Chapter 41: Turn On The TV
On the other side of the stage, the lights came on.
Lu Ren stood on the lift, slowly rising into view.
A deep blue combat suit, Silver Lightning. Silvery-white electric arcs crackled and leaped around his body, looking like a miniature sun in the darkness.
"Silver Lightning!" Homelander reached out toward Lu Ren. "The newest member of The Seven. My… friend."
The crowd screamed again.
Lu Ren walked to the center of the stage and stood beside Homelander.
The two stood side by side under the lights—one red and blue, the other silver and black. Their styles were completely different, yet standing together, they created an indescribable visual impact.
Homelander tilted his head and whispered something only the two of them could hear.
"Don't screw this up."
Lu Ren ignored him.
Homelander exited from the other side of the stage. The lift carried him down slowly, and even in the last second before the lights faded, his face remained fixed in that fake smile.
The stage was left to Lu Ren.
The music started. It wasn't the stirring symphony usually used for hero entrances, but a deep, electronic rhythm. Vought International's music team had spent many days designing it to create a "mysterious and charming" atmosphere.
Lu Ren stood in the center of the stage and raised his right hand. A pillar of silvery-white lightning shot into the sky, exploding at its peak to transform into thousands of arcs, like an inverted lightning tree that illuminated the entire arena.
Fireworks erupted from around the stage, silvery-white, in the same color scheme as his lightning.
Eighteen thousand people made the same sound at once.
"Whoa—"
Lu Ren lowered his hand, the lightning gradually receding, leaving only a few faint arcs dancing at his fingertips.
A microphone rose to the height of his chin.
"Good evening, New York," he said.
Screams.
"I am Silver Lightning."
The screams grew louder.
"Today is the first time I've stood on such a big stage," Lu Ren said, his voice calm, unhurried. "I'm a little nervous."
There was a wave of good-natured laughter from the audience.
"But I'm not standing here alone." He turned his head to look at the wings of the stage.
Starlight walked out from the side curtain.
She had changed her outfit—not the one from the red carpet, nor the one from backstage, but an entirely new, never-before-seen white miniskirt. The hem was shorter than any she had worn before, and the top was a corset with a neckline plunging below her chest.
She walked to Lu Ren's side, stood to his left, and rested her right hand on his shoulder.
"Hello, everyone," Starlight said into the microphone. "I'm Starlight."
Screams. Many male voices.
Starlight turned to face Lu Ren, resting both hands on his shoulders and looking up at him.
"You just said you weren't standing here alone," her voice carried through the microphone across the venue. "So, when you stood here, who was the first person you thought of?"
The entire venue went quiet.
Lu Ren looked at Starlight. There was a hint of a smile in her eyes, along with something else—something expectant, nervous, and uncertain.
He remembered the side quest: Starlight's Night. Intimate interaction, get the media to capture it.
He reached out and put his arm around Starlight's waist.
Not just resting his hand, but wrapping his arm around her. His palm pressed against the cutout on the side of her waist, direct skin-to-skin contact.
Starlight's body stiffened slightly, then softened.
"The first person I thought of," Lu Ren said into the microphone, "was you."
The crowd exploded.
Screams, whistles, applause—the noise made by eighteen thousand people shook the roof of the arena.
Starlight stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
Not his lips, his cheek. But the spot was very close to the corner of his mouth.
"I missed you too," she said.
Shutter clicks sounded like a barrage.
[Ding! Side quest "Starlight's Night" complete! Reward: Hero Points × 2000, special item "Starlight's Heat" has been issued. Current Hero Points: 8800.]
["Starlight's Heat" has been automatically activated. The host's topic popularity will double within 24 hours.]
Lu Ren let go of Starlight and turned to the audience.
"Next," he said, "I'll show you something."
He raised both hands. Silvery-white lightning condensed between his hands, growing larger and brighter, like a galaxy taking form. Arcs of electricity climbed his arms, leaped across his shoulders, and wove through his hair.
The venue went quiet.
The lightning condensed into a giant sphere over two meters in diameter, hovering above Lu Ren's head.
"What the fuck is this?" Backstage, A-Train stared at the monitor, his mouth wide open.
The Deep stood beside him, his face pale.
Homelander stood in the front, arms crossed, expressionless.
But his eyes never left the lightning sphere on the screen.
Lu Ren pushed the sphere out. Not at the audience, but upward. The lightning sphere rose to the highest point of the arena and exploded.
It wasn't an explosion. It was a blossoming.
