Ice skates forward, regardless of east or west.

1

Seven seconds into the recording, the walkie-talkie exploded in Ye Shen's palm.

Plastic shards pierced his flesh, and blood trickled down his palm.

He felt no pain—adrenaline suppressed all the subtle sensations of pain, leaving only a chilling rage spreading from his chest.

That recording shouldn't exist.

Three years ago in St. Moritz, Switzerland, the snow-capped peaks of the Alps were visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He personally conducted three anti-eavesdropping scans to confirm that it was absolutely safe.

The recording is now playing loudly throughout the stadium.

His voice was clearly audible:

"Gu Xidong is the best choice. He was a world champion seven years ago and has high public recognition. His sudden comeback after three years of retirement is dramatic enough."

Chen Guodong trembled: "What if he loses control during the live stream..."

"That would be even better. The athlete has a mental breakdown and exposes the inside story in public—the ratings break records. Sponsors, the media, and the International Skating Union will all be watching this, and nobody will notice our actual operation."

"What if he gets crippled?"

"It would be best if he were disabled. He would become a tragic hero, garner public sympathy, and have his treatment monitored throughout, with data collected on his pain response."

"What if they fell and died?"

A three-second pause. The ice cubes strike the glass with a crisp, slow sound.

"That was also sacrificing oneself for the country."

"country?"

"The realm of evolution. Humanity needs to break free from the shackles of pain. Gu Xidong's genes, his wife's genes, their children's genes—data from three generations—are enough to build a complete model of pain tolerance. It would be worth it for a hundred people to die for this."

Recording has ended.

The stadium's acoustic structure caused the echo to last for four seconds.

Absolute, vacuum-like stillness.

Twenty thousand people, none of them moved, none of them breathed.

Then it exploded.

It wasn't a hiss, but a more primal roar.

Two thousand people stood up, three thousand, five thousand—a black tide surged from the seating area.

Some people pointed to the VIP boxes, while others rushed towards the ice rink railings, causing the security guard wall to sway under the impact.

Ye Shen released his grip. The fragments fell to the ground, and blood bloomed into deep red spots.

He turned to face the surveillance wall.

Sixteen panels:

A panoramic view of the ice rink, a close-up of the judges' stand, the stands, the control room, the underground passage, the parking lot, and the exit. Every part is chaotic, with security announcements playing on a scrolling audio channel.

"Traffic congestion at the East Exit—"

"The media area attempted to break through the blockade—"

"The referee's bench requests backup—"

"The situation in the control room is stable, but—"

Before the last word could be finished, the screen went black.

It's not that the signal is lost; it's that darkness is systematically engulfing everything from the outside in.

The edges darken first, then the center is swallowed up in three seconds.

Precise as a ritual.

Ye Shen stared at the black screen.

The second piece started to darken.

The same process, from the outside in, also three seconds.

The third piece. The fourth piece.

He got it.

This is not a malfunction; it's a deliberate attack. The attacker knows the signal path of each camera, the switching time of each node, and how to create this slow, oppressive darkness.

Control room. Ling Wuwen.

Ye Shen connected to the backup channel: "Control room, report the situation."

Only the hissing sound of electricity could be heard.

Switching to the underground safe house: "Take over the surveillance system."

The tech team's voice was urgent: "The system is locked! The other party has implanted root privileges; all administrative commands are being denied!"

"What about physical severance?"

"The main server is on the third basement level; it takes at least eight minutes to go down."

Eight minutes.

too long.

He looked at the other screens that were still working.

2

Chaos escalated in the stands, with chairs and water bottles being thrown. On the ice rink, the judges' box was surrounded by security guards, and the human wall was deforming.

Petrovich shouted "Keep order" into the microphone, but his voice was drowned out by the louder noise.

The fifth area darkened. The sixth area.

Darkness, like ink dripping into clear water, slow and unstoppable.

Ye took a deep breath.

