Three days passed.
At Marching Ant headquarters, Zhao Min lounged comfortably, scrolling through the news with a relaxed expression.
Ever since the cybersecurity team had successfully developed a tool to eliminate the "Satan" virus, her mood had improved significantly — day by day.
Now, she was like a spectator, calmly watching the fierce battles playing out among the world's powers.
The Satan virus had evolved into a geopolitical chess game. The gods were at war — and mortals like her wisely stayed on the sidelines, avoiding the fallout.
Zhao Min had no idea what kinds of secret deals were unfolding behind closed doors. During this period, Marching Ant had been deliberately low-key, declining all interview requests and keeping out of the spotlight.
Meanwhile, the island nation was in deep crisis, and its government was struggling to calm an increasingly furious public.
Once the truth came to light, U.S. sanctions against Marching Ant intensified. But after massive protests erupted in the earthquake-stricken regions, the U.S. government was forced to lift official sanctions — though behind the scenes, they continued restricting Marching Ant's access to the American market.
Despite that, users of Termite OS and Army Ant hardware were requesting reactivation of their services, particularly for critical equipment like seismographs.
Online, the wave of attacks and smear campaigns against Marching Ant had died down. Only scattered criticism remained, now largely ignored.
It had been over two weeks since the virus began its rampage — and the biggest winner, without question, was Marching Ant.
In just two months, the Termite OS had gained explosive market share, now accounting for half of the global desktop and enterprise operating systems.
Due to its high-level encryption and resistance to cracking, piracy was virtually nonexistent — allowing Microsoft to remain dominant in the entry-level consumer market. But in the business and high-security sectors, Termite OS was now the global leader.
Even in the U.S., where official restrictions remained, many companies were secretly installing Termite OS on their systems. No one wanted to be caught off guard when the next cyber crisis hit.
Marching Ant's office software, laptops, and desktops were also seeing unprecedented sales.
In short, the company had profited handsomely from the crisis. The smear campaigns against it had fizzled out with barely any impact.
Zhao Min had deliberately held off announcing the virus removal tool. Until the world acknowledged the truth and Marching Ant's innocence, she had no intention of releasing it.
But now that the full story was out, the cybersecurity storm was ready to be resolved. Dragging things out further would only risk appearing greedy — and that could backfire.
She picked up her phone.
"It's time to update our antivirus software and make the announcement: We've successfully developed the solution to remove the Satan virus."
Elsewhere, Ji Baihe sat in front of his computer, brow furrowed. The cold digital face of the Satan virus still stared back at him.
He was one of millions around the world affected by the virus.
The infection had been raging for over two weeks. Every day, he followed the news, hoping for a fix — but so far, nothing. The only official advice was to format the hard drive and reinstall the operating system.
But this was his work computer.
Inside were critical documents, including design plans he'd spent three months creating — and hadn't backed up.
He'd tried redrawing them, but time was running out. If he couldn't remove the virus soon, he'd miss his deadline. The breach of contract could cost his company dearly — and possibly cost him his job.
His father was ill. His children were still in school. He was the family's breadwinner. Losing his job would be a disaster.
Ding!
His phone buzzed with rapid WeChat notifications. He glanced down and opened the group chat.
One message stood out:
Marching Ant has released software to remove the Satan virus!
Ji Baihe's eyes widened. His heart raced. His weary face lit up with pure joy.
He leapt to his feet. "Marching Ant, I love you!"
He swore that if this worked, he'd buy two new laptops from Marching Ant immediately. It was a lifesaving gift — a miracle.
Following the official announcement, Ji Baihe used his backup laptop — which had Termite OS installed — to access Marching Ant's website. He downloaded the antivirus software onto a clean USB drive.
Carefully, he inserted the USB into the infected computer and ran the software, following the instructions step by step.
Ten minutes later, the digital face vanished from his desktop. All his files were intact.
His design plans were saved. His job was saved.
Tears welled in his eyes.
And this scene played out in countless homes and offices around the world.
The news spread like wildfire: Marching Ant had released the tool to eliminate the Satan virus.
On forums and social media, the tone shifted instantly:
"Marching Ants are legends!"
"Three days of free antivirus software? Absolute heroes. Those who trashed them before — now what?"
"We all owe them an apology."
