417: Chapter 417 Chen Wuwang's Concerns: Hidden Dangers Remain Difficult to Eliminate

The night wind crept in through the open crack of the window, causing the spiritual oil lamp on the desk to flicker.

The flickering candlelight cast Chen Wuwang's hunched yet upright shadow onto the wall, resembling a war god half-kneeling and half-standing.

He had just stepped into the study, his footsteps still carrying the residual chill from the stone steps.

He removed his outer armor and draped it over the rack by the door, letting out a dull thud.

The Titanium Alloy Dagger was placed gently on the corner of the table, the runes on the hilt flashing briefly as if signaling its master's return.

The blue light of the Mechanical Prosthetic Eye slowly faded as the last stream of external data disconnected, leaving the room so quiet that only the sound of breathing remained.

He sat down.

The moment his fingertips touched the tabletop, he habitually tapped it—tap, tap, tap—three short beats, like the lingering echo of a countdown.

Spread out on the table was the cooperation summary signed today by the Eastern Wasteland Alliance; the ink was not yet dry, and the paper still felt warm.

The Zhao Family yielded twenty percent of the Southern Vein Spirit Sand quota, the Liu Clan proactively handed over ancestral formation pattern rubbings, and the Zhao Clan of Xiling even proposed sending craftsmen to be permanently stationed at the Chen Family Artifact Refining Workshop...

Each clause was listed clearly, every word like an iron nail driven into wood.

But the more he looked, the tighter his brow furrowed.

"It's too smooth," he whispered, his voice soft yet overriding the wind. "Unreasonably smooth."

His fingers continued to tap, but the rhythm changed, slowing down beat by beat as if he were deducing some invisible chess game.

Scenes he had witnessed during the day surfaced in his mind: young people in the West District training grounds arguing and then huddling together to revise formation diagrams; a bearded man in the North Artifact Refining Area patting his chest and shouting, "It'll be airborne in three days for sure!"; mixed squads on the East training grounds shouting commands that were no longer chaotic...

These were all good omens.

Yet he knew that true storms never arrived during the height of war, but rather brewed where the lights were brightest.

"Mo Yuan won't stay this quiet," he murmured, his right hand unconsciously stroking the Zerg claw scar on his right cheek. His rough fingertips scraped over the old wound, bringing a hint of stinging pain.

"Three years ago, he dared to infiltrate the Alliance with Puppets; two years ago, he dared to blow up the exchange meeting. Now, he's just going to watch us unite as one?"

Impossible.

That madman could turn even the dead into living Puppets; how could he sit by and watch the Chen Family refashion the bones of the entire Eastern Wasteland?

And then there was that 'Shadow Council'—a name spat out by a captive, stuck in his throat like a fishbone.

No strongholds, no leaders, no concrete actions—only the phrase 'synchronize frequency once every three days'.

The clues were pitifully few, yet they reeked of a meticulously planned layout.

He closed his eyes.

His mind began to backtrack. Not relying on the System, but on his human brain, on the path of blood he had trodden step by step over these thirty years.

The day the Zerg slaughtered the village, it had also been preceded by seven days of silence;

Before the Blood Demon Sect ambushed the Medicinal Field, no one had seen Blood Butcher for three months;

Even when the rebels gathered in the valley last time, it appeared to be a hasty uprising on the surface, but in reality, spies had infiltrated the logistics team two months prior...

"Before every major event, there is 'silence'." He opened his eyes, a blood-colored spiritual seal flashing deep within his pupils before vanishing. "But is this 'silence' a true rest, or... is it waiting for a flaw?"

He suddenly paused.

His finger froze in mid-air.

A flaw?

Wait—

Why must he wait for them to show a flaw?

If they are hidden too deeply, they might not move at all.

Then he would force them to move.

The thought struck like a bolt of lightning through the chaotic night sky. He sat bolt upright, his spine tensing like a fully drawn bow.

"Since you won't show yourselves..." The corners of his mouth slowly curled up. It wasn't a smile, but the coldness of a hunter seeing the trap snap shut. "Then I'll create an opportunity for you."

He looked down at the cooperation summary, his gaze landing on the line: 'Trial of the Joint Early Warning Mechanism'.

This System was something he had pushed for personally.

Twelve clans connected to the terminal, behavioral patterns recorded, high-risk individuals flagged and tracked...

It sounded unbreakable, but it had a fatal weakness—it relied too much on the 'known'.

As long as you didn't make a mistake or trigger a rule, you could remain safe even if you were an undercover agent.

