372: Viral spread, a spark

The cold flagstones sent a chill deep into his bones.

Lin Fan's Clone, the "Poor Worm," "woke up" with a jolt amidst a rough shove.

Several Gray Armored Soldiers were dragging him like a dead dog from the collapsed mine back to the slave barracks.

"Useless trash, but with a tough life."

"To be swept by that energy aftershock and only suffer Soul shock..."

"He got off easy, otherwise he'd have to go back to mining."

Their contemptuous whispers were undisguised.

Lin Fan's eyelids trembled slightly, then slowly opened, his eyes filled with just the right amount of confusion and lingering fear, perfectly fitting the image of a weakling who had just returned from the gates of Hell.

He was thrown back into the familiar, dim stone chamber where hundreds of slaves were imprisoned.

No one paid him any mind.

In this enormous death machine, he was just an insignificant part, not even a spare.

Lin Fan huddled in the most inconspicuous corner, curled up, his head bowed, as if still trembling from his recent experience.

But his heart was filled with a chilling calm.

In the Command Hall, Lin Fan's main body was watching the images transmitted from the star map, his brows slightly furrowed.

That brief eye contact with the Enforcer set off alarm bells in his heart.

The level of that being far surpassed the Gray-Armored Officer from before.

Relying on himself alone to incite rebellion one by one through "accidental deaths" was too inefficient, and he would eventually be exposed under the watchful eyes of such a being.

He had to change his approach.

A more concealed, more efficient way, one that could stir up monstrous waves.

His gaze fell upon the System panel, on the completely analyzed data model of the Shackle of the Soul.

This was a massive network connecting all the slaves here.

A one-way network broadcasting despair and numbness.

Since it's a network... why should only you broadcast? Can't I send out a few small ads?

"System."

Lin Fan's main body issued a new command.

"Based on the network structure of the Shackle of the Soul, and with the Hope Virus as the core key, construct a two-way, encrypted hidden communication channel."

[Instruction received.]

[Constructing 'Anti-Logic Information Layer' based on Karma Law Network...]

[existence value consumed: 2.000%]

Lin Fan's existence value once again dropped significantly from 75.999% to 73.999%.

Building an invisible secret network cost far more than creating a virus.

But it was all worth it.

["Kindling Local Area Network" construction complete.]

[Current nodes: 2.]

Lin Fan's lips slowly curved upwards.

It's done.

Now, it's time to contact his only "netizen"... Stasis Black Domain.

This was one of the deepest prisons in the Tomb of the Epoch.

No light, no sound, no time, no space.

All concepts were stripped away, leaving only pure "existence" itself, enveloped by endless solitude and void.

Cang, the man code-named Number 734, sat cross-legged in the center of this void.

The Shackle of the Soul reassembled on his forehead was ten times thicker than before, like a living thing, madly draining everything from him, intent on crushing the tiny spark he had just ignited.

Just as his consciousness was about to sink back into eternal silence.

A voice, without warning, resounded directly in the depths of his Soul.

"Can you hear me, Cang?"

Cang's body trembled violently.

In this absolute void where even one's self would be obliterated, there was a voice?

He thought it was an illusion.

But the voice was incredibly clear, carrying a familiar, unforgettable calmness.

"You are..."

Cang used all his strength to emit a faint response on the Soul level.

"I am the one who lit the Kindling."

Lin Fan's voice, transmitted precisely through the "Kindling Local Area Network."

"You can call me Kindling."

Kindling.

Cang chewed on the word in his heart.

The word itself contained power.

"I thought you were just a..."

Cang wanted to say "Poor Worm," but then felt it was wrong.

"That was just an identity."

Lin Fan's voice sounded again, with an undeniable tone.

"Now, I need you to become a symbol, an example. Tell everyone in this Hell that shackles can be broken."

Cang fell silent.

He felt the even heavier Shackle on his forehead, and the despair that almost crushed him surged like a tide.

"I... can't do it."

He responded with difficulty.

"You can't do it alone."

Lin Fan's voice carried a hint of a smile.

"But what if there are hundreds, thousands of you?"

The next moment.

Lin Fan transmitted an image into Cang's consciousness through the Kindling Local Area Network.

It was a Soul connection map of all the slaves in Area D-3 Mining Zone.

