Chapter 16: Unspoken Rules? Starlight? No, I want you to be the most ruthless mad dog.
The sound of zipper teeth interlocking sounded grating in the hallway.
Starlight closed her eyes.
Her eyelashes hung with teardrops, trembling like fallen leaves in the wind.
The collar of her platinum uniform slid down, revealing a large expanse of skin.
The cold wind of the hallway blew over, raising a layer of fine goosebumps on it.
Shen Che stood half a meter away.
His gaze swept from the top of her head to her collar.
There was no lust.
Not even a trace of physiological respiratory undulation.
Looking at her was like looking at a piece of pork hanging in the vegetable market all day.
Starlight's fingers were still pulling downward.
The zipper got stuck at the fabric seam of her waist.
She was too nervous.
Her fingers couldn't exert force, and after pulling twice, it didn't budge.
She gritted her teeth, her nails scratching a harsh static noise on the metal buckle, preparing to pull it hard.
The wind stirred slightly.
Shen Che raised his right foot.
The toe of his high-end custom leather shoes accurately kicked Starlight's wrist.
It wasn't heavy, but the force was enough to interrupt her movement.
Slap.
Starlight's wrist went numb.
Her whole body leaned back, and she fell heavily into the stagnant water with a splash.
The splashing water wet her curly hair.
She opened her eyes.
Her face was full of astonishment.
The humiliation in the depths of her eyes hadn't had time to fade before it all turned into terror.
Shen Che looked down at her from above.
"Zip it back up."
The voice was so cold it dropped ice shards.
Starlight froze in place.
The chill in the puddle seeped into her thighs.
She was shaking uncontrollably from the cold.
Shen Che took half a step forward.
His leather shoes stepped less than an inch away from her fingers.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Shen Che looked at her open collar, his face full of disgust.
"Sacrificing yourself? Selling flesh? Trading for a long-term meal ticket in The Seven?"
The color on Starlight's face drained completely.
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out of her throat.
"Put away that cheap trick of yours."
Shen Che felt out a new handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the toe of his shoe that had just kicked her wrist.
"I'm not like The Deep, a rutting dog that can't walk when it sees something with a hole."
He threw the handkerchief used for shoe-cleaning onto Starlight's face.
The white cloth covered her vision.
"Vought Company spent seventy thousand dollars to make this uniform for you, not for you to strip in the hallway for the CEO to see."
Starlight flurriedly pulled off the handkerchief on her face.
Breathing heavily.
Her chest rose and fell violently.
She felt that compared to being raped, this head-to-toe contempt made her even more embarrassed.
Shen Che bent down.
The shadow of his black suit completely enveloped her.
He extended his left hand.
Two fingers clamped onto Starlight's chin like iron pliers.
Forcibly raising her head.
The force on his finger bones was great.
Starlight's jawbone made a soft click.
Her teeth hit the tip of her tongue, tasting a trace of blood.
Shen Che stared into her eyes.
"Your sense of justice is shattered."
"Your bottom line is gone."
"And then you chose the most cowardly path: sticking up your butt to be a plaything."
Shen Che sneered.
"Annie. You look down on Vought too much, and you look down on me too much."
"I don't need scrap that only knows how to take off clothes."
"You can find a dozen for two hundred bucks out on the street."
Starlight was forced to keep her head up.
Teardrops slid down the corners of her eyes into the gaps of Shen Che's fingers.
"Then what do you want me... to do..."
Her voice was hoarse, carrying thick entreaty.
Shen Che released her chin.
Straightened up.
"I want you to be a dog."
"A most ruthless, most vicious mad dog."
He turned around, looking at the night sky outside the hole in the conference room.
"The Deep is dead."
"Translucent is dead."
"The Seven is currently short of people to do dirty work."
"Chloe is a good blade, but she's too conspicuous."
Shen Che turned his head to look at Starlight.
"You're different."
"You're a newcomer."
"In front of the public, you're a blank sheet of paper."
"Stain a blank sheet of paper with blood, wash it, and it's still people's favorite neighborhood girl."
Starlight looked at him blankly.
"I don't understand..."
"You don't need to understand."
"Just follow orders."
