CHAPTER NINE
The hum of processors filled the underground chamber, each rhythm pulsing like a synthetic heartbeat. Data lines streamed across holographic walls — troop movements, encrypted communications, internal military reports — all funneled from the core network of the Chinese defense grid.
At the center stood the masked figure, now ungloved, their fingers tracing a familiar code pattern — General Li Xuefang's encryption signature.
The figure removed their mask.
Underneath was the calm face of Director Wen Qian, Deputy Head of the National Security Bureau.
A man whose very job was to protect her.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes reflecting the glowing interface before him.
Director Wen: (Muttered) Eleven years of loyalty, and she still got the medals.
A brief smirk cut across his face, bitter and humorless.
"The Iron Lotus — hero of the nation. Rock of the East."
He replayed an old video clip: the broadcast of her return parade. Li Xuefang stepping out of her armored car, the crowd chanting her name, the president himself bowing slightly as she saluted.
Wen's expression darkened.
Director Wen: While the Bureau backed you in the shadows. No one remembers who built the intel. Who burned their own men to buy you minutes on the battlefield.
He tapped a key, pulling up a still image — a group of soldiers, smiling. A unit file labeled "Black Echo Unit — Classified."
Every face was marked DECEASED.
Director Wen: And she called it a 'strategic necessity'.
He exhaled slowly, rage cooled into something sharper — purpose.
Director Wen: You took my glory, Li Xuefang. Now I'll take your sight.
He typed a command into the system:
Modulated Voice: Link Initiation Protocol — Phase Two: Lens Synchronization Override.
A digital ripple spread through the holographic map, connecting his terminal directly to Li's neural feed.
Somewhere above, in the Red Lotus Mansion, her lens flickered — once, faintly — like a heartbeat skipping a note.
Director Wen: (Whispered) Soon, I'll see the world as you do, General. And when I'm done, you'll be the traitor the nation despises.
He leaned back, watching the syncing code crawl toward completion.
Then, his communicator buzzed.
Secretary Qu'an: Director Wen. The President is asking for your updated report on the palace incident.
Director Wen: (Smoothly) Tell him I'm finalizing surveillance crosslinks. Within forty-eight hours, we'll know who compromised the palace.
He cut the transmission and smiled faintly.
Director Wen: And I already do.
The holographic display shifted — showing not Li Xuefang, but Jiang Ren, captured through the lens feed at the breakfast table, frozen mid-motion, the unopened gift still before him.
Wen's eyes gleamed.
Director Wen: The painter boy. Perfect leverage.
The lights dimmed as he saved the file under a single word:
"Bait."
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