From American Internet Celebrity to God Among Men

68: Chapter 68 Evidence, Alliance and the Eve of the StormThe basement of the Nashville farmhouse had been converted into a temporary war room. Three walls were covered with relationship charts, timelines, and chains of evidence. On the central long table sat the metal cookie tin given by Professor Linus Kroll, along with new intelligence just delivered by Hank’s team.

Alex stood before the relationship chart, his finger tracing the names connected by red lines: ”Northrop CEO James Howard, ’Director of Dirty Work’ Richard Vaughan, FAA officials Robert Chambers and Lisa Wu... plus Senator Winston. This chain of interests is more solid than I imagined.”

Attorney Lawson pushed up his glasses, holding a copy of the evidence list: ”The materials provided by Professor Linus Kroll are legally robust, but there are two problems. First, the way this evidence was obtained—he was a Northrop employee at the time, and unauthorized copying of internal documents might have violated his non-disclosure agreement. Northrop’s lawyers will seize upon this to challenge the legitimacy of the evidence.”

”Professor Linus Kroll is ready with his testimony,” Alex said. ”He will explain that he copied the files at the time to ’prevent the company from destroying critical safety data,’ which falls into a gray area of whistleblower protection clauses. We need to convince the judge that the necessity of obtaining the evidence outweighs the procedural flaws.”

”Second,” Lawyer Lawson continued, ”the FAA officials in the email records are still in office. If we publicly accuse them of participating in a cover-up, it amounts to challenging both Northrop and the FAA—two massive mountains. The pressure will increase exponentially.”

”Then we challenge both,” Alex turned around. ”Hank, what are the recent movements of Chambers and Lisa Wu?”

Hank pulled up the surveillance report on his tablet: ”Chambers attended three private dinners in Washington last week, two of which were attended by Northrop lobbyists. Lisa Wu is more cautious, but her son recently received an ’anonymous donation’ of a full scholarship to an Ivy League school, donated by an educational foundation linked to Northrop.”

”Solidify these two leads,” Alex said. ”We don’t need to directly prove bribery; we just need to demonstrate ’inappropriate conflicts of interest’ to undermine their credibility in the court of public opinion.”

Rex looked up from another computer: ”The technical team has completed the verification of the raw test data provided by Professor Linus Kroll. We invited three independent materials science professors to conduct a blind review—we didn’t tell them the source of the data, only provided the raw numbers. All three preliminary conclusions are consistent: the fatigue performance of NT-7 material under high temperature and pressure is ’significantly below industry safety standards,’ and ’the data shows traces of artificial smoothing.’”

”When can the anonymous report be published?”

”Tomorrow at noon. We will publish it through an ’academic research preprint repository,’ which is a common informal publishing channel in academia that Northrop will find hard to interfere with,” Rex said. ”After publication, the team will proactively contact the materials science sub-journals of ’Science’ and ’Nature’ to push for formal peer-reviewed publication.”

Alex nodded. Endorsements from academia carried more weight than any media report—especially in court.

”There is one more thing,” Hank said with a serious tone. ”We have monitored that Northrop’s legal team is reviewing a large volume of all your public remarks from the past six months, including social media, interviews, and even improvisations during performances. They seem to be building a ’systematic defamation’ case, likely trying to argue that you are not exposing problems, but rather engaging in planned commercial disparagement.”

”As expected,” Alex walked to the window. ”Let them build it. But at the same time, we must build our own narrative.”

He opened his laptop and pulled up a document in draft: ”Proposal for Establishing the ’Creative Freedom and Public Interest Protection Fund’.”

”What is this?” Lawyer Lawson asked.

”It is both a shield and a weapon,” Alex explained. ”I plan to use part of the income from the AR project, along with donations from Taylor Swift and possibly other artists, to establish a non-profit fund. This fund has two purposes: first, to provide legal aid to creators facing legal threats for exposing corporate or government misconduct; second, to fund independent investigative reporting and technical research.”

He paused: ”But more importantly, the advisory board list for the fund. I intend to invite Professor Linus Kroll, Sarah Mitchell from The New York Times, several well-known scholars, and... a public representative from Organization D, if they are willing to show their faces.”

Lawyer Lawson immediately understood: ”You are forming a ’League of Moral Authority.’ Once Northrop attacks you, they are no longer attacking you personally, but the values this alliance represents—creative freedom, academic independence, and public interest.”

”Exactly,” Alex said. ”And the news of the fund’s establishment should be announced the day before the court hearing. Let public opinion set the tone first: this is not a personal vendetta between Alex Su and Northrop, but a structural challenge from a ’defender of public interest’ against ’corporate power abuse.’”

The war room was quiet for a few seconds. Hank and Rex exchanged a look—Alex’s thinking had far exceeded simple counterattacks; he was playing chess, and playing three games at once: legal chess, public opinion chess, and moral chess.