But now, what if he planted a nail in this System?

A nail that seemed harmless but would shake the very Foundation of the entire Alliance.

For instance—suddenly announcing the opening of access to the Immortal King's Remnant Abode, restricted only to the younger generation of each clan?

Or spreading news that the Chen Family had mastered a technique to reverse Bloodline purity, allowing a waste Spiritual Root to transform into a Heaven-Grade one?

Or perhaps, simply 'accidentally' leaking a fragmented recording of Cthulhu's whispers during a joint exercise to see who would be the first to experience mental resonance?

Doing just one of these things would certainly trigger a chain reaction.

The loyal would naturally be alert and report it, the suspicious would hesitate and observe, and the traitors... would definitely make a move.

They would either kill to silence others, tamper with data, or take the opportunity to incite a split.

As long as they moved, they would leave traces.

And he would be sitting in the darkness, waiting to pull in the net.

"Using stability as bait?" he asked himself softly, followed by a cold laugh. "Fine, let's go fishing. Let's see just how many venomous snakes are hiding beneath the waters of this Eastern Wasteland."

He reached out, flipped the summary over to its blank back page, pulled out a charcoal pencil, and began to draw.

It wasn't a formation diagram or a mecha structure, but a network of relationships.

At the center was the 'Chen Family', with the names of the twelve clans radiating outward. Beside each connecting line, he noted a term:

Zhao Family—Profit-driven

Wang Family—Old grudges unresolved

Liu Clan—Resource dependency

Chuanyun Sect—Sensitivity to power

Leiyin Pavilion—Ideological rejection

He wrote down term after term, as if labeling each person.

This wasn't prejudice; it was human nature.

He didn't believe in a perfect Alliance; he only believed in controllable conflicts.

And now, what he needed to do was to ignite these conflicts bit by bit without letting them flare up—keeping them at a critical point just before explosion.

Who would jump out to extinguish the fire?

Who would steal the sparks amidst the Chaos?

Who would feign ignorance while secretly adding fuel?

The answers would naturally emerge.

He stopped his pencil and stared at the diagram for a long time.

Then he nodded slowly.

"Acceptable," he said. "We'll do it this way."

But he couldn't rush.

In matters like this, being too hasty would instead startle the snake. He had to wait for the right moment, a juncture where everyone had lowered their guard.

For example, next month's 'Opening of the Youth Trial Passage'.

That was a major event for the younger generation of the entire Alliance, with high visibility and broad participation, making it the easiest time to manufacture an 'accident'.

Furthermore, children were inexperienced and prone to emotional fluctuations; a little guidance could stir up massive waves.

At that time, he only needed to tamper with the trial rules—for instance, temporarily adding a 'Cross-Clan Life-and-Death Arena' where the winner's Family contribution points would be doubled?

Exciting enough, tempting enough, and dangerous enough.

If those lurking chess pieces were being controlled by someone, they would never pass up such an opportunity to disrupt the situation.

At this thought, he finally smiled.

It wasn't a frenzied laugh, but a low chuckle that had been suppressed for a long time and finally found a Breakthrough, rolling out from deep in his throat with a metallic tang.

"You want to hide?" He stared out the window at the silent Qiming Plain, where the lights of myriad homes remained bright. "But I insist on making you walk out yourselves."

He set down the charcoal pencil, folded his hands on the desk, and sat as steady as a mountain.

The candlelight reflected on his face, half bright and half hidden in shadow.

Though the Mechanical Prosthetic Eye was closed, his mind's eye was open wider than ever before.

The world outside continued to turn.

Children were talking about school, old craftsmen were chatting about spiritual plant co-cultivation, and the mixed-clan patrol teams were sharing jokes... everything seemed so peaceful.

But he knew that beneath the peace, undercurrents were always surging.

And what he had to do was not to block them, but to guide them.

Guide them into the sunlight, guide them to the edge of the blade.

He didn't move.

Nor did he call for anyone.

He just sat there, like a statue keeping watch through the night.

His fingertips occasionally tapped the tabletop lightly, as if calculating time or waiting for a certain signal.

The wind blew in again, the lamp flame flickered, and his shadow on the wall stretched even longer.

In that instant, it was as if something had completed a transformation in the silence.

From 'preventing trouble before it happens' to 'proactively setting a trap to lure the enemy'.

No longer passively responding, but becoming—the Mastermind.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his gaze was like a cold blade unsheathed.

"Come then," he said softly, his voice almost merging with the night. "I'll see how long you can endure."