Chapter 19: An Obedient Wolf is a Good Dog
Manhattan Cruise Terminal, Hard Rock Hotel, main entrance,
A yellow taxi skidded to a halt.
Inside the revolving door, well-dressed wealthy people filed out, their faces beaming with comfortable smiles.
"Fourth floor, Room 406. Cut off both his hands, pack them in whatever you think is appropriate, and bring them out. If he has companions, kill them all."
In the back seat, Green held the phone screen up to Laura's eyes, showing a photo of Bullseye.
"I really want to know how he'll shoot a gun without hands. Can you do it?"
"Mm." Laura leaned in close to the screen, looked carefully for a few seconds, and nodded to take note.
"Just act like a normal kid, be natural, use your appearance to your advantage, and smile more." Green leaned back in his seat, switching the screen back to the unfinished game of Snake.
Laura pushed open the car door.
"By the way," Green's voice came from behind her.
"If you fail or get caught, I won't save you. Useless things aren't worth it."
Laura paused for a moment.
"...Mm."
She jumped out of the car, closed the door with a bit of force, walked a few steps quickly, and naturally followed behind an elegantly dressed elderly couple, blending into the crowd at the revolving door.
At the entrance, a young Chinese bellboy was carrying luggage for guests. His gaze inadvertently swept over her, seemingly sensing something, but he just calmly looked away and didn't stop her.
"Sir, are we leaving now?" the driver in the front seat asked.
"Be quiet."
"Yes."
Green's gaze was still fixed on the phone screen, the light reflecting in his eyes, devoid of joy or sorrow.
On the fourth floor of the hotel, Laura chose to take the stairs. Stepping onto the red carpet, she tilted her head up, focused on identifying the gold-stamped numbers on each door.
"406... 406..." she murmured softly, her footsteps finally stopping in front of the target door.
Should she knock?
She tilted her head.
Green didn't seem to like impolite people.
So she stepped forward, raised her hand, and pounded on the door roughly.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Inside the room, Bullseye was half-reclining on the sofa, enjoying special service from a male staff member.
When the knocking sounded, he tensed up instantly and shoved the person at his feet away.
"Sir?" the waiter asked in a small, bewildered voice.
Bullseye didn't speak. He pulled up his pants, took a few bills out of his wallet, threw them at him, and signaled for him to hide and stay quiet.
The waiter hurriedly picked up the money and stumbled into the bedroom.
Bullseye's hand reached for his waist, drawing a thin, guardless dagger, pressing the spine of the blade with his thumb.
Several of his subordinates around him also entered a state of high alert.
One of them pulled out a pistol, lightened his footsteps, moved to the door, and squinted into the peephole.
Standing outside was a girl who looked rather cocky.
She held her head high, seemingly to keep the oversized sunglasses on her face from sliding down.
She suddenly wrinkled her nose, as if she had smelled something.
"What? Whose kid is..."
The subordinate at the peephole was full of confusion. Just as he turned back to signal the others in the room—
Two metal claws pierced through the door panel, through his tailbone, and protruded from the front of his thigh.
"Aaaargh—!!!!"
He was in so much pain his voice was distorted.
Under the horrified gaze of everyone, as the claws retracted, the uninvited guest outside used the slumped body leaning against the door to climb.
The next moment, the claws pierced through his skull.
"Holy shit!" Bullseye's pupils shrank. He was very familiar with those claws!
Not long ago, he had been in the lab using a flamethrower to test its owner's healing limit.
But why was she here?!
Green didn't kill her?!
Before he could figure it out, two sounds of metal snapping came from outside. The upper and lower hinges of the door were cut, and the door fell inward. A figure lunged into the room amidst a barrage of bullets.
Bullets tore through her flesh, blood blossoming on her thin body again and again. However, being hit only caused her movements to lag slightly.
She seemed unable to feel pain; instead, the stimulus of blood ignited her ferocity.
In an instant, the slaughter began.
...
At the hotel entrance,
"Shang-Chi, that taxi has been parked there for almost five minutes. Go tell them to move."
A uniformed manager frowned, pointing at the conspicuous taxi and instructing the Chinese bellboy nearby.
"Understood." The Chinese bellboy, Shang-Chi, nodded and walked toward the taxi.
Green caught sight of him from the corner of his eye and rolled down the window.
"Sir, hotel regulations don't allow long-term parking here." Shang-Chi bowed slightly, his tone polite.
"You can move to the temporary parking lot. I can get a ticket for you in advance."
"It'll be quick."
"May I ask if you're waiting for someone?"
"Something like that."
"Something like that?"
Before Shang-Chi could finish his sentence,
Bang—!
A figure plummeted from a height, crashing heavily onto the hood of a car a few meters away.
The loud crash of metal denting and the explosion of glass windows went off simultaneously.
The piercing car alarm and the screams of nearby pedestrians broke the silence in front of the hotel.
Shang-Chi's body instinctively turned toward the source of the sound, his feet shifting, his center of gravity lowering, his gaze sharply scanning the impact point, then quickly looking up at a certain window high above.
"Tsk tsk, how terrifying." Green laughed.
"Sir, please leave immediately. It's very dangerous here." Shang-Chi quickly looked back and said to Green before turning and running into the hotel lobby.
"Mm-hmm, I know that." Green chuckled, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and put one between his lips.
He flicked his thumb, and with a "ting," the lighter lid flipped open.
"Do you mind?" he asked the driver in the front seat.
"Please, go ahead, sir."
"Click."
The flame rose, and the tobacco was lit.
Green took a deep breath, rested his arm on the car window, and slowly exhaled the grayish-white smoke.
Outside the car was chaos; the hotel's revolving door was jammed by the panicked crowd pouring out.
The person who had crashed onto the car was now struggling to roll over and fall to the ground.
He was covered in blood, his torso and legs covered in claw marks like those of a Beast. His left arm was only half an upper arm, and his right arm was severed at the shoulder.
His body rolled over the shards of glass on the ground, causing him to howl in pain.
He stumbled to his feet, looking like a defective giant sausage, glancing around blankly.
When his gaze swept past the taxi with its hazard lights on nearby, he saw the man in the back seat, that "Owl," looking at him with a half-smile.
But those eyes only stayed on him for a second before indifferently moving away, as if he were an injured insect struggling by the roadside, far less interesting than the panicked crowd fleeing around.
"Heh... ugh..."
Bullseye's face was twisted with pain and humiliation.
He knew why that wolf-girl was here; she had been tamed by Green!
Had he been betrayed? Why did Green know he was here!
He squeezed out a reluctant roar from his throat and stumbled toward the other side of the road.
As he rushed across the lane, he was clipped by a speeding car, rolled several times, then struggled to get up and continued to stumble forward.
Although he knew in his heart that the "Owl" had lost interest in hunting him,
He just wanted to escape,
As far as possible.
[tyrant of heaven] Growth: 100%.
New template can be unlocked,
Generated based on your soul characteristics—[A Song of Ice and Fire: Drogon],
Origin: Valyrian Dragon Lord Civilization,
[Bloodline optimization has been performed on this template, which will perfectly fit your current growth], can be unlocked manually.
The system prompt popped up in his consciousness,
"Hmm?" Green paused in the car, the ash between his fingers falling.
He took the cigarette outside the window to tap it, then took another puff, his face blurred in the swirling smoke.
"Growth is enough? But I haven't even made a move..."
A realization flickered in his eyes,
"It seems the actions of subordinates count as mine too."
But he didn't confirm the unlock immediately,
There were too many eyes here, and besides, the new template pointed to a non-human war Beast; he wasn't sure what kind of commotion unlocking it would cause,
He needed a safe place.
At that moment, a blood-covered Laura squeezed out from the hotel's revolving door,
She was holding a long object haphazardly wrapped in newspaper, with blood constantly seeping through the layers, looking at first glance like two baguettes dipped in ketchup,
She pulled open the car door and threw the thing onto the floor mat,
"Well done." Green praised casually, his foot carelessly pushing the blood-soaked package aside to use as a footrest,
But Laura was clearly dissatisfied with such perfunctoriness.
She stared straight at Green. The sunglasses on her face were gone, perhaps broken during the fight.
Green noticed her gaze, a bit of helplessness showing on his face.
He flicked away the cigarette butt, pulled Laura to his side, and kissed her on the forehead, which was stained with blood and sweat.
Laura's body visibly stiffened, her shoulders hunching up tensely before slowly relaxing.
She lowered her head, pointed at the severed arms wrapped in newspaper at her feet, then held up two fingers, and finally pointed to her left cheek. Her movements were clumsy but her intention was clear: one kiss for each hand.
"You've learned how to count?" Green laughed.
Laura bumped him with the top of her head, stubbornly maintaining that posture.
"Alright, alright." Green shook his head, leaned over, and gave her another kiss.
Only then was she finally satisfied.
Green reached his hand under the hem of her tattered clothes, his palm against her skin, moving along her ribs and spine to check if the bones had been misaligned by the new muscle growth during the self-healing process.
Where his fingertips touched, Laura's skin shrank uncontrollably, and her breathing became slightly hurried.
But she never looked away, just quietly watching him.
Green didn't mind her reaction. After confirming the bones had reset normally, he withdrew his hand.
