Chapter 6: Awakening X-Ray Vision, Translucent Caught Red-Handed by Me in the Women's Restroom
Translucent's sneer had not yet faded away.
The person was already gone.
Only a grey casual jacket and trousers were draped over the genuine leather back of the chair.
Even his underwear had been completely stripped off and piled on the floor like skin shed by a snake.
The atmosphere in the conference room changed.
A-Train leaned back, crossing his legs and resting them on the edge of the mahogany table.
He spat out the tasteless gum in his mouth, peeled another piece, threw it into his mouth, and chewed it noisily.
The Deep was still lunging forward, his green scales rattling.
Queen Maeve picked up another whole cigarette and bit down on it.
They were all waiting.
Waiting to see how Shen Che would make a fool of himself.
Translucent's carbon-metamaterial skin was invincible. Even armor-piercing bullets could only leave a white mark on it.
In stealth mode, his heartbeat and body temperature were perfectly refracted and shielded by that layer of skin.
This guy was a natural sneak-attack king, often doing dirty work in the locker rooms.
Everyone thought that Translucent was currently circling behind Shen Che, preparing to snap the arrogant newcomer's neck.
The Deep's hand had already reached out in front of Shen Che.
There was still some unwashed white powder under his fingernails, emitting a strong fishy odor.
"Go to hell, asshole." The Deep grinned, exposing his thick gums.
Shen Che didn't move, nor did he pay any attention to The Deep.
He felt his eyes were a bit itchy.
It wasn't an ordinary itch, as if a piece of red-hot charcoal had been jammed deep within his eyeballs.
The temperature climbed rapidly within fractions of a second, and the surface of his retina felt like it had been hit by a layer of high-voltage electricity.
He blinked.
His eyelashes swept across the air, making a subtle crackling sound.
The World changed before him.
The colors faded away, and the mahogany conference table in front of him turned into layers of Translucent fiber grids.
The thick arm that The Deep reached out had its skin vanish like melting wax.
Revealing bright red muscle bundles, followed by pearly-white arm bones.
Shen Che could even clearly see the heavy metal plaques deposited in The Deep's forearm bones from eating too much seafood.
Silver Age Superman's X-ray vision.
It didn't need to be actively activated; along with the operation of his bodily functions, it instinctively finished loading.
His vision extended further away.
The ten-centimeter-thick walnut door turned into a sheet of glass.
The walls of the corridor peeled away layer by layer: gypsum boards, soundproofing cotton, and reinforced concrete skeletons.
The wires and pipes buried within the walls, along with the flow of water, all turned into transparent blueprints.
Shen Che rolled his eyeballs, searching for that invisible carbon-material pig.
He originally thought Translucent would crouch like an assassin in his blind spot behind him.
Ready to strike a dirty blow at any moment.
As a result, after looking around, there wasn't even a ghost of a shadow behind him.
His vision pierced through the wall on the right.
Pierced through the corridor.
Beside the sink in the women's restroom diagonally opposite, Shen Che saw a skeleton emitting a grayish-white faint glow.
The density of the carbon-fiber skeleton was different from ordinary people, looking like a glowing incandescent light bulb under the X-ray vision.
This guy didn't come over to help at all.
Seeing The Deep step up, Translucent directly used the cover of stealth to sneak out of the conference room bare-assed.
Walking on tiptoes, he jogged all the way and sneaked into the women's restroom.
Inside the restroom.
That female assistant who had been frightened by Shen Che's aura in the corridor just now was washing her face by the sink.
The faucet was running noisily.
Translucent was crouching in the shadow behind the female assistant.
His feet were apart, knees bent, like a rutting toad.
He stood on tiptoes, his neck stretched out super long, his head almost pressing against the female assistant's hip-hugging skirt.
A muffled cold hum came from Shen Che's chest.
His teeth clicked and ground together.
This fucking thing was Vought's The Seven.
This group of scum enjoyed the best resources in the World and received the worship of tens of millions of fans.
Behind the scenes, they were a bunch of trash not even as good as sewer rats.
The Deep's hand finally grabbed Shen Che's suit lapel.
He exerted a sudden force with his hand, wanting to yank Shen Che up from the chair.
"Get up—"
The Deep's roar got stuck in his throat.
His hand grasped empty air.
Due to using too much force, The Deep lost his balance entirely and smashed heavily onto the high-backed leather chair Shen Che had just been sitting on.
The chair was crushed and overturned, and The Deep fell flat on his back along with it, his scales scraping a harsh sound against the floor.
Shen Che moved.
The air let out an unbearable screech.
This wasn't walking.
After the Silver Age panel loaded, even if he just simply exerted force with his leg muscles, the speed he burst out with instantly tore the air apart.
A circle of white sonic boom clouds exploded beside the mahogany long table.
Blowing away the glasses and documents on the table.
A-Train was slapped in the face by the pressure wave, and the chewing gum in his mouth directly smeared onto his nose.
Shen Che turned into a blurred afterimage that the naked eye could not catch.
He didn't go to pull the door handle.
A straight line is the shortest distance.
Facing the load-bearing wall on the right side of the conference room, he smashed straight into it.
The thirty-centimeter-thick reinforced concrete wall.
In front of the Silver Age body, it was as brittle as a piece of thoroughly dried soda cracker.
Boom!
The entire Vought Tower trembled violently at this moment.
The wall burst apart with a deafening crash.
Crushed rocks, twisted steel bars, and fluttering white dust.
Like a cannonball leaving the barrel, it cut through the corridor with unstoppable force.
The rows of cold light tubes on the ceiling of the corridor burst piece by piece.
Then, this torrent fiercely smashed and shattered the wall of the women's restroom opposite.
Inside the women's restroom.
The lighting was dim and warm, and the air was filled with the jasmine fragrance of hand soap.