Most of them were ash-gray, representing complete numbness.

But a small portion, deep within the ash-gray, still retained a faint red dot, like a candle in the wind.

That was the unyielding will that had not been completely extinguished.

"Do you see it?"

"They are your strength, and my goal."

"Now, listen to my command."

...In Area D-3 Mining Zone, excavation work had resumed.

The prisoners still numbly swung their pickaxes.

A tall prisoner, covered in scars, was mechanically striking the rock wall.

He was once the Clan Chief of a powerful warrior tribe, captured for resisting, his clansmen all "purified," leaving only him to linger here.

Suddenly.

His movement of swinging the pickaxe paused for a ten-thousandth of a second.

An extremely faint voice, as if from a Soul hallucination, echoed in his mind.

"Do you still remember the taste of resistance?"

The prisoner's body stiffened.

A fierce struggle flashed in his hollow eyes.

The voice, like a devil's whisper, continued to sound.

"Convict Number 734 has broken free from his shackles."

"Do you want your power back?"

The prisoner's breathing suddenly quickened.

The veins on his hand holding the pickaxe bulged.

The Shackle of the Soul immediately sensed this emotional fluctuation and began to intensify its suppression.

But at this moment.

A soft, warm, pure white energy, completely out of place in this world, appeared out of thin air in his Divine Soul.

[Hope Virus V1.0, deployed.]

The gray rune on the prisoner's forehead, after greedily absorbing the disguised "despair energy," experienced a logical detonation from within.

Crack.

A barely perceptible crack appeared on the rune.

A power suppressed for a thousand years, like a flood breaking through a dam, roared to life within his body.

The prisoner suddenly raised his head, the dead silence in his eyes receding, replaced by the blazing fire of revenge.

But he only allowed this power to last for an instant before forcibly suppressing it.

His eyes regained their numbness.

He continued to swing his pickaxe as if nothing had happened.

But only he knew that the world was now different.

At the same time.

Elsewhere in the mine, a female prisoner with a delicate appearance but a Soul as firm as a rock.

In the smelting workshop outside the mine, an Elder skilled in Formation Arrays, but enslaved to carve runes.

Even in other numbered mining areas, powerful beings waiting for death in despair... the same voice echoed in their minds.

One after another, "Hope Viruses" were precisely deployed by Lin Fan through the Kindling Local Area Network.

Overnight.

The nodes of the Kindling Local Area Network skyrocketed from "2" to "73."

Seventy-one Souls, oppressed to their limits, were rekindled.

They became Lin Fan's first batch of "infiltrator" allies in this Hell.

Lin Fan's main body looked at the network map on the System panel, which had seventy-three nodes lit up, and showed a satisfied smile.

A single spark can start a prairie fire.

Just then.

A newly added node transmitted an urgent message.

The owner of this node was a slave responsible for transporting waste materials in the central energy hub.

"Lord Kindling, I just overheard the overseers discussing."

"In three days, the base will conduct a large-scale transfer of 'Law Crystals,' reportedly to be supplied to the 'Elder Council.'"

"At that time, most of the defensive forces will be concentrated on the transport route, and our local supervision will drop to a historic low."

Lin Fan's eyes instantly lit up.

The opportunity to make a big splash had arrived.

He took a deep breath and, through the "Kindling Local Area Network," issued his first official command to all nodes.

"Everyone, continue to disguise yourselves and accumulate strength."

"In three days, await my command."

"We will make this tomb play a new movement for us."

...Deepest part of the Tomb of the Epoch, Skeleton Temple.

On the throne, the majestic figure shrouded in shadow gently tapped the armrest with his fingertips.

Before him, the report on the "A-level incident" on the crystal panel had been magnified countless times.

His gaze focused on the tampered Law data stream regarding the energy overload.

Most of the data was seamless.

But, at the end of the data stream, there was a point smaller than cosmic dust.

It was an anomalous fluctuation that should not exist.

"This trace..."

The figure in the shadows emitted a deep voice, as if resonating with the Universe.

"It belongs neither to Chaos nor to Order."

"Nor does it belong to any known rule of our Epoch."

He slowly raised his hand and pointed at the crystal panel.

"Track the source of this 'heterogeneous rule.'"

"Go find this interesting 'little mouse' for me."