"I'm hungry," she said.
"Mm, I'll take you for afternoon tea."
"To the Continental Hotel."
"Yes, sir."
Chapter 20: The Continental Hotel, Stan's Call
The iron streetlights receded at a steady pace outside the car window.
A hotel with a distinct Art Deco style and a sense of age gradually grew larger in his field of vision.
Pedestrians on the sidewalk—whether sophisticated gentlemen, hurried employees, or idle vagrants—all cast observant glances as the taxi drove by.
Eyes met briefly, then shifted away with a tacit understanding.
Screech—
The taxi came to a smooth stop in front of the hotel porch.
"Your service is over. Good driving."
Inside the car, Green Morgan took out two exquisitely crafted gold coins, handed them to the driver in the front seat, and patted him on the shoulder.
"My honor, Mr. Green." The driver took the gold coins and lowered the brim of his hat slightly with his other hand as a sign of respect.
Green opened the car door, took his suitcase from the trunk, and walked up the steps into the hotel.
Laura followed closely behind him, carrying the eye-catching, blood-stained package in her hand.
The amber crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow, enveloping the lobby in a sense of understated luxury.
On the dark brown leather sofas, guests were either holding newspapers or focused on their phone screens, with almost everyone having a glass of wine at their side.
Just like the pedestrians on the street outside, the moment Green stepped in, a professional instinct drove the gazes in the lobby to converge on him.
Surprise flashed in many eyes, while some nodded in greeting from afar, before each withdrew their gaze and continued to immerse themselves in their own "business."
"They all know you," Laura said in a low voice.
She could feel a faint, lingering aura of danger in the air, like invisible silk threads.
She keenly noticed that when those gazes swept over her, they would briefly linger on the positions of her head and heart.
However, due to Green's presence, these scrutinizing gazes were withdrawn as soon as they made contact, quickly transforming into a calm assessment of the environment's structure and the flow of personnel.
"Uh-huh," Green dragged his suitcase toward the front desk.
"This is the Continental Hotel. Those people outside, including the driver just now, are colleagues."
The Continental Hotel was an elite assassin platform. Green occasionally took on business here, but he didn't belong to the core system of the High Table, so the commission rate was very high.
Therefore, unless he was too bored or had special needs, he usually wouldn't prioritize commissions from here.
"It's a bit different from what I saw in the comics."
"Assassins have to eat too; they have hobbies and psychological needs." Green stood the suitcase by the front desk and turned to look at her.
"Usually, they are no different from ordinary people."
"Are we too?"
"We can be, including but not limited to that."
It seemed her performance just now had gained Green's approval; he showed a bit more patience toward her questions born of instinct and curiosity.
Walking to the front desk, an African concierge in a sharp suit was looking down, focused on writing something.
"Charon, you've gotten tan again." Green leaned against the marble countertop, his tone casual.
"It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Green."
The other man looked up without any sign of annoyance, clearly long accustomed to the other's irreverent personality.
He spoke with an elegant British accent and a slow pace.
"Checking in, or just a brief stay?"
"Just staying. Help me store this; I'll pick it up in a bit." Green patted the handle of the suitcase by his feet.
"Very well." Charon bowed slightly and stepped out from behind the desk.
Green turned and walked toward the side lounge area. After a few steps, as if remembering something, he reached into his pocket and tossed something backward over his shoulder without looking.
Charon raised his hand and caught it; it was a milk candy wrapped in colorful paper.
"Heh." A smile flickered at the corner of his mouth as he put the candy in his pocket.
Then, he grasped the suitcase handle. The moment he touched it, he understood what was inside.
But his movements didn't falter in the slightest; he still pushed it toward the storage area as if handling ordinary luggage, settling it properly.
Green took Laura to the bar.
Laura stepped onto the footrest and sat on a high stool, the small of her back resting just against the cool metal ring of the chair's backrest.
She looked around curiously. Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata' flowed through the air at a volume just right—not disturbing conversation, but not easily ignored.
There was no harsh overhead lighting, only localized lights casting down from above each booth and the bar, cutting the space into warm yellow domains of light.
"Give her a glass of milk, and you decide on the dessert." Green took out two gold coins and placed them on the bar. The metal collided, making a clear and pleasant clinking sound.
"Hi~ Green, how've you been?" The female bartender, her arms covered in tattoos, chewed gum and smiled as she took the gold coins.
Almost simultaneously, a glass of warm milk and a plate of colorful macarons were placed in front of Laura.
"Mm." Green's words were brief. He lit a cigarette, took the chilled whiskey the bartender pushed toward him through the exhaled smoke, and downed it in one gulp.
Thump, the bottom of the glass lightly touched the counter.
The bartender transitioned seamlessly; a second glass of whiskey had already slid to his hand.
Here, one gold coin represented "unlimited refills," and the same applied to other food.
The gold coins themselves were of high value and could not be bought, only earned. The exchange rate was 1:1,000,000+ U.S. dollars.
It was the default hard currency within many assassin organizations, usually only earned by completing "work" on a high-quality target for one or two coins.
Laura picked up a macaron, took a tentative small bite, and her eyes immediately lit up.
"Vanilla flavor." The bartender smiled at her kindly.
"Mm." Laura nodded, stuffing it into her mouth and chewing. Her posture wasn't like someone tasting a dessert, but more like someone gnawing on a piece of meat on the bone.
Beside her, Green's phone began to vibrate.
"Hello there~ Mr. Stan." Green answered the phone, his tone as relaxed as if greeting an old friend.
"Why is Tony Stark still alive?!"
On the other end of the line, Obadiah Stane's voice was suppressed with rage, like a volcano about to erupt.
"He's not dead? That's a pity." Green sipped his whiskey, his tone devoid of any regret.
"You said with your own mouth that you took care of it!"
"Right, I did take care of it. Maybe he accidentally passed by a 'Pet Sematary' on the way back and came back to life?"
"Are you f*cking playing with me?!" Stan smashed a glass, the sharp glass edges cutting his palm. Blood dripped down the edge of the table one drop at a time.
His years of composure completely collapsed the moment he learned Tony had survived.
The fear of his deeds being exposed was now entirely transformed into rage toward Green.
"Don't be so angry. After all... you really aren't as useful as Tony Stark."
The other end of the phone suddenly went silent, with only heavy breathing audible.
Stan's face had probably turned the color of pig liver.
He might be able to accept being inferior to Howard Stark, but he could never endure being outshone by that "junior" he had watched grow up.
Just as he was about to burst into a torrent of abuse, Green's next sentence poured down like ice water.
"But, there's something that might let you become Tony Stark, or even... surpass him."
"Speak." Stan's voice was squeezed through his teeth. He was so angry his hands were shaking as he roughly tore off his tie to wrap around his glass-cut palm.
Beep.
Green hung up the phone.
Stan stared at the disconnected call, stunned.
"Holy f*ck...!!!"
He suddenly grabbed the laptop on the desk and smashed it against the opposite wall, fragments flying everywhere.
"Is John Wick doing well?" Green asked casually while saving the recorded snippet of the phone call.
"He got married." The bartender wiped a glass, her tone somewhat somber.
"From your tone, that doesn't sound like a blessing," Green teased.
"Bullsh*t! After sleeping with me so many times, now he turns around and talks to me about 'true love'?" The bartender cursed and poured herself a glass of strong liquor, gulping it down.
"Did he pay?"
"What do you think?"
"Getting it for free, tsk tsk, what a scumbag," Green laughed.
At that moment, the bartender suddenly leaned forward, propping herself on the bar to get close to Green, her voice dropping low.
"Actually, I'd be more than happy to let you get it for free."
Snikt—!
Two bone claws instantly popped out from Laura's hand, positioned between Green and the bartender.
"Hehe, is the little sister getting anxious?"
The bartender looked at the "fiercely cute" Laura and retreated with a light laugh, while opening her lips smeared with dark black lipstick.
A long, slender, forked serpent's tongue flicked out quickly, sharp fangs faintly visible, and as she blinked, a layer of semi-transparent nictitating membrane swept across her pupils.
"I'm a Mutant too, you can't scare me. And,"
She intentionally puffed out her chest, grabbed it, and weighed her impressive assets.
"To be a woman, you need capital. You... don't have any yet."
Laura subconsciously looked down at her own flat chest. A surge of shame and annoyance rose up, and she made a move to pounce.
"Quiet."
Green patted the top of her head with his palm to settle her down.
"Give me a cloth."
"Alright."
The bartender folded her arms, lifted her chin triumphantly, and turned to push another plate of macarons over.
"Eat more, kid. Grow a bit."
"Hmph!" Laura snorted resentfully, picked up the milk glass, and drank in large gulps, her eyes glaring at the bartender.
"But no matter how much milk you drink, it'll be hard to grow. After all, you're... mediocre at best." The bartender joked, handing a wet cloth dipped in hot water to Green.
"Green! I want to kill her!"
"No." Green took the cloth and wiped the bloodstains from Laura's face and hands. His movements weren't gentle, but they were thorough.
"Mmph..." Laura shook her head but didn't struggle much, sitting quietly and letting him wipe.
The bartender watched while wiping a glass, a smile on her lips.
