Chapter Fifty-Three: The Final Tranquility
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[Time until "Zero Hour": 03:00:00]
Three hours.
The final one hundred and eighty minutes.
Within the command center, the air seemed to have solidified into amber, sealing everyone in an exquisite torture known only as "waiting."
The solemn vows had been made, the meticulous plans deployed. Yet as each second slipped away, a deeper fatigue and anxiety began to entwine every heart like invisible vines.
The pillar of resolve had not yet returned.
This last quiet was so oppressive it threatened madness.
...
In the medical bay.
The heart monitor continued its steady "beep... beep..." like a monotonous lullaby.
The nurse had just completed the final check, ensured everything was normal, and tiptoed out.
Only Lin Feng remained in the room.
Suddenly.
His tightly closed eyelids trembled once more.
But this time, it was no longer an unconscious reflex.
Seconds later, those eyes—silent for dozens of hours—slowly opened.
There was no trace of confusion, none of the disorientation that comes from waking. In those eyes, only a vast, star-deep calm and clarity. It seemed he hadn't just emerged from deep coma, but had finished a brief meditation on binary and algorithms.
The door creaked open.
Xiao Ran entered, carrying a cup of hot water, followed by Wang Zhe, his face gaunt and weary. They were here for their routine check.
Upon seeing the man on the bed, awake and alert, both were struck as if by lightning, frozen in place.
"Lin Feng... you..."
The water cup in Xiao Ran's hand nearly slipped.
But Lin Feng spoke first. His voice, hoarse from disuse, uttered a single word that nearly sent the AI "Mouse" system into ecstatic meltdown.
"...Mouse."
"Boss! Boo-hoo, you’re finally awake! Mouse missed you so much!"
The AI’s loli voice now had a crying tone, echoing with deafening cheers in Lin Feng's private channel.
"Quiet," Lin Feng commanded, his tone possessing a long-lost, irresistible laziness. "Synchronize all data from the moment I disconnected to now."
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Not a wasted word.
No pleasantries.
The first second after awakening, what he craved was not water, not comfort, but—information.
Such was Lin Feng.
The king of the virtual world had returned.
...
"Data synchronization commencing. Boss, prepare for brain overload!"
"Mouse" obeyed instantly.
Lin Feng closed his eyes again, leaning back against the headboard. In the tiny bone-conduction earpiece Xiao Ran had placed by his pillow, a tsunami of information began to flow.
All intelligence from the past hours—the full details of the [Electromagnetic Shield] plan, every command Xiao Ran had issued, every deployment of the national machinery, every line of defense code Wang Zhe had written, analyses of Anderson’s possible hiding spots...
Everything was "poured" into Lin Feng’s mind by "Mouse" in a stream of data compressed and optimized to the limit.
If this scene had visual effects, it would be a cosmic explosion of information in Lin Feng’s brain: countless codes, topology charts, battle maps, and faces flashing, recombining, colliding, and deducing at lightning speed in his consciousness!
His mind was now operating beyond human limits, spinning madly.
Outside the door, Wang Zhe and Xiao Ran could only see him calmly leaning there, as if asleep.
Yet they sensed a terrifying, invisible aura gathering once more around the newly awakened man.
Just one minute later.
Lin Feng opened his eyes again.
Within them, the stars swirled—he seemed to see through everything.
He looked at Wang Zhe, who, tense and exhausted, now stood slightly hunched at the doorway. At the corner of Lin Feng’s lips, a lazy, long-missed smile appeared.
"...Old Wang, I’ve reviewed those redundant patches you wrote for the 'Guardian.'"
...
Wang Zhe trembled, instinctively clenched his fists, like a student awaiting a teacher’s verdict.
"Well done."
Lin Feng’s approval was direct.
"Especially the 'data fraud' module targeting the 'Pangu' backdoor—its structure is ingenious, you even used Professor Lu’s favorite 'logic nesting' technique... It’s better than the version he once taught me."
Hearing his mentor’s name, Wang Zhe’s eyes turned red; he exhaled, excited. "Really?"
"But..."
Lin Feng's tone shifted abruptly, his gaze sharpening.
"...You left a 'flaw' here."
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He raised his finger, tracing a complex code structure in the air with invisible energy.
"This flaw is well hidden. Anderson, that egotistical fool, will never find it. But if the attacker is the 'Ghost' behind him... judging by his ability to foster someone like Anderson, he’ll exploit this point in 0.3 seconds, slicing through your fraud module like a hot knife through butter."
Buzz!
Wang Zhe’s mind went blank, his face drained of color.
His painstakingly built defenses had—contained a fatal loophole?
But just as he was about to plunge into self-reproach, Lin Feng’s expression twisted into a nearly wicked, amused smile.
"...But I like this flaw."
Wang Zhe jerked his head up, confused.
"—Because we're going to transform it from a 'mistake' into a passage prepared exclusively for that 'Ghost' who only dares hide in the shadows..."
Lin Feng spoke each word with chilling emphasis.
"...A 'trap'—the VIP entrance!"
...
Ten minutes later, Lin Feng had removed all his medical devices and returned to the command center’s core console, his own seat.
The previous solemnity and oppression vanished the moment he returned.
In their place was a bloodthirsty excitement, as if a wild hunt was about to begin!
His fingers became blurs on the keyboard, moving at an unbelievable speed, making the final, most lethal "pre-war upgrades" to the entire "Digital Maze."
Without turning, he spoke to Xiao Ran behind him:
"Queen Xiao, I need bait."
"Have the 'Zhenhai' disguise its signal as a civilian fisheries data station, and five minutes before the press conference, broadcast a 0.5-second ultra-high frequency data burst toward the Sea of Japan. Content... anything, a weather report will do."
Xiao Ran didn’t ask "why."
She simply gazed deeply at that familiar, confident, almost arrogant silhouette, instantly grasping his intent.
She picked up the red phone, her voice cold and sharp.
"Understood."
"The prey needs to hear... a familiar 'call.'"
On the wall, the enormous countdown had become blindingly vivid—
[00:59:59]
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