63: Evelyn's awakening and her "pledge of allegiance"

When the summary of the inspection report regarding the "consolation gift"—a document with rigorous wording that was nonetheless shocking in every word—appeared on Evelyn Li's ultra-high-definition retinal display through a meticulously planned "accident"—for instance, a low-level employee of The Foundation, secretly turned by the National Special Bureau and disguised as a system maintenance technician, "accidentally" sent an encrypted email, which should have been sent to the internal security audit department, to a secondary mailbox that Evelyn occasionally used for daily administrative tasks—she felt as if the entire world had been instantly vacuumed out.

She felt as if she had been struck by lightning, not with a sudden sharp pain, but with a slow, cold, blood-freezing numbness that began at her fingertips, swept rapidly through her entire body, and ultimately froze her in her luxurious ergonomic chair, unable to move.

The report used the standard cool-toned template of The Foundation, with orderly formatting and detailed data, but every cold chemical molecular formula and every line of objective efficacy analysis now felt like a heated, poison-dipped dagger, accurately and cruelly piercing the last shred of self-deceiving fantasy and hope deep within her heart.

"...Detected trace amounts of nano-scale emotion-regulating pheromones (ID: Psi-7), which can be slowly released through skin contact and the respiratory tract; long-term exposure may lead to emotional fluctuations and decreased cognitive focus..."

"...High-activity neuro-inductive Resonance agent (Codename: 'echo') detected in the sample tea leaves. Its molecular structure shows a highly specific match with early markers of the 'pandora' project. Its inferred function is: to resonate with specific latent information particles, either to induce their activity or to be used to detect their status..."

"...Comprehensive assessment: This 'consolation gift' possesses high concealment and potential neuro-interventional properties. Its design intent far exceeds conventional intelligence gathering; it is closer to precise induction and manipulation at the level of directed biological information. Risk assessment level: Critical..."

Father... Morpheus Li... He actually approved it! No, this was very likely his direct instruction! He actually utilized such a base, vicious, and... inhuman method, hidden beneath the veneer of a warm, gentle consolation gift! Against a young man already lying in a hospital bed, his consciousness shattered, unable to even care for his own basic needs! This was not some probing or warning; this was a cold-blooded finishing blow! It was out of fear that a spark of recovery might still remain in Excellence's damaged neural network, and he wanted to use this precise and insidious method to perform neural-level "weeding," to completely and permanently extinguish any possibility of his recovery!

In this moment, the image of her father—who, though cold and ambitious, had always maintained a scholarly rationality and pride—collapsed, shattering into cold fragments on the ground. Replacing it was a cold-blooded demon, a man who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals! A greedy and cruel monster hidden beneath the glorious veneer of academic sanctity and civilizational evolution!

Anger! Anger as hot and scalding as magma!

Disappointment! Disappointment that chilled her to the bone!

Disgust! A physiological nausea that caused her stomach to cramp violently!

And a... heart-wrenching sense of humiliation at being completely deceived, used, and treated as a pawn and a smokescreen by the person she was closest to and trusted the most!

Various extreme emotions erupted in her heart like a volcano that had been building for ten thousand years. The scorching torrent instantly breached all the dams of reason, drowning out the last shred of hesitation and awe. All her previous wavering, struggling, and the lingering, ridiculous fantasies born from blood ties and years of reverence were, at this moment, completely burned to ashes and scattered in the wind!

She reached out and almost violently turned off the screen, as if its light were poisonous. She rushed into the suite's luxurious bathroom—which was spacious enough to be a ballroom and decorated with marble and gold-rimmed mirrors—and began to retch violently at the gleaming vanity. Her stomach churned, her throat burned painfully from acrid bile, yet she could vomit nothing up, feeling only endless nausea and dizziness. Tears welled up uncontrollably; not from sadness, but from extreme anger and a physiological rejection after being completely defiled!

She felt immense shame for her past naivety, weakness, and indecisiveness! She felt a heart-piercing, suffocating pain for the inhuman suffering that Excellence had endured, and might continue to endure because of her hesitation! The pain was so real, as if she, too, were being corroded by those invisible nano-toxins.

This cannot go on! Absolutely not! She must do something! Not just to atone for her sins, to make up for the disaster indirectly caused by her initial "kind" gift, but more importantly... to stop her father's increasingly insane, increasingly terrifying, and destructive plan that was dragging everyone into the abyss! She could no longer be a silent, exploited accomplice!

