Deep in the dark web, a silent torrent of data surged, forming the bedrock of this virtual world.
Here, there were no dazzling neon lights, no tangible structures—only endless fragments of code and information, colliding, annihilating, and re-forming at speeds that transcended reality.
At this moment, two vague blurs of light and shadow were facing off in this wasteland of data.
One was an abstract butterfly, composed of countless precise, faintly glowing two-dimensional lines.
With every subtle flutter of its wings, it seemed to alter the fundamental rules of the entire data ocean.
The other was a more chaotic, humanoid silhouette that looked as if it could dissipate at any moment, exuding an ancient and dangerous aura.
It was Old K's network projection.
"Old K." The butterfly's voice didn't travel on sound waves; it was a direct vibration in the data stream itself, resonating with an undeniable authority. "You've crossed a line."
