The Prestige of Lin Mo

The chip burned through, the circuits melted, the lenses shattered, and even the storage card didn't escape.

On the top floor of the monitoring center, over a dozen screens went black simultaneously, then flooded with dense error codes.

Three technicians stared at the screens, exchanging blank looks, completely baffled.

"What kind of malfunction is this?"

"No idea... All surveillance signals from the Huaxia Team are cut off."

"All of them? At the same time?"

No one could answer that question.

Downstairs in the room, Lin Mo had already sat down at the desk. Following the network interface of the surveillance system, he used his spiritual sense to probe outward step by step.

He wasn't a hacker. He couldn't implant viruses or remotely control anything.

But he could use the system's components to infiltrate every device in the hotel.

Starting from the host computer in the monitoring center, through the internal local area network, to the hotel's external network nodes, and then into the municipal communication network—layer by layer, he expanded outward.

The five members of the Superpower Youth Corps sitting in the lobby—their identity information, training records, and ability level assessments—were all stored in a semi-enclosed internal database.

It took Lin Mo less than three minutes to find them.

Five people, the oldest at twenty-three, the youngest at sixteen.

Their abilities varied, but their ratings ranged from B-level to A-level.

From the reports, Lin Mo also understood the difference between these ability levels.

B-level meant a small-scale disaster. A-level meant capable of causing large-scale devastation.

"Weaker than I expected," he murmured.

He pressed deeper.

Following the internal network nodes, Lin Mo attempted to trace back to the core database—the Superpower Youth Corps' organizational structure, its superior units, and other members' lists...

Then he hit a wall.

Physical isolation.

All core data was stored on an independent local server with no physical connection to any external network.

This type of protection, though primitive, was effective. Lin Mo's spiritual sense traced every path to the network's end but found no way in further.

"Tsk. Cautious."

Lin Mo withdrew his spiritual sense and leaned back in his chair.

What he could find wasn't insignificant, but it wasn't enough either.

Still, it didn't matter.

He wasn't planning to dig up all the intel in one go. Those who needed to come would show up on their own.

Lin Mo picked up the remote from the bedside table, turned on the TV, and flipped through channels casually.

It was a variety show from South Korea—a bunch of people chattering and laughing.

He half-reclined on the bed, the TV volume on, his eyes not actually watching the screen.

He was waiting.

Waiting for the people whose cameras he'd destroyed to react.

Sure enough, within three minutes, a knock came at the door.

Standing at the door were the five members of the Superpower Youth Corps.

But they didn't come in—they just stood at the threshold.

Lin Mo merely waved a hand. The door lock turned silently, and the door swung open on its own.

Seeing the door open automatically, all five retreated a step in fright.

They all knew who Lin Mo was, fully aware he was an extremely dangerous existence. But more importantly, they dared not face him directly.

Their orders from above were only to keep an eye on Lin Mo.

Just watch him.

Do not engage. Do not test. Do not provoke.

Yet here they were, still sitting in the lobby when word came from upstairs.

"All the cameras in the Huaxia Team members' rooms have been destroyed, sir."

There was no need to suspect anyone else—it had to be Lin Mo.

They had assumed Lin Mo would eventually notice the cameras, but they never imagined he could neutralize every camera in every Huaxia Team room.

Twelve rooms, spread across three floors, with different camera models and installation locations—all of them had lost their signals at the exact same time.

"Do I need to invite you in?" Lin Mo's voice rang out.

He spoke in Chinese.

Because he knew everyone in that group understood Chinese perfectly.

The A-level ability user at the front swallowed hard. His peripheral vision caught a thinner team member beside him, and he nudged him with the tip of his foot—unobtrusively.

The thinner one stumbled, nearly losing his balance, his expression a mix of terror, grievance, and resignation.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped over the threshold and forced a smile that looked halfway natural. His Chinese was smoother than many Chinese people's:

"Mr. Lin Mo, we mean no harm. We just wanted to come up and greet you."

That excuse had clearly been improvised on the spot.

"Oh," Lin Mo replied with a single word. After a two-second pause, he tacked on the rest in a slow drawl, "I thought you came to demand an explanation."

At those words, everyone's expressions shifted slightly.

That was when it hit them—they didn't have to come at all.

If the cameras were destroyed, they could have just pretended it didn't happen.

If questioned later, they could have denied any knowledge.

But now? The door was open. They couldn't retreat, and they couldn't just stand there.

By walking in, they'd basically told Lin Mo outright:

We're the ones monitoring you.

At that moment, the person who'd been shoved forward took another step closer.

"Mr. Lin Mo, we were only trying to avoid any incidents, please—"

"Get lost."

One word. Crisp and final.

The speaker's mouth froze mid-sentence, the rest of his words caught in his throat.

Lin Mo finally lifted his eyes to look at them.

Just one glance.

"If there's any problem in our team again—"

His pacing was slow, dragging out each word as if worried the group's Chinese wasn't good enough to follow.

"Not one of you five will live to see thirty."

He paused.

"Stay the Superpower Youth Corps forever."

When those words ended, the room fell silent for about three seconds.

Standing on South Korean soil, threatening South Korean people.

The five South Koreans seethed with anger, but they dared utter a single word.

Because they were all fully aware of the internal assessment within the Youth Corps: Lin Mo was ranked S-level, possibly rivaling their own ace operative.

Four B-level and A-level ability users together didn't even qualify to retaliate against an S-level one.

So the one standing in front glanced back. The response he got was an almost imperceptible nod.

"Yes."

"We guarantee there will be no more of the same issues."

With that, he immediately stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

The hallway had the heating cranked up, the warm air seeping into their collars.

All five of them were drenched in cold sweat, whether from the heat or sheer terror, impossible to tell.

From the door to the elevator was about forty meters. Not a single word was spoken.

Footsteps fell dully on the carpet, as if they were afraid making noise would stir something dangerous.

Only when the elevator doors closed did they slump against the walls, legs weak beneath them, their faces still pale.

"Damn it, Lin Mo is terrifying!"

The A-level ability user took a deep breath and finally said, "Report this to the higher-ups. They need to send at least an S-level operative here. Otherwise, no one can hold that guy back."