Chapter Thirty-Four: Data Analysis

The blast door of the Space-Time Administration’s underground laboratory groaned open like the eyelids of a slumbering titan, emitting a deep, resonant mechanical hum as if ancient gears were recounting the vicissitudes of time.

A gust of chilled air, carrying the crisp, electronic scent peculiar to precision instruments and a faint trace of ozone, washed over the room. It instantly dispelled the lingering stench of gunpowder and blood clinging to Lin Yu—remnants of a desperate breakout from the base that now began to fade in the sterile cold.

He peeled off his sweat-soaked, smoke-stained tactical gloves, his fingertips still numb from the grip of his weapon, and watched as Ellie steadily inserted the storage device—still coated in dried, dark crimson blood—into the central processor’s slot.

In an instant, a holographic projection cascaded down like a brilliant galaxy. Countless golden data streams wove together beneath the dome, forming a dazzling web of light. Though the streams emitted a faint, melodic buzzing, they could not mask the thickening, suffocating atmosphere of the lab; every breath drawn in the silence felt unnervingly distinct.

"Abnormal fluctuations in hyper-dimensional coordinates detected!" Chief Analyst Karl’s silhouette flickered amidst the swirling data. He pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, which had slid to the bridge of his nose, leaving a shallow indentation behind his ears. His knuckles, sharp and prominent, trembled slightly as he swept them across the projection, each touch heavy with tension.

As he moved, the display filled with mountains of crystal arrays—the same lethal materials the team had encountered in the treacherous base. In the projection, the crystals pulsed with an eerie, rhythmic luster, as if possessed of a life of their own.

"A mysterious organization is secretly constructing a space-time conduit that spans twelve dimensions. These crystals..." His voice cut off abruptly, as if throttled by an invisible hand. His pupils contracted violently in the cold light, and the color drained from his face. "They are to serve as energy anchors for the conduit. Once activated, they will tear the membrane of reality, triggering an immeasurable space-time catastrophe." His voice was thick with dread, as if he could already see the apocalyptic scene of total annihilation.

Su Yao instinctively tightened her grip on her dagger, her thumb unconsciously tracing the dried, dark traces in the blood groove—a grim reminder of the cruelty of every battle she had fought. The biting chill of the metal seeped into her skin, yet it could not quell the rising frost within her heart.

"How many crystals are needed? The crates we saw at the base..." Her voice trembled involuntarily, her throat constricted, making every word a labor.

"Far from enough!" Karl interrupted her harshly, hurriedly pulling up a galaxy map that blanketed the entire holographic screen. Dense clusters of red dots, like a rapidly spreading plague, stained the star systems—marks of the reaper, signaling the coming disaster.

"According to our projections, they have secretly established collection points across thirty-seven star systems. Each one holds a terrifying energy reserve capable of triggering a cataclysmic space-time tremor." Karl’s fingers darted across the map, each movement betraying his inner desperation.

Old Zhou slammed his fist onto the console, sending coffee splashing from a mug like a startled flock of birds. The liquid pooled across the controls, leaving dark, spreading stains.

"When is the activation time? We can't just keep running around like headless chickens!" His roar echoed through the lab, laden with fury and helplessness.

The air seemed to freeze. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the answer. Karl remained silent for a long time, his Adam’s apple bobbing with difficulty as if he were swallowing a heavy burden. Finally, he locked the cursor on the bottom right of the screen—a glaring, blood-red countdown appeared like a cold, merciless verdict: 72 hours, 59 minutes, 12 seconds.

Each pulse of the numbers felt like a heavy blow against their hearts. Lin Yu felt as though an icy iron hand were crushing his chest. The vague yet warning-filled words buried in his mother's chip echoed in his ears like whispers of fate. He forced himself to breathe deeply, his nails digging into his palms until the pain kept him tethered to reality.

His gaze locked onto the shifting space-time coordinates in the projection. "The node they’ve chosen... it’s the Black Death period of the European Middle Ages. Combined with the serpent emblem we saw earlier, could they be trying to..."

"Rewrite the course of history," Ellie’s voice drifted from the surging data torrent, laced with undisguisable terror. She trembled, as if she could already see the horrific reality of a corrupted timeline.

She quickly pulled up an encrypted image. In the frame, a hooded figure was calibrating a massive space-time device. The serpent emblem on the figure’s chest glinted with an eerie, wicked light in the crimson glow, every movement filled with mystery and danger.

"The Black Death wiped out a third of Europe's population. If that history is altered, the entire fabric of space-time will collapse..." Ellie’s voice grew faint, trailing off into a whisper.

A piercing alarm suddenly detonated in the lab, a thunderclap shattering the silence, the shrill sound stinging everyone's eardrums. The holographic screen instantly shifted to a blinding red alert. The strobing light washed over their pale faces, each one etched with tension and unease.

Chen Mo’s mechanical prosthetic eye flashed with intense blue light, data streams scrolling across his lens with a faint, frantic buzzing—the rhythm of his own racing heart.

"Seventeen unknown signal sources detected, approaching the Administration at extreme speed!" his voice crackled with urgency.

Lin Yu grabbed his shock-rifle by instinct, the weight of the weapon offering a sliver of stability. As he spun around, he locked eyes with Su Yao, who was already gripping her own weapon.

They saw in each other a shared, resolute gaze—one that held the fear of the unknown, but even more, the determination never to back down. They knew clearly that this 72-hour countdown was not just the final deadline to prevent a catastrophe, but the beginning of a new, life-or-death confrontation with the mysterious organization. And this time, there was no retreat.