The silvery-white lightning unfolded slowly under the ceiling like a giant flower. Each "petal" was an arc of electricity, and the ends of the arcs branched out into even more arcs, like an infinitely growing tree.
The entire arena turned into a sea of silvery-white lightning.
No sound. No screaming. Eighteen thousand people were completely silent.
Then the lightning dissipated.
Then came the screams. Louder than any time before.
"Silver Lightning! Silver Lightning! Silver Lightning!"
The whole arena was chanting his code name.
Lu Ren stood in the center of the stage, the electric arcs slowly fading from his body.
Starlight stood beside him, looking at him, with something extra in her eyes—not acted, but real.
Backstage, Homelander turned and walked out of the monitoring room.
There was no one in the corridor.
He punched the wall. The wall dented, and cracks spread from the point of impact like a spiderweb.
He looked down at his fist. The skin on his knuckles was broken, oozing a trace of blood.
---
After the show, Lu Ren was cornered by reporters backstage for twenty minutes. Questions hit him like cannonballs—How long have you and Starlight been together? Where is the limit of your power? What do you think of Homelander? He handled them one by one, wearing the standard smile Ashley had taught him, until security cleared the crowd.
Starlight was waiting for him at the door of the dressing room.
"Come to my place tonight?" She leaned against the doorframe, blonde hair draped over her shoulders, her performance outfit replaced by a loose hoodie and shorts.
Lu Ren looked at her: "It's too late. We have to review the performance tomorrow."
"How long does the review take?"
"I don't know."
Starlight walked over and drew a lightning bolt on his chest with her finger.
"Then come find me when you're done with the review." She stood on her tiptoes, whispered in his ear, and turned to leave.
Lu Ren stood in the corridor, watching her back disappear around the corner.
His phone in his pocket buzzed.
A message from Abigail. She had learned how to send texts, but the content was very brief: "Someone is here. Warehouse."
Lu Ren stared at the five words for two seconds, then dialed. No one answered.
He dialed again. Still no answer.
He rushed out of the fire exit, transformed into a bolt of lightning, and flew out from the flank of Vought Tower. The silvery-white electric arcs streaked across the night sky of Manhattan, moving as fast as a meteor. He stopped abruptly over Brooklyn and landed at the door of the warehouse.
The door was open.
There were no signs of a struggle inside. No blood, no shattered glass, nothing. Abigail was not there.
The chair was overturned on the floor, her half-finished cup of tea sat on the table, and the cup was still warm. The blanket was folded neatly on the head of the cot.
"Abigail?" he called out.
No response.
He scanned the entire warehouse with an electromagnetic field—empty. He expanded the scanning range, five hundred meters, one thousand meters, two thousand meters. There was no sign of Abigail's brainwaves. She was usually easy to find because her electromagnetic field was many times stronger than an ordinary person's, like a lighthouse in the dark. Now, that lighthouse was extinguished.
His phone rang. It was Butcher.
"Did you see the news?"
"What news?"
"Turn on the TV. Any channel."
There was an old TV in the corner of the warehouse; Lu Ren walked over and pressed the power button.
The screen flickered to life, showing a live broadcast from Vought News. A female anchor stood at the entrance of Vought Tower, her expression solemn. The scrolling ticker at the bottom of the screen read: "Tonight, Vought International announces the successful disposal of an 'out-of-control Supe.' It is reported that the Supe, codenamed 'White Noise,' was declared dead forty years ago but had actually been under the supervision of Vought International all along. Tonight, she was subdued by Homelander in an abandoned building in Brooklyn. The Supe is dead."
A photo appeared on the screen. Abigail Sharp, grey-white short hair, grey eyes, wearing an early Vought International blue jumpsuit. Beneath the photo was a line of small text: "Archive photo, taken in 1982."
Chapter 42: Father and Son
Lu Ren stared at the photo, his fingers tightening around the remote control.
"Lu Ren?" Butcher's voice came through the phone. "Did you hear it?"
"I heard it."
"Is it her? The one you let out?"
"Yes."
Butcher was silent for two seconds. "Did Homelander do it?"
"The news says'subdued'. But Abigail had no ability to resist. Her body hasn't recovered yet."
"Then that means killed."
Lu Ren hung up the phone.
He stood in the empty warehouse, looking at the cup of tea that had gone cold. A blanket, a chair, a teacup. She was waiting for him to return. She had sent a message saying "Someone is here," and then Homelander arrived. She didn't even have a chance to run.