Shen Che pulled out a folded piece of kraft paper from the inner pocket of his suit.
Tossed it casually.
The kraft paper drifted down into the puddle in front of Starlight.
The edges absorbed water, and the handwriting began to blur.
Starlight picked it up tremblingly.
It was a list.
Printed on it were photos of a few fierce-looking men.
"Brooklyn district, Seventh Avenue."
Shen Che's voice had no fluctuation.
"There's a gang called Blood Saw."
"Doing underground compound v smuggling."
"Last month they hijacked one of Vought's transport trucks and killed two guards."
"Most importantly, they refuse to pay this quarter's protection fee."
Starlight looked at the list in her hand.
A total of twelve people.
"You want me... to catch them?"
She asked tentatively.
"Catch?"
Shen Che sneered coldly.
"Catch them back and send them to prison to eat taxpayers' prison food?"
Shen Che took a step forward.
"I want you to dispose of them."
"Leave none alive."
Starlight shuddered all over.
The kraft paper in her hand fell back into the puddle.
"Kill people?"
She shook her head desperately.
"No... I've never killed anyone!"
"I'm a superhero, I can't lynch..."
Shen Che couldn't be bothered to listen to nonsense.
He bent down again and grabbed the uniform fabric at Starlight's chest.
Like lifting a chick, he hoisted her directly off the ground.
Starlight's feet left the ground.
Because of her struggle, blinding white light suddenly lit up in the palms of both her hands.
This was her superpower.
Her energy was out of control.
A beam of light as thick as a wrist shot out from her palm, grazing Shen Che's shoulder and hitting the ceiling.
Bang.
The plaster ceiling of the hallway was blasted into a charred hole.
Sparks fell down, hitting Shen Che's suit.
Shen Che didn't even dodge.
He reached out and patted out the sparks on his shoulder.
The suit fabric was completely fine.
Starlight was terrified, hurriedly pulling back her ability.
The light dissipated, and the hallway returned to that dim red light.
"What, want to kill me?"
Shen Che looked at her.
"No... I didn't mean to..."
Starlight cried out in explanation.
Shen Che dragged her right in front of his face.
The tips of their noses were only an inch apart.
"You even know how to kill people, what white lotus are you pretending to be with me?"
Shen Che's voice was like a poisoned blade.
"Afraid to kill?"
"Great."
"Tomorrow I'll have the PR department release a press release."
"Starlight Annie. Messy private life. Drug user. Attempted seduction of Vought upper management."
"Guess whether those fans of yours will feel heartache for you, or curse you out as a bitch?"
Starlight breathed rapidly, shaking her head desperately.
"And that mother of yours in the countryside."
Shen Che threw out his final bargaining chip.
"She borrowed five hundred thousand in usury for your Starlight Avenue, right?"
"Guess which brothel the debt-collecting gangsters will sell her to once Vought terminates your contract?"
Starlight completely froze.
Her defense line collapsed so completely not even slag was left.
"Don't touch my mom..."
Her voice shook out of shape.
"Then do as I say."
Shen Che released his hand.
Starlight fell back to the ground.
Her knees hit the tiles with a crisp sound.
She couldn't care about the pain.
Staring blankly at the piece of kraft paper on the ground that was about to be soaked through by water.
The gang members in the photos distorted in the water ripples.
"Your superpower is light."
"That's very good."
Shen Che straightened the hem of his suit.
"Go to Brooklyn."
"Burn those twelve people to ashes."
"Burn them into charcoal so that even DNA can't be extracted."
"Understood?"
Starlight bit her lower lip.
Teardrops smashed one by one onto the kraft paper.
She wanted to resist, but her mind was filled with images of her mother being dragged away by debt collectors.
And Translucent's snapped neck.
In this slaughterhouse.
Kindness was the most worthless garbage.
Only by turning into a blade would she not be chopped up like meat.
"I..."
Starlight opened her mouth.
Her throat was dry and painful.
"I'll go."
She closed her eyes.
Teardrops squeezed out of her eye sockets.
"Loudly."
Shen Che said coldly.
Starlight abruptly opened her eyes.
She propped her hands in the stagnant water.
