“Begin the information-link attempt immediately…” Professor Ji, the overall director of the operation, officially issued the command to the field team thousands of miles away to initiate the final phase of the mission.
A few seconds later, having received the order from headquarters, the two scientists exchanged a glance and nodded gently.
They placed the instruments they’d been holding back into the small case behind them, then carefully took out a laptop-like device and set it on top of the case. Crouching behind the case, they began tapping carefully at the keyboard.
“Starting information-link system scan now…” As the older of the two scientists acknowledged the command through his headset, he swiftly hit the Enter key.
With a soft click, an antenna-like panel extended from the front of the laptop device and emitted a green beam of light that enveloped the main idol straight ahead, along with the surrounding objects, slowly sweeping up and down.
As the scanning light began its work, both scientists—along with everyone back at the Everest base thousands of miles away—grew increasingly tense. This was a critical step. If the scan could locate the information-link point, then they could proceed to the final stage of connection and control. But if they couldn’t find it, the entire mission was doomed to fail.
Everyone stared intently at their monitors, watching the data scroll across the screens, waiting for the final result.
“Beep… Information-link point confirmed!” In the midst of everyone’s anxiety, the scanning green light suddenly flickered, then converged inward until only a single straight beam remained, shining directly onto the pale green gem-like object embedded in the main idol’s forehead.
As confirmation and analysis data streamed across the monitors, a wave of cheers erupted. Professor Ji fought to contain his excitement, turned to General Zhang—whose expression remained stoic but whose eyes burned with a fervor deeper than anyone’s—and said in a low voice, “General… please give the order.”
Prompted by his most capable deputy, General Zhang took a deep breath and slowly rose to his feet. He stared at the pale green gem-like information-link point now locked in the green beam on the giant screen, his eyes gleaming with anticipation and excitement. After more than a decade of effort by his family, perhaps they were about to reap tremendous rewards…
At that very moment, in a courtyard somewhere in the capital, the hawk-eyed elder sat alone in his study, quietly gazing at the red telephone, waiting for it to ring.
Normally, no matter what he was waiting for, he would habitually lay out rice paper, grind some fine ink, and brush characters across the page, calmly biding his time…
But today, though he had laid out the paper and ground the ink, he had no desire to pick up the brush. He simply instructed his servants not to disturb him, shut the door tightly, and sat there alone, waiting… waiting for that phone to ring.
“Initiate information-link control…” General Zhang finally managed to suppress his tension and excitement, giving the order in a low, steady voice. But Professor Ji, standing beside him, could still detect the faint tremor in his words.
“Yes… initiating information-link control…” Inside the temple, the two scientists were equally tense and exhilarated. All the data and programs had been set; they were only waiting for this final command. And now, it had come from that distant place…
The older scientist’s fingers trembled slightly as he gently pressed the Enter key once more.
With another soft beep, the beam of light flashed brightly. Then the pale green gem on the main idol’s forehead suddenly lit up in response, flickering and pulsing, making everyone below hold their breath.
Just as they were all watching in eager anticipation, the idol’s eyes abruptly blazed to life as well, staring down at the seven people below…
Startled by the sight, all seven of them instinctively stepped back. The five soldiers, gripped by fear, tightened their grips on their rifles, aiming them at the idol above, bracing themselves for whatever might come next.
For those thousands of miles away, though they were watching through the satellite link, they didn’t experience the same visceral shock. They simply stared in astonishment at the images and the data on their screens, waiting for the next development.
For them, any reaction was a good sign—the real fear was no reaction at all, which would mean total failure.
They didn’t have to wait long. A strange, mechanical voice echoed from the direction of the main idol…
The two scientists froze. It was clearly some kind of language, but neither could understand it. They could only wait for feedback from the Everest base after their analysis was complete.
Back at the Everest base, dozens of computers were running at full speed. Although they had already cracked the outer control systems of the base, they had very little data on this strange language and could offer no further analysis—there simply wasn’t enough to go on.