The female assistant was bending over to wipe her face.
Translucent was rubbing his hands excitedly, preparing to move half a step forward to stroke that plump thigh.
The wall on the right suddenly exploded.
The deafening loud noise drowned out the sound of flowing water.
The entire large mirror above the sink instantly shattered into thousands of shards of glass, crashing into the sink like a rainstorm.
The tap water pipe in the wall broke, and a high-pressure water column sprayed out with a hiss.
The icy cold water poured all over Translucent's head and face.
Translucent trembled all over in fright.
His stealth state almost failed to maintain, and a flurry of chaotic blue current light flashed across his skin surface.
He was squatting in a puddle bare-assed, his hands still maintaining the obscene posture of reaching forward to touch.
Amidst the flying dust and water mist all over the sky.
Shen Che stepped on a piece of broken steel bar and walked out from the hole.
His high-end custom black suit was stained with a bit of white dust.
He patted his cuffs.
Translucent's brain didn't turn around at all.
Why did this load-bearing wall collapse?
How did this pretty boy come in through the wall?
Shouldn't he be pinned down and beaten by The Deep in the conference room?
Looking at Shen Che's eyes, which were as cold as falling ice slag, Translucent's Adam's apple rolled.
Fear overrode the urge of rutting.
He opened his mouth.
Just wanting to curse a dirty word to embolden himself.
Shen Che's big hand reached out like an iron pincer.
Bringing up a sound of wind tearing the air apart.
Clutched his neck tightly.
Chapter 7: Crushing Translucent to death was just like crushing a rutting bedbug to death.
Translucent's neck was caught, and his feet left the ground entirely.
The tiles of the restroom were covered in stagnant water.
His bare legs kicked about wildly in mid-air.
His feet kicked up splashes of water, spraying against the white tiles on the wall.
Shen Che's hand was like a locked hydraulic clamp.
The texture was very hard.
It didn't feel like pinching human flesh, but rather like grabbing a smooth, solid titanium-alloy column.
The broken water pipe was still spraying high-pressure water streams outward.
Hissing away.
The water poured over Translucent's head, streaming down his face.
He couldn't hold his breath anymore.
That layer of carbon-metamaterial skin capable of refracting light began to lose stability due to severe oxygen deprivation.
Fine ripples first appeared in the air.
Like heat waves on an asphalt road in summer.
Immediately after, Translucent's face, swollen and purplish-red from congestion, was gradually revealed in mid-air.
He opened his mouth wide, like a fat catfish thrown onto dry land.
The veins on his neck bulged one by one, throbbing violently beneath the skin, almost bursting through the surface.
Snot mixed with tap water flowed into his mouth, and he couldn't even wipe it away.
The female assistant nearby was scared out of her wits.
She covered her head with both hands and ran outside screaming.
Her high heels stepped into the stagnant water, her feet slipped, and her entire body crashed heavily onto the shattered glass covering the floor.
A large tear was cut into her black silk stockings.
Shards of glass pierced into her flesh, and bright red blood oozed from her knees.
She couldn't care about the pain.
Scrambling and crawling outward.
Grabbing the door frame, she forcefully dragged herself out of the restroom's main entrance.
Her pitch-altered screams echoed down the corridor, fading into the distance.
Shen Che paid no attention to the fleeing woman.
His fingers relaxed by half an inch.
He found this person twisting around too annoyingly in his hand.
With the legs kicking back and forth, the dirty water almost splashed onto his leather shoes.
He wanted to make him behave.
Translucent abruptly gasped in a breath of air mixed with cement dust.
His chest heaved violently, and his lungs emitted a hissing sound like a worn-out bellows.
Like someone just fished up from the bottom of the water, he breathed greedily and deeply.
"Cough cough... Cough..."
Oxygen deprivation combined with the squeezing made him cough out a mouthful of bloody spit.
A bit of white froth flew through the air, splashing onto the cuff of Shen Che's black suit.
Shen Che frowned.
His gaze lowered, staring at the conspicuous white dot on his cuff.
Really dirty.
If he had known, he shouldn't have held back earlier.
Translucent, who had caught his breath, had no idea at all that the God of Death was already right in his face.
He thought Shen Che let go because he couldn't squeeze anymore.
He gripped Shen Che's arm tightly with both hands, his ten fingers digging into the suit fabric, trying to pry open that iron hand.
Shen Che's arm didn't even shake in the slightest.
Translucent dug in until his fingernails were peeled back, but it was still useless.
Yet he simply gave up struggling.
Both hands dropped down, dangling in mid-air.
He parted his thick lips and smiled.
"You've got quite some strength, newbie."
Translucent's voice was hoarse, carrying thick mockery.
The cartilage in his throat made a clicking friction sound.
"Want to choke me to death? Your brain must be full of water."
He panted heavily, hanging naked in mid-air.
His fleshy face scrunched up in triumph, looking both comical and ugly.
"I'm wearing carbon-metamaterial skin! Do you even know what carbon metamaterials are?"
He shouted arrogantly, spitting flying everywhere.
"Armor-piercing bullets hitting my body can directly shatter their warheads."
"A diamond drill bit pressed against my forehead can't even graze a single hair of mine."
Translucent spat a mouthful of bloody saliva into the stagnant water on the ground.
The red blood threads dispersed in the puddle.
"You want to snap my neck? Not in this lifetime."
He laughed until he coughed, tears squeezing out from the corners of his eyes.
"I admit I'm down today. But you can't kill me. Once I hold my breath, I'll turn invisible and get out."
He lowered his voice, his tone full of malice.
"I'll squat under your bed every night. Watch you sleep."
"As long as you dare to close your eyes, I'll shove explosives down your throat."
Shen Che didn't speak.
There was no superfluous expression on his face.
