Chapter Twenty: Seeking Help

Within the agreement between the Blackstone Group and the Seven Titans, the final step—the occupation and control of the network energy zone's core node—was to be executed by the Blackstone Group itself. There was no alternative; the core operated under authentication protocols, and the method chosen by Blackstone was to fully activate this small network energy zone node on the outskirts of the city ruins, then connect and merge it with District Nine, thus forming a comprehensive energy zone network. However, to control the network here and link it with District Nine, one naturally needed a username and password—even wireless WiFi could not bypass such a step.

It was only natural that such a crucial matter could never be exposed to outsiders. Could anyone just access a military's confidential network? Could anyone log in to a bank's system? If one were to obtain this, who then would truly be the master here?

Thus, the task had to be accomplished personally by a member of the Blackstone Group, and that individual needed to hold sufficiently high authority as well as absolute trustworthiness.

Within the Blackstone Group, only one person fit such criteria.

“So, you require my assistance, ‘Emperor’?”

Looking at the elderly face that appeared before him, Ferren smiled as he straightened his collar.

“Indeed, ‘Doctor.’”

The figure before Ferren was none other than the executive director of the Blackstone Group, the true ruler of District Nine—the “Emperor.” He offered a wry smile, his expression resigned, spreading his hands and shaking his head at Ferren.

“I need your help now, for this situation is rather troublesome.”

“Troublesome?”

Ferren was momentarily taken aback.

“Haven’t you already located the core area? Is it still beyond your grasp?”

“As a matter of fact, it truly is beyond us.”

Faced with Ferren’s inquiry, the “Emperor” seemed somewhat embarrassed, yet he proceeded to recount the situation in full detail. Upon hearing the old man’s account, Ferren realized the matter was indeed peculiar.

At first, Blackstone’s plan proceeded smoothly. With the assistance of the Seven Titans, they successfully cleared the surrounding threats and located the core area of this small network node. The next step was simply to send personnel to investigate, clean up, activate the node, and connect it thoroughly to District Nine.

Then, something strange happened. The members sent to probe the core area lost contact; no matter how they were called, there was no response. To err on the side of caution, the “Emperor” dispatched another team, instructing them to maintain constant communication. Initially, contact was normal, but soon enough, this team too vanished without a trace. At this point, the old man could no longer sit still. Losing two teams so mysteriously, without a single sound, was far too abnormal, and he was forced to seek help. In his eyes, Ferren—who wandered the wastelands—was the ideal candidate.

“I suppose, when confronted with such oddities, you have more experience than I do.”

“Hmm…”

Hearing the “Emperor’s” words, Ferren narrowed his eyes, sinking into thought. At last, he understood why the old man was so cautious.

After the “Great Cataclysm,” people abandoned phones and walkie-talkies, for such devices were no longer necessary. Anyone living within a network energy zone carried an integrated system, which included similar “communication software.” Generally, as long as one stood before another, or knew their name or code, they could add them as a contact. Once accepted, conversations could span any distance. For example, Ferren himself had groups like [Experimental Supplies], [Experimental Equipment], and [Seven Titans]. Similarly, commanding subordinates required little effort; one could simply open a group chat and shout, “Third grandson, get out here!” or click on a contact’s avatar and say, “Mission assigned, private chat,” and that would suffice.

This was also why most ability users adopted codenames—imagine a celebrity’s public account, constantly bombarded with friend requests.

Yet now, this most common and effective post-Cataclysm method had suddenly failed?

No wonder the “Emperor” sought his aid. As ruler of Blackstone and District Nine, he would never risk himself, and the others were each dominant figures with no interest in risking their lives for him. Only Ferren, alone, could accept such a perilous commission, and most importantly, only he would be willing.

“This truly is a headache, ‘Emperor.’”

“The old man knows it’s troublesome, hence why I’ve come to you… Of course, your reward will not be lacking. Whatever you desire, so long as Blackstone possesses it, I can grant it—provided you resolve this issue for me.”

“If I ask for District Nine, would you give it?”

“Would you even want it?”

“Certainly not. I’ll go, but I have a condition…”

As he spoke, Ferren glanced toward the edge of the ruins nearby, where Chris, Eluca, and Corona were dutifully working.

“The reward you promised me before—add three more shares.”

“This…”

At this, the old man hesitated for once.

“‘Doctor,’ you know well how difficult it is to obtain that… Just preparing your share has already cost Blackstone dearly. To ask for three more… It’s impossible, not even one more could be spared…”

“Then, I want chips.”

At this, Ferren snapped his fingers, promptly changing the terms.

“Thirty premium-grade chips. Surely Blackstone can provide that? Not to mention, you must have collected plenty on the battlefield this time.”

“This…”

The “Emperor” had not expected Ferren to propose such a demand, and was taken aback.

“You’ve never asked for this before…”

“Will you give them or not?”

“If you return alive, certainly.”

“That’s settled then.”

Having received a definite answer, Ferren ended the call. He stood, picked up his wide-brimmed hat, and tucked his notebook into his coat. Then, he looked up at the hard-working Black Dog Squad.

“All right, that’s enough.”

“Huh?”

Eluca was momentarily puzzled by Ferren’s order, and Corona, who was reporting nearby, turned her head with anxiety.

“C-Commander, is there something Corona did wrong? Corona…”

Their nervousness was understandable. Until now, Ferren had been “resting” behind them, and to demonstrate their “abilities” to the commander, the three girls had been working diligently—even the usually aloof Chris had been earnest. Now, hearing Ferren ask them to stop, unease stirred in their hearts, uncertain if they had displeased the commander.

“No.”

Seeing their anxious faces, Ferren smiled gently and shook his head.

“It’s time for us to fulfill our mission.”

He spoke, and continued.