The digital world moves faster than light and is infinitely more merciless. In the hours following Captain Lin Mei's confirmation post, the "Rift Watchers' Respite" forum transformed from a niche community into the epicenter of a global earthquake.
The thread, now permanently pinned to the top of the entire site by a stunned moderator, became a pilgrimage site. Hunters who had lost comrades to Shriekers posted messages of tearful gratitude. Independent squads, once on the brink of bankruptcy, now saw a path to survival. The mockers who had initially scorned the post had quietly deleted their comments, hoping no one would remember their foolishness. They were replaced by a flood of newcomers, drawn by rumors of a miracle.
The great powers of the world, however, did not see a miracle. They saw a variable they could not control.
Inside the gleaming chrome-and-glass headquarters of Aegis Dynamics, one of the top three Hero Guilds in Asia, a high-level analyst stood stiffly before a large holographic screen. The screen displayed the entire "Oracle" thread, with the user's name highlighted in a threatening red.
"Director, our analysis is conclusive," the analyst reported, his voice tight. "The data is genuine. Several of our affiliated hunter teams have replicated the results. The 27.3 kHz frequency is, for all intents and purposes, a silver bullet against Abyssal Shriekers."
The Director, a woman in a sharp business suit with eyes as cold as a winter morning, stared at the screen. She wasn't looking at the science; she was looking at the name. "Oracle," she murmured. "Unknown origin. No digital footprint. No history. This isn't a retired academic stumbling upon a discovery. This is a ghost. A ghost with knowledge that gives them power. Power that is not yet ours."
Her finger tapped a command on her desk. "Launch Operation 'Find Oracle'. Mobilize our entire digital intelligence division. I want to know who this is. I want their knowledge, their methods. I want to own this asset. Find them before our competitors do."
Far away, in a subterranean command bunker beneath Beijing, the reaction was even more severe. General Tian, a man whose face seemed to have been carved from granite, watched the same thread on a military-grade display. His uniform was immaculate, decorated with medals earned from three decades of fighting on the front lines. He saw things not in terms of profit and loss, but in terms of threats and strategic assets.
"An unregistered, unvetted source of high-level strategic intelligence has appeared," he said to his subordinate, his voice a low rumble. "This 'Oracle' has demonstrated a capability that exceeds our own research and development divisions. We cannot allow such an asset to remain independent. It is a national security risk."
"Sir, what are your orders?"
General Tian's gaze was chilling. "You will find them. Use any means necessary. This knowledge does not belong to an individual. It belongs to the state. It belongs to us."
The hunt had begun. The world's most powerful factions, for reasons of profit and control, had turned their colossal resources toward finding one anonymous person. A bidding war erupted in the replies of the thread itself. Guilds offered millions in credits, rare artifacts, and coveted positions for any scrap of information that could lead to Oracle's identity.
The name "Oracle" went from an obscurity to a legend in less than twelve hours.
The next morning, the sun rose over Shanghai, blissfully unaware of the digital storm brewing below. For Qin Mo, the day began with its usual, mundane rhythm. He woke up, performed his morning routine, and sat down for breakfast.
Qin Yue slid a bowl of congee in front of him, her expression a careful mask of indifference. "I heard some crazy rumor online last night," she said, trying to sound casual as she munched on a piece of youtiao. "Some mysterious person named 'Oracle' supposedly found a way to instantly kill those Shrieker monsters. Total nonsense, right? Probably just some guild trying to generate hype."
"Perhaps," Qin Mo replied noncommittally, spooning the warm rice porridge into his mouth. It was perfectly seasoned.
At school, the atmosphere was even more charged. The "Oracle" news had spread like wildfire through the AwakenedNet. Every student with even a hint of talent was buzzing about it.
"Did you hear? Vanguard's stock dropped 5% this morning because their anti-sonic tech is now obsolete!" "I heard Aegis Dynamics is offering a ten-million-credit bounty for Oracle's identity!" "This Oracle has to be some hidden grandmaster, right? Maybe a retired S-Rank hero?"
Wang Feng, holding court with his cronies, scoffed loudly. "Hmph. It's just one monster type. Don't be so impressed. When I master my Wind Blade, I'll be able to slice through any monster, no cheap tricks needed." Despite his dismissive words, a flicker of jealousy and unease was visible in his eyes. A new star had appeared in the sky, and it was threatening to outshine his own.
Qin Mo navigated the day as he always did: a phantom in the hallways, a silent observer in the classroom. During the lunch break, he once again found his way to the secluded library terminal. The digital world he re-entered was vastly different from the one he had left.