The muddy water soiled the platinum-colored gloves.
"I'll go!"
She gritted her teeth.
Her voice cracked, carrying a desperate hopelessness.
"Very good."
Shen Che walked past her.
"Tomorrow morning, I want to see Blood Saw's gold tooth placed on my desk."
The sound of leather shoes faded away.
Shen Che didn't turn back to look at her again.
Starlight knelt in the hallway.
The red alarm light shone on her.
Her hands trembling, she felt for the zipper of her uniform.
Click.
The zipper stuck for a moment.
With a hard tug, she pulled it all the way to the top.
The collar was sealed shut again.
She picked up the soaked kraft paper.
Folded it carefully.
Stuffed it into the hidden compartment at the waist of her uniform.
Supporting herself against the wall, she stood up with weak legs.
Stumbled toward the elevator entrance.
The hallway fell quiet again.
Only the cold wind in the ceiling hole was still pouring in.
The right corridor corner.
In the shadows of the wall stood a person.
Queen Maeve.
She hadn't left all along.
Her back pressed tightly against the cold wall bricks.
The red battle skirt turned into a lifeless dark red in the shadows.
She was holding a cigarette in her hand, unlit.
The sponge filter had been chewed into a pulp by her.
She held her breath.
Her lungs ached from holding it in, yet she didn't dare take a deep breath.
She watched with her own eyes as Starlight collapsed.
Watched that newcomer have all her innocence and dignity kicked to pieces by a single kick from Shen Che.
Watched her turn from a dream-filled girl into a mad dog about to go bite people.
So ruthless.
Shen Che didn't use a single bit of superpower.
Relying solely on a few words, on the grasp of human nature.
He ground a super-human's psychological defense line into powder.
Queen Maeve's hands and feet were ice cold.
She finally understood that what Vought Companywelcomed wasn't a new CEO.
But a devil proficient in toying with human hearts.
Idiots like The Deep died of arrogance.
And those of them who were still alive would have their souls completely drained.
A gust of wind blew over.
Queen Maeve's hand shook.
That chewed-up cigarette fell to the ground.
Red leather boots stepped on it, grinding hard.
The tobacco shreds mixed into the dust of the carpet.
She looked at the direction where Shen Che disappeared at the end of the corridor, clenching her fists tightly.
Her fingernails dug into her flesh.
She didn't let go for a long time.
Chapter 17 Queen Maeve's Fear: He is More Cruel Than the Devil
Queen Maeve pressed her back against the brick wall.
Every time the red alarm light in the corridor flashed, her heart twitched along with it.
The cold air in the cracks of the bricks crept up her spine.
She covered her mouth tightly with both hands, the smell of the leather gloves trapped in her nasal cavity.
A breath was held in her lungs, her chest swelling.
She didn't dare to make even the slightest sound.
Dozens of meters away, Shen Che had just told Starlight to get lost.
Queen Maeve heard the whole thing.
She thought she was already completely rotten in Vought Company. In this building, she had seen dealings dirtier than sewers.
When Chloe went crazy, she tore innocent passersby in half at the waist, and Queen Maeve had only felt annoyed at the time.
That was just a mad dog biting people, and staying far away was enough.
But Shen Che was different.
Queen Maeve poked half an eye out from the shadows, looking at Shen Che's back.
During that process just now, Shen Che didn't touch Starlight with even a single finger.
He only used a few sentences.
It was like holding a rusted scalpel, vividly dissecting a rural girl full of dreams alive.
Fishing out all the justice, conscience, and bottom line inside.
Throwing them on the ground and grinding them into shattered mud with the soles of leather shoes.
Finally stuffing a sharp knife inside, forcing that girl to kill people.
Queen Maeve bit hard on the joint of her index finger.
Using too much force, her leather gloves were bitten through; her teeth broke the flesh, and the tip of her tongue tasted a hint of rust.
It was too terrifying.
This man was not a reckless brute relying on great strength, but a butcher proficient in dissecting souls.
Queen Maeve originally still hid a tiny spark in her heart.
She thought that if the new president was too arrogant, perhaps one day she could unite with Starlight and join forces with the Boys.