A few seconds later, Green's phone vibrated again.
"If your attitude is bad, I'll hang up again," Green said slowly into the phone after tossing the bloody cloth back to the bartender.
"Hiss—" A clear intake of breath came from the receiver; the other party seemed to be forcing himself to regulate his breathing.
"What is this thing you're talking about?"
"Tony Stark built a prototype suit of armor in a cave. As for the specific effects, you'll see for yourself once you get your hands on it."
"What do you want in exchange?"
"It's a gift. But it's not an exclusive, okay? I'll be selling it to other local warlords. If you want to grab it, hurry up." After all, the man had given an extra tip; Green was still very kind.
At the same time, he noticed Winston, the manager of the hotel, walking into the bar. The latter also saw him and nodded slightly.
"...Green," the other side went silent for a few seconds, and Stan's voice deepened, as if still harboring a sliver of hope.
"Tony Stark... is he really not dead?" He had clearly seen those photos; Tony looked no different from a dead man, and Green's reputation wasn't one to fake photos.
"He was indeed dead for a few seconds."
"The toxin of the Arboreal Cobra, once injected, produces a strong near-death shock reaction."
"With the dosage I gave him, it probably made his heart stop for three to five seconds. For your price, it was only enough to buy his death for that long."
Green stood up as he spoke and walked toward Winston's table by the window, naturally sitting down opposite him.
A waiter appeared at the right time, placing two portions of exquisite French cuisine in front of the two men.
"Understood."
The call disconnected.
"You've been busy lately." Winston picked up a napkin and spread it over his lap with elegant movements.
"Aren't you too? Only eating at this hour. Is this stuff enough to fill you up?"
Green picked up his knife and fork, spearing a piece of steak and tearing off a large mouthful.
Laura followed him over. He casually handed it to her, and she grabbed it directly with her hands and started gnawing.
"Your apprentice?" Winston looked at Laura with a kind smile.
Laura ignored him, focused on gnawing the steak.
Her intuition told her this man was like a cunning old fox; it was better to let Green handle this kind of thing.
Mm, the meat is delicious.
"Yeah, brought her here to get acquainted with the place." Green wiped the blood from the steak off the corner of his mouth.
"Heh." Winston didn't ask further; this was the boundary friends should have. He used his knife and fork to cut a small piece of foie gras, spread it evenly on a biscuit, and was about to put it in his mouth.
Just then, his phone rang.
"Excuse me." Winston smiled politely and put down the food that was almost at his mouth.
"No problem." Green, opposite him, pushed the entire plate to Laura, along with a few more pieces of steak.
"This is Winston." He answered the phone, and after hearing what was said on the other side, his face showed a hint of strangeness and a bit of amusement.
He handed the phone to Green.
"It's for you."
"Huh?" Green took the phone but didn't speak.
"Are you listening? I am a VIP client of the hotel. Open an account for me immediately, target: Green Morgan."
Stan on the other side was wondering why there was no response, but then that familiar voice came through the receiver.
"Mr. Stan, I've accepted this mission. Let me confirm, you want my head, right?" Green chuckled, his voice coming through the radio waves as clear as a whisper.
In an instant, Stan's body went stiff, his eyes filled with unbelievable horror.
He fell silent, with nothing but his own suddenly accelerating heartbeat in his ears.
"Hello~" Green called out "kindly" on the other end of the phone.
Stan abruptly hung up the call, clutching his tight chest, his breathing becoming rapid and difficult. The pressure was getting a bit high.
But he couldn't stop, and he didn't dare to stop. Green knew too much; he had to die for Stan to feel at ease.
With trembling fingers, he dialed another number. He took a deep breath, trying to make his voice sound steady.
"Sloan, I want to issue a top-tier bounty. Have all your people move out."
At the dining table.
"What's there to be afraid of? I don't eat people." Green pushed the phone back to Winston and casually slapped away Laura's little hand sneaking toward the wine glass.
Winston chewed the foie gras biscuit unhurriedly, took another sip of red wine, nodded with satisfaction, and then spoke.
"It seems we are about to lose another VIP client."
"Heh, should we keep a dead account then?"
Green sneered, used the back of his hand to push away Laura's face which was leaning in again, and then stood up, picked up the glass of red wine on the table, and drained it in one gulp under Laura's curious gaze.
"Ugh~~" Green put down the glass, his face wrinkling up.
"This tastes terrible."
Laura lowered her eyelids and looked at him speechlessly.
"Do you think I'm that easy to fool?"
Green seemed to completely miss her signal of disdain, turned to Winston, and raised the empty glass.
"Thanks for the treat."
Winston didn't say anything, just raised his own wine glass with his usual faint smile, watching him leave with that indignant little follower.
But after Green walked out of the bar exit, the smile on his face gradually faded, turning into a calm expression.
It wasn't that he was intentionally favoring Green, nor was it even the fact that he had directly transferred Stan's call—which was almost equivalent to rejecting Stan's employment to his face.
It was because Green himself was an existence "forbidden" from being a prey.
There was a reason why the High Table could still maintain its transcendent status and order in a World where supernatural powers were increasingly coming to light.
They knew very well that some existences could not be bound by conventional rules, nor could they be measured by money or force.
They knew their limits and had secretly drawn up a list for this purpose.
Green Morgan's name was prominently on that list.
And Stan was not.
So, from the moment Winston answered that call and heard Stan's voice, the ending was already determined.
The Continental Hotel had unilaterally and permanently removed Obadiah Stane from its membership.
This was not a choice, but a rule.
Chapter 21: An Unexpected Guest
The car drove into the quiet upscale neighborhood, heading up a gentle slope before finally stopping in front of a modern-style detached Villa.
After the driver left, only Green, Laura, and the suitcases remained.
Laura had put on her favorite sunglasses again, this time with bright yellow frames, and she was cradling a potted cactus in her arms.
During their walk after dinner, she had stared at a flower shop window for a long time, so Green had bought it for her on a whim.
Green pushed open the low gate and stepped onto the flat stone walkway.
The automatic sprinkler systems on both sides were working, their fine mist tracing silvery arcs in the night air, while the small wildflowers on the lawn stretched out freely under the moisture.
Laura's gaze, however, was drawn to a corner of the yard where an old wooden swing hung under a tree that had lost most of its leaves, swaying slightly in the cool breeze.
Clutching the cactus, she followed in Green's footsteps.
The key turned in the lock with a crisp click.
The lights came on, filling the interior with a warm white glow that wasn't too harsh.
The smart home system sensed the Master's return and activated one by one; ambient light strips and air circulation fans began to hum as they started working.
Green sat down on the steps of the entryway, took off his shoes, and walked inside.
"This place... is home." Laura stepped in, instinctively sniffing the air first. There was no smell of disinfectant or old blood, only a faint, pine-like scent of cleaning Agent.
She looked around at the wide linen sofa, the wireless game controller left casually on the low table, and the massive projection screen opposite them.
A bookshelf filled with manga stood in the corner, and on the walls were some wildly styled graffiti pieces with supernatural elements.
It was simple, but it had a comfort that allowed one's nerves to relax.
"One of them," Green's voice came from the kitchen.
He opened the fridge, grabbed a can of soda, and tossed it to her.
Laura caught it.
"The bathroom is on the left of the hallway, and there are empty rooms on the right; pick one for yourself. The one at the very end is mine—don't go in without my permission."
*Crack.*
Green snapped open the tab of his own soda, and the orange-flavored bubbles hissed as they surged out.
He tilted his head back and took a large gulp, the icy liquid and bubbles sliding down his throat, making him exhale with satisfaction before letting out a burp.
"From now on, you eat what I eat."
"My shoes, which ones?" She gestured with her head toward the shoe cabinet in the entryway, her eyes on Green.
"Take whichever pair you like, don't ask me. I'm not a nanny," Green said, dragging a suitcase toward the bathroom.
Laura crouched down, facing a row of slippers, falling into a serious bout of indecision.
Oh, right.
She suddenly remembered something, stood up, closed the open front door, and locked it.
Looking back at this space filled with "Green's aura," a strange, solid sense of security quietly washed over her heart.
Unconsciously, her eyes crinkled into crescents.
Wheels rolling, Green dragged the suitcase into the bathroom and unzipped it.
He first dragged out the unconscious Richard, bound his hands and feet with waterproof tape, and stuffed him into a hidden chamber behind the bathroom partition wall.
When it was Vanessa's turn, he had just grabbed her ankle to drag her when his movements suddenly paused.
"Hmm?"
He squeezed the joints of her ankle, his fingertips pressing down along the tendon lines; near the heel, the sensation was clearly abnormal.
Green narrowed his eyes and tilted her foot toward the light.
A silver needle, as thin as a hair, was protruding slightly from under the skin.
The tip of the needle was hollow, and a drop of colorless liquid was slowly seeping out, falling onto the tile and evaporating instantly, leaving almost no trace.
Green carefully collected a small sample and walked over to the "living creature area" inside the hidden room, where several mice were kept for testing.
He fed the liquid to one of them.
In less than a second—
It didn't even have time to make a sound; its oral mucosa necrotized instantly, and fine black veins spread like a spiderweb from its mouth across its entire face. It twitched twice and then went completely rigid.