He walked to his private terminal—the one connected to the "Black Swan" independent network. A countdown timer lit up on the screen:

00:03:12

Three minutes and twelve seconds.

There are three minutes and twelve seconds left until Plan B is activated.

He entered the password. Plan B stands for "Purification Protocol":

Detonate the thermobaric bomb buried beneath the ice rink. Not to destroy the stadium—a directional blast that destroys an area with a 15-meter radius.

The explosion evaporated the ice layer, creating steam that triggered the fire sprinklers. In the chaos, his men entered the scene to "clean up": taking away Gu Xidong, Ling Wuwen, and all the samples and witnesses that needed to be taken away.

The cost was the staff who couldn't evacuate the ice rink in time, and the radical spectators who rushed onto the ice.

Ye Shen didn't care.

He needs to end this out-of-control trial.

Countdown 00:03:00.

Press the confirmation button.

"Plan B activated. Thermobaric bomb detonation procedure loading."

The progress bar is scrolling. 5%, 10%, 15% —

The lights in the private room were turned off.

It wasn't completely black; it was a slow, gradual extinguishing.

The outermost ambient light goes out first, followed by the indirect lighting on the walls, and finally the main ceiling light – each layer is spaced one second apart, for a total of three seconds.

Three seconds later, the private room was plunged into darkness.

Only the cold light from the terminal illuminated half of Ye Shen's face.

He heard shouts from next door, footsteps running down the corridor, and chaotic commands on the walkie-talkie.

The lights in the entire VIP area were turned off simultaneously, moving from the outside in, as if an invisible hand had switched them on.

But this is not a normal power outage.

Because outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the light is also disappearing.

He walked up to the glass.

The lighting matrix above the ice rink—three hundred and sixty-four spotlights—is being turned off in the same way.

From the outermost edge inwards, the colors gradually darken, like a giant, luminous lotus slowly closing.

The noise from the audience stopped.

Everyone looked up.

The extinguishing speed is uniform, with a one-second interval between each revolution.

After ten laps, the last lamp went out, plunging the ice rink into absolute darkness.

Only the green indicator light at the emergency exit cast a faint glow.

Then, a beam of light shone again.

The only beam of light—a spotlight shining vertically down from the very center of the ice rink's roof.

The beam was three meters in diameter, with clear edges and a blindingly white interior.

It shone in the center of the referee's table:

Five chairs, five people. Petrovich, representatives of France, the United States, Japan, and Canada. A beam of light enveloped them like specimens, their shadows shortened at their feet, their expressions clear: shock, fear, bewilderment.

A low hiss erupted from the audience—two thousand people gasped simultaneously.

Ling Wuwen's voice rang out.

Not through the referee's microphone, not through the stadium's public address system, but directly through the sound system built into the spotlight—

The performance spotlight in the center of the ice rink is equipped with a built-in high-fidelity speaker.

Now it has become a tool for trial.

Her voice was as calm as reading an instruction manual:

"Three years ago at the Moscow World Championships, Gu Xidong's partner's ice surface collapsed when he completed the triple Axel."

pause.

The beam shifted half a meter, illuminating the edge of the ice rink.

The girl was carried onto a stretcher from there three years ago.

"It took rescuers four minutes and seventeen seconds to reach the center of the ice rink. Because—" the voice rose an octave, "the spotlights were delayed by half a second before turning on."

The beam of light flickered. Darkness, then light again.

"That 0.5 seconds was set manually. The lighting control room log shows that someone manually turned off the automatic lighting program. The operator waited 0.5 seconds before pressing the switch. The reason: 'To avoid sudden bright light stimulating the injured person's eyes.'"

The beam of light shifted towards the west side of the audience seating area.

"The real reason is that the 0.5 seconds of darkness is enough for a person to leave the shadows at the edge of the ice rink."

The beam freezes.

Illuminate an empty seat—the third row of the VIP section by the aisle.

Chair back nameplate: "Special Technical Consultant - Ye Shen"

The audience erupted in uproar.

Ye Shen stood in the dark private room, his fingers clenching.