[Side quest triggered: Abigail's Last Wish. Quest description: Find out the truth behind Abigail's death and avenge her. Reward: Hero Points × 5000, special item "Legacy of White Noise" (can summon Abigail's spiritual power once). Failure penalty: None.]
Lu Ren closed the quest panel.
He didn't need a quest to tell him what to do.
He turned into lightning and flew back to Manhattan.
Vought Tower.
One o'clock in the morning, and there was no one in the hallway. Lu Ren walked to the door of Homelander's room—not his apartment in Vought Tower, but his real room, on the top floor, the one that never had visitors.
The door was unlocked.
He pushed the door open and went in.
The room had no lights on, but the lights of Manhattanoutside the floor-to-ceiling windows shone in, illuminating the room in a semi-lit state. Homelander was sitting on the sofa, holding a glass of milk, with the TV on and the volume turned down low. The screen was looping footage of tonight's performance at Madison Square Garden, right at the part where Lu Ren condensed the lightning ball.
"You didn't knock." Homelander didn't turn his head.
"Where is Abigail?"
Homelander took a sip of milk and slowly placed the cup on the coffee table.
"Abigail?" He repeated the name, as if savoring its flavor. "You mean 'White Noise'?"
"You know who I'm talking about."
"Of course I do." Homelander finally turned his head to look at Lu Ren. "I just killed her."
His tone was as calm as if he were saying, "I had dinner today."
Lu Ren stood where he was, silver-white electric arcs dancing at his fingertips.
"Why?"
"Because she was a threat." Homelander stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to Lu Ren. "Her power was uncontrollable. She could hear everyone's brainwaves, including mine. She heard things I didn't want anyone to know."
"What things?"
Homelander didn't answer. He watched the night view of Manhattan outside the window and remained silent for a long time.
"Do you know what it feels like to be seen through?" he finally said. "Not just seen, but seen through. The dirtiest thoughts in your brain, the ones you least want others to know, spread out in front of others like an open book. That feeling—I hate that feeling."
He turned around, his blue eyes devoid of any warmth.
"So I burned that book."
Lu Ren's fists tightened.
"She wouldn't hurt anyone."
"She didn't need to hurt anyone. She just needed to exist, and that was a threat." Homelander stepped closer, looking down at Lu Ren. "You should thank me. I dealt with a problem for you."
"She wasn't a problem."
"She was the one you let out." Homelander's mouth curled up. "Did you think I didn't know? The alarm in the North Wing, The Cleaner getting hurt, Abigail going missing—all clues pointed to you. I didn't touch you, not because I wasn't sure, but because you are still useful."
"Useful?"
"You got the audience excited." Homelander pointed at the frozen image of the lightning ball on the TV screen. "Eighteen thousand people were shouting your name. For three years, no one has been able to make those people shout that loud. I need you. At least for now."
He walked back to the sofa, sat down, and picked up the milk glass.
"So don't turn against me for a dead person. It's not worth it."
Lu Ren looked at him.
"What did she say when you killed her?"
Homelander's motion of drinking milk paused.
"What did she say?" Lu Ren asked again.
Homelander put down the glass and looked up. His expression didn't change, but there was something more in his eyes—not anger, not sadness, but an instinctive defense when hit in a sore spot.
"She called me 'child'." He said, his voice lowering. "She said, 'You are not a bad person, you are just a child who was never taught'."
The room went quiet.
On the TV screen, the lightning ball was still looping and blooming.
"Then I snapped her neck." Homelander said.
Lu Ren turned and walked out.
The hallway was cold, so cold it didn't feel like indoors. He walked around the corner, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes.
Abigail called him "child".
The last thing she said before she died was, "You are not a bad person."
She was wrong. He is.
Lu Ren opened his eyes, took out his phone, and sent a message to Butcher: "Abigail is dead. Homelander killed her."
Butcher replied instantly: "Soldier Boy knows."
"How is he?"
"Watching TV. Has been watching it. Not saying anything."
Lu Ren put his phone back in his pocket and took the fire escape downstairs.
In the warehouse, everyone had arrived.
Butcher stood in front of a long table with a map of New York City spread out before him. MM was marking something on the side. Frenchie was typing on the keyboard, and the screen displayed the floor plan of Vought Tower. Hughie was sitting in the corner, not reading comics, but watching Soldier Boy.
Soldier Boy sat on the sofa. The TV was on, playing photos of Abigail when she was alive—Abigail in 1982, young, with light in her gray eyes. It was a promotional photo taken by Vought International before she was injected with compound v.
