"Bloomberg News: The United States has announced a complete ban on Marching Ant products entering its market. On the morning of the 25th, local time, the U.S. President signed Executive Order No. 13, officially prohibiting all products from the Marching Ant Group on the grounds that the company poses a threat to national security. The contents of the order include..."
A single stone had stirred a thousand waves.
Just as the University of Tokyo subtly hinted that the Marching Ant Company was behind the 'Satan' virus, the United States followed up with an all-out sanction. As expected, public speculation exploded—people began to believe that the U.S. also suspected Marching Ant of orchestrating the virus crisis.
"That damn Chinese company—serves them right for their greed!"
"The President has lost it. The only system that can resist the 'Satan' virus is the Termite OS, and you're sanctioning them now? In the middle of a global crisis?"
"Marching Ant deserves to go bankrupt. I can't even play games anymore without their Termite OS. I'm quitting gaming. Might die from withdrawal, but I won't use their products again."
"Typical American move—everything threatens their national security. What a joke."
"It's about time someone knocked that Chinese company down a peg. Just because they've got advanced tech doesn't mean they can do whatever they want."
...
News of the U.S. sanctions set off a global uproar.
In this already chaotic autumn, one crisis followed another.
Soon after the U.S. announcement, Australia also declared its intention to block Marching Ant from its market. Other countries, however, chose to sit back and watch. Nations that didn't have tense relations with China weren't eager to jump into the fray.
The leadership of most countries understood the implications—these accusations came from only one side. Without definitive evidence, taking a hostile stance could be reckless.
After all, only Termite OS could resist the 'Satan' virus. If a global boycott of Marching Ant occurred, the world's internet infrastructure would suffer immensely.
Daily economic losses in such a scenario would be beyond calculation.
"This president is nuts," Chen Mo muttered, shaking his head at the news.
It wasn't the first time the U.S. had tried to block Marching Ant. They never had much business there to begin with, so on the surface, the sanctions didn't hurt.
But this move, timed with the outbreak of 'Satan', made the intention clear—it was retaliation. The University of Tokyo threw mud, and the U.S. eagerly followed up, refusing to allow Termite OS into its systems.
"We should go home tomorrow," Xiao Yu said softly.
For the past two days, the media had been flooded with news about Marching Ant. Though on their honeymoon, neither of them could fully relax.
"Don't worry. The company's handling things just fine," Chen Mo said, sensing Xiao Yu's unease.
"This is huge," she insisted. "Maybe you should show your face. We can take another trip when it's all over."
"It's not as bad as it looks. The internet's loud, sure, but in reality, our Termite OS market share is still growing—especially in the corporate sector. People who know tech understand the truth. As for the online trolls? They were never our customers to begin with.
We're a private company, not listed, so public opinion doesn't hurt us much. The accusations from the University of Tokyo are completely fabricated—it's just noise. Nothing substantial."
Chen Mo gently patted her head to reassure her.
"If you're not enjoying this honeymoon, let's pause it for a few days. I'll keep an eye on everything. Once the truth comes out, I'll make it up to you."
"Okay." Xiao Yu smiled and nodded. "I'll grab some snacks—you go do your thing."
In the company's conference room, Zhao Min was mid-discussion on how to respond to the U.S. sanctions when her phone rang. Seeing it was Chen Mo, she made a quick decision: she let the others continue the discussion while she stepped out.
Unconsciously, Chen Mo had become her anchor. His voice alone gave her the strength to face anything.
"Boss," she answered.
"Is this a good time?"
"Yes." Zhao Min straightened her tone, comforted by his calm voice.
"How's the company doing?" Chen Mo asked.
"Moving along steadily," Zhao Min replied. "The University of Tokyo has thrown a lot of dirt our way, and it's caused trouble. They're even sending investigators to 'look into it'. I've already been in contact with Secretary Yao.
Public opinion's rough, but the Termite OS market share keeps climbing. Looks like we're eating into Microsoft, Umbrella, and Apple's territory. The Americans are clearly getting nervous. We were just discussing how to respond to the sanctions…"
Zhao Min gave a detailed update.
"Any leads yet?" Chen Mo asked.
"We're considering a full withdrawal from the U.S. market. Until they revoke the sanctions, there's no point in pushing forward there. Their long-term hostility has made our presence minimal anyway, so it won't affect us much."
"Alright, you make the call on that," Chen Mo said. "Also, the 'Satan' virus originated from the University of Tokyo's Institute of Artificial Intelligence. They're framing us to shift the blame. I'll send you the evidence via email."
This was information others would struggle to uncover quickly. Thankfully, he hadn't helped the Japanese solve their crisis—he would've been digging his own grave.
"The Institute of Artificial Intelligence at the University of Tokyo?" Zhao Min's tone sharpened.
"Yes. The core of 'Satan' is a viral artificial intelligence—built from fragments of the Clown Virus code. Right now, it manifests as a subroutine that locks desktops. But if their team reactivates the smart core, the AI's digital face will be able to talk and interact just like any other intelligent system."
Zhao Min's pupils contracted, her expression darkening.
She now understood: this wasn't just a virus crisis—it was an artificial intelligence crisis. If the truth got out, it could trigger global panic.
"If that's true, we can't make this public," Zhao Min said grimly. "The influence of artificial intelligence is too vast. If the world panics and governments are pressured to clamp down on AI, our company will become the primary target."
Her voice had grown heavy.
The world was already rife with fear over AI surpassing human control. Now, with confirmation that 'Satan' was a smart virus, the situation was explosive.
Announcing it could ignite global backlash against all forms of AI.
"You handle it," Chen Mo said. "This crisis shouldn't drag on much longer."
"To resolve it, we need a kill switch for the virus. Our team is working on cracking it, but it's not going to be easy. You said it yourself—it's artificial intelligence."
"Let them try first. If they can't crack it, let me know—I'll take care of it," Chen Mo said.
"I knew you had a solution." Zhao Min smiled bitterly. "But don't act yet. Let the world believe our innocence first. If we release a kill switch now, they'll just accuse us of being the original culprits. The world never thanks the savior, only blames the scapegoat."
She was clearly frustrated—both at the University of Tokyo and the United States.
"Alright. Call me if anything changes," Chen Mo said.
After the call, Zhao Min stood in silence for a moment, gathering her thoughts.
With Chen Mo backing her, she could finally breathe easier. Returning to the conference room, her composure fully restored, she looked around and addressed the team.
"The meeting ends here. I just spoke with the boss. Our response to the U.S. sanctions has been finalized. Prepare for a press conference—I have something important to announce."