She got it.

They even know this.

"Today," Ling Wuwen's voice rang out again.

"This light will stay on for a while."

The beam of light began to move slowly and smoothly, sweeping across the night sky.

It left the stands, returned to the ice rink, glided across the broken ice, across the collapsed holes, and across the spot where Gu Xidong had just stood.

It stopped in mid-air.

A projection appears in the center of the beam—

Using water mist and ice chips in the air as a backdrop, a suspended, semi-transparent image is created.

Document Title: "Black Swan Project - Phase Two Implementation Plan"

Highlighted paragraph: "Objective: To induce permanent injury to Gu Xidong's left knee. Method: Ultrasonic directional shock to simulate a training accident. Execution time: Six months ago, Kirov Sports Center. Person in charge: Andrei Sokolov."

Screen switch.

The second document: "Sample Collection Permit - Fetal Genetic Monitoring Agreement"

Highlighted: "Pregnant woman Ling Wuwen, eight weeks pregnant. The fetus carries a paternal pain tolerance mutation gene, requiring continuous monitoring. Method: Implanted nanosensor, ingested through drinking water. Implantation time: three weeks ago. Monitoring data is transmitted back to the server in real time: [encrypted address]"

The third document: "Witness Clearance List"

Seven names.

The first one: Chen Guodong.

The second one: Andrei Sokolov.

The third: Ivan Petrovich.

fourth--

Ye Shen didn't finish reading it.

He turned and rushed toward the door of the private room.

The moment he gripped the doorknob, the electronic lock clicked and locked itself. He pulled hard, but the door wouldn't budge.

The spare key is in the inside pocket of the suit.

He reached out and touched a hard object—a miniature communicator—to contact the safe house in an emergency.

Press the button.

busy tone.

All channels are blocked.

Ye Shen slid down and sat with his back against the door panel.

The cold light from the terminal illuminated the bloodstains on his palm and the first real fear that appeared in his eyes.

He looked up at the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The beam of light was still moving.

The camera is now shining on the VIP box area.

3

The beam of light swept across each of the private rooms.

Floor-to-ceiling windows become mirror-like under strong light, reflecting the interior—

Empty, or a seated, startled VIP. The light lingers for two seconds, then moves on to the next.

It seems to be searching.

The audience was quiet.

Everyone watched as the beam of light moved slowly and steadily, like the hands of death moving across a clock face.

Ye Shen watched as the light drew closer and closer.

Next one, then the next one, and then it's his turn.

He stood up and frantically typed on the keyboard—

Restart the lighting, cut off the spotlight power, and send an emergency distress signal. All commands were rejected; the system was completely locked down.

The progress bar is still scrolling.

85%

The thermobaric bomb detonation program is 85% loaded.

Fifteen seconds left.

The beam of light stopped in the box next to his.

two seconds.

mobile.

It stopped in front of his private box.

The intense light pierced through the floor-to-ceiling glass, instantly engulfing the entire space.

Ye Shen raised his hand to shield his eyes, leaving a lingering glare on his retina.

He peeked through his fingers and saw the projected image inside the beam of light change.

It is not a file.

It is real-time monitoring and recording.

In the video, he's sitting on the sofa in the private room, holding a tablet. Timestamp: "30 minutes ago".

Video playback.

His voice came through:

"Plan B confirmed. Three minutes to go. Cleanup team in position. Targets: Gu Xidong, Ling Wuwen, Chen Guodong, Petrovich. If necessary... the cleanup area can be expanded."

The recording has ended.

The beam is stationary.

The whole world—through the live broadcast, through 20,000 pairs of eyes on site—

Looking at the private room bathed in light, and at the man inside wearing a dark gray suit with bloodstains all over his face.

Ling Wuwen spoke for the last time:

"Mr. Ye Shen."

"You used that 0.5 seconds of darkness three years ago to escape the scene."

"Use these three minutes of darkness today to initiate the killing plan."

"Now, the light has come."

