"Forget it. If you want something done right, do it yourself."
Then, under Natasha's eyes—which had practically popped out of their sockets—he placed the burger in his palm.
His other hand made a kneading motion above it.
A soft golden "qi" emerged from his palm, enveloping the entire burger.
Whoosh!
With a gentle sound, the burger's beef patty and bun were instantly deconstructed to their most fundamental molecular state!
Then Cloud began his divine-level performance.
Using qi, he rearranged and recombined the beef's protein molecules, eliminating excess fat and infusing the perfect amount of juiciness.
He fermented and baked the bread's wheat fibers, creating a crispy exterior and fluffy interior.
He even extracted the freshest tomato and lettuce molecules from the nearby salad and integrated them seamlessly.
The entire process flowed like water, suffused with a natural harmony bordering on the divine.
Seconds later, the glow faded.
A brand-new burger materialized in Cloud's hand.
No longer the ordinary circular shape—it now took the form of what appeared to be an energy-constructed Hadouken.
The golden bun emitted a faint luminescence. The rich aroma of meat and wheat blended together into the ultimate temptation that would make anyone's mouth water.
"Want a taste?"
Cloud offered this golden, glowing "Hadouken Burger" to the thoroughly petrified Natasha.
"...What is this?" Natasha managed to squeeze out a few words from her throat.
"Oh, this?" Cloud thought for a moment, then provided an answer that would've had Nick Fury calling an emergency UN Security Council meeting.
"Back where I come from, we call this a 'Soul-Infused Martial Arts Spirit Qi Gong Burger That Opens Your Chakras.'"
Black Widow: ...
Ever since Cloud had utterly destroyed top agent Natasha Romanoff's worldview with his "Ultimate Qi Gong Burger" at the restaurant, he noticed his surroundings had grown considerably quieter.
Those fly-like surveillance gazes lurking in the shadows had all vanished.
He knew this didn't mean they'd given up—they'd simply been scared off.
They'd gone from monitoring a suspicious target to venerating an incomprehensible existence. Like zoo visitors who wouldn't bother figuring out what the tiger ate last night—they just needed to make sure the cage was sturdy enough.
Cloud was perfectly happy with this development.
He spent the next few days touring New York's famous attractions like a genuine otherworldly tourist.
At the Statue of Liberty, he studied it seriously for a while before concluding: "The material's nice, but the design is too rigid. Our Athena could strike any random pose and it'd be more artistic."
At the Charging Bull on Wall Street, he stroked his chin thoughtfully: "This bull's got presence, but it's a bit bloated. If Yashiro sculpted one, the muscle definition would be full of earth's power."
At Broadway, he watched an opera but fell asleep midway. His review afterward: "Singing's decent, but no soul. Next time, Iori Yagami should do a concert here. Guaranteed to blow the roof off."
This leisurely sightseeing life was pleasant, but Cloud had a more important purpose—analyzing this world.
After several days, he discovered that technological power here had been developed to an extremely high level.
Iron suits flying everywhere, all sorts of unimaginable energy weapons—completely different from the KOF world.
Conversely, the upper limit of individual power here didn't seem particularly high. Apart from that "Asgardian meathead" swinging a hammer around, he hadn't encountered many truly powerful fighters.
The System's law-analysis progress had consequently become painfully slow—creeping from 1% to a mere 3% over several days.
"This won't work. Efficiency's way too low." Cloud sat on a bench in Central Park, sipping cola and muttering to himself. "This world is like a high-spec computer where most programs are locked behind user permissions. To analyze the core code, I need to find the system's vulnerabilities."
And a system's vulnerabilities usually existed in the most chaotic, lawless places.
He pulled out a newly purchased smartphone—preloaded with a "godlike firewall"—and used his computing power that rivaled Skynet to connect to this world's internet.
In less than 0.1 seconds, all information on the entire internet became his personal "library" to browse at will.
He entered keywords: "New York," "chaos," "lawless zone."
One location became highlighted on the screen.
—Hell's Kitchen.
"Oh? Sounds like a nice Sichuan restaurant." Cloud's interest was piqued.
He clicked the entry and quickly scanned through.
"Kingpin," "The Hand," "gang wars," "no return"...
Tag after tag radiating "wholesome local flavor" made his smile grow ever brighter.
"Found it."
He closed his phone, finished his last sip of cola, and stood.
"Time to check out this kitchen and see what's on the menu."
...
Half an hour later, Cloud appeared on the streets of Hell's Kitchen.
Unlike Manhattan's glamorous prosperity, the sky here seemed perpetually draped in an oppressive gray.
The air reeked of moisture, rust, and a faint hint of blood.
Buildings on either side of the street were worn and mottled, walls covered with twisted, violent graffiti.
Pedestrians walked hurriedly, eyes mostly wary and numb.
"Hmm... nice place," Cloud commented while strolling, like a food critic evaluating dishes. "Like a pot of borscht that's been stewing too long—all the ingredients about to mush together. The presentation's rough, but the flavor's intense."
He could sense that the spatial laws here, weakened by years of violence and chaos, had become extremely unstable—like a ceramic piece covered in cracks. For someone trying to analyze world laws, this place was paradise.
He bought another can of cola from a corner store, found some relatively clean steps to sit on, and began observing this unique ecosystem like a true sociologist, sipping his drink.
He spotted drug dealers making transactions on the corner, thugs collecting protection money, and several figures lurking in shadows, eyeing this "outsider" with unfriendly intent.
He ignored it all.
His purpose wasn't to play "cleanup crew" or "justice warrior." He was merely a passing observer.
...
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