He couldn't even be bothered to utter half a sentence of villain-style harsh words.
Debating physical common sense with a voyeur was too beneath him.
The Silver Age Superman template wasn't meant to popularize hardness science to trash like this.
He raised his head, quietly looking at Translucent's unperturbed, confident face.
His five fingers tightened abruptly.
There was no progressive increase in force.
There was no sign of muscle tensing.
Absolute strength erupted instantly within a thousandth of a second.
Snap.
A crisp, teeth-aching snap.
Exploded in the narrow restroom.
Completely overpowering the sound of the water pipe spraying water.
The mockery on Translucent's face froze instantly.
His brain didn't even react to what had happened.
But a subtle crack had already appeared on the surface of his proud carbon-metamaterial skin.
Just like a piece of bulletproof glass struck head-on by a heavy hammer.
The cracks started from the edge of Shen Che's fingers and rapidly spread around.
Issuing a dense "crack, crack, crack" sound, sounding like chewing up a plate of glass shards.
"You..."
Translucent's eyeballs bulged outward.
The whites of his eyes covered in red blood threads.
Half an incoherent syllable squeezed out of his throat.
Fear finally crept onto his face.
He felt his cervical vertebrae wailing.
That absolute defense which even high explosives couldn't blast open was little better than a soda cracker in this man's hands.
The stinging sensation of the epidermis shattering spread throughout his body.
The carbon fiber debris barbs pierced into his soft trachea.
Shen Che turned his wrist halfway, heavily pressing his thumb inward.
Bang!
A muffled bursting sound rang out.
That invincible skin was forcefully squeezed to bursting.
Black carbon fiber fragments mixed together with stark white bone spurs.
Instantly puncturing the soft flesh inside.
Under absolute force, the thick cervical vertebrae were directly ground into powder.
Scalding fresh blood spurted out like a high-pressure water gun.
Dripping down along the gaps of Shen Che's fingers.
Falling onto the water-filled tiles, smashing out dazzling blood blossoms.
Translucent's head lost support.
It drooped down at a bizarre, non-human angle.
His chin pressed tightly against his own back.
His cervical bones completely broken.
His eyeballs stared wide open at the rusty ventilation duct on the ceiling.
Inside still lingered his overbearing mockery from just now, and the extreme terror of the last second before death.
He didn't even have time to let out a scream.
Just like crushing a rutting bedbug to death.
His neck was thoroughly snapped.
Shen Che spread his five fingers.
The veins on the back of his hand smoothed down.
He released his hand.
Losing the pull, the over-two-hundred-pound corpse crashed heavily into the stagnant water of the restroom.
The splashes rose half a meter high, wetting the wooden cabinet door of the vanity.
Dark red blood rapidly spread across the white tiles.
Mixed with the jasmine-scented hand soap.
The smell in the air became fishy, sweet, and nauseating.
Outside the broken wall hole, chaotic and hurried footsteps came over.
The Seven, who had just been waiting in the conference room to watch a joke, finally reacted.
Rushed into the corridor.
The Deep ran at the very front.
The moment one of his feet stepped into the edge of the breach, his entire body was as if nailed to the floor.
Unable to take a second step ever again.
His green scaly uniform was covered with white ash that flew out when the wall burst.
The Deep lowered his head.
Looking at the naked corpse by his feet with its head turned 180 degrees, soaking in the water.
The cut on the corpse's neck was a bloody mess.
The fragments of carbon metamaterial were still reflecting the corridor's lights in the pool of blood.
Like a pile of unburned black charcoal.
A storm churned in The Deep's stomach, acidic water surging straight up.
Supporting himself against the ruined wall, he bent down.
With a "blech", he vomited.
Undigested salmon slices and expensive caviar, mixed with bile water, were vomited all over the floor.
The sour stench overpowered the smell of blood.
He didn't even dare to raise his head, dry-heaving frantically with his eyes closed.
A-Train stopped, stepping on a floor full of crushed gravel.
The half-chewed bubble gum in his mouth dropped onto his shoe vamp, sticking to his leather shoe.
His legs, which usually couldn't even be seen as afterimages when running, were shaking wildly inside his suit trousers right now.
His knees knocked together uncontrollably, producing a slight clashing sound.
A-Train retreated two steps, his back pressing tightly against the corridor wall.
Panting heavily, his chest heaved like a bellows.
He finally realized that speed meant nothing in front of this man.
No matter how fast one ran, as long as they were caught once, this would be the outcome.
Queen Mei stood across the corridor.
The spare cigarette in her hand was forcefully snapped by her.
Finely shredded tobacco spilled all over her hand, falling onto the hem of her dark red uniform skirt.
Her face was deathly pale, her lips devoid of a trace of blood.
Looking at the man inside the restroom who had his back to them, leisurely tearing paper towels to wipe his hands.
Her breathing was as rapid as if she were oxygen-deprived.
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, almost breaking through her ribs.
This was not human strength.
This wasn't even superhuman strength.
This was a one-sided dimensional-reduction massacre, a crushing obliteration.
Starlight hid behind Queen Mei.
Covering her mouth with both hands, tears spinning in her eye sockets.
On her first day at work, she saw a superhero squeezed to death like a chicken in the restroom.
The entire corridor was dead silent.
Only the sound of The Deep bending over to vomit and the splashing sound of the leaking water pipe in the restroom.
No one dared to speak.
No one dared to voice any questions.
Shen Che stood in the center of the bloody water.
Casually tossing the wet paper towel he used to wipe his hands onto Translucent's corpse.
Shaking off the residual blood droplets on his right hand.
The remaining half-section of the cold-light fluorescent tube overhead flickered twice and went out completely.
The corridor plunged into dim red alarm lighting.
A gust of fierce wind poured in from the ventilation window at the end of the corridor.
