Chapter 224: Communicator Sends Warning·Nanovirus Appears

Zhao Jianguo took the communicator out of his pocket, the Screen still lit. The earlier vibration was too light, like ants crawling over his palm, yet he still couldn't sleep. In the Courtyard the children scattered after playing ball, the wind stopped, and inside only the desk lamp's yellow light pressed the sketch at the table corner.

He sat at the table, his finger brushed the side of the communicator twice, entering a string of numbers. This is the encrypted frequency agreed with Chen Jianguo for Projection, normally used only to send a few words about weather or vegetable prices, never used at night.

The Screen flickered a few times, a gray mist rose. The human silhouette hadn't formed yet when the red light burst out first. The whole room was suddenly dyed blood‑red, and the alarm sounded short and sharp like a blade scraping glass.

"The nanovirus has penetrated three temporal‑spatial nodes."

The voice didn't come from the communicator, as if it drilled straight into his brain. Zhao Jianguo slammed his hand over his ears, then released, staring at the Screen. Three sets of Coordinates popped up: 1985 Research Institute, 1992 Industrial Zone, 2005 Medical Center. Each character bore a trembling border, as if it could shatter at any moment.

He was about to take a screenshot when the door was kicked open.

A wooden board slammed against the wall with a dull thud; three men in black jackets stood in the doorway, the one in the middle broad‑shouldered and thick‑backed, his hat pulled low. He stepped forward, hand still down, and hurled a question at Zhao Jianguo: "Who are you talking to?"

Zhao Jianguo didn't move. The communicator still glowed red, but he had already cut off the voice channel. He slowly rotated the device ninety degrees and pressed the projection button.

A blue light swept across the ceiling, then the floor. A square space was pulled out—mottled cement walls, iron racks stacked with glass bottles, a rust‑stained sign on the wall reading "Level‑1 Protection Zone".

Special Forces Captain stared at the sign, his complexion changing. He stepped forward, pointing at a valve in the corner: "This spot... we only photographed last week."

"That is the abandoned bio‑engineering station from 1985," Zhao Jianguo said, "It's still standing."

The room fell silent at once. Two attendants exchanged a glance, no one spoke.

Zhao Jianguo placed his hand back on the communicator, gave a gentle push, and the display switched to sandbox mode. Three red dots hovered in the air, forming a diagonal line. He pointed at the first dot: "The Virus started spreading from here. If I'm not mistaken, have you recently discovered anyone digging up old files? Especially the 1980s Laboratory logs?"

Special Forces Captain gave no answer, but his Adam's apple moved.

"I'm not colluding," Zhao Jianguo's voice was low, "I just saw the outcome before you did."

Footsteps came from outside, and two more people stopped at the doorway without entering. A light bulb under the eave flickered, revealing a thin sheen of sweat on Special Forces Captain's forehead.

"How can you prove this isn't false information?" he finally asked.

Zhao Jianguo gave no explanation. He retrieved the System Backend logs and released the past seventy‑two hours of Data Stream. A dark‑red trace crawled slowly along the timeline, splitting once each hour like a branching tree limb.

"It's already replicating," he said, "It's not a bacterium, nor an ordinary virus. It can rewrite molecular structures and hop along information chains."

Special Forces Captain stared at the red line, then asked, "Can you trace the source?"

"Can't," Zhao Jianguo shook his head, "But it will erupt within three days."

The words hung in the air, the communicator buzzed. Everyone looked up.

A line of text floated in mid‑air: **Virus outbreak remaining 72 hours**.

The font was pure red, without a border or animation, just hanging silently as if a notice stuck in the air. The light reflected off it, giving a slight oily sheen.

Special Forces Captain reached out to touch it, then withdrew. He turned to the people behind him and said, "Get the Recorder from the vehicle and save this image."

"No," Zhao Jianguo cut him off, "If this device connects to external storage, it could become infected. I have an isolated Terminal here; it can be viewed but not copied."

The attendant hesitated, looking at the Captain.

"Then watch it here," the Captain stepped back to his spot, "Tell me what to do next."

Zhao Jianguo nodded, opened the local sandbox interface. He rearranged the three Coordinates, adding wind direction, population density, and traffic routes. Seconds later, the model automatically highlighted an intersection area—the underground utility hub of the current city.

"It's targeting the water system," he said, "If just one node falls, seventy‑two hours is enough for it to cover half the city."

"How do we know it actually exists?"

"You've already been investigating," Zhao Jianguo said, looking at him, "Otherwise you wouldn't have broken into my house at midnight. You must have found some anomalous samples, right? Like tissue fluid spontaneously re‑forming, or corrosion patterns appearing on metal surfaces?"

Special Forces Captain was silent for a few seconds, then pulled a small notebook from his chest, opened to a page. It showed a cell structure diagram, annotated beside it as "unknown active substance".

"It was unearthed last month at the western city construction site," he said, "Buried fifteen meters underground, the sealed container was damaged. After exposure to air, the container wall began sprouting fungus‑like growths; microscopic slices showed its composition changing every minute."

Zhao Jianguo nodded: "That's it. It's not something native to Earth."

Engine sounds came from outside, likely reinforcements arriving. Vehicle lights swept across the windows, causing the interior shadows to flicker.

"May I leave now?" Zhao Jianguo asked.

"No," Special Forces Captain stared at the floating countdown, "Superiors need to verify your identity and equipment source. Until then, you must cooperate with the investigation."

"I have no problem," Zhao Jianguo placed the communicator on the table, "But don't cut the power. If the network drops, the next warning might not be received."

"We will supply power," the Captain said, "but you must promise to inform us of any new information immediately."

"Agreed," Zhao Jianguo stood up, "But I have conditions— I need to see all the relevant data you have. Including on‑site photos, sample analyses, and the list of missing persons from the past three months."

"Missing persons?"

"These things don't appear out of nowhere," Zhao Jianguo stared at him, "Someone always contacts them first. They either die or... become something else."

The Captain offered no rebuttal. He waved his hand, ordering the attendant to step back, staying in the room himself, standing against the wall.

Zhao Jianguo re‑operated the communicator, pulling up a video clip. The footage shook violently, as if shot with a handheld device. A dim room, a person lying on the floor, body twisted into a strange angle. As the camera approached, the person suddenly opened his eyes, emitting a mechanical clack from his mouth, like gears meshing.

"Where is this?" the Captain asked.

"The basement of the 2005 Medical Center," Zhao Jianguo said, "The cameraman vanished five minutes later, and the equipment was retrieved from the riverbed three days after."

The Captain stared at the eyes in the footage, his pupils contracting slightly.

"Who exactly are you?" he asked softly.

"Someone who doesn't want everyone turned into parts," Zhao Jianguo turned off the video, "Time's short. If you trust me, we should start assigning tasks now."

The Captain didn't reply immediately. He walked to the window, pulled aside a curtain a little. Outside, two black jeeps were parked, their rooftop antennas still rotating.

"We'll have an answer within two hours," he said, "Until then, you are not allowed to leave this room."

Zhao Jianguo didn't argue. He sat back in the Chair, cradling the communicator in his arms, his fingers lightly tapping its side.

The countdown still hung, ticking down second by second.

A voice over the intercom came from outside, someone reporting the situation. The room's light flickered briefly, and the communicator's Screen jumped for half a second.

Zhao Jianguo instantly looked up, staring at the power interface.

The Electric Wire was firmly plugged, voltage normal. But in that instant, he saw a line of small characters flash across the Screen:

**Detected unknown signal injection**.