128: Chapter 128 Flaws and Melodies

Applause, cheers, faint sobs, and the sound of sniffles mingled together, forming an "emotional chord" more real than any symphony.

Taylor stood in the light, bowing slightly as her silver gown rippled with the movement.

She tilted her head to look at Alex's projection, which nodded gently at her, then, like a sand painting blown away by the wind, dissolved into particles of light and slowly faded into the air.

The first artistic core of the dual-city collaboration had been achieved perfectly—no, "perfectly imperfectly."

Backstage in New York, Alex leaned against the cold metal wall, eyes closed.

Through his earpiece came Marcus's voice, excited to the point of distortion, reporting on the explosive reaction on social media, the peak viewership ratings, and the rocket-like rise of terms such as "Aesthetics of Error" and "half-step echo."

But these sounds seemed to be coming from behind a thick layer of water.

His entire focus was immersed in the brand-new dimension of "perception" that had just opened up to him.

"Rule Contact Perception"—the name was too abstract.

What he felt at this moment was more like a faint tactile sense of "event probability flows" or "causal strings."

When he focused his mind on the performance that had just ended, he could "feel" two thick, bright "emotional energy flows" rising from the venues in New York and Los Angeles, invisibly intersecting and intertwining in the air, then spreading out toward the vast global information network.

Each "flow" was composed of billions of finer "threads" representing individual emotional responses.

And at the moment the climax of "half-step echo" reached the hundred-million-view mark, an extremely dazzling, golden "node" erupted where these two massive flows intersected.

That node seemed to be the mark of the "ritual" being completed.

More subtly, he could perceive that these "flows" and "strings" were not entirely smooth.

There were "nodules," "burrs," and faint "counter-currents" within them.

Some represented confusion (perhaps an incomplete understanding of the "error"), some represented pure commercial calculations (from the media, from sponsors), and others... exuded a cold, malicious "observation" and "disturbance."

These malicious "disturbances" were attempting to exert force on certain "strings."

For instance... right now, inside the "origin" cube in the New York venue, which had just finished its spectacular performance and was in standby cooling mode, extremely subtle abnormal fluctuations, almost indistinguishable from random noise, appeared on several key stress monitoring data streams.

In conventional technical monitoring, this would be classified as mechanical thermal expansion or electromagnetic interference.

But in Alex's current "perception," those few abnormal fluctuations were vaguely connected to several cold "strings" extending from a distant location outside the venue, carrying clear intentions of "probing" and "energy accumulation."

"Rex." Alex immediately accessed the encrypted channel, his voice calm.

"Prioritize re-examining the "origin" structure. Focus on the real-time stress data streams for the hydraulic transmission units and main load-bearing bearings numbered Hydra-7, Axle-3, and Main-Bearing-5. Check all raw records from the past three minutes and perform anomaly pattern matching. Compare them against the device electromagnetic residue characteristics we recorded at the desert test site when we encountered active scanning."

"Received. Analyzing... Found something! The fluctuation pattern match is 72%, but it's extremely faint, embedded within the normal mechanical noise.

This isn't monitoring, Alex; it's like... some kind of probing "knock" from a high-frequency command, or a response signal from a pre-planted "backdoor"!" Rex's voice suddenly tightened.

As expected. The opponent hadn't given up.

They didn't choose direct sabotage, which might incite public outrage, but instead hid their methods on a technical level, preparing to create an "accidental" technical failure at a critical node—likely the final climax of the performance.

An "accident" sufficient to ruin the performance and raise safety concerns, yet difficult to trace back to evidence of human sabotage.

"Hank, I need an absolutely reliable engineering team, now, immediately. Under the guise of a "final safety inspection," conduct a physical status re-check of those three nodes: Hydra-7, Axle-3, and Main-Bearing-5. Focus on the internal sensors themselves and the nearest cable interfaces. Be fast, and be covert." Alex ordered.

"Understood. The team is in position and heading there now." Hank's response was short and forceful.

Just then, the stage manager's voice cut into the main channel with stylized enthusiasm: "Alex, prepare for your return. Taylor's solo segment in Los Angeles is about to end. According to the schedule, you will return to the stage in five minutes for your second interaction of the New York show and the performance of "Uptown Funk," then both cities will simultaneously enter the final segment."

"Received." Alex opened his eyes.

The inhuman depth in his gaze, caused by immersion in his extraordinary perception, quickly faded, replaced once again by the scorching light belonging to a performer.

The internal threat was being investigated, but the show must go on.

And it had to continue with an even more overwhelming presence.

He straightened his collar and walked toward the waiting area.

The roar of the outside world became clear and surging once again.

He could hear the audience still excitedly discussing "half-step echo," discussing the dual-city collaboration, and discussing the incredible beauty of the "error."

His popularity points were still steadily ticking upward, and with every tick, his perception of the surrounding "strings" and "flows" seemed to become a fraction clearer.

This feeling of being the "only sober one while everyone else is drunk," of controlling an invisible chessboard, brought a secret and immense pleasure.

At the Los Angeles site, Taylor's solo segment ended with a rearranged version of "Safe & Sound," ethereal and powerful, once again sparking a sing-along of ten thousand people.

The lights dimmed, leaving a buffer for her exit and the restart in New York.

In New York, the lights focused on the entrance once again.

Alex ran onto the stage, carrying an explosive energy completely different from the deep atmosphere left by "half-step echo."

"New York! Was that last song intense enough?!" He raised the microphone and roared.