Carrying a sharp whistling sound, blowing away the smoke and dust.
Chloe landed in the corridor.
She wore a blue Star-Spangled Banner tight uniform.
Her blonde hair flew in disorder from the wind, a few strands sticking to her cheeks.
Her red calfskin boots crunched on the shattered glass all over the floor.
She didn't look at the disgusting corpse on the ground.
Nor did she look at The Deep, whose face was covered in snot and tears from vomiting.
Much less did she look at A-Train and Mei, who were shivering against the wall.
Stepping across the mess on the ground, she walked straight through the breach and came before Shen Che.
Chloe's breathing was heavy.
Her nostrils flaring rapidly.
She stared fixedly at Shen Che's blood-stained right hand.
There was not a trace of fear in her blue eyes.
Only a morbid obsession that was about to overflow.
She stuck out her tongue and licked her chapped lips.
Chapter 8: Chloe's Yandere Tendencies: Whoever Looks at You, I'll Dig Out Their Eyes
The Deep was still dry-heaving.
He had vomited all his stomach acid, and now there was only yellow-green bile.
Kneeling on shards of broken glass, his hands and feet went completely limp.
Queen Maeve leaned against the wall, biting her lip until it bled.
The taste of blood spread in her mouth.
No one dared to speak.
Chloe walked around the broken half of the sink on the floor.
Her red boots stepped into the pool of blood.
The sticky plasma drew red threads from the soles of her boots.
She didn't care.
She walked up to Shen Che and stopped.
Rising slightly on her tiptoes, she pulled out a white silk handkerchief from the pouch on her uniform belt.
Shen Che didn't move, letting her do as she pleased.
Lowering her head, Chloe cradled Shen Che's right hand—the one that had snapped Translucent's neck.
The handkerchief covered his knuckles, wiping away the lingering bloodstains and carbon-metamaterial ash in the gaps between his bones bit by bit.
Her movements were very gentle, as if she were polishing a piece of fine porcelain.
Her breathing was heavy.
Her nostrils flared rapidly, her breath washing over the back of Shen Che's hand.
Carrying a sweet and cloying fragrance.
"You're not hurt, are you?" Chloe raised her head.
Her blue eyes shone frightfully bright.
Her lips, which had just licked away the blood, were red enough to drip blood.
Shen Che withdrew his hand and casually threw the blood-stained handkerchief onto Translucent's face.
"Just a bug. What injuries could I possibly get?" His tone was flat.
Hearing the word "bug," the members of The Seven in the corridor shivered collectively.
That was Translucent, who boasted skin made of carbon fiber.
Just like that, he was dead.
Without even making a ripple.
With a "ding," the elevator doors at the end of the corridor opened.
Several internal cleanup workers in white lab coats pushed a stretcher cart out tremblingly.
Seeing the mess all over the floor and the large hole in the wall, their calves trembled with fear.
But pressed by the orders from above, they could only bite the bullet and inch forward.
Following behind them was a female assistant from the public relations department who had joined just a few days ago, holding a stack of compensation documents.
The female assistant was a girl who had just graduated from college.
She was wearing a cheap black professional suit, and her white shirt was smudged with dust in the chaos.
Following behind the cleanup team, she was scared pale by the horrific sight in the bathroom.
Her legs shook, the folder was hugged tightly against her chest, and her knuckles turned pale from gripping it.
She didn't dare look at the corpse on the floor.
She could only raise her gaze upward, wanting to find a living person.
Her gaze swept past The Deep, who was slumped on the ground, and landed on Shen Che in the center of the bathroom.
The lighting was dim.
Shen Che's tall figure carried a strong sense of oppression within the shadows.
The female assistant looked for two extra seconds.
She had never seen this man before.
This face was not on Vought's promotional posters.
But there was a ruthless coolness about this man that made it impossible to look away.
His suit was stained with dust, his collar open, standing in the pool of blood like a ruler.
Her gaze lingered on Shen Che's open collar.
Her eyes mixed fear with a bit of involuntary exploration.
Just two seconds.
Chloe's movements stopped.
She had originally been straightening the creases on Shen Che's cuffs.
Her head snapped around.
Her blue eyes instantly bloodshot, red veins crawling all over the whites of her eyes like a spiderweb.
Dazzling red light lit up in the depths of her pupils.
The temperature of the surrounding air soared abruptly.
The remaining puddles of water in the bathroom began to emit white steam.
Targeted by those reddened eyes, the female assistant felt as if her throat had been bitten by a venomous snake.
Her throat tightened, her breath cutting off midway.
The folder in her hand dropped to the floor with a "clatter."
White sheets of paper scattered everywhere.
"You're looking at him." Chloe's voice was very low.
Carrying a heavy nasal tone, like the growl emitted from the throat of a stray dog guarding its food.
"You're looking at my things."
The female assistant panicked.
She shook her head desperately, wanting to back away.
"I didn't... I wasn't..."
Her tongue was tied, and her voice shook beyond recognition.
Her high heels stepped on the scattered A4 paper, her foot slipped, and she fell back onto the floor.
Chloe didn't give her a chance to explain at all.
She let go of Shen Che's sleeve and turned around.
The red light in her eye sockets brightened to the extreme, like two small searchlights.
Two scarlet high-heat rays shot out from the depths of her eyes with a piercing sound of breaking air.
The rays didn't directly pierce the female assistant's head.
Chloe controlled the angle.
The red beam of light grazed past the female assistant's left ear and directly hit her right shoulder.
"Ah—"
Screams echoed through the corridor.
Even more piercing than the sound of The Deep vomiting just now.
The high-heat rays instantly burned through the fabric of her professional suit.
The charred smell of carbonized flesh, mixed with the smell of synthetic fibers from her clothes, burst into the air.
Clutching her right shoulder, the female assistant rolled back and forth on the ground in pain.