Soldier Boy stared at that face, motionless.
Kimiko stood next to him, holding a knife, the blade gleaming green under the light.
Lu Ren walked in.
"He knows everything." Butcher said.
"How much does he know?"
"Everything. Who Abigail is, why she was locked up for forty years, that you let her out, and that Homelanderkilled her."
Lu Ren walked up to Soldier Boy.
Soldier Boy didn't look up.
"The injury in her brain is the same as the injury in my brain. Both were erased by someone. She was locked up by Vought International her whole life, and a few days after she got out, she was killed by my son."
He finally looked up. His eyes weren't red, but the look in them had changed—not anger, but something deeper and darker.
"That is not my son. That is a monster. It is the monster I became."
"Do you want to see him?" Lu Ren asked.
"Yes."
"Now?"
"Now."
Butcher walked over. "How do we see him? Storm Vought Tower? He can beat all of us by himself."
"No need to storm in," Lu Ren said. "Make him come out."
"How do we make him come out?"
Lu Ren glanced at the photo of Abigail on the TV screen.
"Tell him someone knows his past."
Three o'clock in the morning, Vought Tower.
Lu Ren stood at the door of Homelander's room and knocked again.
The door opened. Homelander was wearing pajama pants and a T-shirt, his hair messy, no cape, no uniform, looking like an ordinary, middle-aged man suffering from insomnia.
"What is it now?"
"Someone wants to see you."
"Who?"
"Your father."
Homelander's expression changed.
Not shock, not anger, but a completely blank expression that Lu Ren had never seen before. Like a formatted hard drive, all data erased, leaving only a blinking cursor.
"What did you say?"
"Soldier Boy. Your father. He is still alive. He was rescued from a Soviet Union cryo-chamber. He wants to see you."
Chapter 43: The Meeting
Homelander stared at Lu Ren for five seconds. Then he smiled.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
"He's in the car downstairs."
Homelander's smile vanished. He turned, walked into the room, grabbed a jacket, and walked out.
"Lead the way."
Downstairs, on Seventh Avenue.
A black SUV was parked on the side of the road, its windows tinted dark. Homelander stood next to the car, not moving.
Lu Ren opened the car door.
Soldier Boy stepped out of the car.
The two men stood facing each other. The light from the streetlamp shone down from above, casting long shadows of both men.
Soldier Boy was half a head shorter than Homelander, with broader shoulders, whiter hair, and more wrinkles on his face. But his eyes—that rough, time-worn gaze, the kind that had nothing left but grit—were completely different from Homelander's.
Homelander looked at Soldier Boy's face for a long time.
"You're Soldier Boy?" His voice was very soft, so soft that it didn't sound like it came from the man who could roar on television.
"You're Homelander?" Soldier Boy's voice was heavy, like a hammer striking an anvil.
"Yeah."
"I heard you're something special."
"Yeah."
Soldier Boy nodded.
Then he punched Homelander in the face.
It wasn't a superpowered punch. No lasers, no shockwaves, just a pure, full-force punch condensed from forty years of frustration. The fist slammed into Homelander's left cheek with a dull thud.
Homelander didn't dodge. He didn't even raise his hand to block.
He was sent flying, crashing through a parked car on the side of the road, knocking over a fire hydrant behind it, and finally slamming into the glass curtain wall of the Vought Tower lobby. Tempered glass shattered everywhere, and he lay in the shards, a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth.
He smiled.
Not a fake smile, but a real one. The corners of his mouth curled upward, and there was a light in his eyes.
"You hit me." He said.
Soldier Boy walked over, stepping on the shattered glass, and stood in front of Homelander.
"You fucking killed a woman." Soldier Boy said, "A woman who had been locked up for forty years, who had just gotten out. She couldn't even stand steady. You snapped her neck."
Homelander slowly stood up and brushed the glass shards off his body.
"She heard some things."
"What things?"
"It doesn't matter."
Soldier Boy threw another punch. This time, Homelanderraised his arm to block. Soldier Boy's fist slammed into his forearm with the sound of bone colliding.
"Do you know who I am?" Homelander lowered his arm and looked at Soldier Boy.
"I do."
"You don't." Homelander's voice changed, no longer that light, cynical tone, but a suppressed, explosive sound, like magma churning deep in the earth's crust. "You don't know how I grew up. No parents. No name. Just a serial number. Blood draws every day, injections, tests. I did whatever they told me to do. If I didn't do it well, I was locked in a dark room. You think heroes are born? I was manufactured. Made from your cells."
