Chapter 100: Beware of Coincidence!

“You say keep it secret? Then show some action—stop daydreaming about this and that. From what it looks like, the Empire intends to investigate thoroughly.”

Yang Xingsi grew somewhat agitated. “This is not only for the organization but also for yourselves. Once exposed, no one will survive. Our only fates are the guillotine or exile to the frontier.”

The video fell silent again.

“Of course.”

Yang Xingsi moved his upper body slightly, suggesting he was nodding.

“The matter in the Dragon Province isn’t our concern. When the time comes, they will respond simultaneously. But I believe they are subtly reminding everyone to speed up.”

“Currently, we cannot make contact.”

He said this abruptly, then fell into a prolonged silence.

Ji Cheng waited patiently, his mind already filled with doubts.

He had initially thought this group was just a small gang hiding in the shadows, but Yang Xingsi’s words shattered that assumption.

“At the very least, it’s a cross-province syndicate. But what exactly are they up to?”

One must understand that the Empire’s vast territory means a single province contains dozens of star sectors, comparable in size to a late-stage nation.

The renowned Winter Star Alliance from the game before crossing over is located in what is now the Frost Province.

Such a large organization must be involved in some massive case.

At that moment, Ji Cheng was almost ready to give up the investigation. If he accidentally got entangled in a major case, he might not even know how he died.

“But... lifting the current navigation signal blockage on White Mountain Star and uncovering the cause is essential.”

As he hesitated, Yang Xingsi spoke again in the video.

“I agree.”

“But we’ve talked enough about this topic. I called this meeting not to argue or dig up old grievances. Whenever selfishness and inflated ambition come into play, any plan can fall apart.”

“As for Hive, there’s no need to worry. I bypassed the Empire’s planetary LAN setup. Don’t forget, besides networks, there are other means of information transmission.”

Yang Xingsi stood up, the rustling of his white coat audible.

“It relies on electrolytes. All relevant data was sent out through that uplink. Absolutely secure.”

Uplink? Hearing this, Ji Cheng’s attention sharpened.

The uplink is a physical channel transmitting information from a planet to other star systems, akin to a shipping port.

If this group built an uplink on White Mountain Star, finding it would mean gaining all kinds of intelligence.

“Colleagues,” he said, “the atmosphere has tightened recently. Many things are slipping beyond our control. I don’t even know when the next meeting will be. I leave you with one final reminder: as long as you’re on White Mountain Star...”

“Be very careful of coincidences!”

The video ended.

“What a bunch of nonsense,” Ji Cheng muttered, disappointed that the video ended just like that.

There was no vital information at all.

And he had no idea where that uplink was, meaning the precious lead just ended abruptly.

“Do you two have any thoughts?” Ji Cheng quietly asked Shana and An Chan.

“I can’t think of any clues,” Shana said, leaning lightly against his side.

“I don’t know,” An Chan stood nearby, snorting coldly. Her eyes toward Shana were filled with envy and jealousy.

Ji Cheng pulled her close, soothing her before saying, “I think the only point worth pondering is the so-called electrolytes and that crazy phrase—‘be careful of coincidences.’”

Electrolytes generally refer to compounds dissolved in water that conduct electricity.

“Transmitting information through electrolytes in water isn’t technically difficult,” Shana frowned thoughtfully.

When electrolytes dissolve in water, they produce charged ions; by constraining these ions’ relative positions with magnetic fields, information can be transmitted.

The method is primitive, but its very primitiveness allows it to bypass the Empire’s planetary LAN monitoring.

“The technical challenge isn’t great, but unless the uplink is near the Hive laboratory, you’d need a whole river,” Ji Cheng sighed.

Suddenly, he jolted as if struck by high voltage.

“Damn! A river!”

He looked excitedly at the two women. “A river!”

“What river?” they asked.

“Oh right, you wouldn’t know.” Ji Cheng activated his wrist computer, projecting a holographic map with a few taps.

The semi-transparent map hovered in the air, showing the terrain around New Southport City.

At the southern edge was New Southport City; to its east lay Old Southport City; to the north, the vast Red Mist Wasteland and the former Feng’an City; westward beyond a buffer zone was the peculiarly shaped Snailhorn Desert.

“Coincidentally, before meeting you, I went on a mission where I led some ordinary surveyors to mine in the Red Mist Wasteland,” Ji Cheng said with the lightness of falling rain.

“On the way, while resting in a dried-up riverbed, we discovered a small mining area. After a brief survey, we were called back to Southport.”

Both women’s gazes unconsciously followed Ji Cheng’s finger toward a winding ravine in the Red Mist Wasteland.

“So?”

An Chan perched on the armrest, her foot resting on Ji Cheng’s thigh, lifting her chin as if scrutinizing him.

“This river is called Salt River,” Ji Cheng smiled.

Shana suddenly understood. “Could it be that this river contains a high concentration of saline and alkali?”

Salt is the most common electrolyte.

“That’s right. And look...” Ji Cheng pressed two fingers on the edge of the virtual map, tilting it fifteen degrees.

“The Hive laboratory is located southwest outside the Snailhorn Desert, which, before the disaster in 1257, was a plateau higher in elevation than the Red Mist Wasteland.”

“Are you saying...” Shana’s eyes glimmered behind her lashes, “that the source of Salt River is near the Hive laboratory?”

Salt River is a seasonal river with many course changes, making its source hard to pinpoint.

Ji Cheng said confidently, “At least its upper reaches pass through there. Before entering the Hive, at the bottom of the Lizard’s Eye, we found a few-centimeter-thick salt-alkali crust with an oily mud layer beneath. Data shows this crust repeatedly reappears after cleaning.”

“That suggests the seasonal Salt River frequently flows there.”

He then pulled up information on the ghost vine from New Southport’s records, pointing out, “White Mountain Star originally had no ghost vines. The appearance of such plants in the Red Mist Wasteland after the disaster likely means they came from the Hive laboratory...”

He recalled the shattered glass pillars in the main hive chamber.

“Salt River must be the electrolyte transmission channel Yang Xingsi mentioned!”

An Chan clapped expressionlessly a few times, squinting. “An open river constantly evaporating water would have fluctuating electrolyte concentrations. Transmitting through such a river must generate tons of errors.”

“That’s true...” Ji Cheng slapped his thigh. “I get it!”

“You just hit my foot,” An Chan said coldly.

Ji Cheng hugged her excitedly. “It’s a hidden river. Beneath Salt River flows a hidden stream, also saturated with salt and alkali. That hidden stream is the real transmission channel.”

“Pure speculation?”

“No. When I explored that small mining area under the Salt Riverbed, signs of a hidden stream appeared. But when we went deeper, we didn’t see the river itself. Now I think it must be farther down.”

Shana was surprised. “What a coincidence, you happened to be on a mission there and discovered the hidden stream.”

“Yeah, just a big coincidence,” Ji Cheng chuckled, then abruptly stopped.

He froze, and the three exchanged glances.

Be careful of coincidences!

A cold sweat broke out over him.