Chapter 338

Morning sunlight had just climbed the glass curtain wall outside the Laboratory, Zhao Jianguo was lowering his head to adjust the current frequency of the third row interface on the Main Control Console. A light flick of his fingertip on the knob steadied the Data Stream instantly. He casually wiped his face; the incident of last night's digital torch falling into the swimming pool still lingered in his mind, but he had no time to dwell——the system here had just stabilized, and not a single hiccup could be allowed.

The door was pushed open with a click, a team of Special Forces personnel in dark gray uniforms filed in, their steps uniform as if marching to a beat. Leading them was a middle-aged man with a square face, low-set eyebrows, and immobile shoulders as he walked—clearly someone accustomed to giving orders year after year. He stood before the Control Console, offered no greeting, and directly produced a metal plate, slapping it onto the identification zone.

"Zhao Jianguo, newly appointed director of the Special Forces Bureau, ordered to take over the Laboratory's core Permission." He spoke curtly, his voice not loud, yet each word sounded like an iron nail driven into the floor: "Effective immediately, all operations related to the sign‑in system are suspended."

Zhao Jianguo glanced at him, didn't move, didn't reply, merely withdrew his hand from the Control Console and slowly slipped it into his pocket.

"I know you're nervous right now." The Director's tone unchanged, "A torch that fell out of the virtual world can still burn—who would have believed that ten years ago? Precisely because of that, this technology can no longer be led by individuals; the state must take charge."

Zhao Jianguo nodded: "I agree you're nervous, but I disagree with you taking action."

He turned and walked to beneath the central dome, looking up at the still‑slowly rotating Data Ring: "This place looks like a research center, but it's really more like my kitchen. You want to dismantle the stove and take the pot—fine, but you can't light a fire."

The Director frowned: "We have a top‑tier technical team; we can handle biometric identification, Permission coverage, and agreement rewrites."

"Then try it." Zhao Jianguo stepped to the side, spreading his hands, "If you can make the system recognize you, I'll hand over the whole key ring."

The Director snorted coldly, beckoning with his hand behind him. Two technical personnel stepped forward immediately, connected a portable Terminal, and began entering forced authorization commands. A red warning box popped up on the Screen: 【External authentication request, confirm execution?】 The Director himself pressed the confirm key.

In an instant, the lights throughout the Laboratory went dark—not a power‑outage black, but as if a cloth had been draped over everything, even the emergency lights didn't come on. The Data Stream suddenly reversed, all interfaces turning snowy white at once, then a line of black characters appeared:

【Authentication failed, subject mismatch.】

"What's happening?" The Director snapped toward the operator.

"I don't know! All modules are locked down; even the local cache can't be read!"

At that moment, a speck of light suddenly flared in the center of the dome, as if squeezed out of the void. The light slowly elongated, took shape, and finally resolved into a human figure. Dressed in an old‑style Mao suit, his hair meticulously combed, his features bore a six‑to‑seven‑percent resemblance to Zhao Jianguo, though he was more subdued and his gaze calmer.

No one spoke on the scene.

"You've forgotten." The Projection spoke, voice not loud but as if whispered right by the ear, "The system only recognizes Zhao Jianguo's bloodline."

The Director's pupils constricted: "Who are you?"

"Chen Jianguo." The Projection said calmly, "Twenty years ago, when I signed the first agreement in the Northwest Gobi, I established this dead Rules Sign—binding the gene sequence, single‑line inheritance. Anyone who tries to force their way in would rather have it paralyze."

Having spoken, an encrypted log appeared in mid‑air, showing a younger version of himself dropping a drop of blood into some instrument, with a note beside it reading 【Host Locking Procedure·Complete】.

"This isn't something you made." Chen Jianguo looked at the Director, "Nor can I fully explain it. But it has chosen a member of the Zhao Family, so only a Zhao Family member may use it. You can't take it away."

The Director's face shifted through shades: "That's a state asset!"

"Then take it with you." Zhao Jianguo interjected, his tone light as if haggling at a market, "The main unit is here, the wiring is all here—let your people move it and see if it agrees."

The words had barely fallen when a clatter of metal came from outside. Two Special Forces Team Members pushed in a disassembly tool cart, holding Insulated Pliers and a signal cutter, heading straight for the main unit cabinet.

Zhao Jianguo didn't stop them, merely stepping back half a pace.

The moment the pliers touched the third interface of the main unit, the alarm sounded—not a ordinary beep, but a low‑frequency vibration that made one's teeth ache. All doors in the building locked automatically, the ceiling lowered alloy shielding panels, and red beams shot from the four walls, forming a cross‑laser net that held everyone in place.

"Lockdown mode engaged." A mechanical voice sounded, "Unauthorized physical intervention has been logged; countermeasure procedure activated."

"Withdraw!" the Director finally shouted.

No one moved. The laser net didn't disengage, nor did the doors open.

Chen Jianguo's Projection spoke again: "This system is neither a state‑made artifact nor a product of human technology. It chooses a host, rather than being possessed."

As he spoke, he raised his hand and pointed at Zhao Jianguo. A golden trace emerged from the void, slid down through the air, and was imprinted directly onto Zhao Jianguo's palm. Zhao Jianguo lowered his gaze; the marking seemed alive, wandering beneath his skin in a circuit before settling steadily on the inner side of his wrist.

He walked back to the Main Control Console and placed his hand on it. The Screen lit up one by one, Data flow resumed, lighting returned to normal. Everyone else remained where they stood, but the operation interface before him was fully unlocked, green light flashing, displaying a line of small text: 【Authentication passed, host online.】

The Director stood outside the laser net, his face ashen: "You're resisting organizational inspection."

"I'm not resisting." Zhao Jianguo said while pulling up the operation log, "I'm simply standing where I belong. If you want to investigate, go ahead—bring the compliance process. But don't expect me to step aside—I won't, and neither will it."

Chen Jianguo's Projection began to fade, his final words barely audible: "Remember… bloodline is not just blood, it's responsibility."

Having spoken, the point of light dispersed, like a candle snuffed out by the wind.

The laser net retracted, the door locks released. The Special Forces Team Members exchanged a glance and silently put away their tools. The Director stood where he was, unmoving, staring at Zhao Jianguo for a full ten seconds, finally turning to walk out. Just before exiting, he paused and said, "This matter isn't over."

"I know." Zhao Jianguo sat in the main control chair, tapping his fingers on the tabletop, "But next time you come, remember to bring a usable reason."

After the door closed, he leaned back in the chair, head tilted upward, and let out a long breath. The golden trace on his palm still warmed faintly, as if reminding him that everything that had just happened was no illusion.

He glanced down at the time in the lower‑right corner of the Control Console: 8:17 a. m. The new day had just begun, and he had already won a battle.

But this battle has never been won by talk.