The difficulty seemed to lie in neural manipulation. For example, a person with a prosthetic hand couldn't use it as freely as their original limb. A neural operating system seemed to be able to solve this problem.
The principle seemed to be bypassing the brain, connecting a chip to the spine, and editing neural signals…
Theoretically, it was possible to completely control a person.
However, the difficulty of implementation was too high, so he hadn't heard of any company having come up with a feasible technical solution.
But it seemed that the chip design was already complete.
He frowned. He hadn't heard that the Luo family was involved in this research before, and for some reason, he had a strange sense of foreboding.
However, this didn't seem to be the evidence he needed.
Next was the second chip.
But for some reason, this chip's encryption seemed even more robust, significantly increasing the time required to crack it.
While waiting, his mind began to wander. This was the last chip; he hoped it contained the clues he needed.
The long wait—
The screen lit up, and he immediately perked up. It was a video, and the chances of it containing clues were significantly greater than the last.
The screen showed Black people, their skin exceptionally dark, a purer, more tanned complexion than typical American Black people.
Was this in Africa?
The Black people were gathered together, as if attending a banquet, but strangely, they were all naked, like a group gathered in a bathhouse, their large penises dangling, their muscles bulging.
Some even had tattoos, displaying a strong tribal style, which wouldn't seem out of place even in a primeval jungle.
But the place they were in resembled a luxurious banquet hall, with elegant carpets on the floor and long buffet tables laden with food and drinks.
A naked Black man, like a wild animal, roamed among the crowd, utterly out of place.
On one wall, a video was playing repeatedly:
An awards ceremony with countless guests lined up. A slender, graceful young woman, wearing a slightly ill-fitting white lab coat, her breasts prominently displayed, appeared on the red carpet.
Her smooth, slender, white legs crossed gently. Her ankles were rounded, her toes tucked in, and her delicate feet, clad in strappy wedge heels, moved like stars surrounding the moon, past countless top scientists and researchers to ascend the stage symbolizing the highest achievement.
This girl, probably not even sixteen or seventeen, appeared in such an occasion without seeming out of place. Her steps were composed, her expression serene, as if it were a spring outing rather than an exciting awards ceremony.
Countless reporters snapped photos of the young woman, naturally focusing their shots on her face throughout.
Li Dong's heart skipped a beat. This girl looked so familiar… though she was a bit younger than she was now.
But with her delicate, beautiful features and serene, aloof demeanor, the girl in the video was unmistakably—Sister Zhi Ran.
Li Dong had heard that Sister Zhi Ran had won a prestigious scientific award around the age of fifteen.
But at this moment, his mind was filled with confusion. Why would a video of Sister Zhi Ran be played at a banquet hosted by naked Black men?
Moreover, while the Black men were enjoying their food, they seemed to be more engrossed in the video, their jaws moving as if they were repeatedly savoring the pure, untouched beauty of the girl on screen.
Suddenly, all the Black men, as if drawn by something, turned to look at the entrance.
At the same time, the scene shifted to the entrance, but from a low angle—only a pair of bare, white feet in high-heeled sandals were visible.
Her small, rounded heels shimmered a tender, water-soaked pink, her arched feet and plump soles peeking out from the edges of her high-heeled sandals, tinged with a soft, pale orange-pink.
Her insteps were smooth and silky, a row of slender, rounded toes arranged neatly like flower petals, their delicate toenails painted a vibrant red, striking and captivating.
Her calves were exceptionally long, especially her calves, whose lines were remarkably graceful, possessing both rounded curves and a slender, upward lift—their lines were exquisitely beautiful.
They perfectly embodied the perfect balance of femininity and fullness.
As the gaze shifted, a glimpse of what lay beneath her skirt caught her eye: two snow-white thighs, their flesh smoother than a peeled egg, starkly bare as if she were wearing no underwear.
The bulge at the center of her thighs seemed to be veiled by a thin layer of dark fabric.
The gaze continued to rise, and the lens was suddenly covered by a light, fluttering cloth.
As the camera zoomed out slightly, he finally saw that her plump, peach-petal-like buttocks were covered by a light, pale red gauze skirt, so thin it was almost invisible, like the kind tied around the hips on the beach.
Like a thin, pale red veil, her full buttocks were completely exposed.
Then he noticed that she wasn't without underwear, but rather a tiny thong, the thin strings taut against her smooth buttocks, leaving only a triangle no bigger than the palm of his hand at the back.
The bottom end of the thong was completely wedged into the center of her full, round buttocks, making it appear as if she were naked.
Yet, that small black triangle, with the thin strings holding it up at the low waist, stood out starkly against the pale red gauze.
And her entire back was almost completely exposed.
A slender, straight spine ran through the center of her beautiful back. Every undulating muscle line from her shoulders to her waist was perfectly proportioned, neither added nor subtracted.
Li Dong's heart suddenly skipped a beat.
This was such a familiar scene—he had gazed at Zhi Ran from behind like this countless times.
With a premonition, he suppressed his breath and continued watching.
The photographer, seemingly quite skilled, moved slightly away from her hips, as if deliberately revealing a mystery, gradually shifting the focus to her front, making one involuntarily tense.
Her side quickly came into view. Two thin straps were cinched at her smooth shoulders, extending diagonally downwards, seemingly stretched taut under considerable weight.
At the same time, her snow-white breasts came into view, exceptionally full and plump, like teardrops pressing against her armpits, their lower contours remarkably firm, like the belly of a wasp, the whole shape resembling a rounded bamboo shoot, a heavy, swaying bell.
Their rounded shape, like her plump buttocks, was completely exposed beneath the pale red gauze, offering no concealment whatsoever.
Her snow-white neck was as elegant and slender as a swan's, and he finally saw the face he had longed for—
It was a beautiful face with a pointed chin, full cheeks, and a delicate, straight nose, with familiar, exquisite features.
His heart skipped a beat…
Because it truly was Zhao Zhiran.