An extremely bold, crazy, and perhaps even desperate idea, a final gamble, rapidly took shape in her mind, which was burning hot with anger and despair. It became incredibly clear and firm, like the only flickering, dangerous beacon in the darkness.

She would betray them! Not the weak resistance of before—secretly passing on fragments of vague information while still clinging to hope—but a true, thorough, and resolute betrayal! She would produce a "Pledge of Allegiance" of sufficient weight and lethality, enough to ensure she could never turn back, and enough to make Wang Jianguo unable to refuse! She would proactively hand over this dagger that could pierce the vital points of The Foundation, proving her value, determination, and utility to the National Special Bureau, in exchange for their trust and possible protection, and more importantly... in exchange for an opportunity to completely stop her father's crazy plan from the inside!

She splashed her face repeatedly with cold water, trying to calm her burning skin and chaotic brain. Raising her head, the pair of light gray eyes in the mirror, though still red and swollen, had shed all confusion and fragility, becoming unprecedentedly cold, sharp, and firm, as if a different soul had taken their place.

She returned to the terminal and took a deep breath, as if about to dive into the deepest trench. She began to use the high-level internal access keys she possessed as the daughter of The Foundation's chairman—keys she rarely used in daily life—cautiously, like someone navigating a treasure vault filled with invisible laser alarm wires and pressure sensors, to access one of The Foundation's most core databases.

She consciously avoided the highest core secrets regarding the "ascension path" and "pandora" project (the defense levels there were hellish, possessing behavioral pattern recognition and quantum-level abnormal access alarms; any unauthorized touch would immediately trigger the highest alert), and instead precisely locked her target onto a direction that was equally important but relatively less defended, relying more on physical isolation and internal trust—The Foundation's vast and secret "Potential High-Value Talent Monitoring Network," which spread across the globe like a neural network, specifically the Asia-Pacific sub-network!

This contained the precise physical coordinates of dozens of key monitoring Nodes in the region, security protocol vulnerabilities, daily communication frequencies, and an encrypted list involving the codenames, partial public cover identities, and emergency contact information of over a dozen deep-cover high-level intelligence operatives in the region!

This intelligence, while not involving the top-tier disruptive technological core, was a key that could open the door to The Foundation's peripheral intelligence network! It would greatly assist the National Special Bureau in mapping out The Foundation's potential sphere of influence, level of infiltration, and operational patterns in the Asia-Pacific region, holding extremely high strategic value and room for counter-operations! Moreover, once leaked, she, Evelyn Li, would have no path of retreat; her name would immediately appear at the top of The Foundation's internal purge list, and she would stand completely on the opposite side of the entire "Prophet" force!

Time ticked away, second by second. Evelyn's forehead and the tip of her nose were covered in a fine, cold layer of sweat; her breathing was rapid and shallow, and her fingers trembled slightly from extreme tension and fear. Every keystroke, every mouse click, felt like defusing a bomb connected to her own heartbeat sensor. Her heart pounded like dense war drums, almost breaking through her chest, striking her ribs with a dull thud that only she could hear. She could even feel a virtual gaze behind her, as if her father's surveillance were everywhere.

Finally, after what felt like a century, she successfully broke through the last layer of dynamic password verification, downloading and decrypting an intelligence package with an extremely high encryption level. She quickly copied the data onto a specialized miniature encrypted USB drive—slightly larger than a fingernail, using a physical write-protection mechanism and one-time flash memory, which would trigger a hardware-level meltdown mechanism upon the passage of a specific current after reading. Then, using all the counter-surveillance knowledge she had learned from her mother's notes, she, like the most cautious ghost, completely erased all traces of herself in the server access logs, cleared the cache, and even simulated a series of irrelevant search records that fit her daily browsing habits, then quietly retreated.

Next came the most dangerous step, the one that would most test her mental fortitude and acting skills—how to deliver this earth-shaking "Pledge of Allegiance" safely and covertly.

She could no longer use any network channels; the risk was too great, and the traces were difficult to erase completely. She needed a real, face-to-face physical contact that was extremely brief but sufficient to complete the transfer. This required timing, and it required luck.

The opportunity soon arrived. A few days later, a high-end contemporary art exhibition sponsored by an art foundation under The Foundation opened in Beijing, with the theme "The Boundary Between Technology and Illusion," which fit The Foundation's tone perfectly. As the chairman's daughter and one of The Foundation's image representatives, she needed to attend the opening ceremony and deliver a short speech on "Art Inspiring the Future." This was a relatively public place with mixed crowds, and while security measures were tight, they were not impenetrable, offering an opportunity to be exploited.

