Chapter 332

At 5:17 a. m., the lights of the United Nations Headquarters building just came on, the corridor still very quiet. Zhao Jianguo stood at the entrance of the main conference hall, clutching a paper admission ticket whose edges were almost frayed from his rubbing. This item was what he received this morning, printed with the bold black characters "Civilization Guardians Alliance Permission Granting Ceremony", with a red seal underneath, looking quite formal, but he knew in his heart—whether it's genuine or not still depends on whether the system recognizes it.

He took a deep breath, slipped the admission ticket into his pocket, and pushed the door open.

The hall already had quite a few people seated, national representatives scattered in twos and threes along the sides of the oval long table, some flipping through documents, some speaking in low voices, nobody paying him any attention. The air carried a hint of coffee and the plastic smell of new carpet. Zhao Jianguo walked up to the main platform, stood still with his hands behind his back, eyes fixed on the empty projection area ahead, saying nothing.

Just then, a soft "ding" sounded in his mind.

【Civilization Guardians Alliance System Upgrade Complete】

【Global Permission Binding……】

【Identity Verified: Zhao Jianguo, Permission Level——Global·Activated】

He didn't even blink, just a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. Above, the dome slowly lit up a pale blue ring, spreading like ripples, and then a translucent operation interface floated into view, displaying a few lines of small text: "Permission Level: Global·Activated".

Someone below glanced up, then lowered his head again to continue reading documents, as if it were nothing unusual. But Zhao Jianguo noticed that several representatives lightly tapped their fingers twice on the tabletop in unison—a prearranged confirmation signal.

He knew these people weren't saying anything, but they were uneasy inside. An ordinary person coming out of a Chinese Siheyuan suddenly becoming a core permission holder of the "Civilization Guardians Alliance"? Nobody would believe it.

Then let them see.

Zhao Jianguo cleared his throat, his voice not loud but steady: "Retrieve the baseline data of current emotional fluctuations in major global cities."

On the third second after his words fell, the dome projection changed. A slowly rotating globe model emerged, its surface covered with dense specks of light, varying in shade. Beijing, Niuyue, Mumbai, São Paulo… each megacity flashed, some glowing red-purple, some bright green.

"Red zones indicate emotional high-pressure belts, concentrated in East Asia's morning rush commute and before the opening of European financial markets," the system announced automatically, "green zones are stable areas, mostly distributed during nighttime rest periods."

Zhao Jianguo nodded: "Zoom in on eastern Africa."

The view shifted, and the emotional curves of several East African countries were pulled out, showing gentle undulations. "In the past seventy-two hours, the region has recorded no large-scale panic incidents; the medical robot pilot operation runs stably, with a misdiagnosis rate 41% lower than traditional medical models."

After he finished speaking, a U. S. representative in the front row wearing wire-rimmed glasses finally lifted his head, glanced at him, then lowered his head to jot down something.

Zhao Jianguo said no more. He knew this was enough—not to show off, but to make those who habitually speak with data shut up. If you talk about sentiment, they think you're putting on an act; if you throw numbers, they'll nod.

Next came the voting session.

The agenda proceeded smoothly. Representatives pressed the voting buttons in turn, and approval votes surged upward. The charter's content was actually not complicated: establish a global crisis early-warning sharing mechanism, open channels for basic scientific data exchange, and set up a joint emergency response team. It sounded vague, but each point behind it involved concrete resource allocation.

When the vote reached two-thirds, the Russian representative suddenly stood up.

He didn't press the voting button, nor say a word, just grabbed his briefcase and headed for the exit. His movement was swift and decisive, his leather shoes tapping "tap-tap" on the floor as he went straight out.

The entire hall fell silent for two seconds.

Some turned their heads to look, others lowered theirs pretending not to have seen. The French representative lifted his coffee cup, took a sip, the rim shielding half his face. The Japanese representative swiped a finger across his Tablet and took a screenshot.

Zhao Jianguo didn't move.

After that person's silhouette completely disappeared behind the door, he then lightly raised his hand and traced a circle in the air.

【Activate covert scan, target: departing representative, path tracking】

The system responded silently. Ten seconds later, a stream of Biological Information was returned:

【Detected non-local spacetime energy residue】

【Matched characteristics: 'Spacetime Virus' initial attachment state】

【Risk level: low-risk warning】

Zhao Jianguo's eyebrows twitched.