He took a step closer.
"You are my father. But you weren't there. You were never there."
Soldier Boy looked at him.
"So what?"
"So—" Homelander's lips trembled, "You should say you're sorry."
Soldier Boy was silent for two seconds.
"Sorry?" He repeated, "You killed an unarmed woman. And you want me to say I'm sorry?"
"She heard the voices in my head."
"What voices?"
Homelander didn't answer. His eyes turned red. Not the kind of red that meant 'I'm going to cry,' but the kind that meant 'I am absolutely not going to fucking cry'—blood vessels were swelling, blood was rushing up, but the tears were being held back, firmly, with every ounce of his strength.
"She said I was 'a child with no one to teach him'." His voice trembled, "She said I wasn't a bad person."
"You aren't a bad person?" Soldier Boy's voice suddenly rose, "You are a fucking bad person. You were born one. Because your mother was a laboratory, and your father was a freezer. You have compound v flowing in your veins, not blood."
Homelander's face twitched.
Soldier Boy continued.
"You think I'd acknowledge you? Hug you? Call you son? No. You aren't my son. You're a product Vought International made using my cells. The milk in my fridge is also a product. The difference between you and that carton of milk is that you can talk."
Homelander stood there, his lips moving, but no sound came out.
Soldier Boy turned around.
"Let's go." He said to Lu Ren, "I've seen enough."
He walked toward the SUV.
Homelander stood in the shattered glass, watching Soldier Boy's back.
"Stop." He said.
Soldier Boy didn't stop.
"I said fucking stop!"
Soldier Boy stopped, but didn't turn back.
Homelander's eyes turned red. Not just red, they began to glow. His laser eyes were gathering energy, red light spilling out of his pupils, illuminating the tear tracks on his face. He was actually crying. Tears streamed down, only to be evaporated by the heat of the lasers, leaving streaks of white steam on his face.
"Try to walk away." His voice trembled, "You walk away, and I'll burn this building down. I'll burn the whole block down. I'll burn that shitty SUV."
Soldier Boy turned around and looked at Homelander.
"Burn it."
Homelander's lasers fired.
Not at Soldier Boy, but at the sky. Two red beams of light shot out from the broken curtain wall of the Vought Towerlobby, tearing through the night sky of Manhattan and piercing the clouds. The clouds were burned into two large holes, and moonlight leaked down through them, shining on Soldier Boy's white hair.
The lasers stopped.
Homelander stood where he was, gasping for air. Tears were still streaming down, but he didn't wipe them away.
"Why didn't you turn back?" He asked.
Soldier Boy looked at him, not saying a word.
"I asked you why you didn't turn back!"
"Because I have nothing to say to you." Soldier Boy said.
He turned, opened the car door, and got in.
The car door closed.
Chapter 44: Breaking Point
Lu Ren stood between the SUV and Homelander, glancing at Homelander.
[Hidden Task "Make Homelander reach his breaking point" progress: 100%. Rewards being distributed...]
[Congratulations to the host for obtaining: Legendary Item ×1.]
Lu Ren didn't check what the item was.
He pulled open the car door and sat in the passenger seat.
"Drive," he said to Kimiko.
The SUV started and drove away from Vought Tower.
In the rearview mirror, Homelander stood amidst the shattered glass and the mist from the fire hydrant, getting smaller and blurrier, finally disappearing into the night on the avenue.
No one in the car spoke.
Soldier Boy sat in the back row, looking out the window.
His hands had stopped shaking.
In the lobby on the first floor of Vought Tower, Homelander stood in place, standing there for a long time.
The security guards didn't dare to approach. The Cleanerdidn't dare to approach. No one dared to approach.
He finally moved. He turned and walked into the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor. As the elevator doors closed, he saw his own face in the mirrored walls of the elevator.
Crying. He was crying.
He raised his hand and wiped away the tears with the back of his hand. There was a bloody scratch on the back of his hand—not from Soldier Boy's hit, but from a shard of glass. He looked at that bloodstain for a long time.
The elevator doors opened.
He walked out, entered his room, and closed the door. The TV was still on, the screen still showing the scene at Madison Square Garden. The thunderballs were still blooming, and eighteen thousand people were still screaming.
He smashed the TV. One punch.
The screen shattered, sparks flew everywhere, and the plastic casing cracked into several pieces, falling to the floor.
He sat on the sofa, facing a blank wall.
The milk was still on the coffee table, already cold.