A thumb-sized, charred hole appeared on her shoulder.
The flesh at the edges was cooked, curling outward and oozing yellow tissue fluid.
No blood flowed out; the high temperature directly sealed off the blood vessels.
The cleanup workers were so frightened that they dropped the stretcher cart and squatted in the corner with their heads in their hands.
Queen Maeve closed her eyes and turned her head away.
A-Train swallowed hard, hiding himself deeper in the shadows.
Chloe didn't stop.
She walked step by step toward the female assistant on the ground.
Her red leather boots stepped on the scattered white paper, leaving bloody footprints one after another.
The surrounding temperature continued to rise, and the fire sprinklers in the corridor were triggered by the heat.
Cold water sprayed down in a torrent.
The water poured around Chloe's heated eye sockets, raising a puff of white mist.
She walked up to the female assistant and looked down at her from above.
"Does it hurt?" Chloe asked, tilting her head.
Her voice returned to that sweet and cloying tone, as if she were asking what to eat for dinner.
The female assistant was in too much pain to speak, and could only shrink backward desperately.
Chloe squatted down and grabbed a handful of the female assistant's hair.
Lifting her whole body off the ground.
Her scalp was pulled to the point of almost tearing, and the female assistant rolled her eyes in agony.
"Don't look at him." Chloe leaned into the female assistant's ear, her voice gentle yet exuding a bone-chilling coldness.
"He is mine. Whoever dares to take another glance..."
She reached out her other hand, her gloved index and middle fingers gesturing in front of the female assistant's eyes.
Making a motion of gouging out eyes.
"I'll gouge your eyeballs out and crush them underfoot. Do you hear me?"
Disregarding the excruciating pain in her shoulder, the female assistant nodded frantically.
Tears mixed with cold water covered her face.
Like throwing away trash, Chloe tossed her into a puddle of water.
Turning around, the gloom on her face vanished completely.
She trotted back to Shen Che's side.
Looking at him as if asking for credit.
"I solved a trouble, Shen."
She grabbed Shen Che's arm and pressed her face against his shoulder.
Rubbing gently.
Shen Che didn't push her away.
He looked at the female assistant who had passed out from pain on the floor, and then glanced at the shivering cleanup crew.
This was the effect he wanted.
Establishing prestige required blood, but just killing Translucent wasn't enough.
People needed to know that in this company, not only was there an untouchable president like him.
There was also an unreasonable mad dog.
Shen Che raised his hand and stroked Chloe's blonde hair, which was dampened by the water.
"Good job."
His tone was flat, but in this environment, those three words were even scarier than a demon's whisper.
Chloe smiled so brightly her eyes curved into crescents, like a little girl who had received candy.
The mess in the corridor was left to the cleanup crew.
Shen Che took Chloe and left the ninth floor, stepping on the shattered glass covering the floor.
Half an hour later.
Vought Tower restored its surface calm.
Cleaners used high-pressure water guns to wash away the bloodstains in the corridor and replaced it with a new walnut wood door.
The hole in the wall was temporarily covered with canvas.
Underground parking garage.
A mechanic wearing a dark blue work uniform carried a toolbox toward an old Ford pickup truck.
He pulled open the driver's door and sat in the cab.
He didn't start the car immediately.
Instead, from the interlayer at the bottom of the toolbox, he fished out an old-fashioned flip phone.
His fingers moved rapidly across the keypad.
Entering a series of complex passwords.
An encryption channel transmission interface popped up on the screen.
He typed everything that had just happened on the ninth floor:
Shen Che's rise to power.
Translucent's tragic death.
Chloe's rampage.
Condensed into a few lines of brief text intelligence.
Click send.
The screen showed successful transmission.
He pulled out the SIM card, snapped it in half, threw it into his mouth, and chewed it to pieces.
Swallowed it down.
He started the pickup truck and drove out of the underground parking garage of Vought Tower.
Ten minutes later.
In the Brooklyn district of New York, in the basement of an abandoned auto repair shop.
The lighting was dim, and the air was mixed with the smell of engine oil and cheap tobacco.
Scattered on the table were gun parts and a few photos of Vought Company executives.
Billy Butcher sat on a tattered sofa.
Holding a glass of cheap whiskey in his hand.
He was wearing that black trench coat that was rarely washed all year round.
His chin was covered in dark stubble.
The encrypted receiver on the table gave a beep and lit up with a green light.
Chapter 9 The Boys Assemble, Butcher Thinks I Am an Easy Target
New York, Brooklyn. Abandoned repair shop Underground Room.
The exhaust fan was not turned on. The smell of engine oil and cheap tobacco fermented together, a sour and pungent stench.
Billy Butcher sat on a broken spring sofa. A broken iron spring pierced through the sponge, pressing against his thigh.
He ignored it. He lowered his head to stare at the newly declassified intelligence on the wooden table.
It was a stolen photo. Shen Che wore a high-end custom suit, with his collar open, standing in a ruin puddle on the ninth floor of Vought Tower.
Butcher shoved the half-chewed cigar into his mouth. He struck a match.
The firelight illuminated his chin covered in blue stubble.
"Women's restroom." Butcher exhaled a puff of blue smoke, "Translucent died there."
His fingers holding the cigar pressed hard against the edge of the photo. The collapsed load-bearing wall in the corridor was captured there.
"Even the load-bearing wall was blown to pieces." Frenchie wiped a wrench on the side, "Translucent's skin is carbon fiber. Who could crush him into slag, bones and skin alike?"
Butcher let out a cold snort. Two streams of smoke spewed from his nostrils.
"Who else could it be? That crazy bitch wearing the Stars and Stripes."
He turned the intelligence to the second page. On it was Shen Che's resume.
Eighteen years old. Grew up in Vought's underground laboratory. There was no record of any superpower testing.
