For the next two weeks, Lin Huai lived like a madman.
During the day, he was the Eastern Fortune Teller under the Brooklyn Bridge charging one dollar.
Business was decent. The money he earned not only covered his rent and filled his second-hand fridge with all sorts of 'white people food', but he even managed to save a little. Every day, he watched, learned, and imitated, chewing down every fleeting expression on passersby's faces, those scattered fragments of fate left behind.
The 'Seer' skin he wore was fitting him more and more comfortably.
As soon as night fell, he would throw himself into the brightly lit public library in Queens.
Lin Huai dove headfirst into the free ocean of the internet, turning over every single scrap of information about Stark Industries and Tony Stark that could be found online.
From company financial reports to gossip from tabloids, from dry technical press conferences to recordings of Tony's unfiltered remarks from his student days, he didn't miss a single one.
He knew very well that against a genius like Tony Stark, whose bones were carved with arrogance, a flimsy 'Obadiah is a traitor' would be utterly useless.
It would only get him labeled as another Joker desperate for fame, and he'd likely be scrubbed as junk data the next second by that AI called Jarvis.
He needed to produce something.
A piece of [evidence] that an ordinary person absolutely could not know, something even Tony himself might have overlooked.
This evidence had to pierce through that hard shell of scientific arrogance forged around him in one shot, blasting a hole in his purely materialistic worldview that could never be patched up.
That night, Lin Huai spent his last savings on enough dry rations to last a week, then locked himself inside his cold, damp rental room.
The final preparations were complete.
It was time. Time for that all-or-nothing 'divination'.
He sat cross-legged on the cold floor, emptied his mind of all distracting thoughts, and mobilized the pitiful bit of spirituality he had accumulated over these two weeks through 'Acting'.
His target was as clear as it could be.
"An electronic information channel that can bypass Jarvis, be seen by Tony Stark himself, and be extremely difficult to trace afterwards."
"The specific model of the key weapon Obadiah Stane plans to use against Tony."
When he silently finished reciting these two questions, in an instant, all the sound and color of the World were drained away.
Grey fog surged up, swallowing him whole.
This time, he was no longer a spectator standing on the shore, but was dragged alive into the vortex of information.
Countless fragmented images, chaotic audio, and messy data streams all turned into red-hot steel needles, mindlessly drilling into his brain.
He saw the layered firewalls of Stark Industries, saw Jarvis's omnipresent data surveillance, saw countless fan letters and death threats instantly tagged as 'junk' and sinking into nothingness.
Can't find it!
There simply was no such channel!
Just as his spirit was about to be torn apart by this sea of data, Lin Huai used all his strength to bite the tip of his tongue. The sharp pain forcibly yanked back a sliver of clarity.
"In the name of the 'Fool'... I pray for stronger divination abilities..."
To the grey fog that gave him new life, he offered his most humble, yet most devout prayer.
Deep within the grey fog, in a corner utterly buried by data and time, nearly forgotten by history, a faint glimmer lit up.
It was an ancient, outdated server port, digital trash left over from when Stark Industries acquired a bankrupt small company many years ago. Long unused, it was still tied to an anonymous email Tony Stark used during his student days.
This was it!
He almost couldn't hold back from shouting out loud.
But immediately, the backlash from the second question plunged his vision into darkness, nearly causing him to black out on the spot.
What he was trying to see was a key future node, the precise information of an important item!
With a 'boom', his vision exploded into a bloody red.
Countless distorted firearm blueprints and complex weapon parameters exploded in his mind, threatening to burst his skull wide open.
His head felt like it had been split open.
At the last moment, as his spirituality was exhausted and his consciousness was about to dissipate, he finally, from within that bloody illusion, desperately grasped an incredibly clear term!
"Ramsden... K-2... Military Sonic Paralysis Device..."
The illusion shattered.
Lin Huai sprang up from the floor, his throat making a hoarse, wheezing sound as he gasped for breath desperately, his face covered in cold sweat.
He staggered to his feet, the whole World spinning, his feet feeling unsteady, unable to find solid ground. The taste of spiritual overdraft was fucking brutal.
Right then, the voice of the news anchor from the broken TV in his rental room, sounding like it was on steroids, stabbed sharply into his ears.
"...Billionaire Tony Stark, missing for over three months, has been successfully rescued by the U.S. Air Force today! He is about to return to New York and is preparing to hold a press conference!"
The timing was right.
Lin Huai splashed cold water on his face, threw on his jacket, and dragged his leaden legs, step by step, towards that familiar public library.
He sat in front of the computer, his hands shaking badly. It took him nearly ten minutes to correctly type the port address hidden under layers of data trash.
A simple, antiquated email sending interface popped up.
With trembling fingers, he typed the email that would decide his fate.
Recipient: T.Stark (anonymous)
Subject: A Transaction
The body was pitifully short:
Obadiah is your enemy.
Beware the [Ramsden K-2 Sonic Device].
He wants the 'heart' in your chest.
Signature:
—The Fools Fool
The moment he clicked'send', Lin Huai's vision went black. He completely lost consciousness and collapsed face-first onto the keyboard.
Around him, gasps of surprise erupted... At the same time, at Stark's private Villa in Malibu.
Tony Stark had just finished talking with his secretary Pepper, dumping the rest of the press conference mess on her.
Shirtless, the rough, first-generation arc reactor in his chest emitted an eerie blue light, silently reminding him of those three months in hell.
He took a large gulp of whiskey. There was no trace of post-rescue relief on his face, only an almost manic, cold intensity.
"Jarvis."
"At your service, sir."
"Pull up all weapon sales records and... combat data reports for Stark Industries over the past ten years." Tony's voice was somewhat hoarse.
"Sir, the data volume is extremely large, and some parts involve top-secret..."
"Then open the top-secret permissions for me!" Tony roared, then waved his hand irritably, "Never mind, forget that for now. I need to..."
"Apologies for the interruption, sir."
Jarvis's calm electronic voice sounded.
"An internal testing port marked as 'decommissioned for over fifteen years' has just received an anonymous email."
Tony snorted, unconcerned.
"Interesting. Which bored hacker dug up my antique toy? Read it out. Let's see if it's another fan confession or some conspiracy theorist's new story."
"Email title: A Transaction."
Jarvis paused, then continued in his unmodulated tone:
"Obadiah is your enemy."
"Pfft..."
Tony almost spat out his drink, amused.
"This old cliché again. What's next? Going to say Captain America is still al..."
His words cut off.
"Beware the [Ramsden K-2 Sonic Device]."
Jarvis's voice fell.
Tony's voice stopped.
His hand holding the glass froze in mid-air.
The playful look on his face faded bit by bit, leaving behind only pure, knife-like sharpness.
Ramsden was an inconspicuous small supplier to the Military. Their project... Jarvis, without pause, finished the last line:
"...He wants the 'heart' in your chest."
An eerie silence fell over the lab, broken only by the faint clinking of ice cubes in the whiskey glass.
Tony slowly set down his glass, the base making a soft click against the tabletop.
He stared into the empty air before him. There was nothing there, but he looked as if he were scrutinizing an uninvited enemy.
In those eyes that were always cynical, a genuine chill appeared for the first time.
"Jarvis."
His voice was low and steady.
"Lock down all traces of this email. Mark the sender's address as the highest threat level."
"Also, in our non-lethal weapons R&D database, find me all information on the 'Ramsden K-2 Sonic Device', including where the prototype... is now."