”But Organization D...” Hank hesitated. ”We don’t even know who they are. Professor Linus Kroll says they are dangerous.”

”Whether they are dangerous depends on how we use them,” Alex closed his laptop. ”I will send them an invitation. If they accept, it means they are willing to step out of the shadows and into the spotlight, which is advantageous for us. If they refuse, we lose nothing.”

His phone vibrated; Taylor Swift sent a message: ”I heard about the foundation from Marcus. I will donate five million dollars and join the advisory board. Additionally, I have contacted three artists willing to speak out publicly; they will issue a joint statement next week.”

Alex replied: ”Thank you. But you need to think carefully; this will make Northrop mark you as a clear target.”

”They already are,” Taylor Swift’s reply came quickly. ”Besides, I just received a ’polite reminder’ from Senator Winston’s office, advising me to ’carefully consider public cooperation with certain controversial figures.’ So I have decided—not only will I cooperate, but I will do so with great fanfare.”

A typical Taylor Swift response. Alex smiled.

---

Over the next three days, preparations proceeded with military efficiency.

The evidence team completed the digitization and cross-validation of all materials, establishing a searchable database where every document had a unique hash value and timestamp, ensuring it could not be tampered with.

The legal team drafted a two-hundred-page brief, not only responding to Northrop’s infringement allegations but also filing a countersuit—accusing Northrop of abusing legal procedures to conduct ”strategic litigation” intended to suppress free speech.

The public opinion team produced a series of short videos, using accessible language to explain the technical issues of the NT-7 material, the value of civic participation in the AR project, and the significance of the upcoming legal battle. The videos did not directly call for support, but each ended with a line of small text: ”Learn more: scan the cover of ’Truth Hurts’.”

And Alex himself, in his spare time during preparations, did one thing.

He exchanged for the advanced application of 【Information Tracing (Advanced)】—【Information Chain Vision (Fragment)】.

Cost: 3,000,000 Popularity Points.

Remaining Popularity Points: 2,580,000.

This ability was not as specific as 【Information Tracing】, but it provided a vague ”sense of connection.” When he focused his mind on a target, he could ”see” some faint, shimmering information connection lines pointing to other relevant people, places, or events.

For example, when he thought of ”James Howard,” what appeared in his mind was not a clear image, but a feeling—several lines connecting to a private club in Washington, a bank in Switzerland, and... a blurred fragment of a medical record regarding a type of expensive medication that required regular injections.

When he thought about ”Organization D,” the lines became more fragmented, but they pointed in several unexpected directions: a laboratory at an Ivy League university, a startup in Silicon Valley working on encrypted communications, and even... fragments of server logs from a department within the FBI.

This information was too vague to be used directly, but it provided a direction for the investigation.

He had Hank’s team follow these leads. Two days later, partial verification came in:

· James Howard did indeed regularly visit the ”Federal Club” in Washington, a place where high-level political and business figures met informally.

· He had an account at a Swiss bank, but the specific amount and purpose were unknown.

· The medical records part could not be verified, but Howard’s public itinerary showed that he would take ”a week off” every three months, with an unknown destination.

· The connection between ”Organization D” and the university pointed to a ”Digital Ethics Research Group” at MIT, whose leader had publicly criticized the military-industrial complex.

· The founder of the encrypted communications company in Silicon Valley was one of Professor Linus Kroll’s students from ten years ago.

· The lead on the FBI server logs was too vague to follow up on.

The information was gradually coming together. But Alex did not have time to dig deeper—the court date was approaching.

---

Forty-eight hours before the trial, Northrop played a new card.

At nine in the morning, three mainstream media outlets simultaneously published ”exclusive reports,” claiming that ”insider sources revealed” Alex Su was under investigation by the FBI for ”suspected illegal acquisition of classified government information.” The reports lacked concrete evidence but cited ”unnamed law enforcement officials.”

At ten o’clock, Universal Music’s stock price fell by 2% in response.

At eleven o’clock, one of Taylor’s tour sponsors, ”Sapphire Beverages,” issued a statement saying that ”in light of the current public opinion environment,” they would ”temporarily shelve” contract renewal negotiations with Taylor.

At twelve noon, Alex received a physical letter, with no postmark, that had appeared directly in the mailbox of his farmhouse. Inside the envelope was only a single photograph: a scene of Professor Linus Kroll feeding pigeons with his granddaughter on the Stanford campus. On the back of the photo, a line was printed: ”Some choices will hurt the people you love. Be careful.”

A naked threat.

Lawyer Lawson suggested applying for a postponement of the trial to deal with the suddenly escalating public pressure. But Alex refused.

”The more they do this, the more it shows they are panicking,” he said. ”If we back down now, all our previous efforts will be wasted.”

At two in the afternoon, he held a live stream.

There were no explanations, no defenses, just him sitting in front of the piano, playing a snippet of a new song. The song was titled ”Pressure,” with simple, repetitive lyrics:

”Pressure coming from all sides... but I’m still breathing... pressure wants me to kneel... but I’m still standing...”