"Oh ho?" Green raised an eyebrow and looked back at the unconscious Vanessa on the floor.
"It seems this seemingly gentle and elegant painter is also hiding secrets."
His interest piqued, he returned to Vanessa's side, removed her clothing, and folded them neatly to one side.
He then walked out of the bathroom, retrieved several large bags of ice from the kitchen, dumped them all into the bathtub, and then carried her into it.
As the ice water submerged her body, the low temperature made the abnormal structures beneath her skin even clearer.
Green pressed and checked her skin inch by inch.
Before long, he had identified thirty-four hidden miniature toxin mechanisms.
They were almost all distributed in hidden areas most likely to trigger a man's primal desires: the back of the neck, behind the ears, under the collarbone, the chest, the inner thighs...
"A poisonous woman indeed," Green couldn't help but whisper in admiration, suddenly feeling a spark of respect for Kingpin for being able to share a bed with such a woman for so many years without anything happening.
He crouched by the bathtub, looking at Vanessa's pale face in the ice water, his lips slowly curling into an amused arc.
...
"Ugh..." Vanessa woke up from the freezing cold, her eyes snapping open to find herself lying in a bathtub filled with ice water.
Her gaze became sharp; her first reaction wasn't to scream, but to instinctively reach for the inside of her wrist, where a self-triggering dart mechanism should have been hidden.
Empty?!
"Fuck!" She clutched the back of her head, which was aching from the cold, and bolted upright in the water.
A second later, she saw the man sitting on a small stool by the bathroom door, leisurely flipping through a manga.
"That fast? I thought I'd have to finish this book before you woke up," Green closed the pages.
"It seems your resistance to anesthetics is higher than I anticipated."
"You... who are you? Where is my son..." Terror quickly flooded Vanessa's face, and tears began to flow on command.
"Enough, enough, stop acting. I can do that too."
Vanessa's expression froze instantly, the layer of pitiful disguise in her eyes shattering to reveal the cold, ruthless glint beneath.
But immediately after, she switched to another expression—a seductive, hooking gaze.
Her long legs stepped out of the bathtub, and her entire body leaned against the rim like a snake, her legs parting intentionally or otherwise, revealing her curvaceous figure to Green without reservation.
"So... how do you plan to 'handle' me?" Her voice was soft, the end of her sentence rising playfully.
"Anything is fine."
"Your true identity, your purpose for infiltrating," Green remained unmoved.
"Tell me, and perhaps we can cooperate."
"Is that a threat?" Vanessa stood up, her arms crossed over her chest in a half-revealing manner, water cascading down her body and pooling at her feet.
She stepped through the water, walking toward Green one step at a time.
"No," Green said with a sincere face as he raised his handgun and aimed it at her.
"It's an invitation."
"..." Vanessa's footsteps stopped.
She looked into Green's eyes, and for the first time, she couldn't judge whether this man would actually pull the trigger.
"Kingpin really went looking for trouble by messing with you," she sighed.
"It seems you recognize me."
"You were already on our list of candidate field Agents,"
Vanessa turned around, swaying her hips as she walked back toward the bathtub, seemingly completely unconcerned that her naked back was fully visible to him.
"We just hadn't found the right time to make contact."
"Oh~ an Agent," Green drawled, "Codename 007?"
"No," Vanessa looked back, a flash of near-fanatical darkness in her eyes.
"I belong to the Third Reich."
"Hydra, huh? It seems you're a sleeper Agent planted in Hells Kitchen."
"Scared?"
*Puff, puff!*
Two muffled sounds followed as tranquilizer darts accurately hit Vanessa's chest and shoulder. Her body fell backward, tumbling back into the bathtub with her legs dangling in the air.
"Hydra's tentacles really do stretch quite far." Green put away his gun, feeling the fresh excitement of having unexpectedly unlocked a hidden plotline.
Perhaps soon, other'snakes' would come knocking.
Hmm—should he join, or join, or join?
If he really became a double Agent, it would be quite thrilling to think about.
Green stood up, bound Vanessa with specialized restraints, and dragged her back into the hidden room.
The future was the future, but the present was the present; the debt with Kingpin had to be settled first.
He secured her to a metal interrogation chair in the center of the hidden room. Just as he was about to turn and leave, he paused again.
Looking back at this "Sleeping Beauty" who was covered in poison, he thought for a moment, rummaged through the medical cabinet on the wall for a powerful sedative, and gave her a few extra shots in the hip.
With her resistance being so high, he didn't want her waking up and messing things up.
He turned and pulled the heavy soundproof door shut.
Walking out of the bathroom, the scene before him made him stop in his tracks.
Laura had somehow moved a high stool and was standing on it, on her tiptoes, her whole body practically hanging off the snack cabinet in the corner as one hand rummaged through it.
Is this... her demolition mode awakening? Green suddenly felt that his safe house might not be so safe after all.
"What are you doing?"
Laura jumped in shock, nearly slipping off the stool.
She slowly turned her head, her cheeks bulging and stuffed full of stolen cheese balls.
Seeing Green standing at the door with his arms crossed and an unfriendly look on his face, she grinned sheepishly, offering a placating yet guilty smile as crumbs fell from the corner of her mouth.
"Now, get down!"
Laura flinched again and quickly hopped off the stool, not forgetting to tightly clutch her bag of "spoils" in her arms.
Green walked over, snatched the cheese balls away, grabbed her ear with his other hand, and dragged her toward the bathroom without another word.
The shower head sprayed warm water.
Her tattered clothes were torn off and tossed aside.
Green used a small knife to cleanly cut and trim her hair, which had been matted into clumps by blood and filth. Soon, she had a sharp short-haired look, appearing like a scrawny tomboy at first glance.
Laura stood under the water while Green squeezed body wash onto her head and body, rubbing it into a lather.
She held her hands high, squinting her eyes, quite cooperatively enjoying it.
*Ding-dong—*
The doorbell rang at that moment.
Green, who was using his fingers to shape the foam on Laura's head into "dog ears," paused and glanced toward the source of the sound.
He stood up from the small stool and shook the foam and water droplets off his hands.
"Wash yourself clean."
"Oh—" Laura drawled, responding somewhat reluctantly.
Green grabbed a dry cloth from the rack to wipe his hands and walked toward the door in his slippers.
The surveillance screen on the wall showed a man in a suit standing outside.
He wore deep red sunglasses and held a blind cane in his hand, yet his posture was exceptionally upright.
He tilted his head slightly, as if sensing Green's gaze from behind the door, and his lips curled upward.
"Oh?" Green raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued, and reached out to open the door.
Hearing the sound, the man outside turned his face forward.
"Hello, Mr. Green. I am Matt Murdock, or, you can call me Daredevil."
Chapter 22 Matt: I've Become the Joker, Guys
"Are you here to sell your merchandise?" Green scratched his cheek, information about the man quickly flashing through his mind.
Matt Murdock. Blinded by radioactive material while saving someone as a child, he gained superhuman senses and a radar-like spatial perception.
Trained under Stick, he is a master of martial arts and staff fighting, using a modified blind cane as his weapon.
Because his father was killed by a gang and the law was powerless to punish them, he embarked on the path of "dual justice": a lawyer by day, and the Guardian of Hell's Kitchen, "Daredevil," by night.
"No, of course not." Matt adjusted his sunglasses.
"I have been formally commissioned by Mr. Wilson Grant Fisk to come and conduct peace talks with you.
Given that your movements are difficult to track, and according to the information Mr. Wilson possesses, this residence is one of your few fixed strongholds. I came here to try my luck."
He paused, seemingly sensing Green's reaction, before continuing,
"Fortunately, you are indeed here."
"Heh, he actually asked a 'Vigilante' like you for help." Green found it somewhat amusing and stepped aside to make way.
"Come in and talk."
"Thank you." Matt folded his blind cane, walked inside, and closed the door behind him.
He stopped at the entryway, habitually preparing to take off his shoes.
"Don't bother with that, just come in," Green's voice came from inside.
Hearing this, Matt stopped unloosing his laces and stepped up into the living room like a normal person.
"Don't 'look' around blindly."
"I'll keep it under control," Matt responded. The angle of the blind cane in his hand shifted imperceptibly as he actively cut off the sensory feedback from any space other than the living room.
He did this because that man was radiating a faint killing intent; if he overstepped even slightly, the other party would kill him.
"What benefits did he promise you?" Green walked toward the open kitchen.
"None, but he promised that once the situation settles, he will permanently shut down all his drug channels in Hell's Kitchen." Matt sat on the sofa, his blind cane leaning against his leg.
"Heh." Green opened the refrigerator and picked out a drink.
"Scar said the same thing to his brother and his nephew. Haven't you heard of 'killing with a borrowed knife'? Whether you live or die, it's a win for him. What are you drinking?"
"Water is fine."
Green tossed the water to him.
"So, what do I get?"
"As long as you agree not to let the situation escalate further, Mr. Fisk will give you a satisfactory answer." Mattcaught the water.
"That answer in itself makes me very dissatisfied." Green sat on the single sofa diagonally opposite him, his arm resting on the backrest.