He slipped through the firewalls with practiced ease and logged into the "Rift Watchers' Respite." His "Oracle" account inbox had a notification symbol with a number so large it had defaulted to 999+. There were friend requests, guild invitations, death threats, and desperate pleas for more information.
He ignored them all.
His focus was on the original thread. He calmly read through the thousands of new replies, his mind processing the information with clinical efficiency. He wasn't looking for praise; he was collecting data on human reactions.
'Initial analysis complete,' his inner voice concluded. 'Hypothesis confirmed. The information was successfully verified and disseminated. The reaction from established powers is predictable: a desire to monopolize the asset. The reaction from independent agents is a mixture of gratitude, opportunism, and desperation. The latter group contains individuals who are resourceful and results-oriented. They are potential candidates.'
He scrolled past the noise, his eyes catching on specific usernames he remembered from the initial debate. Nomad-Lead. Hephaestus. A few others who had asked intelligent questions instead of throwing insults. He opened a new, encrypted text file on a local, offline partition of his mind—a place no one could ever access. He typed out the usernames.
It was a simple list. But it was the first draft. The foundational document of what would one day become "Project Zero."
Su Liying sat in the quiet student council room, her fingers tracing the rim of a porcelain teacup. On her tablet, the "Oracle" thread was displayed. Her friends were chattering excitedly, but she wasn't listening.
"This Oracle person must be so wise and powerful!" one girl gushed. "I bet he's an old man with a long white beard, living on a remote mountain!" another added.
Su Liying's mind, however, was stuck on a strange, illogical thought. She re-read Oracle's original post. The tone. It was dry, academic, and utterly devoid of ego. It presented a world-changing discovery with the same emotional investment as one might present a weather report. The author wasn't excited about their own genius; they seemed almost... bored by it.
That profound, detached confidence... it reminded her of someone.
It reminded her of the absolute stillness she felt from Qin Mo. It reminded her of the way he had answered her question yesterday, his voice a flat line, his eyes seeing something far beyond their conversation.
'No, that's impossible,' she told herself, shaking her head slightly. 'He's a triple-zero. The test was public. It's the most ridiculous idea ever.'
But the seed of suspicion had been planted. It was a puzzle, a paradox that her logical mind couldn't solve, but her intuitive talent couldn't ignore. Her interest in Qin Mo was no longer just a vague curiosity about his strange aura. It was now an active mystery she was determined to unravel.
After school, Qin Mo returned to the library terminal. The time for observation was over. The time for the next step had come.
He ignored the chaotic forum. Instead, using a protocol he had designed himself—one that created a temporary, untraceable, and quantum-encrypted communication channel—he began to act.
He selected three usernames from the list he had compiled in his mind: Nomad-Lead, Hephaestus, and a veteran strategist with the handle Old-Man-Jiang.
He sent each of them an identical, private message. The message bypassed the forum's internal system, appearing directly on their private terminals as a priority-one alert from an "unknown source."
The message was brief and direct.
Subject: An Invitation.
Your contributions to the 'Shrieker' discussion were noted for their logical clarity amidst the surrounding noise. I have concluded that public forums are an inefficient method for disseminating time-sensitive, actionable intelligence.
A more secure channel has been created for this purpose.
If you are interested in receiving further data regarding Abyssal vulnerabilities—data of a much higher sensitivity than what has been shared—you are invited to join. Anonymity is absolute. Identity is irrelevant. Results are the only metric that matters.
Oracle
He sent the messages, then wiped his presence from the network once more. The threads had been cast. Now, he would see who was intelligent enough—and bold enough—to take the bait.
In her temporary field office, Captain Lin Mei was in a tense video conference with a recruiter from Aegis Dynamics. The man was offering her a small fortune for exclusive rights to her battle data.
"Think about it, Captain," the smarmy recruiter said. "You and your team could retire. Never have to risk your lives again."
Her tactical tablet, sitting on the desk beside the screen, suddenly let out a sharp, high-priority chime. A message from an unknown source. From Oracle.
Her eyes widened as she read the simple, powerful words. The recruiter's voice faded into meaningless noise.
She was being offered a choice. A choice between a comfortable, profitable retirement, or a leap of faith into the deep, unknown territory of the man who had already saved her life. Between selling the truth, or serving it.
Her cursor hovered over the "Join Secure Channel" link. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her future, and perhaps the future of the war itself, balanced on this single click.