Subverting The World [Cyber] - Chapter 15

A failed review meant a minimum of seven years, possibly up to fifteen, behind bars.

Shi Xu stayed composed, mentally reciting White Tower’s unforgiving rulebook. Still smiling, her face remained unchanged, as required during inspections.

“Understood. I’ll cooperate,” she replied calmly.

During inspections, any variation from the norm was a red flag. People who behaved entirely normally were either clean—or hiding something extremely well.

Now the question was: was this just a routine check, or had someone tipped them off?

Self-conducted inspections differed from reported ones. Either way, nothing she did now would change her fate.

And once the inspection started, the window had to remain open. Closing it would only raise suspicions.

White Tower claimed only the surveillance drones were active, but in reality, even your toothbrush could have a listening chip embedded. Anything you bought—from a spoon to a showerhead—could be bugged.

Living under a microscope was lesson one in White Tower society.

Shi Xu didn’t flinch. At this point, any sudden change in behavior would only make things worse.

She recalled former inmates—Prisoner 78 and 99. Both had managed to pass every review. Their secret? Absolute patience and perfect timing. They built their escape plans minute by minute, making use of even the briefest camera blind spots.

Three minutes.

That’s all they needed.

They waited for them. Every time.

Shi Xu let the curtain drop gently, leaving the drone to float at the window.

She understood now: the key wasn’t scrambling on the day of the inspection—it was being completely prepared beforehand.

Everything that could be discovered about her had already been laid bare.

Elsewhere, within ten minutes of White Tower issuing a ban on the game Nightmare Invasion, a new division was born within the censorship department. Their sole task: track and eliminate the game’s presence from every possible medium.

Their methods? Pulling audio and keyword logs from every source—cameras, appliances, forums, social posts.

A ban in White Tower didn’t mean restricted use—it meant total erasure. As if the thing never existed.

And to ensure that, surveillance devices were smuggled into everything—teddy bears, furniture, wall hooks, even pens.

Every visible forum already had agents embedded. Unless you changed your digital identity with each post, you were being watched.

“Sector A36 detected a hit,” a voice in the review center announced. “Invitation code for Nightmare Invasion—associated with a citizen named Shi Xu.”

“She’s now flagged for lateral behavior review.”

“Initial scan: normal. Participates in all public events. Test scores hover in the upper-middle tier. No signs of subversion. Only minor deviation: not particularly devout toward the Blessed Lord.”

“Recommend routine inquiry, but no immediate alert.”

Everything quieted as the office door creaked open.

“Director,” everyone greeted.

The woman who entered looked soft and serene—a rounded face, warm presence, maternal even. But her expression gave nothing away.

Her name was Leng Yu, and despite her calm aura, she was razor-sharp—the head of this operation.

“Show me the flagged profiles,” she instructed. “I’ll decide who gets a direct evaluation.”

She scanned through them quickly, setting aside five.

Shi Xu’s name was among them.

“Why her?” a junior censor asked.

Leng Yu’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. “She’s too normal. Feels more like a performance than a life.”

She turned her gaze toward the newcomer. “Next time, keep your curiosity in check. In this job, you’re watching me—and I’m watching you.”

The junior staffer gulped and lowered his head.

“Sorry, Director.”

“You’ll be in solitary for that slip. Don’t let it happen again.”

Leng Yu began conducting in-person home inspections. It wasn’t about finding concrete evidence—yet. It was about pushing each subject into self-doubt.

The real interrogation would happen later, in the censorship cells.

But now? She was looking for cracks.

The first subject kept glancing at a specific corner.

The second was drenched in sweat, scanning all possible camera placements.

The third?

The third opened the door with a composed smile. “I’ve been expecting you.”

It was Shi Xu.

Calm. Steady. Not a flicker of fear.

Leng Yu smiled warmly. “No need for formality. Just a routine visit.”

But in her heart, she knew: this one’s going to be a tough case.

Shi Xu welcomed them in without resistance, even offering water. Leng Yu declined.

She asked Shi Xu’s foster mother to wait in the other room. The woman looked anxious.

“Do you know why we’re here?” Leng Yu asked.

“I think so,” Shi Xu replied evenly. “It’s about the post I made? Regarding Nightmare Invasion?”

“Exactly. Where’s the invitation code? Can we see it?”

“There isn’t one,” Shi Xu said honestly. “I got a text message, but the content never appeared in my interface. I assumed it was fake.”

“Then why make the post?”

“I thought it was real. A classmate—Wang Chengyu—told me about it.”

“But you and Wang don’t talk much,” Leng Yu countered. “Why believe him?”

“We’re not close, but I was interested in the game,” Shi Xu replied, “and I didn’t know it would be banned the next day.”

Leng Yu interrupted sharply. “Don’t try to steer the conversation. Just answer the questions.”

Shi Xu bit her lip, quietly adjusting.

Leng Yu leaned back in her chair, completely at ease. “You seem very cautious by nature. So tell me—why would someone like you take such a risk over a rumor from someone you barely trust?”

Time for Plan B.

“I needed traction,” Shi Xu admitted. “My account’s been dead lately. I thought no one would notice the post—just a small stunt.”

“Hmm,” Leng Yu replied. “But your first explanation sounded too well-prepared. What else were you planning to say?”

There was no dodging anymore.

But even now, Leng Yu had no proof. Shi Xu hadn’t touched the real game. If she could stay composed, she might just survive this.

“It was a mistake,” Shi Xu added. “After I saw the ban, I panicked and activated another game—‘Damn! Surrounded by Beauties!’—just to create a cover.”

She tried to sound desperate, like someone trying to erase a digital faux pas with another.

“I thought people would focus on that post instead.”

“You claim to like the game,” Leng Yu noted. “But your playtime is less than 30 minutes. That’s quite a short love affair.”

“I was testing it out,” Shi Xu replied. “Trying to keep up the appearance.”

“Show me,” Leng Yu said. “Play it. Now.”

No escape.

Shi Xu walked to her bedroom and launched the FPS game. Leng Yu stood right behind her.

The gameplay was basic—shoot and cover. Shi Xu played mechanically, watching for traps.

She reached the final stage, where the BOSS summoned elite mobs.

Suddenly, an odd number flashed above a small monster: 3.

What did it mean?

Then the results screen popped up—no elite kills registered.

That number wasn’t part of the game’s normal score system.

Just then, Leng Yu asked, “Why did you empty your clip at that wall at the end?”

Shi Xu was about to answer when she saw something glint across the street—a reflection.

A bullet whistled through the open window, striking her chair. It flew back, crashing into the wall.

The number 2 appeared.

It’s counting dodged bullets…

“I thought I saw something—it must be the eye strain,” Shi Xu said quickly, keeping her tone light. “Pretty fun game though, don’t you think?”

Leng Yu smiled, eyes narrowing. “Yes. Your answers were quite entertaining too.”

She snapped her notepad shut.

“That last dodge was impressive. Enough to warrant a few days in the review cell.”

She stood.

“Take her.”

Shi Xu gave one last glance at the overturned chair and followed silently.

Now, she had to evade three mysterious “hunters” inside the review center—without being discovered.

And worst of all, Shi Xu had no idea what White Tower’s true stance was on named individuals.

She doubted it would be friendly.

Oddly enough, as she entered the cell, she felt a strange relief.

Maybe prison’s not so bad after all.

At least the walls were solid