He picked up the cup, intending to take a sip, then stopped. He looked at the white liquid in the cup, remembering the words Soldier Boy had said— "The difference between you and that carton of milk is that you can talk."
He smashed the cup onto the floor.
The milk splattered everywhere, white, like a shattered moon.
He sat on the sofa, covering his face with both hands.
---
When Lu Ren returned to the warehouse, it was not yet dawn.
The door was still open, just as it was when he left. He walked in and stood beside the chair where Abigail had sat. The teacup was ice cold, the tea bag had steeped for too long, and the tea had turned a dark brown. He took the teacup to the sink, poured it out, rinsed it with water, and set it aside.
[Legendary item distributed: Abigail's Last Words. Upon use, it can play a holographic recording of Abigail made before her death on any electronic device. Limited to one use.]
Lu Ren tapped on the item description. The video was only forty-seven seconds long, recorded tonight—before she died. He didn't play it immediately; he first straightened the chair on the floor, folded the blanket, and placed it at the head of the cot.
He turned off the lights, stood in the darkness, and pressed play.
Abigail's holographic image appeared in the air. Ash-grey short hair, grey eyes, wearing that grey hoodie. The background was the wall of this warehouse.
"Lu Ren. If you are seeing this, I am already dead." Abigail's voice was very calm. "I knew this would happen. I could hear his brainwaves getting closer, so I recorded this. He is not wrong. He is not a bad person; it's just that no one taught him. Don't hate him, either. Hate will make you become just like him."
The image paused for a moment.
"That door in your mind, it will have to open sooner or later. The things behind that door might be heavy. But you can carry them."
Abigail smiled.
"Thank you for letting me come out for some air. The air outside is really good."
The video ended.
Lu Ren stood in the darkness for a long time before putting the item away.
His phone lit up. A message from Starlight: "You're not in your room. I'm at your door."
Lu Ren typed: "Come to Brooklyn. Sending you the location."
Forty minutes later, a white sedan stopped outside the warehouse. Starlight was wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled up, no makeup, her hair messy, peeking out from under the brim.
She walked into the warehouse, looked around, and then saw the empty chair and the folded blanket.
"Is this her place?"
"Yeah."
"Is she dead?"
"Yeah."
Starlight walked over and stood beside him, not asking who had killed her. She must have already seen the news.
The two of them were silent for a while.
"Have you been crying?" Starlight looked at him.
"No."
"Your eyes are red."
"It's windy."
There was no wind in the warehouse. Starlight didn't call him out on it; she reached out and took his hand, fingers interlaced. Her hand was very warm.
"When you put your arm around my waist on stage tonight, was that arranged by Ashley?" she asked.
"No."
"Was that your own idea?"
"Yes."
Starlight smiled. That tiny smile, where the corners of her mouth only curved just a little.
"Then do you like me?"
Lu Ren looked at her. Her eyes were bright in the dim light of the warehouse, not pressuring him, just waiting.
"I do," he said.
Starlight stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Not like the cheek kiss on stage last time, but on the lips. Three seconds. Then she pulled back.
"That counts as the third part," she said.
"What third part?"
"The interaction segment. First part was holding hands, second part was you saying you thought of me first, and the third part—" she pointed to her own lips, "—this."
"Did Ashley arrange this?"
"I arranged it myself."
A soft shutter sound came from the warehouse entrance. Both of them turned their heads simultaneously. Kimikostood at the doorway, holding up her phone, the screen displaying the photo just taken—Starlight on tiptoes kissing Lu Ren, their profiles outlined by the warehouse lighting.
Starlight didn't let go, looking at Kimiko. "Delete it."
Kimiko shook her head and made a sign. Lu Ren didn't understand it, but he could guess— "Not deleting it."
Starlight turned to look at Lu Ren.
"Is she one of your people?"
"Butcher's people."
"Then we're done for." Starlight sighed, "Tomorrow it'll be all over the internet."
"Are you afraid?"
"Afraid of what? We're faking a relationship anyway." Starlight pulled Lu Ren to the cot and sat down. "But next time, let me prepare beforehand. I didn't wear makeup today, I look terrible."
"You don't look terrible."
"You're quite the smooth talker."
The two sat on the cot, leaning against the wall. Starlight rested her head on his shoulder.
"Homelander is acting strange tonight," she said. "When he came back from outside, he had injuries on his face. His face was swollen, blood at the corner of his mouth. Who hit him?"
Lu Ren was silent for two seconds.
"The person I brought."
"The one you brought back from Russia?"
"Yeah."
Starlight looked up at him.
