Chapter Eighteen: The First Encounter

In Lin Feng’s studio, the air was so still it felt frozen in time.

Suspended above the console, in the very center, a “data fragment” violently torn from the Prometheus defense system hovered as a holographic projection. It resembled a crystalline blue fossil from another world, its core teeming with algorithmic nodes more intricate and ever-shifting than distant stars.

Xiao Ran, Old K, and several other key tech members watched Lin Feng’s every move via remote video feed, holding their breath. In their eyes, Lin Feng didn’t look like a hacker at all. At this moment, he resembled a world-class paleontologist, scalpel in hand, dissecting with supreme precision.

“Fascinating,” Lin Feng murmured, studying the “fossil” before him. “Anderson’s people truly are geniuses. Look at this…”

He traced a finger through the air. The hologram magnified instantly.

“The structure of this algorithm—doesn’t it remind you of shark’s teeth? Lose one layer, and another immediately fills the gap, optimizing itself based on the ‘wear’ of the previous layer, growing sharper, stronger. This is a textbook self-adaptive evolutionary algorithm. Standard attacks will only make it tougher.”

Old K and the others listened, half-lost, but the sense of awe was unmistakable—this thing was formidable.

“But…” Lin Feng’s tone shifted, eyes glinting with a hunter’s cunning. “…no matter how perfect a predator, it still needs a digestive system. And if it digests, it must trust.”

He zoomed in on a minute, seemingly insignificant node—a module responsible for data access verification.

“Found it.” A cold smile crept across Lin Feng’s lips. “Right here. The ‘genetic flaw’ in this ‘tooth.’”

“To maximize computational efficiency, the algorithm sets an absolute trust whitelist for all data from its internal database. In other words, if a data source is marked as ‘top priority internal,’ it skips all security checks—devouring and analyzing the data as truth!”

“That’s… that’s a massive vulnerability!” Old K exclaimed in shock.

“No, it’s not a vulnerability.” Lin Feng shook his head, for the first time revealing a hint of respect for his adversaries. “It’s confidence. The kind bordering on divinity. They believe no one in this world could ever breach their outer defenses and poison their ‘food.’”

Xiao Ran’s heart skipped a beat.

She understood.

“Lin Feng,” her voice came through the comms, heavy with significance, “what do you need?”

“I need a poison,” Lin Feng’s eyes blazed with warlike fervor. “Something that appears absolutely delicious, perfectly nutritious—a financial model with a single fatal parameter hidden within.”

…

A fierce debate, restricted to only the core members, unfolded in secret at the “Shadow Bureau” command center.

“No! Absolutely not!” Old K shook his head vehemently. “Chief Xiao, this is counterfeiting national financial data! It’s a felony! We’re national security, not… not corporate spies!”

“I agree!” another agent quickly chimed in. “If this comes to light, the consequences will be unthinkable! We’ll be court-martialed!”

Xiao Ran remained silent, listening.

“Chief Xiao, say something!”

Lifting her head at last, her gaze swept over the subordinates shackled by “rules.” She remembered Old Lu’s sacrifice five years ago, recalled the comrades who barely made it out alive in the parking lot days before, and, most of all, the madman in the command vehicle who had exhausted his life force, vomiting relentlessly, just to save her.

Her eyes hardened with resolve.

“This isn’t forgery.” Her voice was quiet but left no room for argument. “This is war.”

“In war, intelligence is a weapon. If Anderson can ambush us with false intel, why can’t we mislead him with ‘flawed’ data?”

She looked each person in the eye, stating deliberately, “I need the latest, non-public financial model of ‘Northern Cisco’—HuaXin Tech’s biggest rival. All data must be authentic. Only one parameter needs ‘adjustment’…”

“…quietly lower the expected growth rate of their 5G RF chip by 0.01%.”

…

After Xiao Ran leveraged every connection her family could muster—and signed a military oath that could end her career—a specially “treated” set of real data, labeled “Top Economic Secret,” was delivered to Lin Feng’s studio at dawn the next day.

The poison was ready.

Now, it was up to the poisoner’s skill.

Lin Feng reviewed the data with a satisfied smile. He spent three hours disguising this “data poison” as a routine internal update from Anderson’s own team, employing exquisite technical finesse. Then, exploiting the “genetic flaw” and the backdoor Old Lu had left behind, he injected this “Trojan horse” into Anderson’s massive internal database, silent as a drop of water joining the sea—utterly undetectable.

…

Meanwhile, halfway around the world on Wall Street, New York.

In the elite, bustling top-floor trading room of “Orion Capital,” dozens of bespoke-suited financial analysts pored over screens, deep in tense analysis.

Anderson’s CTO, a Jewish prodigy named David, frowned at the newly updated database.

“Strange. Prometheus’s self-check system flagged an unscheduled, unidentified data update early this morning.”

“Can you trace the source?” his assistant asked.

“No, their technique was flawless,” David replied, but soon relaxed. “Still, Prometheus’s firewall didn’t trigger any alerts, and the update passed every virus scan. Must be a routine midnight maintenance by one of our techs.”

He thought little of it. He had absolute faith in the billion-dollar, godlike Prometheus supercomputer he had built with his own hands.

He marked the freshly updated “Northern Cisco” financial model as “confirmed” and sent it to the trading division.

Unaware, the analysts used this “poisoned” data as the core input for Prometheus’s final deduction module.

“Beep—”

Prometheus’s computational core began to hum, deep and resonant. That single, surreptitiously altered parameter—lowered by 0.01%—set it on a course for a critical miscalculation.

At last, a clear, AI-generated recommendation appeared on the screen:

Target: Northern Cisco.
Risk Assessment: Low.
Recommendation: Within the next 24 hours, establish a short position of no less than $3 billion and coordinate with upcoming negative tech news for a precision strike.

Anderson’s chief trader glanced at the advice and, without hesitation, pressed “execute.”

…

The next morning, as the US market opened.

The very moment “Orion Capital’s” $3 billion short position was established—

A breaking news story detonated across the technology sector!

“Breaking! Northern Cisco announces a disruptive breakthrough in 5G RF chip technology—has secured multi-billion-dollar orders from Apple and Samsung!”

Boom—

Northern Cisco’s stock price rocketed, surging 30% within the opening three minutes!

Wall Street was in uproar.

Every fund shorting Northern Cisco was trapped, instantly liquidated.

…

In Orion Capital’s trading room, silence reigned.

Everyone stared blankly at the glaring red loss curve on the screen, minds utterly blank.

Anderson, coffee in hand, slowly approached the main display. He stared at the loss figure that made his eyelid twitch uncontrollably—$570 million.

The habitual elegant smile vanished from his face, replaced by a darkness as deep as water.

Just then, CTO David burst in, panic and disbelief etched across his face.

“Sir… our… our Prometheus…” he stammered, pointing at his tablet, voice trembling, “we've been… poisoned!”

“The other party… left us a message…”

Anderson slowly turned, taking the tablet.

On the screen, written in the simplest, most primitive notepad program, was a single line.

The tone was unmistakably condescending—taunting, even.

“Nice teeth.”
“Too bad about the cavities.”
“—Your dentist, Zhu Rong.”