Chapter Twenty-Three: The First Test

In Lin Feng’s studio, the air was so still that the faint hiss of currents passing through silicon chips in the supercomputer could be heard.

Xiao Ran’s holographic projection stood before his console. Together, they scrutinized the “spoils of war” they had risked everything to copy from Anderson’s terminal server.

It was a thoroughly encrypted “data heart.”

“How is it?” Xiao Ran’s voice carried a tension she herself hadn’t noticed.

“Don’t rush,” Lin Feng replied, eyes glimmering with the light of code. He was like a top surgeon wielding a scalpel, performing the most delicate heart dissection.

“Anderson’s defense system is clever. The moment I breached it, it triggered a ‘data scorched earth’ protocol, destroying ninety-nine percent of the files. What we got are just fragments.”

Xiao Ran’s heart sank.

“But…” Lin Feng shifted, a familiar confident smile—the smile of “Zhurong”—curving his lips. “…when the devil leaves, he always leaves behind the scent of sulfur.”

He reconstructed the data stream into a massive, three-dimensional “neural network” model.

“Look,” he pointed to a tiny node within the model, “this isn’t just a monitoring system—it’s a ‘behavior analysis’ system. Anderson uses it to learn and predict your agency’s actions, like training an AI. Last night’s trap was just a little ‘pop quiz’ for us.”

“This lunatic…” A chill ran down Xiao Ran’s spine.

“But no matter how smart he is, he can’t erase everything.” Lin Feng’s fingers danced through the virtual model, and finally, from a pile of seemingly meaningless, marked-as-deleted log caches, he forcibly restored a fragmented… schedule.

Most of the schedule had been utterly destroyed.

Only one entry, newly created and not yet erased by the destruction protocol, left a faint trace.

Lin Feng used every bit of computational power to painstakingly restore that shadow.

At last, a clear line of text appeared on the screen:

[Time: Tonight, 20:00. Location: Summit Closing Banquet. Meeting: Codename “Messenger.”]

“Messenger…” Xiao Ran murmured the name, her gaze growing grave. “Who will he be? What message is he bringing?”

“No idea,” Lin Feng shook his head, “but we know Anderson’s next move will happen tonight in the banquet hall.”

“He will definitely appear.”

…

At night, the Pujiang No.1 Club glowed brilliantly, like a paradise on earth.

The summit’s closing banquet was more relaxed and lavish than the daytime forum, and… carried more of an invisible, dangerous undertone.

Xiao Ran shed her intellectual business suit.

She donned a custom-tailored, wine-red velvet evening gown, her hair cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders, her earlobes adorned with exquisite diamond studs. The moment she entered, she became the absolute focus of the room.

She was no longer the stern “researcher,” but a noble “queen,” brimming with deadly allure.

In her earpiece, Lin Feng’s signature lazy banter sounded.

“Tsk tsk, Captain Xiao, are you here for a mission or to reel in a millionaire?”

At that moment, Lin Feng was hiding in a backstage utility room, still wearing the grubby “Zhang San” work uniform, a heavily modified tablet before him.

Thanks to the micro cameras he’d previously disguised as ashtrays, decorative flowers, and even the eyes of service robots throughout the venue, every corner of the banquet hall was laid bare to him.

He was the sole “God’s Eye” behind this lavish ball, master of the entire scene.

“Shut up. Status report.” Xiao Ran raised a glass of champagne, smiling elegantly at a financial tycoon attempting to strike up a conversation, but her voice to Lin Feng was icy, issuing precise orders.

“Reporting, Your Majesty.” Lin Feng’s tone was full of mischief. “The balding fat man behind you is Southeast Asia’s largest arms dealer. The blonde in the blue gown at the bar is a senior Mossad agent; there’s a ceramic pistol in her purse. And…”

He acted as an omniscient guide, introducing Xiao Ran to each participant in this “parade of specters.”

“Where’s Anderson?”

“At your ten o’clock, VIP booth. No bodyguards, drinking whiskey alone—looks like he’s waiting for someone.”

Casually, Xiao Ran glanced in that direction.

Anderson sat alone in the shadows. Sensing her gaze, he slowly raised his head and, across dozens of meters, lifted his glass to her.

On his face was that familiar, elegant, cat-and-mouse smile.

Provocation.

Silent provocation.

Xiao Ran’s heart sank sharply. Tonight, there would be no escape.

Sure enough.

A waltz began to play.

Anderson set down his glass, stood, adjusted his bow tie, and, under the astonished gaze of all, strode directly toward Xiao Ran.

He stopped before her and made a flawlessly gentlemanly gesture of invitation.

“Beautiful ‘Researcher Xiao,’ may I have the honor?”

Looking into his piercing blue eyes, Xiao Ran knew refusal was not an option.

She placed her glass on the waiter’s tray and slowly slipped her silk-gloved hand into Anderson’s palm.

Together, they glided into the dance floor.

A waltz danced upon the edge of a blade.

“Miss Xiao’s steps are as professional and precise as your academic report,” Anderson whispered with a smile as he led her in a spin.

“Mr. Anderson, you flatter me,” Xiao Ran replied, her smile flawless, “and your speech was as provocative as your investment acumen.”

“Oh?” Anderson’s eyebrow arched. “Then, Miss Xiao, were you satisfied with the ‘welcome party’ I prepared for you and your friends?”

Xiao Ran’s heart skipped a beat!

He was openly referencing the previous street battle!

“It was quite an unconventional party,” Xiao Ran’s smile remained, but her eyes grew cold. “Sadly, my friend, ‘Mr. Cleaner,’ left early, not enjoying himself. I haven’t had the chance to ask him for advice on ‘housekeeping.’”

At the mention of “Cleaner,” Anderson’s pupils contracted sharply!

For the first time in their duel, Xiao Ran seized the initiative.

He kept smiling, but the mirth was replaced by a real chill.

The dance paused for half a second in a spin.

He leaned in, his voice snake-like, audible only to the two of them.

“It seems I underestimated you.”

“But I advise you not to be too curious about tonight’s ‘Messenger.’”

“Because he brings Pandora’s box.”

“Once opened, you—and your little ‘rat’ hiding in the ventilation ducts…”

“…neither of you can bear the consequences.”

The warning was naked.

The threat, undisguised.

The waltz ended.

They bowed elegantly and parted.

As if the deadly exchange had never happened.

Anderson no longer looked at Xiao Ran. He straightened his cuffs and turned, heading directly for the most secluded corner of the banquet hall.

There, a man in a suit stood with his back to the dance floor.

The “Messenger” had appeared!

“Lin Feng! Do you see him?” Xiao Ran’s voice was urgent in her earpiece.

“I see him,” Lin Feng replied, but his tone was strangely off.

So strange that Xiao Ran felt a sudden, inexplicable anxiety.

Gone was his usual laziness and sarcasm—even the tension was absent.

Only a sort of stunned disbelief, as if he’d seen a ghost.

Backstage, in the utility room.

Lin Feng stared at the screen.

He maneuvered a camera disguised as a food delivery robot to the other side of the corner.

At last, he saw the face of the man called “Messenger.”

In that instant, Lin Feng felt his blood freeze.

His throat seemed gripped by an invisible hand, making even breathing difficult.

His earpiece crackled with a voice, shaken, disbelieving, nearly breaking.

“Xiao Ran…”

“Leave quickly!”

“That ‘Messenger’…”

“…”

“…is Li Jianguo, CEO of Sky Dome Network!”