Chapter 1: The Funeral in Continent S
Continent S.
Dark clouds veil the sky, concealing shadowy undercurrents, with the sparse and heavy rain plummeting earthbound.
Below, a sea of solemn individuals stand motionless, allowing the oblique droplets to course down their faces without a tiny shift in movement. Their gaze doesn't waver from what lies ahead.
Their attire consists of black coats and trousers, accessorized with white chest-flowers, the standard outfit for a funeral.
Today marks the burial of a mogul from the International Hackers Union.
The elderly man in the photo bears a gentle smile, yet no one in attendance dares to underestimate him. One who has gained a position in Continent S and established the International Hackers Union's status is enough to put various powers on edge.
Even though he passed a few days ago, the Hackers Union continues to persist, and the turbulence might escalate following today.
No one desires unprompted entanglement in this situation. The collective wrath of the Hackers Union is no light burden to bear, yet everyone keeps a close eye on the ultimate ownership of this powerful force.
As the funeral procession methodically advances, groups of people show up, bow their heads in respect, then leave.
The man standing in the first row reciprocates a bow, accepting a black silk umbrella from the butler. Lowering his long eyelashes, he asks in a soft voice, "Where's Miss?"
"She had just gone to sleep when we set off. Should we call her over?"
The man hesitates for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the portrait of the deceased. After a long silence, he sighs, "No...let her sleep."
It's better that she's asleep. Her presence would only bring sorrow.
Above the semi-gray, black clouds, a private helicopter zooms through the sky, shaking and wavering, as if rusted and weary from age, with sharp drops and rapid ascensions.
The alarm inside the machine blared one after another.
The six-year-old girl sitting in the back seemed to be undisturbed, her eyes reflecting loneliness and solitude that didn't match her age.
A hollow look, streaked with crimson veins of blood.
The maid clung tightly to the little girl, crying out at the man on the screen, "Young Master, the old master has just passed away, you can't do this. She's your sister! She's just a small girl, how can you bear to do this to her?”
"Sister? No, no, I don't have a sister who is thirty years my junior. She was just kindly picked up from a garbage heap by the old man, she is not our blood relative."
The man inside the screen, with golden hair and blue eyes, was strikingly different from the dark-haired, dark-eyed girl in the machine.
He looked at the girl, his mocking voice drifting out slowly, "She can't even be considered as an illegitimate daughter, am I right?"
The girl's lips were tightly pursed, her little hands persistently hitting on the laptop she was holding. Her hands were small, small and pale, almost incongruous against the large laptop keyboard.
Her keystrokes were somewhat strenuous, and the speed was a bit slow.
But, even if it was slow, it was still much faster than an average person. Rows of code leaped on the computer, eventually breaching into a hospital's information database.
One row of information was particularly conspicuous.
Probability of DNA paternity match: 0.00001%
The girl's eyes were lowered, her hand clutching the laptop trembled, she murmured, "... Daddy.”
"Second Young Master will not let you go!" the maid cried out in surprise.
"He won't know, it's perfectly normal for a wild child who is not part of our family to run away from home after finding out the truth.”
"Since it's not our family's business, stay out of it in the future."
A computer genius, brought up single-handedly by the old master and closer to the second brother, couldn't be held back.
Boom!
The tampered helicopter, left without a parachute and doors locked, couldn't hold up anymore and exploded a short distance above the funeral.
Against the slow-paced black funeral on the ground, it ignited a tragic mushroom cloud.
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