Zero protocol: Red, The code ascendant

Lian Xue bled. A lot.

Her robe was torn, her side was bruised, and there was mud—actual mud—on her face. She didn't mind the pain. She didn't even really feel it. But lying in the middle of a dark alley like this, face-first in filth while the sun dipped below the mountain ridge, wasn't exactly the vibe she imagined when she arrived in this world.

She groaned. Loudly.

Not because anyone was watching, but because the sound helped sell the illusion. The illusion that she was weak. Powerless. A human girl tossed into a cultivation world with no talent, no roots, and no future.

Which was half true.

She didn't have spirit roots. No qi sense. Couldn't absorb cultivation energy. At least, not yet.

What she did have was the ability to see in twelve spectrums of light, calculate complex trajectories in under a second, and plot out twenty-seven ways to kill someone using only a brick, a twig, and a bootlace. Not that she'd done it. Yet.

> "Stupid sect and their stupid beast pens," she muttered.

It had been a week since the Nine Sun Serpent Sect officially gave up on her. Not that they were ever really invested. The moment their healers and elders confirmed she had no qi, she was marked. Failure. Trash. Assigned to clean out the lowest tier beast pits—home to creatures that didn't just bite but liked to roll in their own acid-laced droppings.

She'd scrubbed until her fingers were raw. Until her perfectly constructed skin developed calluses just for the disguise.

Then she made a mistake.

She corrected a formation.

One of the barrier seals on the outer pen wall was misaligned. She adjusted it, because letting spirit boars break loose was inconvenient. Unfortunately, a passing elder saw her and reported it.

That's when things changed.

First, strange glances. Then whispers. Then questioning—"Who taught her that? How does a qi-less girl touch formations?"

Then the sect decided maybe it wasn't worth the risk to keep her around. A liability. What if she was a spy? A hidden weapon?

So they gave her three days to leave.

And just like that, she was out.

---

She could've walked out quietly. But this wasn't that kind of world.

She left with a cheap robe, a half-filled water gourd, and two copper coins.

And an ambush waiting before she even reached the forest trail.

A group of local thugs. Five men. Not cultivators, but strong enough to smash stone and bend iron. One of them had a name she vaguely remembered—Hei Zhu. Probably a failed outer disciple who now mugged travelers for scraps.

> "Hand it over, girlie," Hei Zhu said, grinning as he cracked his knuckles. "We saw that little device you pulled out earlier. Some kind of treasure, yeah?"

She blinked. "Treasure? You mean the old compass I was using to not die in the woods?"

> "Don't play dumb. I know a spirit tool when I see one."

She sighed.

> "Why does every idiot in this world think everything shiny is a treasure?"

Still, she didn't argue. She stumbled back, hands raised, eyes wide like a scared mortal.

Inside her sleeve, the signal flickered.

Two of her micro-scouts shifted positions in the trees, locking angles. One bug drone dropped from above, small enough to pass for a leaf. The wind carried it to her attacker's shoulder.

> *"Five targets. No cultivation. Low threat."

That didn't mean easy.

She didn't have supernatural strength yet. Her internal energy gauge was still empty. Her power level? Barely above mortal. She couldn't fire lasers from her eyes or throw mountains—not yet.

So she improvised.

> "Fine," she said, voice trembling. "Take it. Just don't hurt me."

She held out her fake compass. As Hei Zhu reached for it, she took one step back.

The signal pulsed.

A small dart shot from the insect drone into the back of his neck—delivering a paralysis agent she synthesized using spirit herb residue and beast bile.

He dropped.

The other four moved.

She didn't wait.

She rolled sideways, kicked one in the shin, ducked under a wild punch, and slammed her broomstick—actually a reinforced alloy rod—into another's gut. It didn't drop him, but it gave her space.

They were slow. She was faster. Her brain was faster.

One tried to flank. She tripped him with a wire trap already coiled on a tree root. Another raised a blade.

> "Seriously?" she muttered.

She disarmed him with a twist, pivoted, and slammed the pommel into his jaw. Her hands shook slightly afterward—not from fear. From controlled force. She couldn't afford to break disguise.

Ten minutes later, they were all unconscious or groaning.

She sat on a nearby rock, panting. Not because she was tired—she didn't need to breathe like a normal girl—but because appearances mattered.

Then she opened a panel on the rod and collected data.

> *"New movement pattern analysis complete. Combat efficiency: up 2.4%. Metal thread responsiveness: +3%."

She leaned back.

> "Still need to hit power level one…"

Her god-metal body adapted slowly, evolving as her strength and abilities grew. But right now, she was all brains, no boom.

She needed to find a way to produce energy. Real energy.

Her fingers closed around her hidden core.

A flicker.

A hum.

The origin fragment pulsed faintly. Just once.

And something shifted in the air.

She didn't understand it. Not fully. But it was beginning.

---

By nightfall, she was moving again. No campfire. No noise. Just quiet footfalls and the soft whirring of cloaked satellites scanning for nearby qi signatures.

Trouble was coming. She could feel it.

And this time, it wouldn't be thugs.

It would be something worse.