Liang Shen always believed a city was like a board of glass—transparent if you were above it, razor-sharp if you were below.
Now, standing under the dripping awning of a fried dumpling stall, he felt the glass again — cold, uncut, waiting for his first stroke.
The three black sedans had stopped across the street. Even in the dim neon, Liang recognized the Yan Group's insignia: a coiled silver serpent biting its own tail. His first life had taught him they were the first domino in a chain of betrayals.
He ducked into the stall. Steam from the boiling pot fogged his glasses. The vendor barely looked up; the city never cared who you were unless you paid.
Liang pulled out a cheap notepad from the rack beside the till.
"Paper?" the vendor asked.
"For sketches," Liang said. His voice trembled, but his hand didn't.
In his previous life, the first time Yan Group came for him, he'd been a small-time coder still perfecting the early Glass Net prototype. They had almost killed him before he had even started.
This time, he'd be ready.
He drew fast: not symbols of cultivation but nodes, hubs, drones, and hidden data ports. The Lotus Engine inside his head flickered awake. Each line he drew hummed faintly, like a tuning fork. Steam blurred the ink.
Step one: build cover identity. Step two: seed network. Step three: bait the serpent.
Across the street, one of the sedans' doors opened. A tall man in a charcoal suit stepped out, scanning the crowd with augmented-reality lenses. Liang recognized him—Zhou Wei, Yan Group's enforcer. In the old timeline, Zhou Wei had shattered Liang's kneecap and left him in a hospital bed for six months.
Liang's lips curved into a faint smile. This time, he'd already memorized Zhou Wei's weaknesses. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a cracked thumb drive. On it: a prototype virus disguised as a street-mapping app. He slipped it to the dumpling vendor with his payment.
"Give this to your nephew at the university," Liang murmured. "It's free. It maps shortcuts."
The vendor shrugged. "Sure."
Outside, Zhou Wei's eyes flicked toward the stall. Their gazes met. A thin electric pulse jumped through Liang's spine — fear mixed with thrill.
Liang stepped out into the rain.
"You're early," he said quietly, not sure if Zhou could hear him across the street.
The man tilted his head, as if sensing something. Then he touched his earpiece.
The sedans rolled away.
Liang exhaled. The first move was made. He had seeded his first node. The board was alive.
He turned his face upward to the drizzle. Somewhere inside his skull, the Lotus Engine whispered: Pattern locked. Iteration one complete.
Liang smiled.
This time, the city would not break him.
This time, he would carve it like glass.