3:00 AM, the secret room inside the Renxin Hall.
Zhou Mo sat at his workbench, the summary of intelligence extracted from Zuma spread open before him.
Weyland-Yutani possessed at least three secret laboratories in the San Francisco Bay Area, focusing on Xenomorph biological weapons and genetic hybridization technology.
Their partners included the Foot Clan and several government officials whose names were blacked out.
“A multinational corporation, a supernatural organization, and corrupt bureaucrats.” Zhou Mo closed his notebook.
“That combination is like tying together poison, dynamite, and a lighter.” Relying solely on his current forces—Wah Ching, Gambit, and Livewire—his odds of winning against a coalition of this scale were slim.
A head-on clash was a fool’s strategy.
“I need to introduce a balancing force,” he muttered to himself.
Two options surfaced in his mind: SHIELD, the official agency handling paranormal affairs; The Institute, a mutant faction that should be highly sensitive to biological experimentation.
He unlocked his safe and retrieved a backup copy of the Xenomorph cell analysis report.
It was not the original, but a sanitized version stripped of all details pointing to the attack on Warehouse B7, retaining only core scientific data and estimated lab locations.
Next was the packaging.
Zhou Mo took two blocks of specialized alloy from his materials box.
He placed both hands over them, activating an elementary application of *Mediation of Creation*.
It was not creation out of nothing, but molecular restructuring.
The alloy melted beneath his palms, reshaped, and solidified anew into two twenty-centimeter-long metal cylinders.
The cylinders were smooth and unmarked, devoid of logos or serial numbers.
He coated the inner walls with a chemical delayed-volatilization agent, setting a twenty-four-hour decomposition cycle.
Then he placed the report and an encrypted chip inside.
The chip was a military-grade, disposable storage device procured by Remy that would automatically melt down after a single read.
“Anonymous courier service.” Zhou Mo weighed the cylinders in his hand.
“I hope the recipients enjoy the surprise.” *** 3:30 AM, the San Francisco port area.
The warehouse of Pacific Union Freight Company stood in the darkness like a sleeping iron beast.
On the surface, it was an ordinary logistics firm; in reality, it served as a low-security SHIELD intelligence outpost on the West Coast.
Zhou Mo knew this because of records in Remy’s underground intelligence network.
Standing on a rooftop two blocks away, he closed his eyes.
*Wall-Piercing Vision* unfolded, scanning the warehouse compound.
Twelve security cameras, eight motion sensors, two infrared fences.
Four personnel on duty—two in the monitoring room, two on patrol.
A standard setup, but hardly impressive.
*Vanishing Trace* activated.
Zhou Mo’s silhouette dissolved into the night.
It was not true invisibility, but becoming as imperceptible as air itself.
He leaped off the roof, landed without a sound, and sprinted across the street.
A security camera panned across his location, but the feed showed only an empty road.
The warehouse perimeter wall was three meters high, topped with barbed wire.
Instead of climbing over, Zhou Mo walked straight to the wall and merged into the concrete like stepping through a curtain of water.
*Five Elements Escape: Earth Escape.* When he emerged on the other side, he was inside the inner courtyard.
The patrolling guards were just twenty meters away, their flashlight beams sweeping back and forth.
Zhou Mo crouched in the shadows, waited for the light to pass, and moved rapidly.
The rear door of the main office building had an electronic lock.
Zhou Mo pressed his fingers against the lock cylinder, sending a faint electrical current trickling inside.
It was not an arc of lightning like Leslie’s, but a precise disruption of the circuit.
The lock clicked open.
He entered the corridor and, guided by *Wall-Piercing Vision*, located the night supervisor’s office.
The door was locked, but the room was empty.
Behind the desk sat an inconspicuous metal box embedded in the wall, presenting only a narrow drop slot on its surface.
SHIELD’s anonymous intelligence channel.
Zhou Mo slipped the first metal cylinder inside.
Sensors inside the box triggered, emitting an almost imperceptible hum.
Mission accomplished.
He retraced his steps, left the office building through the rear door, and used Earth Escape once more to phase through the perimeter wall.
The entire process took less than five minutes without triggering a single alarm.
*** 3:45 AM, suburban Oak Ridge Preparatory School.
This private school hosted students during the day, but at night it was as silent as a graveyard.
Yet thirty meters underground lay the San Francisco branch of the Institute.
Zhou Mo stood in the woods surrounding the school.
There were no perimeter walls here, but the security was far tighter.
Within the perception of *Wall-Piercing Vision*, an energy barrier encompassed the underground facility—not electronic, but a superhuman forcefield.
“Mutant security,” Zhou Mo evaluated.
“A forced entry will blow my cover.” He chose a more direct approach.
Activating Earth Escape once again, he did not merely pass through a wall, but submerged into deeper geological layers.
His body sank into the ground like diving into water.
Soil, rock, and concrete flowed around him, parted, and closed behind him.
The layout of the underground branch grew clear in his mind.
Laboratories, dormitories, training grounds, main control room.
Inside the main laboratory were two humanoid heat signatures possessing powerful energy readings.
Zhou Mo paused in the rock layer directly beneath the laboratory.
Looking up, the lab floor was three meters above him.
*Five Elements Escape: Matter Phase.* The metal cylinder vanished from his hand, reappearing the next second on the lab’s sample analysis table.
A precision delivery.
Almost instantly, the laboratory’s alarms sounded.
Not a piercing siren, but a deep, low hum.
