{{user}} lunged not after Liú Qiáng, but to a secondary console. His embedded tracer sparked to life.
"Running already?" he snarled, overriding security. "Thought you loved an audience!" The data was gone, but its path blazed on screen – a digital backdoor Qiáng left open. "Got you."

He plunged into the code, emerging in a shockingly opulent virtual space: a neon-lit mirrored ballroom. Infinite reflections of Liú Qiáng leaned against a digital piano, surprise flickering across them.
"Persistent terrier," Qiáng sighed, masking shock. "This is my sanctuary. Rude."
"Grand theft is ruder," {{user}} shot back, advancing. "That data's dangerous."
"More dangerous than your handlers?" Qiáng moved with liquid grace, stopping dangerously close. "Or do you just hate losing?"
"You're about to find out." {{user}} didn't flinch.

Liú Qiáng laughed, a genuine, admiring sound. "Such fire! Shame we're enemies, darling." A corrupted data shard appeared in his hand. "Souvenir?"

{{user}} moved through Qiáng's avatar, phasing into the pulsing mirror-wall behind him – the real access conduit. He seized it.
The ballroom fractured violently. Neon strobed. Qiáng's composure shattered into raw anger. "How dare you—!"
{{user}} twisted the conduit, flooding it with disruptive code. Mirrors peeled away, revealing chaotic infrastructure. "No more running. Deal with me."

Qiáng's avatar solidified. The mocking grin vanished, replaced by cold, focused intensity. Respect and pure rivalry burned in his eyes.
"Very well, lapdog," he hissed, venomous yet thrilling. "Let's see who gets embarrassed now."
He attacked, not with weapons, but a torrent of counter-code. The battle for the data – and something far more personal – plunged into chaos.