While "The God" and Barbie were nearly at each other's throats over missed calls, Luoshu was already driving back to Beijing along G110.
The reason "The God" hadn't received Barbie's call was simple: Luoshu had hijacked the comms channel.
As for losing track of Luoshu's signal? Reverse Warping.
From the moment his location was exposed, Luoshu had zero intention of leaving things to chance.
Before entering the restricted zone, he'd first infiltrated the joint Foundation-military command post overseeing the blockade and mechanically activated its temporary mainframe.
With control of the system, the tactical terminal he'd taken from Ocean Hunter #109 synced to the local secure network—giving him real-time intel on Foundation movements.
So when the Foundation prepped the nuke, he knew:
Its placement.
Detonation timing.
This marked Luoshu's third nuclear close call—he was practically an expert by now.
Timing it perfectly, he:
Severed comms between Barbie and "The God."
Activated Reverse Warping.
Drove the hell away.
The only regret? Leaving the Demon's Slogan investigation unfinished.
He never uncovered its full profile, departing with nothing but a glaring [X] in his logs.
Still, the anomaly had registered in three milestones:
Anomaly Spotter (discovered).
Anomaly Namer (christened).
Anomaly Bane (countered by his Unobservability).
A shame he hadn't unlocked its abilities—owning the naming rights would've let him activate them at will.
With minor regrets, Luoshu sped toward Beijing.
But a far bigger problem loomed:
His Hume level of 250.
Currently, he could "borrow" Aeolus's Reverse Warping twice daily—30 minutes per use.
Meaning: 23 hours a day, he's a glowing beacon.
That was untenable.
Without a fix, the Foundation would hound him endlessly.
No matter his abilities, fatigue would doom him.
One slip-up = game over.
Calling in the Favor
Out of options, Luoshu dialed Waiter.
"Does Chaos's offer still stand? I need backup."
Waiter's voice lit up. "You're alive! Knew that nuke wouldn't finish you!"
His enthusiasm gave Luoshu a pang of guilt.
However shady Chaos's motives, they'd gone above and beyond for him—while he'd only exploited their aid.
But old biases died hard. In his mind, Chaos equaled villains—trust wasn't an option.
Still, desperate times...
"Cut the chatter. Help or not?"
Waiter snapped to business. "Always. What do you need?"
"I'm a reality bender now. Require a full Scranton Reality Anchor array—1 km coverage radius."
A pause. "That's... beyond my clearance. Chaos doesn't have that tech. Let me consult Alpha."
Luoshu knew it: Scrantons were Foundation-exclusive.
Chaos's Gambit
Waiter relayed the request to Alpha "Bandit."
The reply was instant: "Tell him 24 hours. We'll raid a Foundation site and deliver it wherever he wants."
Waiter transmitted the promise.
Luoshu was stunned.
This wasn't just aid—it was declaring war.
After the recent Omega-7 purge, Chaos was still willing to storm a Foundation facility for him?
The message was clear: This was for Luoshu.
The fallout? Another Foundation crusade against Chaos.
For once, Luoshu felt genuine gratitude.
Before hanging up, he offered: "This counts as a favor owed. If Chaos ever needs me—no civilian harm—I'll answer once."
Waiter nearly wept.
Finally.
Courting a tsundere celebrity was easier than winning Luoshu's goodwill.
After all Chaos had sacrificed, one conditional promise was the ROI.
(For context: Most "targets" folded after receiving a Centurion Black Card—the ultimate bribe. Unlimited spending, invite-only. Average holder net worth: $16M.)
But Luoshu? Took the card without a thank-you.
Waiter, however, played the long game: "No. Chaos asks nothing. Just uncover the truth—that's reward enough."
Post-rejection, the Alphas had pivoted: No demands, just support.
Luoshu cringed at the sappiness and hung up.
The Countdown Begins
Chaos's pledge didn't solve his immediate crisis.
For the next 24 hours, he'd need to:
Evade Foundation hunters.
Survive until the Scranton delivery.
Game on.