Afternoon — Blue Horizon HQ
The Second Branch rolled into Blue Horizon's parking level in their white Lexura RX300— a mid-luxury SUV, smooth and understated despite its refined presence.
Above them, the company's building rose with a quiet modern confidence—glass panels, brushed metal frames, and a structure that favored clean lines over flash. It wasn't tall enough to be imposing, but it didn't need to be. It felt purposeful, the kind of place built by someone who valued function before spectacle.
Inside, the atmosphere shifted into one of steady movement.
Employees walked with an unhurried but focused rhythm—tech staff discussing hardware specs, a pair of designers reviewing interface drafts, someone from logistics carrying a padded case containing prototype components. The environment felt lived-in, functional, comfortably busy.
Blue Horizon had always taken pride in practicality.
Not the type of company chasing trends or shouting innovation for attention, but one that quietly produced solid, well-engineered devices: compact smart modules, practical home electronics, specialized peripherals, and the software that tethered them together into clean, reliable ecosystems. Products designed not to dominate markets overnight, but to earn trust through consistency.
This was a company built on steady hands—Guohua's hands—and the atmosphere reflected it.
As the trio stepped out of the elevator, several staff members looked up in pleasant surprise.
"Director Li, welcome," one greeted warmly.
Another added, "It's been a while since we've seen you."
Guohua offered a polite nod. "Good afternoon."
Feng and Xue received softer, curious glances.
Not suspicious—simply unsure.
The siblings had visited before, but always quietly, briefly, and never with purpose.
A receptionist straightened. "A few department heads are waiting in Conference Room 3."
They moved down the hallway, passing glass rooms where engineers leaned over component layouts or tapped quietly at keyboards. A few paused to nod respectfully at Guohua. Others simply smiled before returning to their work.
Conference Room 3 was modest—white walls, a rectangular table, a projection screen that wasn't even turned on. Several department heads stood as the trio entered.
"Director Li."
"Good afternoon."
Guohua returned the greetings, then introduced the siblings without ceremony.
"This is my son, Li Feng," he said. "He'll be reviewing a few things today."
"And my daughter, Li Xue."
The greetings were polite.
Feng responded with a calm nod; Xue with a small, polite smile.
It wasn't a formal meeting, just a quiet acknowledgment before people returned to their work.
And when the introductions were done, Feng turned to the Head of IT with the same composed tone he always carried.
"Could you take me to your department?" he asked.
The man blinked, surprised, but recovered quickly.
"O-Of course."
Xue watched them go, her eyes lingering as if she wanted to follow.
But Guohua touched her shoulder gently.
"Let him focus."
She nodded, though reluctantly.
And with that, the quiet gears of Blue Horizon began to shift—
not loudly, not visibly,
but in the subtle way foundations begin to move when new architecture is about to be built.
---
The technical wing of Blue Horizon had a quiet rhythm of its own. The low hum of hidden server racks vibrated through the floor, and the muted clicks of keyboards blended with quiet discussions scattered across the wide, open-plan space.
When the frosted glass door swung open, a few techs looked up automatically.
Their eyes moved from the Head of IT…
to the calm, young student walking beside him.
Curiosity flickered—subtle, understated.
The Head of IT gestured lightly toward an unused workstation.
"This desk is available if you need it."
Feng nodded, then turned to him with steady composure.
"I'll need your cybersecurity specialist," he said.
The tone wasn't demanding—just clear, purposeful.
It made several nearby technicians pause mid-task.
The Head of IT didn't question it.
"Chen Wei," he called, "come over for a moment."
A chair rolled back.
Chen Wei—slightly disheveled, sleeves half-rolled, glasses pushed up hastily—hurried over.
"Yes, sir?"
Feng acknowledged him with a nod. "I need to speak with you."
Chen blinked once, unsure, then pulled up a chair.
Feng sat at the workstation, posture relaxed yet precise. He rested his hand lightly near the keyboard.
Chen hesitated only a second before sitting.
"Some weeks ago," he began, "while working on a personal project, I accessed Blue Horizon's internal network."
The words settled in the air—first softly, then heavily.
Chen blinked.
The Head of IT stiffened.
Two junior techs at nearby desks quietly leaned in.
"You… accessed our network?" Chen asked.
"Yes."
Feng's tone didn't change.
"I inserted a hidden defensive structure—a safety net. It's been running silently since then, intercepting low-level threats before they reached your core systems."
A hush fell over the department.
The Head of IT finally managed, "We never detected anything. No logs, no traces."
"You weren't meant to," Feng said simply. "It's a safety net."
Chen exchanged a stunned look with the Head of IT.
A technician three desks away whispered,
"Did he just say he installed a hidden defense… without root logs noticing?"
Another muttered back, "I don't even think our architecture allows that…"
Feng connected a compact drive to the workstation.
"That structure was minimal," he said. "It won't be enough going forward. Blue Horizon requires a full layered defense system."
He began typing.
Not fast.
Not showy.
Just clean—the kind of clarity that comes from complete internal understanding.
Commands flowed into each other with no friction.
No pauses for thought.
No backtracking.
Just precise placement, like someone rebuilding a structure they could already see in their mind.
Behind him, keyboards stopped completely.
