290: Chapter 290 Infiltration by Mo Yuan's Men

The morning mist was like a thin veil, wrapping around the gravel slope at the foot of Donghuang Mountain.

Dew trickled down the metal scaffolding, dripping onto the ground where coolant residue remained, making a faint "plop" sound.

The wind was light, but it carried the smell of rust and the scorched scent of overloaded psionic circuits, chilling one's neck.

Thirteen black shadows moved along the edge of the rock wall, their footsteps kept extremely low, boots wrapped in soft rubber, making almost no sound when they landed.

This was not their first mission, but this one felt unusually oppressive.

No one spoke; only breaths, deliberately suppressed into short currents of air, escaped from the masks beneath their cloaks.

The person at the very front raised a hand and waved three fingers backward—stop.

The team immediately dispersed; those leaning against pillars leaned, those prone to the ground went prone, their movements as precise as a knife cutting down.

Fifty paces ahead, a web glowing with a faint blue light spanned the perimeter of the factory area; it was as thin as a hair, yet it was part of a psionic sensor array.

Invisible at night, it would reflect sunlight during the day, like a spiderweb covered in frost.

"Southeast corner." The second person crawled to the team leader's side, flicked a black chip from their fingertip, and inserted it into the jammer on their cuff, "Old node, three-breath blind spot."

The team leader nodded without speaking.

The person pressed the button; the chip vibrated slightly, then went dark.

In groups of three, they began to cross.

Not jumping, but sliding—knees touching the ground, body leaning forward, they slithered across like snakes.

Just as the fourth group landed, the last person was still stuck in the middle when their right foot suddenly stepped on a patch of slippery coolant residue, causing them to lunge forward.

Their reaction was fast; they braced with their elbows, forcing themselves to steady, but that momentary wobble still made the web overhead tremble slightly.

Everyone froze.

No alarm.

No red light.

Only a gust of wind passed through the scaffolding, kicking up a few pieces of scrap metal that clattered once.

They had made it.

The team leader turned back and swept a glance at that team member, who lowered their head, not daring to meet their eyes.

They knew they had almost ruined the entire plan just now.

Three years ago, a colleague had done the same, stepping on a loose energy-conducting plate and triggering an Elementary warning. The next day, the entire Shadow Council was watching the footage of the Chen family's public execution—

That person was hung on the high tower at the entrance of the Technology Workshop, their limbs nailed through, their own torn-off tongue stuffed into their mouth, and they didn't breathe their last until the third day.

They swallowed a mouthful of saliva; the sound of their Adam's apple bobbing seemed exceptionally loud in the silence.

The team leader raised a hand, made a "continue" gesture, and then pointed to the brightly lit main factory building in the distance.

The assembly line was there, energy-conducting rails like rivers, and the energy distribution hub pulsing like a heart.

Their target was less than a hundred meters away.

The team regrouped, two people bringing up the rear, while the rest quickened their pace to cross the open-air transfer area.

The ground was uneven, piled with discarded mecha parts and damaged energy storage tanks.

Moonlight shone down at an angle, reflecting off those metal surfaces, acting like mirrors that could reveal their silhouettes.

They had to slow down, sticking to the shadows, sometimes even having to lie down and wait for clouds to cover the moon before moving.

Mid-way, a low hum came from the distance.

Everyone immediately went prone, faces pressed to the ground.

It was the sound of a mecha's self-check startup, rhythmic and heavy, each step carrying a vibration.

A patrol mecha was coming along the patrol line from the west side, its tracks crunching over the gravel with a rustling sound.

Its headlamp swept across the transfer area, the beam brushing past a piece of scaffolding, less than five paces from the nearest person.

No one moved.

Even their breathing was held.

For a full three minutes, the mecha turned and left, its sound gradually fading.

The team leader gently tapped the shoulder armor of the person next to them, their fingertip tracing three words on the ground: After three breaths.

A moment later, the team moved forward again.

They bypassed a pile of scrapped psionic terminals and ducked into the metal scaffolding cluster on the south side of the main factory building.

The structure here was complex, with crisscrossing support beams forming natural cover; looking up, one could see the outline of the assembly line—energy-conducting rails suspended in mid-air, with rings of rune lights slowly circulating, like the pulse of some living creature.

"We're here." One person said in a low voice, suppressed until almost inaudible.

The other person nodded, their gaze falling on a metal plaque on the wall.

Engraved on it were a few large characters: "Technology revitalizes the clan, guarding every home."

They stared at that sentence for two seconds, their eyes a bit vacant.

The person next to them sensed something wrong and reached out to touch them.

They snapped back to reality, lowered their head, and hid their face in the shadow of their cloak.

"We must complete the mission this time." They spoke, their voice dry, "We cannot let the leader down."

"Rest assured." The other person replied, their tone steady, "If we are careful, we won't be discovered."

After saying this, they reached out to pull up the person who had just been dazed, advanced a few more steps into the depths, and hid in the gap between two rows of large cooling tanks.

Looking from here, the main control interface of the energy-conducting rail was clearly visible, less than a hundred meters away, separated only by a maintenance passage and a few silent automatic detection rings.

They crouched down and stopped moving.

Someone took a miniature toolkit from their bosom to check the status of the explosive gel;

Someone adjusted the jamming frequency, preparing to cut off local surveillance;

Someone else took out a folded map, spread it in their palm, and gently traced the "distribution hub" location with their fingernail.

Time passed bit by bit.

The mist began to dissipate.

A sliver of pale blue appeared on the horizon; the morning light was about to tear open the curtain of night.

The factory area remained quiet, with only the low hum of machines running, continuous and constant, like a heartbeat, and also like a countdown.

The team leader leaned against the cooling tank and closed their eyes for a moment. They knew the real operation had not yet begun.

Right now, it was just infiltration, just approaching.

They had to wait, wait for the most suitable moment—wait for the first shift change, wait for the gap in surveillance rotation, wait for everyone's attention to be drawn away by other things.

But now, they were already standing here.

The mission had not yet failed.

No traces had been left.

The target was right before their eyes.

They opened their eyes and looked at the companion beside them.

Everyone was there, in stable condition.

They took a light breath, recalibrated the jammer, and then took a specially made bolt from their waist—

This was no ordinary part, but a sabotage device capable of being embedded into the seam of the energy-conducting rail and slowly releasing out-of-frequency signals.

Once it was installed, within half an hour, the entire assembly line would be paralyzed due to an uncontrollable energy backflow.

They gripped the bolt tightly, their knuckles turning white.

Just thirty more steps forward, find a maintenance port, and they could act.

Just wait for one more opportunity.

They stowed the bolt away, leaned against the box, and waited quietly.

In the distance, a sound of footsteps came.

Not a mecha, but a person.

Someone was coming.