Assaulting Chat Group Anchors, Harassing Chat Group Detection Systems

After the stars faded, complete annihilation followed.

When all 108 members of the group were sanctioned by the system, logic dictated that during the penalty period, the monitoring system would no longer bother scanning this space. After all, with not a single soul left to speak in the group, continuing surveillance would only waste computational power.

In other words—this was Chen Yi’s long-awaited opportunity to act without restraint!

Inside the Illusory Star Grotto-Heaven, Chen Yi’s true form took a deep breath, then channeled a surge of immense divine consciousness into his immortal avatar—the vessel hosting the main body of the chat group.

Within the vast sea of consciousness, that peculiar flickering light dot pulsed ceaselessly.

There was no denying it—this anchor point of the chat group was bizarre, existing in a state between tangible and intangible. No external force could damage it; only when it actively sought out and captured a consciousness, verifying its "transmigrator" attributes, would one even perceive its existence.

Had Chen Yi not been a genuine transmigrator, even if this light dot were right before his eyes, he’d never have noticed it!

This method was far too advanced, operating on a level Chen Yi had never even heard of.

Moreover, unlike the Immortal Ascension Tribulation—a phenomenon derived from the Heavenly Dao of the Immortal Realm, born of the world’s natural energies—this strange light dot bore a faint trace of artificial craftsmanship!

Though barely detectable, Chen Yi had spotted it, which was why he’d never dared to use resources from the Multiverse Store on his true body.

Who knew where those things came from? Consuming unclean items would only harm his cultivation.

The lightning of the Immortal Ascension Tribulation, on the other hand, was pure and safe—just like the nascent immortal essence currently being refined by the Purple Star Heavenly Dao. Healthy and reliable.

As for everything else? Let the avatars test the waters. If something went wrong, he could always refine a new one.

Of course, these were trivial concerns. The real challenge now was how to infiltrate this chat group’s anchor point.

Chen Yi first wrapped it in a veil of divine consciousness, probing it meticulously before deciding on a full-frontal assault—an overwhelming surge of divine will!

He’d tried this before during the initial binding, achieving nothing. Back then, he couldn’t even scratch the surface of the light dot.

But that was then, and this was now. After using the chat group for so long, he’d grown familiar with the anchor point’s quirks.

Its function was simple: it only captured and permitted entry to consciousnesses emitting the specific fluctuations of a transmigrator, allowing them to operate within designated zones.

His plan? Exploit the monitoring system’s momentary neglect to bombard the anchor point with tens of millions of chaotic consciousness waves!

If even a single wave slipped past the anchor point’s defenses, granting Chen Yi access to forbidden territory... well, then he’d have free rein to do as he pleased!

As it turned out, Chen Yi’s guess was correct. A program bound by rigid rules would never refuse usage—even if the anchor point’s transmission channel had immense capacity, capable of withstanding the first wave of millions of consciousnesses, how would it handle the second wave of a hundred million?

And the third wave? The fourth?

...Actually, the fourth wave might be pushing it. Abnormal activity on that scale would surely trigger system detection. Not only would the anchor point shut down its access channels, but Chen Yi’s account would face the harshest penalties—permanent deletion!

This wasn’t just a minor violation anymore; it was an attempted backend invasion!

Messing with other group members was one thing—a warning or temporary ban at worst. But targeting the chat group itself? That was a guaranteed account termination!

So, he had to exploit the anchor point’s backdoor before the monitoring system caught on.

Under the relentless assault of millions of consciousness waves, the flickering frequency of the strange light dot slowed noticeably—but it held firm, preventing any leaks into unauthorized zones.

Without hesitation, Chen Yi unleashed the second wave—a billion-fold surge!

This time, the chat group anchor point buckled under the onslaught. Its information transmission channels clogged with rampaging consciousness waves, leaving no room in the designated operational zones.

Finally—one unruly wave spilled over, slipping into uncharted territory!

A brand-new realm unfolded before it!

The next instant, every consciousness wave in the transmission channels and operational zones disintegrated, leaving behind only a single, docile wave—one that obediently opened the Multiverse Store interface, staring blankly at the countdown timer for the account suspension.

Only then did the monitoring system finally scan the anomaly.

But...

How strange. Despite the irregularity, the scan showed everything was normal.

[Member ‘Damn Immortal Tribulation’s Still Chasing Me,’ please refrain from excessively refreshing the Multiverse Store. Your account is currently suspended. Please wait patiently until the suspension period ends before making purchases.]

Chen Yi replied with exaggerated sincerity, "But I really, really want to spend right now. Is there any way to reduce the suspension time? I swear I’ve learned my lesson—I’ll never do it again."

[Server busy. Please try again later...]

"Alright, take your time. I’ll just keep refreshing out of boredom..." Chen Yi was the picture of politeness, a far cry from his usual defiant demeanor. He even flashed a guileless, good-natured smile.

[Please do not refresh excessively...]

"I’m bored. Can’t I even refresh?"

[Please do not refresh excessively...]

"Hey, what exactly do you do for work? Every time there’s an issue, the server’s ‘busy.’"

[Server busy. Please try again later...]

"By the way, Chat Group, where do you even get all these immortal-level resources?"

[Please do not refresh...]

[Server busy...]

And so, Chen Yi kept pestering the monitoring system with idle chatter.

Of course, this wasn’t pointless—it was all about crafting an alibi.

Even if that rogue consciousness sneaking into the backend was eventually caught...

What did that have to do with him, Chen Yi?

Hadn’t he just been here the whole time, refreshing the interface and annoying the chat group’s monitoring system?