Just climbed to the position of president today.
"This kid looks like a male model." Frenchie leaned in and glanced.
"He's just a freeloading leech." Butcher slapped the pages on the table.
The papers slid off the table and fell to Hughie's feet.
Hughie shrank on the folding chair, looking down at the cold-eyed man in the photo. He didn't dare to pick it up.
"Is he not afraid of Chloe?" Hughie rubbed his cooling hands.
"That's his childhood sweetheart. Vought's pet watchdog is protecting its master."
Butcher's logic formed a perfect closed loop.
Translucent wanted to stab Shen Che in the back, but was caught by a food-guarding Chloe. The mad dog went crazy and crushed Translucent to death in the bathroom.
This explained why the wall was broken and why the floor was covered in blood.
"Stan was smashed into a pulp, and the upper management is all dead. Vought is now relying on this incompetent pretty boy to hold down the fort."
Butcher stood up. The hem of his trench coat knocked over the empty beer bottle on the table. The glass bottle rolled to the ground, clattering loudly.
"This is an excellent opportunity. Cut off the snake's head, and Vought will fall into utter chaos."
At the other end of the Underground Room, Frenchiewalked toward the workbench.
"I happened to prepare some new gadgets."
He put on his goggles. Three transparent glass beakers were placed on the table.
Frenchie picked up a pair of medical tweezers and clamped a grayish-white colloid piece.
"An improved version of military C4. I mixed in high-purity magnesium powder."
He threw the colloid into an iron tray. A dropper squeezed a drop of transparent reagent onto it.
The pungent smell of acetone instantly dissipated. Hughiecovered his nose and sneezed loudly twice in a row.
"Is this thing stable?" Hughie asked, rubbing his red nose tip.
"Very unstable." Frenchie didn't even raise his head, "Smash it with a little force, and we can pop champagne early. The price is that we'll be blown to slag."
Hughie's face turned pale. He moved back half a step, his back pressing against the peeling wall plaster.
Frenchie divided the grayish-white colloid into eight pieces. He rolled them into small spheres the size of fingernails.
Carefully, he packed them into an explosion-proof metal box lined with shock-absorbing sponge.
"Directional demolition. Stick them on the pillars." Frenchieclosed the lid. The latch clicked shut.
"As long as four points detonate simultaneously, Impactsqueezes toward the center. Even an armored vehicle will be directly pressed into an iron pancake."
Butcher walked over and took the explosion-proof box with one hand. He weighed it.
"Very good. Let's go meet this new president tonight."
Hughie tightly grabbed the seams of his trousers with both hands. "Go to Vought Tower? There are superheroes everywhere!"
Butcher turned his head. His single eye stared at Hughie.
"Sharp at eight o'clock. Chloe will go to Seattle for a routine patrol. The schedule is fixed by the PR department."
Butcher approached Hughie. His leather boots creaked on the cement floor.
"The rest of the trash in The Seven are scared out of their wits today. No one dares to hang out in the president's exclusive underground garage."
He grabbed the zipper of Hughie's jacket. He pulled him in front of himself.
"When your girlfriend was smashed into a pulp, did those suit-wearing thugs from Vought ever show their faces?"
Hughie's breathing became rapid. His chest heaved violently.
He recalled the feeling of Robin's hand held in his. His hands were covered in sticky blood.
Hughie bit his lower lip. The taste of rust melted on the tip of his tongue.
He pushed away Butcher's hand hard. He turned around to get the black canvas bag in the corner of the wall.
The zipper got stuck in the fabric. He tugged twice, and it zipped open with a ripping sound.
"Let's go." Hughie threw the flashlight into the bag, his voice muffled.
Butcher grinned, revealing teeth stained with tobacco crumbs.
Nine o'clock at night.
A light rain started falling in New York. The fourth underground floor of Vought Tower.
This was the president's exclusive garage. There were no foreign vehicles. There were only a dozen luxury cars covered with black dust covers.
The ventilation ducts emitted a low roar.
The air was damp and cold. A thin layer of water vapor formed on the cement floor.
Frenchie knelt on the ground. His knee pads rubbed against the rough ground.
He tore off the sticker at the bottom of the gel explosive. He pressed it hard into the inner shadow of the load-bearing pillar.
Hughie held the flashlight with both hands. The aperture shone on the grayish-white pillar.
The plastic casing was made slippery by hand sweat. The aperture shook up and down due to hand shaking.
"Don't shake." Frenchie bit a section of the detonating wire and cursed indistinctly.
Hughie took a deep breath. His left hand pressed tightly against his trembling right wrist.
"This place is too dark." Hughie's voice was kept very low.
Frenchie twisted the red and blue wires together. He wrapped them tightly with electrical tape.
"Last one." Frenchie let out a long breath. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
The sweat left a white mark on his dusty face.
Four load-bearing pillars, eight directional micro-bombs. All in position.
Butcher stood five meters away. He was toying with a black plastic detonator in his hand.
The damping feel of the red button was very strong.
"Take cover." Butcher waved his hand.
The three of them quickly crossed the empty driveway and squeezed into the power distribution room in the corner.
The sheet metal door was deformed. It couldn't close tightly, leaving a thumb-wide gap.
It was very stuffy in the power distribution room. The large transformer emitted a low-frequency hum.
Hughie leaned against the sheet metal cabinet. He hugged his head with both hands and slid down the cabinet door to sit on the ground.
His heart beat extremely fast, slamming against his ribs one beat after another.
Frenchie squatted behind the door, looking out through the door crack.
The garage was lifeless. Only a few yellowish incandescent lamps were on.
"Butcher, what if the intelligence is wrong?" Frenchieasked in a low voice.
"There is no if. He just seized power today, exactly when he is most arrogant."
