Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Physicist Who Never Existed

When the name “Lazarus”—like a devil’s whisper—was wrung from Helmut the Beacon’s lips, the entire command center of the Shadow Bureau was plunged into a silence deeper than any crisis before.

A financial war is severing an artery.
An information war is poisoning the nerves.
But “Lazarus”… the name itself pointed to a godlike domain, a calamity capable of grinding the very bones of a city into dust.

“…Lazarus…”

In the technical division, Old K adjusted his bifocals; for the first time, a look bordering on terror flickered in his clouded eyes. Slowly, he pulled up the term’s religious definition.

“…It refers to the man in the Gospel of John, dead four days, whom Jesus called from the tomb—restored to life.”

He looked up, meeting the equally grim faces of Lin Feng and Xiao Ran, his voice rasping as if worn down by sandpaper.

“The Ghost organization has given their ultimate weapon such a theologically charged name…I have a very, very bad feeling.”

Lin Feng’s eyes sharpened instantly, like blades.

“…What they wish to ‘awaken’ is not a person.”

“—It’s a dead city.”

Xiao Ran’s voice, cold as ice, picked up where he left off, confirming the most dreadful suspicion in everyone’s hearts.

“Or rather, the geological plate beneath the city—one meant to slumber forever.”

In that instant, everyone understood.

Infrasound.
Urban resonance.
A man-made earthquake.

This was no longer war.
This was apocalypse.

“Immediately,” Xiao Ran’s voice was devoid of emotion, yet tinged with a desperation that raced against time, “conduct the highest-level background checks on every top expert who’s made outstanding contributions to our country since its founding in the fields of sonic physics and geological resonance—living or dead!”

“I want to know who designed this… gateway to hell for these lunatics!”

…

A top-secret, decades-spanning manhunt was launched, simultaneously, on two fronts!

The Archive Front.

Deep in the lowest level of the National Archives, a half-meter-thick titanium door requiring triple verification—iris, voice, and genetic scan—groaned open.

Xiao Ran entered alone.

This was the so-called Hall of Heroes, or the Wall of Regret—the Ghost Archive.

No earth-shattering state secrets were stored here. Only the original files of all the nation’s top scientists who, since the founding of the country, had vanished, died, or defected abroad under “unnatural” circumstances.

Behind each file was a tragedy that made the heart ache.

Guided with reverence by the archivist, Xiao Ran soon found the long-sealed dossier, coded S-1993-04-11, on the prodigy of sonic physics—Zhao Zhenhua.

The official record read like a simple news brief:

Zhao Zhenhua, male, aged 45, drowned in the Elbe River in April 1993 while attending an international physics conference in Hamburg, Germany, due to “alcohol intoxication.” The body was confirmed and cremated by our embassy.

A flawless report of accidental death.

Yet Xiao Ran, with eyes trained to the sharpness of a hawk, smelled the stench of lies in those yellowed pages and photos.

In the corner of several “crime scene” photos taken by German police, she spotted, on a railing, a faint, hastily wiped, almost indiscernible—

Ouroboros mark.

The deadliest evidence, however, came from the German forensic report. On the key datum of “pulmonary water content,” there were amateurish signs of correction fluid, covering a second alteration.

How could a drowning victim have no water in his lungs?

“…It wasn’t an accident.” Xiao Ran stared at the altered spot, her voice glacial. “He was murdered first, then dumped in the water to feign an accident.”

…

The Data Front.

Lin Feng’s “Singularity Security” studio had transformed into his personal war room.

Before him stretched a boundless blue virtual star map, composed of global geographic information, research data, patent reports, equipment purchase records, and more.

He didn’t search for “Zhao Zhenhua.”

He knew: anyone who could persuade the state apparatus of his death for thirty years would never use the same identity again.

What he conducted was “data archaeology.”

He had written a super-analysis program called [Prometheus], a tireless data bloodhound, sweeping through all public and semi-public data from tens of thousands of global institutes related to “geological resonance” and “infrasound applications,” tracing every connection.

Time ticked by.

At the very minute Xiao Ran discovered the Ouroboros in the archives, a pinprick of white light on Lin Feng’s Nordic sector—at the far northern edge of Norway, near the Arctic Circle—burst into a blinding scarlet alarm.

“Mouse! Report!”

“Reporting, boss!” The AI’s lolita-like voice was now deadly serious. “A private marine geoscience research institute off the coast of Tromsø, Norway, secretly purchased a ‘Hera-7 superconducting magnetic cooling system’—the same grade as those used in the German Planck National Laboratory—three years ago via a Swiss third-party company!”

Lin Feng’s pupils contracted instantly.

“…A top-tier cryogenic system for quantum computers, bought for… offshore oil exploration?”

“Yes, boss!” Mouse’s voice tinged with excitement. “Moreover, my ‘Sky Eye’ system’s cross-verification of global offshore fund flows found that the funds for this purchase came from an anonymous Cayman Islands offshore trust…”

“…And that trust shares the same ‘ghost’ account pool as Anderson’s ‘Orion Capital’—for the past five years!”

…

Shadow Bureau Command Center.

When Xiao Ran’s extracted, blurred Ouroboros from the archives and the ghost account pool clue Lin Feng dredged from the data sea were simultaneously cast onto the main screen—

Everyone held their breath.

Two lines, stretching across thirty years.

One culled from the dust of old records.
One drawn from the chill of flowing data.

Seemingly unrelated.

Yet, ultimately, like fated beams of destiny, they overlapped—precisely, perfectly—pointing to one coordinate at the world’s end—

On the giant high-res satellite map, at Norway’s northernmost tip, shrouded by endless snow and fjords, isolated from the world…

“Aurora Oceanographic Institute.”

Lin Feng stared at that point, lonely as an abandoned star on the map, his gaze turning icy.

“…It seems our physicist, ‘dead’ for thirty years…”

“…really fears the heat.”

Xiao Ran wasted no words.

She picked up the red phone that symbolized highest authority.

Her voice brooked no refusal.

“…Connect me to the General Staff, Overseas Operations Division.”

“I need a ticket to the Nordic countries…”

“…One way.”