The beam of light suddenly intensified.

The brightness doubled, turning from white to pure blue, so bright that Ye Shen closed his eyes.

Heat waves rushed in from outside the glass, causing the temperature in the private room to rise sharply. The glass made a slight clicking sound—it was beginning to crack under thermal stress.

The progress bar on the terminal screen jumps to 100%.

"Thermobaric bomb detonation procedure completed. Countdown: 00:00:10"

ten seconds.

Ye Shen lunged at the console, frantically pounding on the keyboard in an attempt to cancel. The system remained unresponsive—the detonation program had started independently and could not be stopped.

Nine seconds.

He grabbed a chair and smashed it against the control panel.

The chair leg is broken, the screen is shattered, but the progress bar is still jumping.

Eight seconds.

He turned and rushed towards the floor-to-ceiling glass, smashing it with a chair. The tempered glass remained unmoved, only showing white marks.

Seven seconds.

He stopped catching his breath and looked at the beam of light outside the glass. The light was steady and intense, as if waiting for something.

Six seconds.

He suddenly understood.

Ling Wuwen was not going to judge him.

It's up to him to choose.

Choosing to cancel the detonation in the last few seconds—publicly admitting the plan and kneeling before the world.

Or he could detonate a bomb, killing everyone on the ice rink, including himself.

No matter which choice he makes, he's doomed.

Five seconds.

He smiled.

hoarse, frantic.

He walked back to the control panel, facing the shattered screen, the flashing countdown, and the entire world beyond the beam of light, and shouted:

"You think you can win like this?"

Four seconds.

He pressed another button—not to cancel, but to accelerate.

A new window pops up on the terminal screen: "Detonation countdown acceleration confirmed. Remaining time: 00:00:01"

one second.

Ye Shen looked up at the beam of light.

"I choose—"

zero.

There was no explosion.

There was no fire, loud noise, or shockwave.

There was nothing there.

The terminal screen flickers, and a new message pops up:

"The detonation signal was intercepted. Intercepting party: United Nations Biological Weapons Monitoring Center. Reason: Detection of an illegal thermobaric weapon deployment, which has been remotely dismantled."

Ye Shen was stunned.

Interception?

By whom?

The beam of light moves.

It left the box, returned to the center of the ice rink, and stopped above the collapsed hole.

A person crawled out of the hole.

Gu Xidong.

He stood in the center of the beam of light, completely soaked, his performance costume clinging to his body, and the bandage on his left knee soaked deep red.

But he stood very straight and looked up at the VIP box.

He was holding a mini projector.

He flipped the switch.

The view inside the beam changes.

Document title: "United Nations Special Investigation Team – Arrest warrant for Ye Shen (codename 'Black Swan') on suspicion of crimes against humanity"

Signatory organizations: Interpol, the United Nations Security Council, and the International Court of Justice.

Signed one hour ago.

The document is signed by twelve countries at the bottom.

The last line reads: "Authorized to use all necessary means, including electronic warfare intervention, physical interception, and on-site arrest."

Gu Xidong's voice came through the spotlight and speakers:

"Mr. Ye Shen."

"Your experiment is over."

The beam splits.

One beam continued to shine on him, while the other swept towards the exit of the underground passage—

A group of people dressed in black combat uniforms and wearing UN badges rushed out and headed straight for the VIP box.

The third beam of light shone onto the control room window.

Ling Wuwen stood there, his hand pressed against the glass, his face pale but his eyes bright.

She nodded to him.

Gu Xidong turned and slid towards the exit.

The pain in my left knee is still sharp.

But this time he knew the source of the pain.

I also know that the pain won't last forever.

The beam of light followed him, illuminating his path until he disappeared into the darkness of the passage.

Then, all the lights turned on at the same time.

The lighting in the entire venue has been restored.

The stands, the ice rink, the judges' box, the VIP box area—everything became clear again.

However, the floor-to-ceiling windows of VIP Box 04 were completely empty.

Ye Shen has disappeared.