"And, specifically, to what extent does 'escalation' refer? Hmm?"
Matt fell silent for a moment, his face behind the sunglasses turning slightly toward Green.
"I've heard of your methods, Mr. Green. You don't belong to any side in the traditional sense; your moral compass is quite flexible.
Therefore, I implore you, regardless of the grievances between you, do not involve Wilson's family."
However, he did not hear an immediate answer from Green.
"This is bad!"
He had an ominous premonition. He leaned forward, his voice dropping as he asked with a hint of incredulous inquiry,
"You... haven't already made a move on them, have you?"
...
Inside the hotel suite, Kingpin looked down at the circular hole in the floor. Bloodstains remained on the floor of the room below.
A heavy atmosphere pervaded the room. The subordinates around him even lightened their breathing, afraid of provoking this mountain of flesh on the verge of an explosion.
"We've checked all the surveillance." Only James dared to step forward at this time, handing him a tablet.
"Green moved them through the hotel's trash disposal chute and then took them away through the sewer system."
Kingpin took the tablet. The screen showed a high-definition freeze-frame.
A man wearing a green felt hat was facing the camera, grinning as he held up his middle finger.
"Why didn't the monitoring room raise an alarm?" Kingpin's voice was low, devoid of emotion.
"They said the twins from the tactical team took control of the monitoring room. An hour after Green left, the twins also fled by car and took the earliest flight out of the country," James reported truthfully.
Crack—!
Kingpin's fingers suddenly tightened, and the tablet screen shattered. Tiny electric sparks splattered between his fingers.
He took a deep breath, his chest heaving violently as he tried to suppress the rage that was nearly breaking through his reason.
"Also," James continued, his voice becoming more cautious,
"Bullseye is also missing. However, there are news reports from the dock area about an injured person found with both hands severed. It's likely him. He probably suspects we betrayed him."
"I see," Kingpin squeezed those words out from between his teeth, the veins on his temples bulging.
His left hand, hanging at his side, clenched into a fist. The gold ring was snapped by his expanding finger and fell onto the carpet.
"Wait for Matt's call. Cancel all alerts and terminate all operational plans against Green."
He was, of course, aware of Matt Murdock's other identity.
In fact, it could be said that he had always tacitly allowed Daredevil's activities in Hell's Kitchen.
A symbolic Vigilante, a figure seemingly opposing him, was precisely his best cover.
If even such a 'check and balance' did not exist, if the power he displayed lacked a superficial opponent,
Then the people sitting in higher positions would no longer just be wary; they would feel threatened and take more direct, uncompromising action.
Chaos needs to be managed, and a controllable, symbolic 'opponent' is part of that management.
"Sir..." James hesitated, which was rare for him.
"James." Kingpin interrupted him and slowly turned his head.
That bloodshot single eye stared fixedly at his deputy, swirling with suppressed madness and... a trace of nearly imperceptible fear.
"My Richard and my Vanessa are in his hands. I don't want to be fishing their body parts out of the Hudson Rivertomorrow."
"...Understood." James's expression tightened. Without another word, he immediately turned to deploy the orders.
Seeing this, the other subordinates in the room showed pleading expressions, their eyes following James's back.
"Take us with you!"
Matt felt things were getting tricky now.
Looking at Green, who had an air of total indifference, he felt a twinge of regret. Taking this commission for that sliver of hope seemed like a mistake.
The information gap between him and Kingpin made it impossible for him to judge how far the situation had deteriorated.
"Did you... kill them?" He finally chose the most direct question.
"Not for the time being."
"Don't!" Matt almost blurted out. Realizing his tone was inappropriate, he quickly lowered his voice and added,
"I mean, please, they're just ordinary people."
"Your so-called ordinary people and Kingpin share a common destiny. The beautiful life they enjoy is built on the ruins of others' homes. I was planning to leave only one alive."
"..." Matt was silent for a moment.
"Then you'll have to owe me a favor."
"Fine." Matt didn't hesitate and nodded immediately.
"Heh." Green chuckled. A hero's favor? This deal sounded interesting.
Seeing that Green seemed to be in a good mood, Mattdidn't dare delay. He quickly pulled out his phone and dialed the number. It was picked up almost the instant it was dialed.
He handed the phone to Green.
"You actually looked for the Police?" Green took the phone, his tone slightly mocking.
"...This is an unconventional measure." On the other end of the line, Kingpin's voice was unusually calm, showing no emotion.
"The last time we met, you had your men fire at me."
"I'm sorry. You also dug something out of me."
"I'm sorry too."
"Is my family still alive?"
"Mm-hmm."
An uncontrollable sound of exhaling came from the other end of the phone.
"So, what can you give me? Don't mention the Bullseyematter; I did that myself, it doesn't count as your apology."
"...Dragon Bone." Kingpin slowly uttered two words.
"You have a lead?" Green's eyes narrowed.
Dragon Bone originated from a divine dragon named Shou-Lao. Every long period, it would be reborn through nirvana, and the shell left behind was the Dragon Bone containing mysterious power.
Most Dragon Bones were recovered by the Guardians of K'un-Lun, but buried deep beneath Hell's Kitchen was the remains of a rebirth from thousands of years ago.
Its effect was very powerful, capable of bringing the dead back to life and granting a long lifespan. However, the price was that resurrection would permanently damage the soul, and most of the resurrected fell into madness.
As for the longevity gained from Dragon Bone, if its use was interrupted, the user would die of rapid organ failure.
According to the information Green possessed, the power closest to the Dragon Bone was The Hand.
Now it seemed Kingpin was also secretly plotting for the same piece of meat.
"We can cooperate," Kingpin's voice continued,
"Dragon Bone, a sixty-forty split."
"Fine, I want sixty percent."
"I have more than just myself to share it with. Forty percent at most."
"Then I also want double the original mission fee."
"...Green, you're very greedy."
"Yeah. Not giving it?"
"Deal. Now, give me back my family."
"I'll arrange for a middleman with enough weight."
"Matt will do."
"Wilson, are you a three-year-old? Or has your brain been squeezed out by your muscles?" Green sneered, then his tone shifted with a hint of malicious teasing,
"Oh, right, your wife... is very moist."
After saying that, he hung up and tossed the phone back to Matt.
Matt listened with trepidation, not only because of the content of the conversation but also the atmosphere between the two.
They didn't sound like mortal enemies; they sounded more like old friends.
As long as there were enough common interests, the boundary between friend and foe could be blurred.
Especially Kingpin; after confirming his family's safety, he immediately displayed the tactics and negotiating posture befitting an underworld emperor.
And Green clearly didn't fall into the other's rhythm; instead, he took the initiative.
Matt felt like he was just a part of the play between them.
"You can go now."
"Then they..." Matt looked into the house, referring to Kingpin's wife and son.
"Wait outside."
"OK." Matt tactfully said no more, stood up, and left.
At this time, Laura had also finished her shower. She walked out wearing Green's oversized T-shirt, which hung loosely on her small frame.
She didn't want to tear off the excess fabric and just stared blankly at Green, seemingly waiting for an instruction.
"Go eat something." Green walked past her and habitually rubbed her wet short hair.
"Oh."
Green walked into the bathroom, opened the hidden door, and injected Vanessa with the antidote.
She slowly woke up, her eyes carrying a hint of resentment after being offended.
"Your behavior... is not gentlemanly at all."
Her voice was weak. The stinging pain in her buttocks made her suspect: just how much anesthetic did this bastard give her?
He was cautious to an excessive degree, which even made her doubt her own charm.
"Which head of Hydra do you belong to?" Green used a knife to cut the straps on her body.
"You'll find out... Wait, it's Madame Hydra!" Vanessa tried to maintain a sense of mystery, but quickly spoke as Green pressed the blade against her cheek, drawing a tiny line of blood.
He stared into her eyes, confirming that her pupils did not dilate physiologically due to a lie.
"After this, don't presumptuously test me again, understand? Unless I look for you."
Green didn't use force; he just sheathed the knife.
However, the killing intent that radiated from him was more bone-chilling than the ice water she had been soaked in earlier.
"...Understood." She couldn't help but clench her fists, her nails piercing her palms to force herself to stay calm.
"Let's go."
Green threw her clothes and those ingenious, lethal hidden weapons back to her, then watched her calmly as she re-equipped herself piece by piece and put on her clothes.
Subsequently, he dragged out the still-unconscious Richard and stuffed the mother and son into the car waiting outside.
"Thanks." Matt, in the driver's seat, smiled at Green beside the car.
"Don't be too naive. You're nothing more than a messenger."
The smile at the corner of Matt's mouth stiffened for a moment.
"However, I like polite people. Goodbye." Green's tone shifted as he patted the roof of the car.
"Heh." Matt gave a bitter smile, turned back, and stepped on the gas.
The car slowly drove away. In the back seat, Vanessalooked back through the rear window at Green standing at the door with a complex gaze until his figure disappeared behind the closing door.
"Buzz buzz—" Just then, Matt's phone rang, vibrating urgently.
"Mrs. Fisk, it's for you." Matt glanced at the caller ID and handed the phone to the back seat.
"Thank you." Vanessa took it and answered the call.
"Hey! Honey, are you okay?" Kingpin's voice came through, carrying a rare tension.