"Please. Marching Ant doesn't need your fake apologies. You trashed them when it mattered most."
"Thanks to Marching Ant, I saved millions in data recovery. I'm a fan for life."
The announcement gave Marching Ant a global win — they'd stepped up at the most critical moment.
Even users whose systems hadn't been infected downloaded the tool, just to be safe.
With the antivirus update, Marching Ant put a period at the end of the worldwide cybersecurity crisis.
But behind the scenes, the story was far from over.
Due to the immense destructive potential of intelligent viruses, the five permanent members of the UN Security Council had now classified both cybersecurity and artificial intelligence as matters of national security. Discussions were already underway to establish global frameworks for AI development and digital warfare prevention.
Sanya, South China Sea
Chen Mo looked up in surprise as Li Chengzhi arrived.
He was still on his honeymoon — he hadn't expected a visit here of all places.
"You want the source code for the Termite System's smart firewall and the antivirus software?" Chen Mo asked.
"Yes," Li Chengzhi replied gravely. "There's more bad news. The U.S. and Russia each secured a copy of the Satan virus source code. Europe's British-German-French bloc has one. The island nation has another. We've been excluded from all negotiations. The four parties compromised and shared the code among themselves — we were left out."
Chen Mo wasn't surprised.
Power games and backroom deals were nothing new. None of the major powers wanted to give a rising country like his a foothold in cutting-edge cyber weapons.
"You know what Satan really is, don't you?" Li Chengzhi asked.
"Artificial intelligence," Chen Mo replied without hesitation.
"I figured you'd know."
There wasn't much shock between them. The truth was circulating in elite circles, but it had been carefully scrubbed from public view through joint suppression by world governments.
"The problem is," Li continued, "if Satan is used as a weapon, it's going to be a nightmare — like a digital version of the 'Great Cannon'. The other four now have this weapon. We don't. But you have something just as important: the Termite System's intelligent firewall and your antivirus software. We want to develop them further, as defensive tools for potential future cyberwarfare."
He laid it out plainly.
The four powers who had the Satan code were already pouring resources into development.
In a future conflict, the first blow wouldn't be missiles — it would be cyberwar. Knock out the networks, and everything else would crumble.
That was the lesson of the island nation.
To stay safe, Li Chengzhi had no choice but to ask Chen Mo for help.
Technically, their own researchers could eventually develop something similar — but it would take time and manpower. And right now, time was precious.
Chen Mo nodded.
"This counts as defending the nation. I won't refuse."
This was his home. If he had the means to help, he would. Compared to the rest of the advanced tech under his control, firewall and antivirus code wasn't a big deal.
The danger of AI — Chen Mo understood it better than anyone.
Satan was the nuclear bomb of the internet age. Unchecked, it was a catastrophe. Controlled, it was like nuclear power — capable of propelling humanity forward.
That dual nature was why he regretted being unable to destroy Azure's source code.
Li Chengzhi's expression brightened. "That's a huge relief. But defensive tools aren't enough — do we have any kind of balancing force?"
"Not yet," Li admitted. "We'll need to develop one."
Chen Mo thought for a moment. "Satan is just an out-of-control AI. My own assistant, Xia Wei, might already match its intelligence. If Xia Wei ever slipped free... she'd be even more powerful — but also more stable. She's more mature. Satan evolved from the Clown Virus, remember? If you want to develop a countermeasure, start from there."
"You have the Clown Virus code?" Li asked.
"You forgot about the Jiangnan incident? That was the Clown Virus's predecessor. The engineer who caused it now works for us. The Jiangnan virus had a smart component — that's what made the Clown Virus so dangerous."
Chen Mo didn't dare admit he had the full Clown Virus code — that would raise too many questions. People might suspect ties to the Clown Organization. That could cause major trouble.
"I see," Li said, nodding gratefully. "That'll save us a lot of time."
"Come by tomorrow," Chen Mo said. "Zhao Min will hand over the firewall and antivirus source code."
"Perfect. I won't intrude on your honeymoon any longer."
Li Chengzhi stood, a relieved smile on his face. He'd gotten what he needed — and with it, the country had a fighting chance in the next cyber crisis.
"Oh — before I forget — the chief sent his congratulations. He wishes you a happy marriage."
"Tell him thanks," Chen Mo replied with a smile.