost keenly caught his movement. "Who is it?"
" Natasha Romanoff," Ye Mo answered decisively. "She said she has something that can help us see through the forces behind this storm."
"Do you trust her?" Emma Frost's voice carried a hint of wariness. For Mutants, S.H.I.E.L.D..'s past was not something to be proud of.
"I don't trust anyone, I only trust the exchange of benefits." Ye Mo stood up, opened the car door, and the night wind blew in, carrying the damp and dusty smell unique to New York. "She needs our influence within the Mutants community to balance the situation, and I need her access to the blind spots in internal surveillance to anticipate the actions of extremist groups. This is a mutually beneficial transaction; there is no loyalty, only calculation."
He adjusted the hood of his black hooded sweatshirt, then turned to Emma Frost: "Let's go to that warehouse. And while we're at it, check if this meeting is a trap."
Emma Frost snorted and got out of the car as well. Her Diamond Form was not activated, but the aura emanating from her was enough to make anyone with ill intentions retreat.
The Brooklyn night was deep, and the air at the abandoned docks was thick with the smells of rust and the sea. The door to Warehouse Number Three was ajar, and the interior was pitch black. Ye Mo walked ahead, his steps slow and deliberate, each step seeming as if he were measuring the vibrations of the ground. Emma Frost followed half a step behind him, her eyes scanning the surrounding shadows like a hawk's.
Deep inside the warehouse, a figure in a tight-fitting combat suit leaned against a container, fiddling with a magazine in her hand. Seeing the two enter, Natasha looked up, her eyes sharp as knives.
"I knew you'd come, Mr. Ye." Natasha's voice was hoarse but calm, revealing no emotional fluctuation. "After all, life isn't easy for neutrals."
"Enough nonsense." Ye Mo stopped five meters away from Natasha, a distance that ensured safety while still allowing him to clearly hear her breathing. "You said you have intelligence."
Natasha smiled, took a microchip from her pocket, tossed it into the air, and caught it. "These are records of several large sums of money flowing through the country over the past week. The source is unknown, but the destinations are several accounts that publicly fund radical organizations. Interestingly, these accounts are backed by the same holding company—a shell company registered in the Cayman Islands."
Ye Mo took the chip and inserted it into his portable reader. A few seconds later, several clear financial transaction diagrams appeared on the screen. His eyes narrowed slightly, and a network of relationships quickly formed in his mind.
"Someone is deliberately escalating the conflict," Ye Mo said in a low voice. "They don't want superhumans to coexist peacefully, nor do they want effective government oversight. They're creating chaos to profit from it."
"Smart," Natasha nodded. "But this is just the tip of the iceberg. The real trouble is that these radical groups have begun to infiltrate the community. They exploit public fear, spread rumors, and even orchestrate small-scale acts of violence to prove that 'superhumans are uncontrollable.'"
Emma Frost clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. "We can't let them succeed."
"Of course not." Ye Mo put the chip back in his pocket and turned to Natasha. "In exchange, I will provide a list. This list records several key figures who are currently the most influential in the public opinion arena. Their positions are wavering, but they can be guided to become our pawns in buffering the conflict."
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "You're planning to interfere with public opinion?"
"No, I'm just weaving a web." Ye Mo turned around, his back to Natasha, and looked at the dark night sky outside the warehouse. "I'm going to build an early warning system. By monitoring the movements of these key figures, we can predict potential conflicts in advance and intervene before they erupt. This isn't about taking sides; it's about survival."
Natasha was silent for a moment, then nodded. "It's a pleasure doing business with you. However, Mr. Ye, you must be careful. Once this net is cast, you will never be able to escape unscathed."
"I never intended to escape unscathed," Ye Mo replied calmly. "I just didn't want to die a horrible death."
Having said that, he turned and headed towards the exit without another word. Emma Frost followed closely behind, leaving Natasha with a cold, distant back view.
Stepping out of the warehouse, the night wind was still biting. Ye Mo took out his phone and began rapidly typing commands. On the screen, red warning dots gradually lit up, scattered across various corners of the city. These were the potential conflict hotspots he had just located.
"Do you think we can win?" Emma Frost asked in a low voice as she walked beside him.
"This isn't about winning or losing," Ye Mo, his eyes deep as he stared at the screen. "It's about who can survive this chaos, and thrive."
He stopped and glanced back at the dark warehouse. Natasha's figure had already vanished into the darkness, as if she had never been there. Ye Mo took a deep breath, put his phone back in his pocket, and zipped up his hoodie.
The neon lights in the distance flickered, reflecting on the city skyline, as if countless eyes were watching everything. Ye Mo knew that from this moment on, his so-called "neutrality" was a thing of the past. He was no longer the college student hiding behind the scenes, but a node in this huge network, a participant who had to bear the consequences.
He strode off towards the other end of the street. His footsteps echoed crisply and firmly in the empty street. Emma Frost followed behind him, their shadows stretching long under the streetlights before finally disappearing into the night.