"YES—!!!"

"But I don't think it was enough!" He grinned, his smile dazzling to the point of arrogance under the spotlight.

"Let's let Los Angeles rest for a moment. Now, it's pure party time! Let me see your hands! Let me hear your screams!"

Before the words had even faded, the iconic, funk-rhythm intro blasted out! "Uptown Funk"!

The atmosphere switched instantly from deep resonance to a boiling rave.

Alex's performance was highly inflammatory; every look, every step, landed precisely on the beat and the audience's excitement points.

He wove between the "origin" cube structures, which were now still but remained full of presence, interacted with the backup dancers, and even improvised by jumping onto a lower metal platform, triggering waves of screams.

Just as the song reached the halfway point, during a section where the whole crowd was singing along, Alex's "Spider-Sense" and his newly born "Rule Contact Perception" sent a warning simultaneously!

It wasn't directed at him, but at an auxiliary hydraulic rod beneath the metal platform he was standing on, which was responsible for the platform's fine-tuned positioning (it was an independent subsystem, unrelated to the main load-bearing system where the anomaly was previously found).

In his "perception," a tiny "probability string" inside that hydraulic rod suddenly vibrated violently, indicating that the possibility of "metal fatigue causing micro-cracks to expand in the next instant" was skyrocketing!

And several cold, malicious "strings" from outside the venue seemed to be attempting to inject more "disturbance" energy into this "probability string," accelerating the process.

If the crack expanded, the platform might tilt or stutter slightly when he jumped, enough to make him lose his balance.

For an ordinary person, it might be a dangerous stage accident; with his physique, it would be a false alarm at most.

But under global live broadcast, with all eyes upon him, any "mistake" would be magnified.

Especially coming right after a god-tier live performance like "half-step echo," a news story about a "technical failure causing a performance flaw" would be enough to subtly undermine the "perfect control" image he had just established.

The opponent was smart, and vicious.

They weren't seeking major harm; they only sought to smear a bit of seemingly accidental dust on his most glorious moment.

All of this was as clear as lightning in Alex's perception.

He was singing and couldn't stop.

But he moved his mind slightly, attempting to focus his newly accumulated, still-unpracticed "Rule Perception" on that dangerous hydraulic rod.

He wasn't trying to fight the cold, malicious "disturbance" (he couldn't do that yet), but rather to gently "pluck" the probability string itself that represented the "expansion of the metal crack."

He "felt" himself touching a chaotic "cloud" representing countless possibilities.

He couldn't control it precisely; he could only rely on intuition to inject a strong intention into that "cloud": "Stabilize. Maintain the status quo. Until the current energy peak passes."

This was an esoteric intervention; it didn't consume physical strength, but a more essential spiritual power.

He felt a brief moment of dizziness.

The next moment, as he landed from his next jump, he deliberately increased the force, his sole landing precisely on that stress point of the platform.

Hum—!

A faint metallic tremor, almost drowned out by the music, came from beneath his feet.

But the platform was as steady as a rock.

The warning from his "Spider-Sense" and the violent vibration of that dangerous "probability string" subsided rapidly, like ripples being smoothed out.

Those cold strings attempting to inject "disturbance" also seemed to show a moment of chaos and confusion because the target "probability" had suddenly stabilized.

Alex's movements didn't pause for even a second, as if that subtle probing and counterattack had never happened.

He continued singing, his smile even brighter, sliding to the edge of the stage to high-five the nearest audience members.

The crisis was quietly resolved into nothingness on a level unknown to anyone else.

"Uptown Funk" ended in a rave.

Alex was panting, sweat soaking his temples, as he blew kisses to the crowd below.

The cheers were deafening.

Hank's low voice came through the earpiece: "Physical re-check complete. Inside the secondary sensor interface of Main-Bearing-5, we found a non-standard micro signal repeater, in deep sleep mode, extremely covert. It has been safely removed. No traces of physical interference were found at the other two locations, but the relevant data streams have been reinforced with isolation."

"Received. Maintain maximum vigilance. Before the final segment, execute another redundant check on all systems." Alex responded in a low voice, the coldness in his heart deepening.

There was indeed a physical backdoor.

If it hadn't been for his "Rule Perception" warning him of the anomaly in that "probability string" in advance, allowing them to follow the trail to a targeted physical re-check, this "nail" might have been remotely activated at the last moment, causing more serious consequences.

The opponent's patience and precision exceeded expectations.

But they also seemed to have exposed a habit—a greater reliance on pre-planted technical methods and remote influence.

Just then, the footage from Los Angeles cut back onto the big screen.

Taylor had changed into a dashing red performance outfit and was standing in the center of the stage, with the "Eternity" dome, which had begun to flow slowly and seemed to contain an infinite galaxy, in the background.

"New York," Taylor's voice came through the connection, carrying a smile and a trace of imperceptible tension (she had also received the emergency briefing from backstage), "Are you having fun?"

"Having so much fun I almost forgot the main business." Alex responded with a smile, his words carrying a double meaning.

He looked into the camera, and also toward the direction of Los Angeles, his gaze becoming deep and solemn.

"So, friends, the party is on pause. It's time... to connect the final piece of the puzzle."

The preview music for the final segment of the "Resonance Era" echoed low in both venues, like gravitational waves rising from the deep sea.

The stage for the final showdown had been set.

And the hunter in the shadows and the hunter in the light had both revealed their respective blades and shields.