Sigrun stared intently into Lynt's dark eyes, feeling for the first time that she couldn't see through a Mortal.
Those eyes were calm and unmoving, yet they were like bottomless black holes, capable of sucking in light, divine power, and even souls.
Her two sisters behind her couldn't help but excitedly chatter in Old Norse.
"Sigrun, I think it's possible! His power has no evil aura!"
"Yes, look at Astrid; does she look cursed? She's as happy as an idiot right now!"
"Just think, if we can become stronger, we can protect Asgard even better!"
Just then.
Lynt suddenly interjected with a perfect, even slightly archaic Asgardian royal accent in Old Norse, smiling as he said:
"Ladies, this is a golden opportunity. The first batch of founding employees to sign will receive many benefits.
Sign now, and I'll even include a newcomer's gift package. So... would you like to get a card?"
"?"
"?"
"?"
Instantly, the entire room fell into a deathly silence.
The three Valkyries, including Astrid, who had just caused trouble, all froze in place.
It was as if they had all been simultaneously hit by a stasis spell.
He... how could he speak our language?! And with the oldest royal accent?!
Raven, standing nearby, watched the Valkyries collectively glitch out, and the corners of her mouth couldn't help but curl up slightly.
This man always had a way of making people's jaws drop to the floor.
Finally, faced with the irresistible temptations of becoming stronger and achieving immortality, as well as Lynt's unfathomable methods.
Sigrun, the Valkyrie Commander, made her decision.
She put away her spear, took a step forward, and solemnly bowed her proud head to Lynt.
"Alright, we have a deal. However, we will only accept reasonable deployments, and we will never go against the will of Father Odin."
"Of course." Lynt snapped his fingers stylishly, "We are a legitimate company; everything will be according to the contract."
Done.
Four Asgardian SSR-level fighters, who also served as mobile ATMs, officially joined the company.
Astrid had already been pulled into a corner by her other sisters.
They began chattering, prying for details about her experience in the room earlier, occasionally sneaking glances at Lynt.
Her eyes were a mix of shock, embarrassment, and disdain.
The two words "generally" kept coming through from time to time.
Just then, Lynt's personal phone rang.
Caller ID—"Natasha."
He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and answered the call.
"Hello, my dear Natasha, bothering your boss so late, do you miss me?"
On the other end of the line, Natasha's voice, slightly hoarse and tired but still sexy to the bone, came through.
"Stop playing word games with me.
I just came out of the one-eyed man's office.
Half an hour ago, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s energy monitoring satellite detected a violent energy wellspring on the roof of your apartment building."
Natasha paused, lowering her voice even further.
"The energy index was similar to the initial blast waveform of a tactical nuclear bomb.
Mr. Lin, shouldn't you explain if you're hiding a reactor in your bathroom?"
"Oh? Is that so?"
Lynt's face showed an exaggerated expression of surprise.
"Ah, I remember now. I was doing laundry earlier, and I might have accidentally mixed toilet cleaner and 84 disinfectant.
You know, chemical reactions, a 'bang,' it's quite wonderful."
"..."
Natasha on the other end of the phone was choked by this ridiculous excuse and couldn't speak for a long time.
I'd be a ghost if I believed you! Laundry detergent can cause a nuclear explosion?!
"I don't care what kind of bullshit you're involved in."
Natasha's voice carried a hint of warning.
"Fury has raised your danger level by another notch.
He told me to use every means necessary to find out the color of your underwear.
Be careful."
This reminder clearly went beyond an Agent's duty, carrying a touch of personal concern.
Lynt smiled.
See, the fish were already starting to feel for the pond owner.
"Don't worry, it's very safe here. As for you, don't push yourself too hard."
He changed the subject, laughing softly in a voice that would tempt Eve to eat the apple:
"By the way, my company recently signed a few new blonde bombshells from Northern Europe, each with an amazing figure.
I'll be hosting a welcome party in a few days; can I save you a spot? And while I'm at it... give you a free 'enhancement'?"
"Beep... beep... beep..."
The call was abruptly cut off.
Lynt could even imagine Natasha on the other end, gritting her teeth and unable to do anything about him.
He put away his phone, whistling contentedly.
And just then, the system's notification sound arrived as expected.
"Ding! One billion U.S. dollars reward has been credited, automatically deposited into your Swiss Bank offshore account, and all tax and legality processing has been completed."
Lynt swiped open his mobile banking app, looking at the long string of zeros that made him dizzy, and smacked his lips in satisfaction.
He looked up at the four Valkyries in the living room, who were already like curious children, once again studying the coffee machine and TV remote control.
Money, check.
Top-tier fighters, check.
It was time to get down to business.
He walked to the desk, and Raven handed him the tablet again.
Lynt's fingers slid quickly across the screen, bringing up an interface.
Raven curiously leaned over to take a look and froze.
On the screen, it wasn't the K-line chart of Stark Industries, nor was it news about Pym Technologies' fundraising.
Instead, it was a headline from a financial website, with a bold, black title.
"Shocking! Robot Giant 'Hammer Industries' on the Brink of Bankruptcy! Founder Justin Hammer Filed for Bankruptcy Protection Yesterday!"
The corners of Lynt's mouth spread into a smile like a shark smelling blood.
A fat piece of meat delivered to his doorstep, it was time to pick up a big bargain.
The next day, at the Hammer Industries headquarters building.
Employees had expressions like their parents had died, and there were more cardboard boxes than documents at the workstations.
The top-floor conference room was so quiet you could hear a heart beat.
Justin Hammer slumped in the main leather chair, like a pile of boneless mud.
The arms dealer who once competed with Stark Industries for the spotlight now had hair as messy as a bird's nest, and his expensive suit hung wrinkled on his body.
In front of him sat a row of men in suits, their eyes no different from vultures staring at carrion.
"Justin, our patience is limited."
The lead banker tapped his finger on the table, each tap sounding like it was knocking on Hammer's coffin.
"Two billion U.S. dollars, immediately. Otherwise, we'll initiate liquidation, and this building, your scrap metal, will all be dismantled and sold by the pound."
Two billion?
Justin Hammer let out a dry, wheezing laugh like a broken bellows.
He couldn't even produce two thousand in cash now.
Ever since that son of a bitch Stark announced he was out of the arms business, the entire market had collapsed.
The drone mechs he'd gambled his entire fortune on were technologically garbage, crushed by Stark's, and his capital chain was broken even more thoroughly than his spine.
It's over.
It's all fucking over.
Just as he reached out to grab the liquidation document that symbolized his complete exit—
"Bang!"
The heavy solid wood door of the conference room was kicked open.
That's right, kicked.
A young man wearing gold-rimmed glasses and a casual suit strolled in.
Behind him followed a blonde woman radiating an aura of 'do not approach,' her figure so fiery that all the men in the conference room subconsciously swallowed.
Everyone's gaze instantly shifted from Justin Hammer's "corpse" to these two unexpected guests.