Zhou Mo sensed the two heat signatures moving rapidly toward the analysis table.
Time to pull back.
He continued sinking, emerging from the ground on the opposite side of the school, two hundred meters away from the drop point.
*** 7:00 AM, Pacific Union Freight Warehouse.
Night supervisor Jack Thompson was conducting his shift handover checks as usual.
When he opened the anonymous intelligence box, he froze.
A metal cylinder lay quietly inside.
“When did this…” He picked up the cylinder and examined it carefully.
No markings, no fingerprints, and the internal log showed a delivery time of 3:37 AM.
Yet the surveillance footage showed nothing—the cameras in the hallway, the office, and even the one right in front of the box showed absolute emptiness.
Jack knew this was not the work of an ordinary informant.
He immediately activated emergency protocols, placed the cylinder into a blast-proof case, and dispatched it to West Coast Command via a secure channel.
*** 8:30 AM, SHIELD West Coast Headquarters, San Francisco.
Agent Phil Coulson stared at the metal cylinder on his desk, his expression grave.
He wore a neatly pressed gray suit, his tie fastened impeccably.
The technical team had already completed their preliminary analysis.
“The cylinder is made of a specialized alloy with an untraceable composition,” the technician reported.
“The interior coating is a chemical delayed-volatilization agent, high-level agent grade.
The storage chip is disposable and auto-destructed upon reading.
The paper documents will decompose in twenty-four hours.” “And the contents?” Phil Coulson asked.
“Irrefutable evidence of Xenomorphs.
Cell sample analysis, genomic sequencing data, and…” The technician paused.
“Three suspected Weyland-Yutani laboratory locations in the Bay Area, along with transport route maps involving the Foot Clan.” Phil Coulson picked up the printed copy of the report.
Detailed data, airtight logic—it did not look forged.
Yet the source was completely unknown.
“Surveillance at the drop point?” “Nothing.
The sender evaded every camera and sensor.
Our security system was completely transparent to them.” Phil Coulson fell into deep thought.
In all his years with SHIELD, he had seen plenty of bizarre occurrences, but this was different.
The sender had not come to negotiate or extort; they had simply dropped intelligence at the door and vanished.
“Initiate verification protocols,” he ordered.
“Secretly verify those three lab locations.
Monitor all Weyland-Yutani activities in San Francisco.
Assess the Foot Clan’s threat level.
And…” He looked at the cylinder.
“Trace the source, but don’t hold your breath.” “Yes, sir.” *** At the same time, inside the Oak Ridge branch laboratory.
Storm, Ororo Munroe, and Beast, Hank McCoy, stood before the analysis table, staring at the metal cylinder that had appeared out of thin air.
“I was in the main control room when the alarm went off,” Storm said.
“Surveillance only caught it appearing out of nowhere, like magic.” “Not magic—some form of spatial teleportation or matter transmission.” Beast put on heavy gloves and carefully opened the cylinder.
The scent of the delayed-volatilization agent made him wrinkle his nose.
He retrieved the report and chip, skimming them rapidly.
“My god…” The blue fur on Beast’s arms bristled slightly.
“Non-terrestrial life.
A highly aggressive genetic structure with cross-species hybridization traits.
If this were weaponized…” Storm took the report.
“Weyland-Yutani?
That multinational corporation?” “Pharmaceuticals and tech on the surface, this in the shadows.” Beast inserted the chip into a reader, and data scrolled across the screen.
“Three lab locations, transport routes…
whoever sent this gave us a map.” “Why?” Storm stared at the cylinder.
“Who sends intelligence like this to mutants?” “Perhaps they know we’re sensitive to biological experimentation,” Beast said.
“Or perhaps they want to use us to do their heavy lifting.” Silence settled over them, broken only by the low hum of the laboratory instruments.
“Inform the Professor,” Storm said finally.
“We need his counsel.” “Agreed.” Beast began backing up the data.
“But before that, I want to run a deeper sequencing on the cell samples.
If this creature truly exists, we need to know every detail.” “I’ll handle security,” Storm said.
“If this intelligence is real, Weyland-Yutani won’t be pleased that their secrets have been exposed.” “What do you plan to do?” “Scout one of the lab locations first.” A flash of lightning flickered in Storm’s eyes.
“But be careful.
If the sender can slip into a SHIELD facility without a trace, their opponents won’t be simple either.” *** 12:00 PM, Renxin Hall.
Zhou Mo was writing a prescription for a cold patient, his movements steady and his expression composed.
Yet *Wall-Piercing Vision* remained active, monitoring energy fluctuations across the entire block.
An encrypted text arrived from Remy: “Unusual activity near the harbor.
Suspected undercover SHIELD agents.
Over at the school, a black helicopter just landed and took off again.” “Got it,” Zhou Mo replied.
“Keep monitoring, but maintain your distance.” After the patient left, Zhou Mo walked to the window.
The street was peaceful, but undercurrents were already surging beneath the surface.
He called Remy.
“The water is muddy now,” Zhou Mo said.
“Now we watch how the fish swim.
What we need to do is quietly cast our net in the murky water.” “Understood,” Remy said.
“Any movement from Weyland-Yutani?” “There will be soon.” Zhou Mo looked out the window.
“Ramp up surveillance.
Pay special attention to potential friction points between them, SHIELD, and the Institute.
Also, tell Skinny Monkey to lay low lately and stay out of things he shouldn’t be involved in.” “Will he listen?” “He will.” Zhou Mo hung up the phone.