"Just a bit tired, but I'm fine. Richard is okay too." Vanessastroked the hair of her son, who was still sleeping beside her.
But Kingpin keenly caught that word—"tired"?!!
"Did Green do something to you..." His voice dropped.
"No, he didn't even deign to touch me. He's as cold-blooded as a tundra wolf. Wilson, I was really scared at the time."
"Real... Really?"
"When you get back, strip me and check for yourself, you bastard!" Vanessa's voice suddenly rose with the indignation of being questioned, and she then threw the phone back to the front seat with a 'thud.'
Matt, the innocent bystander, was hit on the back of his hand. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
This feeling was truly absurd.
He, Daredevil, the Vigilante of Hell's Kitchen, was currently acting as a chauffeur, carrying the wife and son of the local's biggest gang leader, and even had to overhear their domestic dispute.
He silently picked up the phone, which had a chipped corner, and touched it with heartache. He had just bought this.
The call hadn't even been hung up yet. Kingpin's voice, hurriedly explaining, could be vaguely heard from the receiver.
A sudden sense of dark humor rose in Matt's heart. He put the phone to his ear.
"Yes?"
The other side went quiet.
"Ahem..." Kingpin cleared his throat, his voice returning to its usual steady tone.
"I am very grateful for everything you've done."
"Then what we agreed on before..." Matt reminded him at the appropriate time.
"Beep—beep—beep—"
The call was hung up.
Kingpin had obviously calculated that, with Matt's moral code, he would never make things difficult for the mother and son in the back seat.
"..." Matt held the disconnected phone, a sense of stifled frustration welling up in his heart.
He wanted to curse, but the family of the person he wanted to curse was right behind him, so he could only force himself to swallow his words.
He squeezed the steering wheel hard with both hands, his knuckles turning slightly white.
And so, a World where only Matt Murdock was hurt was achieved.
Chapter 23: Dragon Transformation
Click.
The door lock clicked shut.
Green pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
The call connected, and the noisy shouts of staff could be heard faintly in the background.
"Hello, Green? Why are you calling me?" The male voice on the other end sounded a bit irritable at being disturbed.
"I'm about to undergo a 'benign evolution.' It might have uncontrollable effects on the surrounding environment. Come over and help me handle it."
"What? Like Pikachu?" The voice on the other end paused, his tone turning strange.
"Yes, exactly like fucking Pikachu."
"Beg me."
Beep—
Green decisively hung up the phone.
A second later, the phone vibrated. He answered.
"Hey! You could at least have a better attitude toward me!"
"If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up."
"Wait, wait, wait! I'll come! I've been waiting for you to say that for a long time!" The voice suddenly softened, laced with uncontrollable excitement.
"Get this straight: I'm not begging you. Come if you want, or don't."
"Fine, fine, fine, you're the boss. Send me your location; I'll make the arrangements."
"You know the address. If there's any fallout, you can take the opportunity to make the 'decent folk' in this area sign some things—donations, political support, resource allocation."
"As far as I know, a certain Deputy Secretary from the Department of the Treasury keeps a few 'black cats' here. They're likely nearby, so don't waste the chance."
"Hehehe..." A sharp, low chuckle came from the other end of the line.
"Green, you really are insidious. It's clearly your own problem, yet you turn the trouble into someone else's gain."
"It's just that your moral compass is too high."
"Me? High moral compass?" The person on the other end sounded as if he had heard a ridiculous joke, his voice cracking.
Green ignored the reaction and hung up directly.
He tossed the phone onto the sofa and walked straight toward the wall behind it. His fingers felt along the edges of several seemingly ordinary wall panels until he found a gap and pulled hard.
Clack!
A heavy camouflage panel was lifted away, revealing a red, industrial-grade lever behind it.
He gripped the handle and pulled it down.
Rumble—Hum—
Instantly, a low mechanical roar filled the room!
All doors and windows were sealed by thick alloy steel plates sliding out from within. The clanging of the locking teeth engaging could be heard clearly.
The screens on the walls automatically switched to a red alert interface.
The outer walls were electrified; Maximum Defense Mode was activated.
This system was a reward he had received for helping Maria Hill handle some dirty work a few times.
Now, this was one of the sturdiest private fortresses in New York.
Green turned around.
Laura was holding a bag of chips, standing in the middle of the living room looking at him, her face expressionless.
"Watch the house." Green walked past her and patted her shoulder.
"If anyone dares to break in, kill them."
"Mm." Laura nodded. Her expression seemed wooden, but her pupils slowly constricted the moment the command was given.
With the instructions given, Green picked up several ice bags by his feet, walked into the bathroom, and locked the door behind him.
There were still undried water stains in the bathtub, and the air held the lingering, cold base notes of Vanessa's perfume.
"Mmh~ the base note is musk." Green sniffed, then tore open the ice bags.
Crash— Ice cubes poured into the tub, and a cold mist began to rise and spread.
He stripped off his clothes and lay inside.
The piercing cold made his skin tighten.
"Phew—it's so fucking cold." He muttered, scooping more ice onto himself until he was nearly buried in the pile.
Then, he issued the command in his mind.
"Unlock module."
[Command confirmed. Template: [Valyrian Dragon Remnant - Drogon] Unlock sequence initiated...]
Hiss—
An indescribable heat burst from within his body without warning.
His body temperature soared in the blink of an eye, far exceeding human limits. The chill on his body was instantly driven away.
Beneath his skin, unstable streaks of dark red light began to glow, like flowing lava.
"This easy? Or is my pain threshold just too high?" Just as this thought arose—
An unspeakable agony exploded from the deepest part of every cell!
It felt as if billions of red-hot steel needles were piercing, churning, and tearing him from the inside. It was as if an ancient behemoth was roaring within his shell, trying to break free.
It could be summarized in one word:
"Fuck...!!" He curled up, his clenched teeth chattering. Broken growls escaped his throat, and the veins on his temples and neck bulged.
His brain almost shut down under the impact of the frantic pain signals, but he held onto his last shred of clarity. He couldn't pass out!
Instinct told him that losing consciousness now would lead to something bad.
He had to stay awake and adapt to it all!
"I'm about to fucking piss myself from the pain!!"
Squeltch, squeltch...
His skin cracked inch by inch, and blood poured out, only to be immediately replaced by new, tougher tissue proliferating at high speed beneath the surface.
Old flesh and blood were being metabolized, and a new life form was being ruthlessly forged.
He felt his body "expanding." His muscles, bones, and internal organs were all transforming amidst intense itching and burning pain.
The ice in the bathtub melted and evaporated at a visible rate. White mist filled the small space, and through the vapor—
A hand could be seen undergoing a terrifying mutation. The skin was covered in dark, tough scales. The fingers lengthened, the joints restructured, and the nails turned into curved black claws.
The suppressed growls in the bathroom gradually turned into a non-human, deep draconic roar. Even the air began to vibrate with it.
[Unlock progress: 17%... 32%... 54%... 63%... 87%... 96%... 100%]
[Template: [Valyrian Dragon Remnant - Drogon] fully unlocked.]
In the luxury Villa district surrounding Green's residence—
"Hey, Rudy, what's wrong?" A woman in a bathrobe leaned against the window, eating cereal and scrolling through her phone.
The little Teacup Poodle at her feet suddenly let out a short whimper and collapsed. Its limbs twitched, blood seeped from its nose and mouth, and then it went still.
"Oh my god! Rudy!" She knelt down in horror, but before she could touch her beloved dog, her own heart suddenly constricted!
Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!
Her heartbeat was like an out-of-control drum beating against her chest.
"Hah... hah..." She clutched her chest and collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.
From the corner of her eye, she glanced out the window.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
In the sky, birds were falling like raindrops!
They crashed onto the lawn, car roofs, and railings... feathers mixed with blood, scattering in the sunlight.
Car alarms began to wail one after another.
Looking further out—
A jogger happened to be passing the sidewalk outside her yard. He also clutched his heart, turned pale, and fell to his knees before collapsing forward.
He had a heart rate monitor strapped to his arm. The numbers on the screen were flashing red, and a piercing alarm sounded continuously.
It wasn't just there.
The man watching a ball game on his sofa, the white-collar worker on a business call in his study, and even the guard flipping through a fashion magazine in the security booth at the community entrance...
Every living creature within a radius of several hundred meters felt an intense discomfort at the same moment.
They knelt or collapsed, clawing painfully at their chests.
It wasn't a plague, nor was it poison gas.
It was a pure, primal fear of a higher-level predator, etched into the very foundation of their biological genes.
Inside the Green residence.
Laura was completely oblivious to everything happening outside.
Not only did she feel no discomfort, but she was unusually excited. She was rapidly doing weighted push-ups on the living room floor, the iron plates on her back clanking.
On the nearby TV screen, local news was urgently broadcasting chaotic footage of the "mass sudden heart attack event" occurring in this high-end residential area.
Aerial shots from a helicopter showed rescue workers in full protective gear attempting to enter.
But without exception, the moment they stepped across an invisible boundary, they too collapsed to their knees in pain, unable to advance a single inch.
Laura glanced at the screen, indifferently looked away, and continued her workout.
