Chapter 510 - 350: Dark Web Authority, 2D Butterfly

Chapter 510: Chapter 350: Dark Web Authority, 2D Butterfly

’No, this has to be reported!’

Without another moment’s hesitation, he pulled up an encrypted communication channel. He bundled everything that had just occurred—the erased trace of the intrusion and the alert log he’d captured for the keyword "Yan Shu"—and sent it off.

He was just a "watchdog," responsible for maintaining order in this data sector. Handling an anomaly of this magnitude was beyond his authority and capabilities.

...

In a minimalist—one might even say empty—office at the Alliance Network Security Command Center. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ

Unlike the chaotic cyberpunk style of the outside world, here there was only a pure white floating workstation and a figure sitting behind it.

It was a woman.

Her figure was graceful, her curves exquisite. Even in a loose, silver-white uniform, her breathtaking charm was hard to conceal. She had a cascade of long black hair draped casually over her shoulders, skin so fair it was almost translucent, and features as delicate as the Creator’s most perfect masterpiece.

And yet, throughout the entire command center, from the highest-ranking officer to the lowest-level technician, not a single person dared to steal a second, appreciative glance.

Because she was "Butterfly."

She was a top predator in the online world, a name that struck terror into all who heard it, and one of the highest-ranking supervisors for Alliance Network Security.

Legend said her mind could directly interface with the deepest parts of the data ocean; in the virtual world, she was an omnipotent god. Any being that tried to challenge the authority of the Alliance’s network would eventually be crushed by her seemingly beautiful, yet deadly, "wings."

Just then, Butterfly’s fair fingers tapped lightly on the floating workstation, pulling up the emergency report that had just come in.

"Oh? Yan Shu?"

A soft whisper, tinged with a hint of laziness, yet it seemed to make the very air freeze. The corners of her mouth curved into an intrigued smile, and a glint, like a hunter spotting its prey, flashed in her deep, beautiful eyes.

’What an interesting little mouse. Daring to touch that name... and actually managing to slip away?’

She reached out with her other hand, gently stroking her smooth chin as if in thought.

’Whose handiwork is this? Old K? Or "Ghost"? Or maybe... some other old relic hiding in the shadows?’

She knew the top hackers and information brokers hidden in the city’s shadows like the back of her hand. Those who could escape from that watchdog just now, and erase their tracks so cleanly, could be counted on one hand.

’Let’s see...’

Butterfly closed her eyes.

The next second, her entire presence seemed to vanish. In the physical world, she still sat there quietly, like a sleeping beauty. But in the invisible network world, a storm was brewing.

Countless virtual lines, invisible to the naked eye, converged and wove themselves together deep within her consciousness, finally forming a massive, abstract butterfly.

This butterfly had no color; it was composed entirely of intricate, precise, two-dimensional lines shimmering with a faint light. Every flap of its wings stirred ripples in the data stream.

This was her network form, and the origin of her codename.

The butterfly flapped its wings and instantly broke through layers of firewalls and data barriers, slipping like a phantom into the deeper layers of the network.

Countless information streams rushed past her: the city’s heartbeat, its residents’ privacy, the arteries of commerce, military secrets... Everything, absolutely everything, was like an undefended courtyard before her.

She reveled in the feeling.

Beyond the cold, chaotic, miserable physical world, only in this virtual kingdom built of 0s and 1s could she feel true freedom and the supreme power of absolute control. Here, she was the queen. Here, she was a god.

Her feelers extended ever downward, passing through the surface web, the deep web, the darknet... finally reaching the very foundation of it all—the underlying server arrays that carried the most primitive data fluctuations.

This was the network’s "subconscious," with no graphical interface, no coding language, only the purest, coldest binary data eternally flowing, colliding, being annihilated, and being reborn.

Even the most brilliant hackers would find it difficult to leave or trace tracks here.

But Butterfly could.

Here, her two-dimensional form was in its element. Her line-drawn wings brushed lightly across the tedious data logs, as if she were reading an indecipherable, mystical tome.

She was searching, searching for that "abnormal fluctuation" that had briefly appeared and then vanished, that "ripple" related to the name "Yan Shu" that had been forcibly erased.

Time lost its meaning on the data level.

After an unknown amount of time, the butterfly’s line-drawn wings paused slightly.

’Found it!’

A trace, extremely faint, almost negligible. Like the ghost of the final ripple on a calm lake after a stone has been thrown, scattered by the wind.

’This lurker... their skills are truly impressive. They even tampered with and overwrote the lowest-level physical logs.’

The butterfly’s line-drawn body emitted a faint, pleased HUM.

’The stronger the opponent, the more interesting the game becomes.’

Her feelers followed the trace, attempting to reverse-track it and reconstruct the intruder’s path and identity.

However, just as her power was about to reach the core, an even more hidden, more cunning defense mechanism was triggered.

Countless chaotic data fragments emerged like a fog, interfering with her perception. One by one, meticulously laid false nodes and logical traps unfolded before her, attempting to lead her astray.

’Hmph. Old K... I knew it was you, you old cockroach.’

Butterfly instantly identified her opponent’s style. This technique—laying mazes in the data substratum, layering defenses, all with a touch of wicked humor—was Old K’s signature.

Her line-drawn wings vibrated intensely, unleashing immense computational power as she attempted to brute-force her way through the data maze.

...

「Meanwhile, on the top floor of the Hive Apartment.」

A few beads of sweat appeared on Old K’s pale face—a rare sight. The data stream in his electronic eyes was already flowing too fast for the naked eye to perceive, and tiny sparks even sputtered from the overloaded cable jacks.

"That crazy bitch! She’s a goddamn bloodhound! She’s already tracked me right to my doorstep!"

Old K cursed under his breath, his hands (or rather, the mechanical arms connected to the console) moving frantically on an invisible interface.

He could clearly feel a vast and cold will assaulting the layers of defense he had laid, trying to tear open a breach.

’Butterfly!’

Of course he knew how terrifying this woman was. In the online world, she was practically an unstoppable force. While he didn’t believe his own technical skills were necessarily inferior, she possessed something akin to "rule-level" network authority and Magic. Going head-to-head with her was a losing battle.

More importantly, he didn’t want to reveal too many of his trump cards, especially during such a sensitive time.

’Damn it... you win this one!’

Old K gritted his teeth. While continuing to release data streams to muddy the waters, he began methodically severing all deep-level connections to the recent intrusion, completely extricating himself from the "crime scene."

He had to finish cutting ties before Butterfly could get a definitive lock on him.

Deep within the network, the butterfly of lines seemed to sense its opponent’s intent. The intensity of its pursuit suddenly increased severalfold. Countless linear tentacles probed frantically like living things, trying to grasp the slipping thread of evidence.

The two clashed fiercely on the invisible battlefield.

Finally, when Old K severed the last underlying logic chain related to the "Yan Shu" search event, Butterfly’s pursuit came to an abrupt halt.

She hovered before the roiling fog of data, her line-drawn body fluctuating slightly, as if expressing some kind of dissatisfaction.

The trail went cold.

Although she was almost certain it was Old K causing trouble, he had been too quick, already having completely "destroyed the evidence."

Trying to force her way into Old K’s lair now would be time-consuming and exhausting, and it could provoke a much larger conflict. The potential gains weren’t worth the risk.

’Hmph...’

A cold snort echoed on the data level. The butterfly took a deep "look" at the smoothed-over area, as if to brand the faint, residual scent of the intruder into her core memory.

Then, with a flick of its linear wings, the two-dimensional butterfly—one of the greatest powers in the online world—silently vanished into the depths of the data ocean.