On the night of the opening ceremony, a top art gallery in the capital was brilliantly lit and filled with the scent of perfume and the rustle of evening gowns. Evelyn wore a custom-made, priceless midnight blue velvet off-the-shoulder evening gown, with a simple yet brilliant diamond necklace around her neck. Her face was exquisitely made up, and she wore a proper yet slightly distant, elegant smile. She moved among guests, artists, collectors, and reporters with ease, responding skillfully, like a perfectly programmed, flawless doll. Yet her gaze was like the sharpest radar, using every moment of raising her glass, every nod, every conversation with a stranger to quickly and unobtrusively scan the room, searching for that one possible target.

Her heart pounded heavily in her chest, and her palms were cold, but her eyes were exceptionally calm, like a frozen lake.

Finally, her gaze locked onto a figure—a senior high-level field operative from the Ninth Division of the National Special Bureau, using the alias "Martin." He was currently disguised as a cultural attaché from a Nordic embassy in China, holding a glass of champagne, chatting and laughing with several famous art critics and curators. His demeanor was natural and appropriate, and he was completely integrated into the atmosphere of the scene. She recognized him; she had met him at some non-public cultural exchange events and knew he was one of Wang Jianguo's capable right-hand men, known for his agility, reliability, and excellent adaptability.

It was him! There was only one chance; it had to succeed!

She took a deep breath, slightly adjusted the slightly weary smile on her face, and, holding a glass of champagne with fine bubbles that she had barely touched, walked toward that direction, seemingly casually and with a light gait. Her steps were calculated just right, and her high heels made crisp, rhythmic sounds on the floor. At the moment she was about to brush past the "attaché" and enter a visual blind spot with relatively few people, near a huge abstract painting, her sky-high stiletto heels "very accidentally" twisted, her body swayed as if losing balance, and the golden wine in the glass almost spilled.

"Oh! Excusez-moi!" (Oh! Sorry!) She let out a perfectly timed, light exclamation of slight panic and apology; her voice was not loud, but it was enough to attract the attention of a few people nearby.

"Attaché Martin" reacted extremely quickly, showing full gentlemanly demeanor. He agilely and naturally turned sideways and reached out, steadily holding her elbow, with a polite and concerned smile on his face: "Pas de problème, mademoiselle. Vous vous sentez bien?" (No problem, miss. Are you okay?) His eyes were gentle, without any abnormality.

Right in this brief, less-than-two-second physical contact, with their gazes naturally meeting and the surrounding attention slightly distracted by this small accident, the tiny, cold, and heavy USB drive had already slipped, silently and precisely, from Evelyn's slightly trembling yet well-trained fingers, using an extremely delicate sleight of hand, into the right pocket of "Attaché Martin's" well-tailored suit jacket. The whole process was as fast as lightning, smooth and natural, not arousing anyone's suspicion. Even the nearest waiter only cast a concerned glance and did not notice anything unusual.

"Je vais bien, merci beaucoup." (I'm fine, thank you very much.) Evelyn quickly steadied herself, a perfectly timed blush of embarrassment rising on her face, and revealed a smile mixed with shyness and gratitude that was incredibly authentic. Yet deep in her eyes, at that moment, she conveyed a trace of extremely complex determination, pleading, and... a final gamble, which only someone like him, who had undergone special training, could instantly capture.

"Attaché Martin's" gaze flickered almost imperceptibly. His fingertips seemed to touch the outside of his pocket unintentionally and very naturally, confirming the existence of the object. Immediately, his expression returned to normal, he elegantly nodded slightly, said "My pleasure" in French, and then turned around with extreme naturalness, continuing to integrate into the previous conversation, as if it were just an insignificant little episode of helping a lady.

Evelyn's heartbeat was still like war drums on a battlefield, violently striking her eardrums, but she forced herself to take a deep breath, suppressing all emotional fluctuations. She put that elegant and slightly distant mask back on her face and continued to move among the guests, playing the role of The Foundation's daughter. She knew she had taken that step—the step from which there was no turning back, the step that would determine her future fate. Whether she would live or die, whether she would find redemption or fall into an abyss from which there was no return, depended on how Wang Jianguo treated this... cold "Pledge of Allegiance," stained with her determination and fear.