Butcher leaned against the wall. His thumb rubbed the plastic burrs on the edge of the detonator.
Click.
In the garage outside the door, a very slight sound came.
It was the mechanical friction sound of the elevator cables operating.
"Here it comes." Butcher straightened his body.
He walked to the door crack and pushed Frenchie aside. His single eye stared fixedly at the distant elevator entrance.
The red digital display on the wall jumped.
"- 2"
"- 3"
"- 4"
Ding.
The prompt sound of the elevator arriving was magnified several times in the empty garage.
Hughie stood up abruptly. The back of his head banged heavily against the sheet metal cabinet, making a muffled thud.
He covered his head and swallowed his cry of pain back into his stomach.
The metal elevator doors slowly slid open to both sides.
The cold white light in the car projected onto the dim cement floor, pulling out a long strip of light.
Shen Che walked out.
Indeed, he was the only one.
He took off his coat and wore only a wrinkle-free white shirt.
His tie was loosened and hung loosely around his neck. His cuffs were rolled up to his forearms.
His right hand carried a silver metal briefcase.
No superhumans followed him. That mad dog named Chloe was not there either.
The heels of his leather shoes stepped on the cement floor.
Clack.
Clack.
With every step he took, the echo reverberated in the driveway.
He walked very slowly. It was like taking a walk in his own backyard garden.
Butcher's breathing slowed down. The detonator in his hand was gripped tightly.
Due to excessive force, the plastic casing made a slight crackling sound.
Shen Che walked up to the first load-bearing pillar. He was still five meters away from the center of the explosion.
He stopped his steps. He raised his free left hand and rubbed the back of his neck.
The movement seemed somewhat casual.
Butcher behind the door crack held his breath.
"Don't stop. Keep walking."
Hughie pulled at the hem of Butcher's trench coat from behind. His palms were full of cold sweat.
Frenchie pulled out the silencer-equipped pistol. His thumb flicked off the safety, making a very slight click.
Shen Che lowered his left hand.
His leather shoes stepped out again.
One step. Two steps.
He walked into the area surrounded by those four pillars.
The exact center.
The absolute dead angle where the directional Impact of eight explosives intersects.
Shen Che stopped.
He put the silver briefcase on the ground. His hand reached into the pocket of his suit trousers.
As if feeling for car keys.
The dim yellowish light overhead hit his side profile, illuminating a cold and hard jawline.
The flesh on Butcher's face twitched slightly.
His teeth, stained yellow by smoke, clamped tightly together.
"Die, suit-wearing leech."
Butcher's thumb exerted force downward abruptly.
Without hesitation, he pressed the red button on the detonator.
Chapter 10: Explosives aimed at me? They couldn't even blast off a single leg hair of mine.
Butcher's thumb suddenly exerted force.
The plastic shell emitted a faint scratching sound.
The red detonation button was pressed all the way down.
The contacts closed.
There was no countdown at all.
The first thing to arrive was light.
Pure, vision-stripping white light.
Erupting simultaneously from four points in the exact center of the underground garage.
Hughie hid in the power distribution room, seeing that burst of light through the crack of the door.
His retinas stung for a moment, and his vision instantly turned into a blank expanse of white.
Immediately afterward, the air was torn apart.
Eight directional C4 explosives mixed with high-purity magnesium powder detonated within the exact same millisecond.
A deafening roar reverberated back and forth within the confined underground space.
The sound was so overwhelmingly loud that it instead turned into a sort of muffled hum.
Hughie felt as if someone had heavily swung a large iron hammer against the back of his head.
He was directly overturned by the shockwave.
His back crashed against the iron sheet casing of the transformer, emitting a muffled thud.
A surge of warm current gushed out of his nasal cavity.
Blood dripped onto the floor.
Frenchie squatted on the ground, his hands tightly covering his ears.
Two cracks were shaken onto the lenses of his goggles.
He opened his mouth wide, trying to balance the air pressure inside and outside his eardrums.
The center of the explosion.
Those four half-meter-thick reinforced concrete load-bearing pillars neither fractured nor collapsed.
They instantly turned into grayish-white powder within the terrifying Impact.
The internal rebar twisted and melted apart like boiled noodles.
The scorching orange-red fireballs rapidly expanded.
The four fireballs squeezed and fused with each other.
Ultimately converging into a huge furnace, completely swallowing up the location where Shen Che was.
The high temperature instantly ignited the air.
Before the fire sprinklers on the ceiling of the garage could spray water, the plastic heat-sensing bulbs had already melted.
The water pipe burst.
As soon as the high-pressure water column spewed out, it was evaporated into white steam by the thousands-of-degrees high temperature.
Impact raged outward like a tsunami.
The luxury cars parked a dozen meters away were flipped over like toys.
The car window glass shattered en masse.
Countless shards of glass mixed with gravel beat against the iron door of the power distribution room like a rainstorm.
The pattering sound was dense and rapid.
The heavy iron sheet door dented inward by three inches.
The door hinges emitted a painful squeak.
The ceiling of the garage lost the support of the load-bearing pillars.
Emitting a teeth-gritting cracking sound.
Several concrete floor slabs the size of dining tables crashed down with a roar.
The ground shook violently.
The tool rack inside the power distribution room toppled over.
Wrenches and screwdrivers scattered all over the floor.
Butcher braced the deformed iron door with one hand, panting heavily.
That single eye stared fixedly at the sea of fire outside the door.
The firelight dyed his face red.
Some ash stained his dark stubble.
He spat out the chewed-up cigar butt in his mouth.
The cigar fell to the ground, still smoking.
Alarms blared loudly throughout the underground garage.
The anti-theft alarms of a dozen flipped-over cars shrieked simultaneously.
Billowing smoke.
The burning smell of black rubber mixed with the pungent scent of gunpowder drilled into people's noses.