It wasn't until late at night that a red-and-blue figure tore through the night sky. With a sonic boom, he crashed down into the temporary security zone outside the Villa district.
The ground was smashed into a shallow crater, and the air blast blew away the nearby police tape.
"It's Homelander!"
"Mr. Homelander! Are you here to rescue the trapped citizens? Or will you prioritize handling the source of the incident?"
Reporters swarmed forward like sharks scenting blood, microphones and lenses almost shoved into his face.
"Hahaha, hello everyone, hello!"
Homelander wore a brilliant smile, waving to the cameras but avoiding any specific questions.
"Sir!" His PR manager, Ashley—a blonde woman with a round face—came running over, clutching a tablet and pushing through the crowd in her high heels.
"Sorry, friends, but what follows involves operational secrets."
Homelander spoke kindly to the reporters, then put an arm around Ashley's shoulder and walked quickly toward a black command van marked with the Vought Companylogo.
The moment the door closed and they were shielded from outside eyes, the mask of kindness on his face vanished.
"Fuck, a bunch of trash. Their perfume stinks!"
"According to preliminary expert assessment, there is a strong, unknown biological radiation field within the Villadistrict."
"It has an extremely strong physiological rejection effect on lower organisms, including humans, but mechanical devices are largely unaffected."
"Currently, we are collaborating with the Military, using autonomous drone rovers to successfully evacuate some of the trapped personnel..."
Ashley reported at a rapid-fire pace, but Homelander's attention was not on her words.
Through the one-way window, he gloomily scanned the flashing cameras outside, the busy medical staff, and—what he least wanted to see—the uniformed Militarypersonnel establishing a command post.
In his eyes, these people were all flies trying to steal his credit and his camera time.
"Didn't I give the order to suppress the news?"
He took a deep breath, his hands making a habitual, emotion-suppressing swaying gesture in front of his chest. He turned his gaze to Ashley.
"Why are there still so many reporters here? And the army?"
"But, Sir, the backgrounds of the people living here are too complex. It's impossible to keep a lid on the news. And those paparazzi who camp out twenty-four hours a day, as soon as something happens..."
"I don't care about the reason." Homelander interrupted her directly, his voice cold.
"You didn't do it. That makes it your problem."
Ashley's face turned pale. She could only squeeze out a bitter smile, not daring to argue further.
"Where is Translucent?" Homelander asked, suppressing his anger.
He had clearly sent that invisible guy ahead to manage and control the scene.
"Uh... when he arrived, he was egged on by a few reporters to show off his abilities and go straight in... as a result, he also collapsed inside. He's currently in Ambulance No. 3 on oxygen."
"Fuck!" Homelander cursed under his breath, pursing his lips until his jaw muscles bulged from clenching his teeth.
If it weren't for the fact that Translucent had a very specific and sizable fan base, he would have kicked that perverted piece of trash who only knows how to lurk in women's bathrooms out of The Seven long ago.
He was silent for a few seconds before speaking again.
"Ashley."
"Yes, Sir!" Ashley straightened her back reflexively.
"Cut off all real-time data streams from the Military's field recorders. Say it was an unknown electronic virus attack, or whatever excuse you want, I don't care. Just get it done."
"Withdraw all the drone rovers that have already gone in. From now on, I will personally handle the rescue."
"And," he added finally, his gaze falling on the tablet in Ashley's hand.
"Everyone who is brought out must sign the 'Aid Agreement' we prepared before receiving any medical examination or interview. Make sure it's everyone."
"Sir, those agreement terms..." Ashley hesitated.
She had seen those documents. They were practically disguised slave contracts covering future political leanings, business cooperation, and even public opinion control.
"Is there a problem?"
Homelander tilted his head slightly. The warm yellow light from the ceiling was blocked by his brow bone, casting deep shadows over his eyes and making his gaze appear exceptionally dark.
"No! Absolutely no problem! I guarantee it'll be handled!" Ashley trembled in fear, quickly putting on a smile and promising emphatically.
Homelander said nothing more and turned to push open the van door.
In the instant before he stepped out of the van and was exposed to the public eye, the gloom on his face switched back to that iconic Homelander smile.
"Please rest assured, everyone! Leave it to me! Protecting you is my responsibility!"
He announced loudly to the cameras, then his feet left the ground. Amidst the cheers of the crowd and the chase of the lenses, he shot toward the Villa district like a human cannonball.
Behind him, Ashley immediately grabbed her walkie-talkie and began frantically executing his orders.
Chapter 24 Dragon-Man Mode
In the early morning,
Inside the bathroom, water vapor filled the air.
A pitch-black, tall figure, over three meters in height, slowly rose from the scalding water in the bathtub.
Dragon claws covered in thick scales pressed against the wall, sinking in and leaving five deep finger-shaped pits.
His chest rose and fell with his breathing, and a faint dark red heat flow flickered within the gaps between the scales.
A thick, powerful dragon tail unintentionally swept across the wall as he turned, causing large sections of plaster and tiles to peel off like fragile pieces of paper.
"I'm still alive?"
Green was stunned; he was a bit dazed from the pain.
He tried to lift his leg to step out of the bathtub, but the movement far exceeded his expectations, and his foot directly shattered the tiles on the edge of the tub. His heavy and massive body stepped into the bathroom.
The floor tiles groaned under his weight, and cracks began to spread.
The two pairs of dragon horns growing backward from his head easily pierced through the ceiling as he straightened up.
And as he walked, they effortlessly plowed furrows through the plasterboard and concrete, with debris rustling down.
Green felt that everything around him was far too fragile, offering no sense of resistance.
He knelt on one knee and carefully used his claws to take down the mirror on the sink. Perhaps due to the vibrations from his unconscious dragon roar earlier, the glass was already covered in cracks, but the frame was still intact.
He gently wiped away the condensation on the mirror and then slowly turned it.
Parts of a pitch-black body full of ferocious beauty gradually pieced together into a complete image in the broken mirror.
This body was not bloated; instead, it presented a highly explosive, streamlined silhouette optimized for speed and power, capable of minimizing air resistance.
At the position of the shoulder blades on his back, two symmetrical bulges rose slightly, with smooth lines like the spoilers on the rear of a high-performance sports car.
But Green could feel that it wasn't just simple muscle or bone growth; something was gestating there.
—His wings.
A scorching energy-storage organ had appeared inside his body, and burning fire could erupt from his throat at any moment.
The scales covering his entire body were a multi-layered spine structure, hard and sharp, definitely not the texture of flesh.
Pale bone spurs protruded from joints like the elbows and knees, and the dragon claws were thick and massive.
His head still maintained the basic human outline, but the lines were sharper and more majestic, covered in fine black scales, and his pupils had turned into molten gold-like vertical slits.
Overall, he looked like a humanoid war machine born for pure destruction.
"Jie jie jie..."
He looked at himself in the broken mirror and tried to grin, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth.
"Really stylish."
[Your first template [tyrant of heaven] has reached the growth threshold; the evolution module has been unlocked.]
[[tyrant of heaven] → [tyrant of heaven Max]: Evolution progress 0.2%]
Trait: Can automatically absorb 'Cursed Energy' generated by intelligent beings within a five-meter radius. The higher the life level, the more efficient the Cursed Energyproduced.]
Cursed Energy will be used to continuously strengthen the host's physical constitution, strength, speed, and other basic attributes.
(Note: Cursed Energy originates from negative emotions—fear, hatred, jealousy, regret, etc. It is a spiritual energy commonly possessed by intelligent beings.)
The system's prompt caused the corners of Green's dragon-like mouth to curl slightly.
"It can actually evolve." His deep voice echoed in the mist.
It seemed that as he unlocked more templates, the system was gradually revealing a more complete form.
This was good; it meant his growth path was much broader than expected.
But right now, there was a more practical and troubling issue.
Green lowered his head.
"Too fat, and these spikes..."
"Tsk... can't use it."
His aesthetics, in the end, were still rooted in the human realm.
No human female could withstand this.
[Detected host's (unique) adaptability needs; the template [Liberation] module has been unlocked.]
"Liberation?"
With a thought, Green found a new option under the [Valyrian Dragon Remnant - Drogon] entry on the system interface: [Liberation: 100% (Controllable)].
He tried to slowly lower the Liberation value from 100%.
Crack... crack crack...
The sound of bone friction and muscle contraction rang out, making one's teeth ache.
His massive body began to shrink and condense at a speed visible to the naked eye.
The ferocious scales covering his body, the protruding bone spurs, and the thick dragon tail all receded like a tide, merging into his body.
The furnace-like heat in his chest and abdomen also quickly subsided.
In a few breaths, he returned to a basic human form.
Well, mostly basic.
His height was fixed at two meters one, with muscles that were bulging yet smooth, filled with an explosive sense of power.
A 15% Liberation Degree was retained in his hands, which were still those dragon claws covered in pitch-black scales with sharp fingertips.
He moved his new body.
"A bit... restrictive." Green clenched his dragon claws, feeling the terrifying power compressed within them, then looked at the other parts of his body that had returned to human form.
The feeling was somewhat strange; his life form had transcended that of a regular human, but his soul's perception and aesthetics were still anchored in the 'human' category.