Techs drifted closer—some pretending to check cables, some holding notepads they clearly weren't using. The shift from curiosity to quiet awe was palpable.
On the screen, new frameworks appeared:
• a circular integrity map
• live anomaly indicators
• node stability rings
• a silent countermeasure list
• deep-system status visualizations
Nothing flashy.
Nothing dramatic.
But undeniably beyond anything the company had installed before.
Chen leaned in slowly, eyes widening.
"This… isn't standard visualization. These clusters… this organization… How are we supposed to—"
Feng pointed to a refined panel in the corner.
"You won't need to modify anything," he said. "Most processes are automated. You'll only be monitoring."
"Monitoring?" the Head of IT echoed.
"Yes," Feng replied. "This display shows system integrity in real time. If an external threat triggers an automated response, you'll see the indicator change. If a core anomaly appears, it will mark the path in red. You are not to override anything unless I instruct you."
Chen nodded rapidly.
"Understood—yes, absolutely."
Even the Head of IT couldn't hide his disbelief now.
"This level of architecture… it's years ahead of what we've seen. Who did you study under?"
Feng didn't look away from the screen.
"No one."
Silence again.
He pressed one final command.
The system lights shifted—layer after layer locking into place with seamless precision.
Feng exhaled lightly.
"Your defense framework is ready. I'll explain the alert symbols, then you'll be able to monitor everything safely."
Chen swallowed.
"You built an entire defense fortress… in less than fifteen minutes…"
Feng didn't respond.
He simply pointed at the next panel—
and the room leaned closer, caught between awe and disbelief,
as the true scale of Li Feng's abilities began to reveal itself.
---
For the next 30 minutes, Feng gave the Head of IT and the cybersecurity specialist a concise briefing.
He didn't teach them cybersecurity.
He didn't reveal how the system was built.
He simply explained:
— which indicators mattered,
— what each color shift meant,
— when to escalate,
— and what they should never touch.
Simple, direct, precise—enough for monitoring, nothing more.
During that quiet explanation, more members of the department drifted in.
There was no skepticism left.
Only a growing sense that the young man who had walked into their department earlier was operating on a level far outside what they thought was possible.
Before leaving, Feng placed a flash drive on the desk.
Inside it wasn't software for the company, and not a single piece of privileged code.
Instead, it contained:
• a structured training suite,
• ten escalating levels of sandbox challenge environments,
• simulated intrusion puzzles,
• defensive scenario drills,
• analysis tutorials,
• and toolkits designed to strengthen their instincts and standards over time.
Nothing dangerous.
Nothing beyond their capacity.
But everything on that drive would improve them—if they put in the work.
The department understood the gesture immediately.
It wasn't arrogance.
It wasn't charity.
It was investment.
By the time Feng stepped out of the IT wing, the quiet murmur that followed him had shifted from curiosity to something closer to respect—and, for some, inspiration.
He had come in silently.
He left leaving a foundation the entire company would stand on.
---
Feng hadn't taken more than a few steps down the hallway before rapid footsteps approached from behind.
"Li Feng!"
He turned.
A junior technician—one who had earlier pretended to check cables while watching him—hurried toward him with a stack of documents pressed neatly against his chest. He stopped just short of colliding with Feng and held out the pages with both hands.
"The product list," he said, slightly breathless. "All current devices and ongoing projects. The director said you requested them."
The respect in his posture wasn't forced.
Nor was the eagerness.
The department's attitude had shifted quietly but completely.
Feng accepted the documents with a small nod. "Thank you."
The technician beamed—far more enthusiasm than anyone had shown earlier in the day—and jogged back toward IT, almost proud of having delivered something useful.
Feng scanned the sheets as he walked.
Each product was summarized cleanly:
— smart home modules,
— personal electronic peripherals,
— compact utility devices,
— new conceptual prototypes still in early stages.
Blue Horizon's ecosystem wasn't huge, but it was practical—solid hardware with equally solid software.
He stopped when he reached a page titled Near-Term Launch Candidates.
Four items stood out immediately.
Not because they were flashy, but because they carried the most strategic value.
Upgrading these would not only strengthen the company's image—it would redirect the public's attention before Silent Hands' release and disrupt the narrative being shaped online.
He folded the document once and continued down the hall until he reached Guohua and Xue, who had been speaking quietly near the reception area.
Xue brightened. "Ge ge, you're done?"
"For now," Feng replied with a nod.
Guohua noticed the papers. "Did they give you everything you needed?"
"Yes." Feng handed him the folded sheet. "These four products should be upgraded first. We'll roll out improved versions ahead of Silent Hands."
Guohua raised a brow.
Xue peered at the page. "That'll help with the rumors, right?"
Feng nodded once. "People want something to talk about. We'll give them something better."
Guohua exhaled—slow, steady, impressed.
The tension of the past week seemed to ease slightly around him.
"Then we move forward," he said quietly. "Blue Horizon won't be pushed around."
Feng glanced toward the IT wing, where several staff members were clearly trying not to stare too obviously in their direction.
"We'll be ready," he said.
---
Hello, Author here,
Thanks for reading — Leave a comment to tell me what you think about this chapter, and drop a Power Stone if you're enjoying Li Feng's story so far! Let's grow this story together.