The term "Spacetime Virus" had never been mentioned by the system before. But he knew that anything the system flags is no small matter.

He withdrew his gesture without changing expression and continued to preside over the remaining procedure. The remaining representatives completed their votes one after another; the final result was a 97% approval rate passing the collaboration charter. Applause came in scattered, sparse claps, nobody particularly excited.

The chair announced a fifteen-minute recess.

Zhao Jianguo rose, didn't go to the rest area, turned a corner, and entered the security room on the basement level. The moment the door closed, he immediately opened the system panel.

"That segment of data just now, encrypt and store it, leaving no trace in the public log."

【Command confirmed, executed】

"Mark that representative as an 'observation target', activate passive tracking mode, no active contact, no alarm."

【Command confirmed, tracking activated】

He leaned against the wall, exhaled a breath. The air-conditioner hummed, the room quite cold. He touched the back of his neck, which felt a little numb, as if a fine needle were lightly pricking it.

This feeling was off.

It wasn't nervousness, nor fatigue. It was a kind of… sensation of something brushing past. Like walking in summer when a leaf suddenly flies past your ear—you can't see it, but it really did touch you.

He stared at the monitor on the wall, which was displaying real-time footage of various parts of the building. Elevator shafts, corridors, security checkpoints… everything seemed normal.

But he knew something abnormal had already happened.

That Russian representative left too abruptly. It didn't look like opposition; it seemed more like—he had received some notice.

Or perhaps he was being controlled.

He recalled the two words "residue" from the system prompt. Since it's residue, it means the virus has left the host or is in the process of detaching. How long had it been there before? How many people did it affect? Had it left any other traces?

He didn't think further.

Now he couldn't act rashly. The alliance had just been founded, its foundation unstable; randomly sounding alarms would only make people think he was overly nervous. Besides, since the system gave only a "low-risk" rating, it indicated that the outbreak point had not yet been reached.

But he also couldn't pretend not to see it.

Zhao Jianguo called up the globe model again, this time adding a new layer: a heat map of recent anomalous bio-electrical fluctuations worldwide. As the display unfolded, a few scattered red dots appeared, distributed across the Eurasia border region, one of them landing exactly on the route that person had just taken when leaving.

He zoomed in on that dot.

Coordinates located: near the west-side ventilation duct on the second basement level of the United Nations building. Timestamp: three minutes ago.

He narrowed his eyes.

Ventilation duct? That's a place even the cleaners rarely go.

He picked up the internal line phone, dialed security dispatch: "Please help me check the access logs for the B2 west area over the past half hour, especially any unauthorized personnel entering or exiting."

"Sure thing, just a moment," came a youthful voice from the other end, probably an intern.

Zhao Jianguo hung up the phone, stood in place without moving. The room held only the faint hum of machinery and the sound of his own breathing.

He knew this matter couldn't be made public. If it blew up, the national representatives would think the alliance had internal traitors running rampant before it even got started, and trust would collapse instantly. But if he ignored it, who knows whether the next occurrence would be someone walking out, or someone fainting right in the meeting?

He decided to keep an eye on it first.

As long as that abnormal signal appears again, he will launch a full investigation. Even if it offends people, he must get to the bottom of it.

The phone rang.

"Mr. Zhao, the records you requested have been found." The intern said, "In B2 West Area, there were no personnel entry/exit records in the past half hour, and the surveillance is normal. However..."

"But what?"

"Ten minutes ago, the system showed a 0.8-second data interruption, located right next to the vent you mentioned. Our technicians checked it and said the wiring was loose, already fixed."

Zhao Jianguo gripped the handset tightly.

It's short enough, and long enough.

Enough for an encrypted signal to upload/download, and enough for a "residual" thing to quietly shift position.

He thanked them and hung up the phone.

He turned and walked toward the door.

As his hand rested on the door handle, he paused again and quietly asked the system: "Is the tracking signal still there?"

【Yes. Weak, but continuing. Direction: unknown, moving.】

He nodded, pulled open the door and went out.

The corridor lights were bright, passing staff hurried. No one knew that in the quiet underground room just now, a silent alarm had been triggered.

Zhao Jianguo walked through the lobby toward his temporary residence. His steps were not fast, and he didn't look back.

But he knew that from this moment on, he was no longer just a "guardian" pushed onto the stage.

He was the first person to see the crack.

And the crack has begun to leak wind.