Subverting The World [Cyber] - Chapter 27
After cutting off all external links and pulling every ounce of computational power inward, Morgan made a fatal mistake: she focused too hard on herself. That’s when Shi Xu finally saw it—Morgan’s true name.
It wasn’t fully visible—buried deep, obscured, but there was just enough of it to change everything. Compared to Morgan, Shi Xu’s own identity appeared closer to the surface—currently logged in from an abandoned cell in the Fourth Ward.
So Shi Xu changed her plan.
Originally, cutting the prison’s power had been enough—victory, pure and simple. But once she realized she could see further, she doubled back. The goal wasn’t just survival anymore. It was precision. It was understanding. It was winning on every front.
Shi Xu understood what information meant. Not just as data, but as a whole—images, sounds, impressions. A single perception could be manipulated. Sensors could be tricked. People—even brilliant hackers—could be led into false conclusions.
Morgan saw a polar bear. So that’s what Shi Xu gave her. A bear-shaped illusion wrapped in smoke and momentum.
People follow patterns. Morgan was no different. Shi Xu didn’t just guess what Morgan would do—she remembered what she always did: how she opened doors, which direction she looked first, what she did when startled. Every unconscious detail, logged and arranged like strands of fate.
From the very first mine Shi Xu dropped, Morgan was already walking the path she set.
Morgan always burned through bionic bodies like they were disposable. But as a true hacker, she rarely risked her original self.
So Shi Xu left a trap that only a hacker would fall into.
She created the perfect moment—a smoke screen, a burst of chaos—and let Morgan plant a tracker. Let her believe it had landed on Shi Xu. But it hadn’t.
That “polar bear” Morgan hunted? It was never Shi Xu at all.
It was No. 666.
All of this—the entire pursuit—was based on one false assumption. That’s what Shi Xu exploited: inertia of thought.
While Morgan chased smoke, Shi Xu slipped through a side passage and into the Fourth Ward, a place right next to the power plant. Undetected.
When the lights went dark, Morgan found herself in her own server-tub, submerged in ice water, surrounded by servers—and Shi Xu sitting right beside her.
Now that the deception had been unraveled, Morgan simply asked, “So what now? You going to lock me up again?”
Shi Xu gave her two choices.
Option one: Transfer her to a low-tech prison. No network, no bionics, nothing to hack. Just old-fashioned steel bars and human guards.
Morgan flinched. That prison would be hell for someone like her. Without a digital world to play in, she’d be worse than trapped—she’d be powerless.
“And the second option?” Morgan asked, drying off in a bathrobe.
“I’ll give you time to decide. Until the power comes back.” Shi Xu replied. “If you don’t answer by then, the first option stands.”
Morgan narrowed her eyes. “You already figured it out, didn’t you? That I’m not actually Morgan?”
Shi Xu didn’t confirm it aloud. But she had seen it—a different name hovering faintly above her: Anna Akarina Edward.
Morgan shrugged. “That body you saw? I bought it. The girl had barely any organs left, sold them off. I fulfilled her last wish—a glorious death.”
Then Shi Xu gave her the second option: parole. In exchange, a favor owed—a personal debt Morgan would have to repay. Shi Xu wouldn’t say when. Or how.
Morgan burst out laughing. “That’s so like you. Fine. I’ll play.”
Just then—the lights flickered back on. Cameras rebooted. Systems restarted. Morgan did nothing to resist.
Because if there’s one thing she was good at, it was knowing when she’d lost.
Shi Xu immediately started reviewing the mess. Explosions. Network relays damaged. Surveillance scrambled. A quarter of the prison’s systems wiped out—and worse, she herself was responsible for most of it.
Even the AI assistant noted blandly: “Prisoner No. 1001, the Warden, has caused damages exceeding ten times the prison’s standard emergency cost.”
“Shut up,” Shi Xu muttered.
She sifted through the wreckage reports and found something unexpected: two prisoners overdue for release. Forgotten. Overlooked.
One was No. 17—a petty thief who’d stolen food when he was starving and resold it.
The other was No. 266. A man who had… a disturbing ability: anyone he kneeled before would agree to a “reasonable” request. At first, it was harmless. But then he used it to lure victims for trafficking and other heinous crimes.
Shi Xu summoned both.
No. 17 arrived first, sipped the tea on the table and joked about buying it. Shi Xu waved him off with a small warning and tossed him a tea bag. She told him he was free to go.
“I don’t want to come back,” he said, clutching the tea like a treasure. “Seriously, your prison is terrifying. No chance I’m risking it again.”
Shi Xu checked his record. Above his name, it now read:
【Reformed – 0% chance of reoffending】
It made her pause. Her hellish prison had actually worked?
Before he left, she told him to shower and change clothes. When he asked if she’d prepared the outfit, she just said, “No. You did.”
He bowed deeply, calling himself by his real name—Gao Jiaren—and swore never to return.
She patted him on the head and let him go.
Then came No. 266.
He shuffled in on prosthetic sticks—his knees had been removed. Shi Xu didn’t offer him tea or conversation.
“Get out,” she said coldly.
“Yes, Warden! I’ll never forget your kindness!”
Shi Xu waited. As soon as he crossed the gate, she entered the sniper tower.
She saw the record again. Saw how he’d used his “kneeling” to manipulate people into unthinkable situations.
She took aim.
When he stepped outside, she fired. A clean shot through the back.
“The law forgave you,” she said aloud, “but I didn’t.”
Then she filed the report herself: cause of death—suicide. Closed the case in three minutes.
As she was writing up everything, the AI spoke again.
“Warden. Prisoner No. 1007—the one you previously knocked out—is missing from the interrogation room.”
“Also, SB250, prisoner No. 1000, is unaccounted for.”
“And 1009 says… he’s not himself.”
Shi Xu blinked.
“…What?” she asked.
The AI replied, calmly:
“He says—‘I’m not me.’”