City A, Bureau of Extraordinary Affairs Headquarters, Basement Level One.
The hum of machinery echoed through the room, dense waveforms and data jumping across the screen.
The Doctor and Director stood side by side beside the sleeping Lin Du, eyes fixed on the machine connected to his brain.
Three hours had passed since the operation began.
The Knight System had remained completely sealed off from the dream.
No matter how the Doctor tried—adjusting frequencies, breaking down and reassembling, forcing a breakthrough—
That invisible barrier did not budge, like a wall of nothingness blocking all external interference.
“This isn’t some small fry,” the Doctor said, pushing up his goggles, his voice low. “It might even be a B-rank or higher mutant.”
The Director remained silent, staring at the steady heartbeat curve on Lin Du’s monitor.
He had been reassuring the Doctor not to worry, but to be honest, he himself had no confidence.
Damn it!
He clenched his fist, knuckles turning white.
He had let that kid’s enthusiasm get to him, and now he was caught up in the moment.
Normally, an operation like this should go through rigorous investigation and confirmation—gathering enough intel, formulating a meticulous plan—before approval.
Civilian lives are important, but charging in blind against an unknown enemy is nothing but reckless courage.
The kid is young and inexperienced, but how could he, an old hand, be so foolish?
If A City’s strongest combatant were to fall here, he could never afford that price.
The Director took a deep breath, his gaze landing on Lin Du’s calm face.
The child was still so young. If something happened to him, how could he explain it to his parents?
He had sworn to protect this kid.
“Director!”
The Doctor’s voice suddenly rose.
“There’s a change!”
“What?”
The Director snapped back to reality and leaned toward the screen.
The Doctor typed rapidly, pulling up the latest data.
The once-smooth lines on the screen began to fluctuate violently, like a heavy rock thrown into a calm lake, ripples overlapping.
“Just now, the dream Lin Du is in produced strong fluctuations.”
The Doctor pointed at the waveform graph. “Look here—the amplitude suddenly increased, and the frequency is accelerating. This kind of change… it’s likely his own mental energy erupting, trying to break through the barrier.”
The Director leaned in. Sure enough, the line was jumping wildly, like a river flowing into the ocean, or magma surging underground.
“Once the dream barrier shows any weakness,” the Doctor said, his voice urgent, “I can find a gap and send the Knight System in!”
He operated the instruments frantically, fingers dancing across the keyboard.
Dense parameters popped up on the screen, energy readings climbing, the system self-check progress bar jumping forward step by step.
Suddenly, he paused.
“But…”
“But what?”
The Director couldn’t hold back and pressed urgently.
The Doctor stared at the screen, brows furrowed.
“The current fluctuation frequency is extremely erratic. I need to focus all my effort on stabilizing the instrument’s output to keep the transmission channel from shattering.”
He picked up a palm-sized button from the table and handed it to the Director.
“But capturing the right moment to send the Knight System in requires extremely precise timing. I can’t do two things at once.”
The Director took the button, holding it in his hands, feeling its cold metal casing.
“I understand.” His voice steadied. “Let me handle it.”
The Doctor paused and looked up at him.
“Are you… sure you can?”
He turned his head, staring at the wildly jumping waveform on the screen, his voice laced with uncertainty.
“We might only have one chance. With fluctuations like this, the device could overload at any moment. If we fail, the channel will collapse completely.”
The Director smiled, the laugh lines around his eyes spreading across his weathered face.
“Don’t underestimate me just because I’m old. My hands and reflexes haven’t dulled that much,” he said casually. “Back in my youth, I was known as the fastest shot in the army…”
“Hey, hey, hey—”
The Doctor quickly cut him off, his beard shaking.
“Save the reminiscing for later. Let’s focus on the matter at hand.”
He turned back and typed the last line of commands on the keyboard.
On the screen, the waveform was magnified, and a prominent red horizontal line appeared in the center.
“This is the critical line.” The Doctor pointed at the red line, his tone turning solemn. “The transmission signal must land exactly on this line. Going above or below will result in failure.”
He paused, his gaze falling on the button in the Director’s hand.
“We only have one chance. If it fails, that kid might not come back.”
The Director gave a slight nod, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.
The room fell silent, save for the hum of the instruments and Lin Du’s steady breathing.
Then he opened his eyes.
Those eyes had changed—the earlier worry and self-reproach replaced by something harder.
They were as sharp as a hawk’s, as cold as a drawn blade.
That was the look of a man who had truly been to war.
“I’m ready.”
His voice was low, but each word was firm as a nail.
The Doctor’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, holding his breath.
“Begin.”
The moment the words were spoken, both fell into complete silence.
Only the waveform on the screen pulsed—beat by beat, like a heartbeat.
The Director stared wide-eyed, his gaze locked on the screen.
His breathing became shallow and slow, his entire body like a statue, only his eyes moving slightly, tracking the undulating curve.
The first peak approached the horizontal line.
It surged from the bottom, like a rising tide, climbing higher and higher, higher and higher.
Almost there, almost there…
Then, just a hair’s breadth away from the red line, it slumped back down.
The Director didn’t blink, because the second peak came faster.
It rebounded from the trough, like a spring compressed to its limit suddenly releasing.
The line shot up at a near-frenzied speed, breaking through one high point after another, gaining momentum with increasing ferocity.
“Now —!”
The Doctor shouted, his beard nearly flying off.
The Director’s finger slammed down.
The force was so great that the button clicked sharply in his palm, almost crushed.
On the tray, the wristband flashed.
And vanished.
The room fell into a dead silence.
The Doctor stared at the data stream on the screen, his fingers frozen above the keyboard.
The Director stayed in his pressing posture, not even daring to breathe.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
On the screen, the waveform froze. A green dot appeared at the exact center of the waveform, landing precisely on the red line.
The Doctor stared at that dot for a second.
Then he spun around, his whole beard shaking.
“It worked!”
His voice was almost a roar, his whole body practically jumping.
“The Knight System has been successfully sent into the dream!”
The Director slumped into his chair, gasping for air.
He looked down at his still-trembling hand, then back at the steady green dot on the screen. A grin slowly spread across his face.
“You little brat…”
He placed the button on the table and leaned back.
“It’s all up to you now.”
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