"You hit Homelander?"
"Not me. It was his father."
Starlight's eyes widened.
"Soldier Boy? He's still alive?"
"Alive. And he beat Homelander up."
Starlight slowly leaned back onto his shoulder.
"This world is so small," she said. "Everyone's secrets are connected."
"Yeah."
"How many more secrets do you have that you haven't told me?"
"Many."
"Will you tell me?"
"I will. But not now."
Starlight didn't press him. She closed her eyes, her breathing slowly becoming steady. She fell asleep on his shoulder.
Lu Ren didn't move. He looked out the window; the eastern sky was starting to turn white.
His phone vibrated. A message from Butcher: "I've seen the photo Kimiko took. Good job. We've got tomorrow's headline."
Lu Ren typed: "When are you going to Virginia?"
"Tomorrow."
"Alone?"
"Alone."
"What about Soldier Boy?"
"He's going to find Crimson Countess to get to the bottom of what happened back then. Kimiko is going with him."
"What about me?"
"You go back to Vought Tower and continue being your star. I'll keep an eye on Victoria Neuman."
Chapter 45: Ashes
Lu Ren put down his phone.
Outside the window, it was dawn.
Seven in the morning, Manhattan.
Lu Ren returned to the 46th floor of Vought Tower via the fire escape. The hallway was empty; Starlight had already returned to her room—she had arrived half an hour earlier than him, having taken a detour.
He pushed the door open to enter his room and saw a note tucked under the door gap.
It was Maeve's handwriting again.
"The Cleaner is looking for you. Be careful."
Lu Ren burned the note, took a shower, and changed into clean clothes.
His phone rang. It was Ashley.
"Lu Ren! The photos of you and Starlight from last night are trending!" Her voice was shrill with excitement. "'Silver Lightning Starlight Romance' is ranked first, and 'Kiss at Madison Square Garden' is third. Have you seen it?"
"I saw it."
"Keep it up! There's a media press conference this afternoon; you and Starlight will attend together. Reporters will ask about your relationship. Don't commit to anything; just say, 'We're doing well, thanks for asking.' Keep it ambiguous—don't confirm or deny it."
"Got it."
After hanging up, Lu Ren opened the system panel.
[Main Quest "Stage at Madison Square Garden" completion: 98%. Audience Favorability: 91%. Quest rewards distributed: Hero Points × 10000, Superman Serum (Intermediate) × 1.]
[Superman Serum (Intermediate) has been automatically fused. Physical defense has increased to a level capable of briefly resisting Homelander's laser eyes. Current status: Rumble-Rumble Fruit ability + Superman Serum(Intermediate).]
[Hidden Quest "Homelander's Breakdown" completion: 100%. Rewards distributed. Current Hero Points: 18800.]
Eighteen thousand eight hundred points. Still a long way from one hundred thousand.
He closed the panel and walked out of the room.
The elevator reached the first floor, and the lobby was bustling with people. Vought International employees, visitors, security guards—everyone was looking at him.
He walked to the entrance, the sunlight blinding. A black SUV was parked on the side of the road; the window rolled down, and Butcher was sitting in the driver's seat.
"Get in."
Lu Ren got in the car.
Butcher drove into the traffic.
"Before I go to Virginia, I have to take care of one thing," he said. "Dr. Vogelbaum is dying. His pancreatic cancer has spread; he won't last the week. He said he wants to see you before he dies."
"See me?"
"He said he has something to give you."
Queens, safehouse.
Dr. Vogelbaum lay on a small bed in the back room, covered by a thin blanket. His complexion was sallow, and his eye sockets were deeply sunken. His breathing was heavy, and a wet sound came from his throat.
Butcher stood at the door and did not go in.
Lu Ren walked in and sat on the chair by the bed.
"You're here." Dr. Vogelbaum opened his eyes. His pupils were cloudy, but he recognized him. "Your lightning... I can see your lightning. Under the skin, spreading like tree roots. Very interesting."
"What do you want to give me?"
Dr. Vogelbaum reached out from under the blanket, clutching a small glass vial in his hand. Inside the vial was a pale blue liquid that emitted a faint glow.
"A purified version of compound v," Dr. Vogelbaum said. "There is only this one. I saved it for myself, hoping to live a few more years. But I won't need it now."
"For me?"
"For that friend of yours. Butcher. He will need it." Dr. Vogelbaum coughed, a trace of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. "He hates Supes, but he will become the strongest one himself. Fate."
Lu Ren took the glass vial.
