Outside the Marching Ant Company, a press conference venue had been hastily arranged.
Dozens of reporters stood waiting, their eyes locked on the building's entrance. What had started as a simple equipment salvage had now erupted into an international incident. The mysterious device pulled from the ocean—now confirmed to bear the Marching Ant logo—was trending worldwide. But the company had yet to make a formal response.
Online analysts had already dissected the leaked photos, identifying the instrument as a seismograph based on Chen Mo's earlier paper. But until someone at Marching Ant officially confirmed it, the world could only speculate.
Then, Chen Mo appeared.
The cameras clicked like machine gun fire. Every photographer aimed their lens at the calm young CEO. Dressed in a simple black shirt and slacks, Chen Mo stepped up to the podium. His presence instantly quieted the crowd.
After scanning the crowd, Chen Mo spoke into the microphone:
"I'm here today to formally respond to the island nation's unauthorized salvage of equipment belonging to the Marching Ant Company."
The crowd stirred. In that one sentence, Chen Mo had confirmed everything.
"The instrument was part of a scheduled test deployed in international waters. The island government's recovery of the device caused material losses to our company. We've contacted our embassy, and we'll pursue proper diplomatic channels. Any updates will be shared in due time."
The statement was calm and controlled—but reporters weren't satisfied.
One of them, a man with thick-rimmed glasses and a sharp tongue, stood up.
"The expedition team was involved in dropping this device, correct? This incident has caused international misunderstandings and damaged the country's image. What does your company say to that?"
The question was clearly loaded.
The reporter's tone carried the implication that the Marching Ant Company had overstepped boundaries or acted irresponsibly.
Chen Mo's gaze sharpened.
"To reiterate: the device was deployed by our company in international waters for scientific research purposes. The fault lies not with us, but with those who took it without consent."
His tone was firm. Unshaken.
A female reporter stood next.
"So the device is a seismograph? Is the Marching Ant Company actively researching seismic detection?"
Chen Mo smiled faintly and glanced around at the room full of eager eyes.
"Yes," he said. "It is a seismograph."
The room erupted.
That one sentence confirmed all the online speculation. It wasn't just a wild theory—it was real. Chen Mo had publicly admitted it. Unlike a dry government statement, this was him saying it. It hit harder than anything posted on an official website.
The reporters scrambled to ask more questions.
"So it's already been deployed? What are the results of the tests? Can it really predict earthquakes? Will the technology leak now that the island nation has it?"
Chen Mo raised a hand.
"The theory allows for predictive capabilities, but it still needs extensive field validation. We've deployed instruments in several locations, but the regions haven't shown much seismic activity yet. When there is a meaningful detection, we'll inform the appropriate local authorities. As for the device taken by the island nation, the core technology remains secure."
By the time the press conference ended, the internet had exploded with coverage.
Chen Mo's confirmation sent shockwaves through the tech and scientific communities. In an instant, the Marching Ant Company had gone from target of ridicule to global focus. Even those who had mocked Chen Mo's paper three months ago had to take a second look.
"Say what you want, but the guy actually built the thing."
"It's real. Whether it works or not is another matter—but he actually did it."
"Yo, remember when y'all flamed him for that earthquake paper? Might wanna delete some tweets."
While cynicism still lingered—especially from foreign media who continued to accuse the company of espionage—public curiosity was beginning to outweigh the noise.
Back inside the company, the mood wasn't nearly as triumphant.
Li Lingfeng, visibly frustrated, returned from a round of tense calls.
"I contacted our embassy," he said, "but the island nation's giving excuses. They claim the device was in their territorial waters and are 'confirming ownership.' They're even denying visa requests for us to go retrieve it. They think we're involved in espionage."
Chen Mo and Zhao Min exchanged dark looks.
"They're stalling," Chen Mo muttered. "Trying to study the device and return it later—after they've squeezed it dry."
"Can they crack it?" Zhao Min asked.
"No," Chen Mo said with confidence. "They won't get anything of value. The algorithms are the soul of the seismograph. Without those, the machine is just a pretty shell. And when they salvaged it, the self-destruct mechanism burned the chips and logic boards."
Zhao Min nodded. She trusted him—and his designs.
"If they want to play dirty, let them," Chen Mo said coldly. "One day, they'll need help from us. When that day comes, I'll make sure they regret this."
"What now?" Zhao Min asked.
"There's no point chasing a broken device. I'm not wasting any more time on it. Focus on what's next."
Zhao Min agreed and left with Li Lingfeng to handle damage control.
For a few days, the storm raged outside, but inside, Chen Mo returned to work.
The international bickering didn't matter as much now. He had more important things to focus on—like improving the seismograph's range and precision. Whether or not the world believed him, he would let the results speak.
And then, just a week later—it happened.
Chen Mo was mid-experiment, watching chemical reactions under an electron microscope when the voice of the Ink Girl interrupted.
"Mergo, we've received an alert. Seismograph has returned data. Location: Western Pacific Ocean, 37.5° North, 146.2° East. Geomagnetic anomaly detected. Estimated magnitude: 6.0. Projected to occur within two hours. Depth and epicenter unknown."
Chen Mo's eyes widened.
The first warning.
This was it.
All the planning, testing, and theorizing—it was time to see if the seismograph could do what no other device in the world had done before:
Predict an earthquake before it happened.