"Is he dead?" Frenchie climbed up from the ground.
He patted the dust off his anti-riot suit and reached his hand toward the holster at his waist.
Drawing the silencer-equipped pistol, his thumb flicked off the safety.
Hughie curled up next to the transformer, his hands still trembling.
He wiped a bloody nose with the back of his hand, smearing a red mark across his face.
"That kind of explosive yield..." Hughie's voice was faint, "could even blow a tank into an iron pancake, right?"
Butcher didn't pay attention to them.
He kicked the deformed iron door hard.
The gap in the door was kicked a bit larger.
A wave of heat rushed right at him, scorching his eyelashes.
Butcher turned sideways and squeezed out through the door gap.
His military leather boots stepped on the floor full of broken glass and cement chunks, making a clicking sound.
Frenchie gripped his gun and followed behind him.
Hughie swallowed his saliva, stood up supporting himself against the wall, and moved outward with legs as heavy as lead.
The ventilation system began operating at full load.
The huge industrial fan roared, drawing thick black smoke into the ventilation ducts.
The visibility in the center of the garage gradually restored bit by bit.
A huge crater appeared there.
The asphalt ground was blasted up and rolled over, revealing the brown soil beneath.
The broken water pipe was still spraying turbid water toward the bottom of the crater.
Water vapor filled the air.
Butcher stopped his steps.
Ten meters away from the giant pit.
He narrowed his eyes, his gaze piercing through the gradually thinning smoke and dust.
His breathing suddenly stopped for a split second.
The gun in Frenchie's hand leveled out, yet the muzzle was shaking.
He saw that shadow at the bottom of the pit.
The smoke completely dissipated.
Shen Che stood in the exact center of the giant pit.
The position where he stood hadn't shifted by even a single centimeter.
The silver metal briefcase under his feet had turned into a pool of dark gray boiling scrap metal, exuding a pungent, toxic smoke.
But Shen Che himself was completely unharmed.
No missing arms or legs.
No scorched skin.
Not even a single drop of blood.
The white shirt on his body was still dazzlingly white.
The collar was open, and the tie hung loosely around his neck.
Not a trace of scorched yellow from high-temperature roasting.
The trouser creases of his dress pants were straight, without a single extra wrinkle.
Just a moment ago, a concrete floor slab weighing over a ton had crashed straight down onto the top of his head.
The moment the floor slab touched his hair, it shattered directly into dozens of fist-sized stones, flying off in all directions.
He didn't even dodge.
That directional demolition, which was enough to destroy an entire building, was for him just like a slightly warm breeze blowing past in the dog days of summer.
Shen Che lowered his head slightly, looking at that pool of melted briefcase by his feet.
He frowned slightly.
Inside were several financial statements of the Vought Company for the next quarter.
Now someone would have to print them out again.
He sighed, feeling somewhat annoyed.
Raising his right hand, his thumb and index finger pinched the collar of the white shirt and gently shook it.
A few grains of gray cement powder fell from the collar.
Then, he raised his hand and patted his left shoulder, patting away a smudge of black ash.
The movement was very slow and casual.
Hughie had just walked out of the power distribution room and saw the scene ahead clearly.
His knees softened, and he knelt directly on the cement ground full of glass shards.
The broken glass pierced through his jeans and stabbed into the flesh of his knees, but Hughie couldn't feel the pain.
He opened his mouth, making wheezing gasps in his throat like a fish out of water.
Urine uncontrollably soaked his crotch, dripping down his trouser legs.
Frenchie's hand holding the gun lowered, and the pistol dropped to the ground with a clatter, landing near Hughie's feet.
He didn't go pick it up, but hugged his head with both hands, thrusting his ten fingers into his hair and grabbing it tightly.
He began to doubt whether he had installed the wrong explosives, or if this was simply a nightmare.
Butcher stood at the very front like a wooden stake nailed firmly into the ground.
The muscles on his face stiffened, and that single eye widened to its absolute limit, a tiny bloodshot crack even tearing open at the corner of his eye.
He had envisioned that Shen Che didn't die—perhaps his legs would be blown off, or he would be burned beyond recognition, and then wail on the ground.
But he never thought that the other party wouldn't be missing even a single hair.
This was by no means some pretty boy relying on his face to make a living, but a monster even more terrifying than Chloe.
Shen Che brushed clean the ash on his shoulders and put down his hand.
The surroundings were very quiet, with only the splashing sound of water leaking from the pipe and the alarms.
He stopped his movements, standing in the center of the ruins with a straight and tall posture.
Then, he slowly turned his head.
He didn't look around, nor did he search for the direction of the attackers; his head turned along an extremely precise trajectory, facing the direction of the power distribution room.
Separated there by thick load-bearing wall ruins and a few flipped-over cars, that was the blind spot of vision where Butcher and the others were hiding.
Shen Che's eyelids lifted slightly, and deep within his retinas, the temperature instantly climbed.
Two dazzling red glows lit up at the bottom of his eyes—not the reflection of the outside firelight, but pure, boiling energy compressing within his pupils.
A red halo overflowed from his eye sockets, dyeing the surrounding white mist into a bloody hue as Silver Age Superman's super X-ray vision instantly activated.
The obstacles ahead lost their meaning; the flipped-over car chassis turned into transparent lines, and the distorted iron door and thick concrete walls faded away like ink stains washed away by water.
His sight penetrated the physical barrier without any obstruction, penetrated the darkness, and penetrated the dust.
At the end of his gaze were the three people hiding in the dark corner: Hughie shaking as he knelt in a puddle of urine, Frenchie holding his head with his mind on the verge of collapse, and Butcher stiff all over with clenched fists.
The red glow locked onto them, his gaze carrying a cold weight that slammed onto the spines of all three of them like a tangible substance.