But this time, the analysis didn’t take long. They managed to parse out the meaning of a few syllables, because those particular syllables had appeared frequently over the years during their efforts to breach and storm the outer perimeter of this base.
“Warning… intrusion…” As these translated phrases appeared on their screens, everyone was stunned. In the records from previous years, whenever such warnings appeared, an attack had inevitably followed…
And because the Everest base had been running low on energy, after issuing such warnings and firing off a few laser attacks, it would usually go quiet. With careful handling, they could generally push forward… until they fully entered the outer control center and finally seized control of that peripheral facility.
But this control point—or this new base—still had plenty of energy reserves. If it really launched an attack…
Professor Ji was already shouting urgent commands into his headset: “Retreat! Retreat immediately!”
The two researchers and the soldiers hadn’t actually entered the base itself—they were still at the outer entrance. If they could withdraw in time, if they could just get out of the temple, they should be able to make it back safely…
But by then, his command came too late. In an instant, all the images flickered and vanished, replaced by nothing but static snow…
“What happened? What happened?!” General Zhang’s face darkened as he slammed to his feet and roared.
Professor Ji’s expression was equally grim. He stared at the screen before him, tapped rapidly at the keyboard a few times, and examined the final analytical data displayed. Then he let out a soft sigh, turned to General Zhang, and said, “General… severe electromagnetic interference erupted on that end. The satellite link is down…”
Though General Zhang had already anticipated this possibility, he still clung to a sliver of hope. Staring at the snow-filled screen, he barked, “Try reconnecting! See if we can get the link back!”
Professor Ji, seeing the general’s refusal to give up, sighed quietly and then gave the order: “Keep trying to reconnect…”
“Connection failed. No response from the field team at all,” one of the researchers reported after a few keystrokes, his voice heavy with resignation.
“Nothing from their satellite receiver either?” Professor Ji pressed.
“No response whatsoever…”
Professor Ji let out another sigh and turned helplessly to General Zhang. “General… something must have gone wrong over there. The mission has failed…”
“Failed?” General Zhang exhaled in resignation. He sat there in a daze for a long moment before sinking back into his chair. Finally, he said to Professor Ji, “Never mind… never mind. The success rate for this plan was never high to begin with. For now, focus your efforts back on the main base. As for that other base… we’ll wait for another opportunity…”
“Yes, General…” Professor Ji nodded and was about to speak again when suddenly the researcher who had spoken earlier cried out in surprise: “We’re getting a signal! We’re getting a signal!”
“What?!” General Zhang sprang to his feet again, his eyes alight with renewed hope.
Everyone turned to the big screen. Where there had been nothing but static, now—though the interference was still severe—a blurred image was gradually taking shape…
They all held their breath, waiting with bated anticipation for the picture to become clear…
Finally, the image began to sharpen. Vaguely, they could make out the outline of the temple. Seeing this, Professor Ji froze for a moment, then exclaimed in shock, “What’s going on?!”
“Professor… this… this is probably the feed from the satellite receiver’s built-in surveillance camera,” the researcher said hesitantly.
“Oh…” Professor Ji let out a soft sigh of understanding. This wasn’t from the monitor the field team had taken inside—it was from the satellite receiver outside. After losing the primary signal, the receiver’s backup camera had automatically activated and begun monitoring the surrounding environment.
The poor image quality was certainly due to the massive energy discharge that had erupted inside the temple, which had severely disrupted the receiver’s operation. Only now, after the energy burst had subsided and the residual interference was beginning to fade, could it transmit these faint, blurry images.
Still, it was remarkably strange that such an enormous energy burst hadn’t destroyed the satellite receiver sitting directly across from the temple entrance…
Despite their disappointment and confusion, everyone kept their eyes fixed on the images. They all wanted to see what the temple looked like after such a powerful energy explosion—and whether anyone inside might have survived.
Though hope was slim, they still clung to a tiny shred of optimism. If even one person had survived, they could learn what had happened inside—and gain a deeper understanding of this base’s true nature.