However, it was fine as long as he could control it.
Control meant he could find a delicate balance between 'power' and 'life'.
He directly adjusted the Liberation Degree to 0%.
The pitch-black scales covering his hands receded, revealing well-defined human palms underneath.
Inside his eye sockets, the nictitating membranes blinked, and his dragon pupils quickly reverted to a human brown.
Then, he pushed open the bathroom door, and the steaming mist poured out, carrying the moist heat unique to a bathroom.
In the hallway, the motion-sensor light automatically turned on, illuminating his tall, straight, half-human, half-dragon silhouette.
Outside the door, Laura stood quietly, looking up at him; she had heard the commotion.
"Did anyone come by?" Green raised his hand and rubbed her little head.
"A man in strange clothes looked in from outside, then walked into the house across the street."
Laura comfortably nuzzled against his hand, glanced at a certain strange big guy out of the corner of her eye, and quickly looked away.
"Yeah, it's fine, he's a friend." Green didn't mind her gaze, turned back to the bedroom, and put on a simple thick white T-shirt and black trousers.
Laura ran back to the living room and curled up on the sofa, nibbling on dried mango, her eyes looking a bit sleepy.
She had stayed awake all night, which was hard for a child her age.
"You can go rest now." Green looked down at the dumbbell plates scattered on the floor.
Laura must have been affected by the aura he emitted during his evolution, staying excited for a long time.
"Okay," Laura replied weakly, her eyelids beginning to droop, but she still forced herself to watch Family Guyplaying on the TV; she liked watching it.
Green walked to the wall and pulled back the safety latch.
The indicator light on the main control panel on the wall turned blue.
The thick alloy steel plates slowly rose and retracted into the wall.
Then, he opened the front door.
The early morning sky was a bit overcast, and the street was unusually quiet, with only the rustling of the breeze through the leaves.
The door to the Villa across the street opened almost at the same time.
Homelander walked out, carrying the corpse of a man whose neck had been twisted at a bizarre angle.
He saw Green and grinned, revealing a sincere smile.
"Hey, Bro!" He waved the "thing" in his hand.
"In case I don't see ya, good morning, good afternoon, and good night." (Note: This line is from the movie The Truman Show.)
So you see, the person greeting you in the morning might not be the gentle and kind Truman, but could also be Homelander, who can shove your head directly into your chest cavity.
"Then you're overthinking it," Green leaned against the doorframe.
"I'm still alive, and you'll be seeing me all the time. Also, don't use lines randomly; it feels weird coming out of your mouth."
"Come on, cheer up!"
Homelander, carrying the corpse, considerately closed the door and then walked over like a friendly neighbor visiting, though he wasn't carrying a freshly baked apple pie.
"After saving Tony Stark, my support rating went up by twenty-three percentage points. With this incident, I reckon it'll jump even higher."
"Too much exposure in a short time will give the citizens visual fatigue." Green stepped aside to let him in.
"However, you're right, even though I don't quite agree with you being restricted by useless things like public opinion."
"Don't be so harsh, Bro." Homelander laughed and patted Green on the chest as he walked in.
"What's this?" Green pointed at the corpse in his hand.
"Oh, this," Homelander shook the "evidence" in his hand.
"The 'culprit' of this incident. As for his identity, he's a Supespy from the White Bear side, intending to assassinate Deputy Secretary William of the Treasury.
After my night of patient persuasion failed and he attempted to attack me, I killed him in self-defense.
Do you mind if I bring it in? There might be drones outside; it wouldn't look good if it's filmed." He winked at Green, his implication clear.
"Whatever." Green closed the door and walked toward the kitchen.
"I was planning to leave this safe house vacant for a while anyway; I won't be living here often."
Hearing this, Homelander simply tossed the corpse at the entrance.
Then he took a bottle of orange soda Green threw from the kitchen, drank it as he walked into the living room, sat down on the sofa, and even gave a friendly smile to Laura, who was curled up at the other end.
"Hi, Girl."
Laura looked at him and silently moved further into the corner of the sofa.
"Come on, don't be shy~"
"Put that smile away," Green stepped over the back of the sofa and sat between them, tossing a game controller to Homelander.
"You're scaring her."
"Your smile is scarier than mine, okay?" Homelander caught the controller and retorted unhappily.
Laura peeked at Homelander, then yawned and simply lay on Green's lap, squinting her eyes to watch the two big men start playing against each other with the controllers.
The game was The Seven: Mortal Kombat.
Homelander chose Homelander, while Green chose... Soldier Boy.
"So, how are you feeling now?"
Homelander asked while manipulating the controller. On the screen, his "Homelander" was being pummeled by Green's "Soldier Boy" with a shield.
"Great," Green's fingers flew over the buttons.
"I've always been great, but now I'm even better."
"Hey!" Homelander grinned; he liked this kind of honesty.
"So where do you plan to move?"
"Queens, probably. The Cantonese snacks in Chinatownthere are quite authentic."
Green performed a slide tackle followed by an uppercut, and the Homelander health bar on the screen dropped another chunk.
"Besides, I need to get this little one a legal identity. If she wants to go to school, I'll let her."
"Oh—" Homelander drawled, teasingly,
"You really look like a model guardian."
"Maybe you could move into Vought Tower with me. You wouldn't have to worry about other chores.
Black Noir is a mute, Translucent is a pervert, A-Train is busy hooking up every day, and The Deep? He's a moron. I need a normal person as a teammate."
"I don't want to join your pajama party." Green performed a precise parry, reflecting the opponent's laser attack.
"Besides, isn't there still Maeve?"
Homelander's movements paused imperceptibly.
"She broke up with me, but I don't care." He shrugged, his tone feigning nonchalance.
In that split second of distraction, Green's eyes narrowed, and his fingers suddenly accelerated!
In the game, Soldier Boy seized the opening, performed a thirteen-hit combo, followed by a finishing move. The Imperial Shield cleaved down from the air, cutting Homelander in half!
"Fuck! Can you stop cheating for once, you bastard?!" Homelander was so angry he slammed the controller onto the sofa.
"Ah—sorry." Green apologized without any sincerity and patted him on the shoulder.
"You're already very good, but... I'm indeed too strong."
Homelander gave him the middle finger.
"Again!" He indignantly picked up the controller.
"Sure."
"By the way," Green said casually while selecting his character,
"There seems to be something good over in Hells Kitchenthat might be useful to you. After all, your lifespan is about the same as a normal person's."
"Psh," Homelander scoffed,
"Gods don't grow old."
"When you hit your midlife crisis and wake up to find your underwear full of fallen hair, don't say I didn't warn you."
"I... cough..." Homelander wanted to stay stubborn, but seeing the half-smile on Green's face, his eyes flickered, and he asked as if casually,
"What is it?"
"Dragon Bone. It's said to extend life and even bring the dead back to life."
"You've used it?" Homelander became interested.
"No, but the source is very reliable."
"We split it fifty-fifty?"
"The partner over there said they'd only give me forty percent."
"Heh," Homelander saw right through Green,
"Would you take only forty percent?"
"Of course not."
"That's more like it! That's the you I know, hehehe..." Homelander nudged him with his elbow.
Laura, sleeping soundly on Green's lap, smacked her lips, completely unaware of the malicious intentions of these two guys.
Then, while Homelander was still snickering, Green seized the opportunity, used the same combo again, and forced him into the finishing animation once more.
"Hiss—" Homelander took a deep breath, his upper lip curling, glaring at Green with a face full of annoyance, his eyes screaming 'you fucking cheated again'.
"If you're bad, practice more." Green curled his lip and shrugged, then carefully picked up the sleeping Laura.
"Let's go."
"Don't you need to pack anything?"
"Just this." Green, holding Laura, picked up the cactus and his sunglasses and walked toward the door.
"Pathetic luggage." Homelander followed, dragging the now-stiff corpse with one hand and habitually putting his other arm around Green's shoulder.
Green didn't reply. He walked out and got straight onto an electric sightseeing car by the roadside. He leaned over and skillfully pulled apart the wiring under the dashboard, quickly hotwiring it. The engine gave a low hum and then started up.
Homelander dragged the corpse and sat in the back seat with his legs crossed.
The vehicle started and slowly drove away from the Villa.
"Oh, right." Homelander seemed to suddenly remember something.
"Hmm?" Green glanced at him in the rearview mirror.
Homelander turned his head, and his eyes suddenly lit up with red light.
Sizzle—!
Two beams of heat vision shot out, easily piercing through the outer wall of the Villa across the street where the "White Bear spy" had been hiding!
He tilted his head slightly, and the crimson light beams slowly plowed from one side of the building to the other, like a knife through butter.
Reinforced concrete vaporized and melted under the ultra-high temperature, and the load-bearing structure was completely destroyed.
Rumble—!
The entire Villa half-collapsed and crumbled amidst the sound of cracking, kicking up a massive cloud of dust.
Building fragments crashed to the ground, burying the once exquisite garden courtyard under the ruins.
"There, now it looks like it has the cinematic feel of a primary crime scene."
Homelander turned back with satisfaction, looked down at the corpse in his arms whose eyes were still open, and laughed,
"After all, you're very strong; I had a hard time fighting you."