The melody was oppressive but resilient, and the chorus consisted of only one word, repeated over and over: ”Stand. Stand. Stand.”

The live stream lasted for eight minutes. As it ended, he said: ”See you in court in forty-eight hours. See you at the truth.”

Peak live stream viewers: 860,000

System notification:

【Current Popularity: 3,180,000 points】

---

Twenty-four hours before the trial, the ”Creative Freedom and Public Interest Protection Fund” was officially established.

Taylor announced the first list of donors through a video press conference—in addition to her and Alex, there were seven A-list artists, three tech company founders, and ten million dollars donated by an anonymous donor.

The anonymous donor’s remittance note had only one sentence: ”For those voices that cannot speak.”

Alex knew who that was. ”Organization D” had finally reached out a hand from the shadows.

The foundation’s advisory board list was announced, and Professor Linus Kroll’s name was prominently included. After the press conference, he gave a short video interview, his voice calm but firm:

”I hid the truth for ten years because of fear. But now I understand—silence will not protect anyone; it only makes the evildoers more unscrupulous. I will appear in court as an expert witness, not because I want to oppose Northrop, but because I have a responsibility to speak the facts. Science should serve truth, not profit.”

This interview was widely circulated. Support from the academic community began to emerge—first from several of Kroll’s colleagues at Stanford, then from professors of materials science, law, and ethics at other universities. The number of signatures on the joint statement exceeded two hundred within twenty-four hours.

The ”personal vendetta” narrative that Northrop had tried to shape was being reversed into a grand theme of ”public interest versus corporate power.”

---

The night before the trial.

Alex sat alone in the war room, checking all the materials one last time.

The chain of evidence was complete.

The legal arguments were solid.

Public opinion was favorable.

The lineup of allies was strong.

Everything was ready.

But he knew that what would happen in the courtroom could never be fully predicted. Northrop had been preparing for two months; their legal team would not only have the cards they had shown publicly.

His phone vibrated, and he received an encrypted message. This time it was not from ”D,” but from a completely unknown number.

The message was short:

”Tomorrow in court, they will call an unexpected witness: your high school chemistry teacher, Director Martin. He will testify that you once ’showed an unusual interest in chemistry experiments,’ especially ’phase transition reactions of materials at high temperatures.’ They want to construct an image of you as ’premeditated and possessing professional knowledge’ to weaken the public sympathy for you as a ’regular musician.’

”Director Martin was diagnosed with cancer last year, and Northrop paid for all his medical expenses and his daughter’s law school tuition.

”Countermeasure: Director Martin’s wife does not know about this deal. She thinks the money came from a charity. Contact information is attached.

”——Another Front Row Audience member”

Alex stared at the message.

Another anonymous informant. And one who knew so much about Northrop’s preparations.

Was this ”Front Row Audience” another member of ”Organization D”? Or a completely different third party?

He temporarily suppressed his questions and forwarded the information and contact details to Lawyer Lawson: ”Verify this and prepare a countermeasure.”

Then he stood up and walked to a safe in the corner of the basement. He opened it, and inside were not documents or weapons, but a neatly pressed black suit, a white shirt, and a dark blue tie.

Tomorrow, he could not dress like a musician; he had to dress like an opponent who had to be taken seriously.

He put on the suit and stood in front of the mirror.

The teenager in the mirror still had an eighteen-year-old’s face, but the look in his eyes had long since transcended his age.

The system interface automatically appeared:

【Spider-Sense (Primary) → (Intermediate) Evolution Progress: 65%】

【Emotional Resonance Field (Primary) → (Intermediate) Evolution Progress: 48%】

【Notice: High-intensity pressure environment accelerates ability fusion. Courtroom confrontation may trigger a critical breakthrough.】

His abilities were growing. Although he was not yet superhuman, every evolution brought him closer to that threshold.

He was still 6.82 million points away from ten million.

He was still 6.82 million away from being superhuman.

But tomorrow, he had to win a mortal war first.

His phone vibrated again; this time it was Taylor: ”Can’t sleep?”

”Preparing.”

”Me too,” she said. ”I just wrote a draft of a song about waiting for dawn. Want to hear it?”

Gentle piano music came from the other end of the line, along with her humming melody. There were no lyrics, only humming, like the night wind, like the silence just before dawn. Alex closed his eyes and listened.

Three minutes later, the music stopped.

”How was it?” Taylor asked.

”It’s beautiful.”

”That’s good.” She paused for a moment. ”Alex, no matter what happens tomorrow... remember, the dawn will always come.”

”I know.”

”Then, see you in court.”

”See you in court.”

The call ended. Alex turned off the lights and walked out of the basement.

Outside the villa, the night was as thick as ink.

But on the eastern horizon, there was already a faint trace of gray-white.

It was almost dawn.

And the storm was about to begin.