"One more thing." Dr. Vogelbaum's voice grew weaker. "Homelander's power... is not infinite. His cell division rate is too fast; every time he uses his lasers, his lifespan shortens. In a few more years, he will die on his own."
"How long?"
"Three years. Maybe five." Dr. Vogelbaum closed his eyes. "Tell him, he won't believe it. But you can use this."
His hand dropped. He was still breathing, but it was very faint.
Lu Ren stood up and walked out of the back room.
Butcher looked at the glass vial in his hand.
"What is this?"
"compound v. Purified. It can turn you into a Supe."
Butcher stared at the vial for a few seconds, reached out to take it, and pocketed it.
"Thanks," he said.
He turned and walked toward the door.
"Butcher."
Butcher stopped.
"Are you planning to use it?"
Butcher did not answer and pushed the door open to leave.
Washington D.C., 10:00 AM.
Victoria Neuman's office was in the East Wing of the Capitol building, with windows facing the lawn. She sat behind her desk, and the computer screen in front of her was playing the footage from Madison Square Garden.
She watched the part where Lu Ren condensed the lightning ball seven times.
She pressed pause, picked up the phone, and dialed a number.
"Have the 'Cleanup Crew' investigate Lu Ren's background. Not the fake resume Vought International gave him—the real background. Where he came from, when he appeared, who injected him with V."
The person on the other end responded.
Victoria Neuman put down the phone and looked at the frozen image on the screen—the silvery-white lightning illuminating the entire venue, with eighteen thousand faces blurring into one in the light.
"More dangerous than Homelander," she muttered to herself.
She turned off the computer, picked up her briefcase, and walked out of the office.
In the hallway, a young woman was waiting for her. Dark hair, light eyes, wearing a gray suit.
"Mom," Zoe said, "Will you win the Superhuman Regulation Act vote this afternoon?"
Victoria Neuman stroked her daughter's hair.
"I will win."
2:00 PM, third floor of Vought Tower.
Media press conference. Lu Ren and Starlight sat behind a long table, with over thirty reporters crowded in front.
First question: "Are you two dating?"
Starlight glanced at Lu Ren, then smiled at the camera.
"We're doing well, thanks for asking."
Ambiguous, neither confirming nor denying. Ashley gave a thumbs up from backstage.
Second question: "Why did Homelander leave the show at Madison Square Garden early last night?"
Lu Ren spoke into the microphone: "He had something to do."
"What kind of business?"
"Personal business."
Third question: "There are rumors that you have connections with the anti-Supe organization 'The Boys.' Is that true?"
Lu Ren looked at the reporter asking the question—a young woman with glasses, whom he didn't recognize.
"False."
He offered no further explanation.
After the press conference, Ashley pulled Lu Ren aside.
"Who let that last question in? That was someone from the 'New York Gazette,' they specialize in digging up dirt."
"I don't know."
"Next time you encounter a question like that, just have security escort them out. Don't answer. Answering just gives them material."
Lu Ren nodded.
He walked out of the studio, and someone was walking toward him in the hallway.
Black Noir.
He stood in the middle of the hallway, the eyes of his mask fixed on Lu Ren.
Lu Ren stopped.
Black Noir pulled an envelope from a pocket behind his waist and handed it to Lu Ren. There was nothing written on the envelope.
Lu Ren took it. Black Noir turned and left, his footsteps echoing in the hallway.
Lu Ren opened the envelope. Inside was a photograph.
The photo showed a transparent incubation pod with a person lying inside. That person was wearing a black uniform, exactly like Black Noir's. But the face—the photo had captured the face. That face was identical to Homelander's.
On the back of the photo, a line was written: "He is not the only one."
Lu Ren put the photo in his pocket.
9:00 PM, Virginia.
Butcher parked the car across from 1772 Maple Avenue. He didn't get out; he sat in the driver's seat, looking at the windows of the pale yellow house. The lights were on on the second floor, and the curtains were drawn.
He took out the glass vial Dr. Vogelbaum had given him, held it up to his eyes, and looked at it against the streetlamp. The pale blue liquid looked like a solidified star in the light.
He put the vial back in his pocket, pushed the car door open, and walked over.
The doorbell rang.
Becca opened the door. When she saw Butcher, the expression on her face shifted from surprise to resignation.
"You're here again."
"I want to see Ryan."
"No."
"I want to see him." Butcher's voice was soft but firm. "Not because he's my wife's son. It's because I need to know what he looks like. In case Homelander comes looking for him one day, I have to be able to recognize him."