Chapter Nineteen: The Data Archaeologist

“Hunter Capital, estimated single-day loss exceeding five hundred million dollars!”

“Wall Street in turmoil! ‘Northern Cisco’ shares stage an epic short squeeze!”

“Mysterious force strikes with precision—‘Prometheus’ myth on the verge of collapse!”

The next morning, the command center of the “Shadow Bureau” erupted in the most exhilarating cheers they’d experienced in weeks—cheers that had long been suppressed. On the main screen, breaking headlines from major financial media outlets worldwide scrolled in an endless loop. Each headline was like a badge of honor, bearing witness to the dazzling victory of their shocking counterattack the previous night.

“We did it! We actually won!”

“Incredible! I still feel like I’m dreaming!”

“Seeing Anderson and his cronies choke on their losses feels even better than getting married!”

The team members high-fived, hugged, some so overjoyed that they lifted Old K, the head of the tech group, right off his feet. The office was awash with a jubilant atmosphere.

Standing at the edge of this sea of celebration, Xiao Ran—whose face was usually as cold and unyielding as a glacier—allowed herself a rare, genuine smile to surface.

Her gaze traveled through the crowd and settled on the figure basking in the praise of his peers, lazily reclined in his chair in the holographic projection.

Lin Feng, a lollipop between his lips, faced the screen with a cocky, insufferable expression that seemed to say “this is just basic stuff.” Yet his eyes, always alight with an inner fire, still betrayed an irrepressible pride.

“Well, Captain Xiao,” he raised an eyebrow at Xiao Ran through the encrypted comms, “how did this ‘dentist’ do? Not bad, right?”

“Could be better,” Xiao Ran replied, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Next time, remember to send the surgical bill to Anderson.”

This private joke, heavy with unspoken understanding, brought an unprecedented warmth between them.

Yet, while everyone else basked in the afterglow of victory, Lin Feng did not allow himself to fully relax, contrary to appearances.

Though his main screen displayed a game interface, in the lower right corner, a barely noticeable progress bar crept steadily forward.

He was analyzing.

Analyzing every “error data packet” and “system crash log” returned after poisoning the enemy’s “Prometheus” system during last night’s duel.

“A perfect system, in its death throes, reveals far more secrets than it ever does in perfect operation.”

He sent these words to Xiao Ran.

Reading them, Xiao Ran’s smile slowly faded.

She understood that this man was like herself—someone who had grown used to contemplating darkness in the light.

Celebration is fleeting.

The war is far from over.

…

Time ticked by, minute by minute.

The festive mood in the command center gradually faded as everyone returned to their posts.

In Lin Feng’s workspace, the progress bar tracking his analysis finally reached 100%.

“Mouse, strip out all redundant data and construct a three-dimensional structural model for me.”

“On it, boss! Commencing ‘digital archaeology’—please stand by…”

Lin Feng donned his VR headset, and in an instant, the world transformed into a deep data cosmos of zeroes and ones.

Before him, the seemingly meaningless jumble of garbled code and shards generated by the system crash began to reassemble and reshape.

He was like a master archaeologist, carefully brushing away the dust of history, striving to reconstruct the long-lost secrets of an ancient civilization from a pile of broken, patternless pottery shards.

Hours passed.

At last, when the final “shard” was fitted into place, the fragmentary image of a “virtual server”—half forcibly destroyed—appeared before him.

“What is this…” Lin Feng’s brow furrowed in concentration.

He began an in-depth, forced data recovery on the virtual server’s image.

First Discovery: Sandbox Simulations

He found that this server had been used by Anderson’s team specifically for “sandbox simulations.” Inside were vast amounts of simulated data and attack plans detailing how to launch a multi-layered assault—both technical and financial—against Huaxin Technologies. The malice of their methods and the meticulousness of their layout sent chills down his spine.

“It seems our victory was nothing more than a stroke of luck,” he relayed this finding to Xiao Ran. “They have at least ten backup plans for attacking Huaxin.”

Second Discovery: The Abandoned Plan B

Just as he was preparing to close the image, he noticed a file in the server’s recycle bin—a repeatedly revised attack plan ultimately marked as “abandoned.”

He opened it.

The moment he saw the attack target, his pupils contracted violently.

The target was not Huaxin Technologies.

It was…

Skyline Networks.

Lin Feng felt an invisible hand squeezing his heart.

Why?

Why would Anderson target Skyline as well? Weren’t they…

A terrifying thought flashed through his mind.

Suppressing his inner turmoil, he read on.

Final Discovery: An Invitation from Hell

At the end of the abandoned plan, he found a note written personally by Anderson’s chief technology officer, David. That annotation was like a key, opening a door to an even deeper level of hell.

It read:

“This ‘framing’ plan carries too high a risk for too little gain. While we do have ‘assets’ inside Skyline Networks, their current head of security is mediocre and not a threat. I recommend waiting until after next month’s International FinTech Summit in Shanghai. Then, using ‘that thing’ acquired from Israel’s N-S-O Group, we’ll proceed with the final Plan B for Huaxin—‘Zero Hour.’”

“Assets inside Skyline Networks…”

“International FinTech Summit…”

“That thing…”

“Zero Hour…”

Each ominous phrase exploded like a bomb in Lin Feng’s mind.

He felt like an unwitting mortal who had just broken the seal on some ancient god.

This was no longer a simple commercial war.

He was staring at a terrifying blueprint—one woven from countless smaller conspiracies—designed to undermine the very technological lifeblood of the nation.

Meanwhile.

Half a world away, atop Wall Street in New York.

In the penthouse office of Hunter Capital, Anderson stared expressionlessly at the blinding financial report flashing a loss of over five hundred million dollars.

His chief technology officer David, and his chief trader, stood beside him like chastened schoolboys, too frightened to breathe.

Deathly silence filled the office.

Anderson did not rage. He did not throw anything.

He simply rose, walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling window, and gazed out at the New York nightscape glittering like a river of gold.

Then, he picked up the red, highest-level encrypted satellite phone from his desk and dialed a number.

The call was answered after a single ring.

“It’s me.” Anderson’s voice was as calm and cold as a frozen lake, betraying no emotion.

But every word he spoke was laced with a chill that could freeze the soul.

“Notify the Cleaner.”

There was a brief pause on the other end.

“Tell him,” Anderson said, eyes fixed on the city, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile both elegant and cruel,

“The rules of the game have changed.”

“From this moment on, I want no more money.”

“…”

“…I want all of them dead.”