96: Common enemy

Above the ruins, there was a deathly silence.

That fatal 0.03-second curve was like an unhealable scar, branded onto everyone's retinas.

Reno remained silent, like a statue that had lost its soul. Su Li pursed her lips tightly, looking at the data with a complex gaze, as if trying to find even the slightest loophole that could overturn the conclusion.

Everyone's eyes eventually converged on Chen Feng. They were waiting for a judgment, waiting for a final conclusion.

Chen Feng took a slow step forward and looked around at everyone. His voice wasn't loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly.

"The responsibility for this accident lies with me."

This single sentence left everyone stunned.

"It's me," Chen Feng's voice carried a heavy self-reflection. "It's me who, while possessing a goal of challenging the sea of stars, naively thought I could achieve it by relying on this pile of scrap metal on Ashen Earth Star."

"I let all of you dance on the edge of a cliff without providing a real safety rope."

He turned to Su Li, his tone calm but powerful: "Director Su Li, you weren't wrong. Data-driven management and cost control are the 'skeleton' that any power wishing to head into the stars must possess. Without you, we are just a heap of loose sand."

He then looked at Reno, a hint of apology in his eyes: "Supervisor Reno, you were even less wrong. Safety is the '1' that comes before all the other '1's; without it, no matter how many '0's follow, they have no meaning. You are the 'shield' for all of us, our bottom line."

Finally, his gaze fell on Lao Mo, who had just arrived and was still wrapped in bandages: "Lao Mo, you weren't wrong either. If a team loses the courage to explore and try new things, then it's already dead from the start. You are our 'engine'."

Chen Feng took a deep breath and, with an unprecedentedly serious tone, delivered the final 'judgment'.

"None of us were wrong."

"What's wrong is this damned technological barrier! What's wrong is that we tried to use low-dimensional means to solve a high-dimensional problem!"

His words were like a key, instantly unlocking the locks of 'guilt' and 'blame' in everyone's hearts. Reno's clenched fists slowly relaxed, and Su Li's tense jawline softened.

Half an hour later, in the conference room of Hanhai Trade headquarters.

Chen Feng gathered all the core members. On the conference room's background wall, only one thing was projected—that shocking 0.03-second data curve.

"This is a report Director Su Li prepared overnight," Chen Feng gestured to Su Li.

Su Li stood up, and data charts were projected one by one.

"Materials Science: Our high-strength alloys' yield strength is three technological generations behind the interstellar general standard."

"Energy Science: Our energy conversion efficiency is 530 percent lower than the average level."

"Information Science: Our processor's calculation speed is only one percent of the Omni-Dimensional Trade Alliance's entry-level civilian chips."

...Every number was like a heavy hammer, smashing ruthlessly into everyone's hearts. For the first time, they felt the terrifying weight of the term 'technological blockade' so intuitively and cruelly. It wasn't a distant concept, but a guillotine hanging over everyone's heads, ready to fall at any moment.

"Therefore," Chen Feng's voice rang out again, "I propose that 'breaking the technological blockade' be elevated to the sole, highest strategic goal for Hanhai Trade over the next year! All departments and all work must revolve around it!"

"I agree!" Reno was the first to stand up, his voice booming.

"I second the motion." Su Li followed closely, expressing her attitude with a brief resource reallocation proposal.

Lao Mo, Irene... everyone stood up. At this moment, because of a common failure, the team's thinking reached an unprecedented level of unity for the first time.

A common enemy had been established.

"So, here comes the problem," Chen Feng posed the final challenge, "how do we break it?"

The conference room fell back into silence.

"In the deep web of the Interstellar Exchange," Chen Feng spoke slowly, breaking the silence, "there exists a special group of people. They sell knowledge, they sell secrets, they sell everything that can be priced. People call them 'Crows'."

"And among all the 'Crows', there is one who is the most legendary and the most expensive, codenamed—'Raven'."

Chen Feng looked at everyone's shocked expressions and continued, "Legend has it that as long as you can afford the price, he can help you get any intelligence in this universe."

After the meeting, in Chen Feng's office.

"Boss," Su Li projected a financial statement in front of Chen Feng, "the 'credit deposit' to contact 'Raven' has a minimum amount of one million credit points. This will drain more than half of our liquid capital. This is a massive gamble."

"I know." Chen Feng's gaze was calm and firm.

Su Li was silent for a long time before she began to operate rapidly on her terminal. When she pulled up the pitch-black transfer window leading to the Exchange's deep web, her fingertips paused slightly.

As the chief operating officer, she habitually scanned the recent transaction records of that designated neutral escrow account. Most were astronomical figures, but one extremely inconspicuous 0.01 credit point transfer record from a public account caught her attention.

Account Name: [Mechanical Divine Court].

Her pupils constricted slightly, but her face remained expressionless. She marked this abnormal information in her private log as a "matter to be observed," then looked up at Chen Feng and said, "The transfer requires your highest authorization."

"Authorized." Chen Feng did not hesitate.

Su Li took a deep breath and pressed the confirmation key.

One million interstellar credit points vanished instantly from Hanhai Trade's account.

Immediately following that, an anonymous, highest-level encrypted contact request was personally edited and sent by her into some unknown deep web of the Interstellar Exchange.

"[Hanhai Trade] requests a call with [Raven]."

Message sent successfully.

And then, there was no then.

There was no response on the terminal interface. Time passed minute by minute, and the request sent out was like a stone thrown into an endless deep sea, without stirring even the slightest ripple.

The future of Hanhai Trade was now pinned on an illusory legend and a request that received no response.