To overthrow all these suit-wearing bastards of Vought Company together.
Everyone fighting to the death.
Now.
This wisp of flame was doused by a basin of ice water, leaving not even a puff of smoke.
Even a pure good person like Starlight turned into an obedient dog within a few minutes.
What kind of thing was she, Queen Maeve?
Shen Che stood by the puddle.
He didn't turn his head or look toward the shadows.
He took out the handkerchief from his pocket and leisurely wiped his fingers.
"Have you seen enough?"
The man's voice wasn't loud.
It bounced back and forth twice in the empty corridor, accurately piercing into Queen Maeve's ears.
Queen Maeve stiffened all over.
Her hand covering her mouth trembled abruptly, her fingernails scratching a red mark on the side of her face.
She thought she had hidden herself very well.
Just now, she had even stopped breathing for nearly two minutes, and deliberately lowered her heartbeat to the minimum.
"Get out here."
Shen Che turned around, his gaze like two nails slamming fiercely into the shadows of the corner.
Queen Maeve's legs went soft.
She released her hand covering her mouth and panted heavily.
Deprived of oxygen for too long, the air rushed violently into her trachea, triggering an uncontrollable fit of dry coughs.
She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.
Supporting herself against the cold brick wall.
One leg stepped out of the shadows.
The red battle skirt, usually worn on her body, was the spiritual totem of independent American women.
Worn on her body now, it felt like a plastic bag ready to break at any time.
She walked into the light of the corridor.
Her head hung low, her golden hair blocking most of her face.
Her gaze was nailed to the tips of Shen Che's water-stained and dusty leather shoes, not daring to look up even half an inch.
"Shen..."
Her throat was terribly hoarse, sounding like sandpaper rubbing together.
She wanted to say something to express loyalty, or explain that she was just passing by.
"Go to the pantry."
Shen Che interrupted her.
He casually threw the dirty handkerchief into the accumulated water at his feet.
"Brew a cup of black coffee and bring it to the ninety-ninth floor office."
Queen Maeve was stunned for a moment.
She suddenly raised her head.
She thought what awaited her would be an end like the deep sea,
Or at least soul-crushing interrogation like Starlight's.
But there was nothing.
No killing, no coerced confession.
Brewing coffee.
This was the humblest, lowest job.
Usually done by intern assistants earning minimum wage.
She was the number two figure of The Seven.
Shen Che didn't treat her as a threat, nor as a hero.
Just a maid who could pour tea and water.
This disregard was more hurtful than slapping her in the face directly.
But the only thing surging in Queen Maeve's heart was relief.
Being a maid in front of such a monster meant her life was saved.
"Didn't you hear clearly?" Shen Che frowned slightly.
Queen Maeve shivered.
Dignity was worth less than dog shit in front of monstrous strength capable of crushing carbon fiber.
"I heard clearly."
She buried her head even lower, her voice as obedient as a programmed machine.
"I'll go right away."
Pantry.
Queen Maeve stood in front of the fully automatic coffee machine.
The stainless steel splash guard reflected her face, which was pale with bloodshot eyes.
She picked up a white porcelain coffee cup.
Her right hand trembled violently, the porcelain cup clattering against the metal tray with a crisp sound.
She used her left hand to grip her right wrist tightly, trying to make it stop.
It was useless; her muscles were spasming uncontrollably.
Coffee beans were poured into the grinder, and she pressed the button.
The machine made a harsh roar, the hard beans being shredded by the blades.
This rough noise made her feel a little better, just enough to cover the sound of her heart about to jump out of her chest.
Hot water poured into the filter paper.
Black coffee liquid dripped into the cup, emitting a strong burnt and bitter smell.
Queen Maeve braced both hands on the marble countertop.
Her ten fingers gripped the edge tightly, her fingernails turning white from excessive force.
She closed her eyes.
The face of her girlfriend Elena flashed in her mind.
Shen Che had forced her to hand over the address and fingerprints in the conference room just now.
If she had the slightest thought of resistance, what would happen to Elena?
How Translucent died, how A-Train was crippled.
The scenes cut back and forth in her mind.
She couldn't let Elena turn into a pool of rotten meat on the carpet.
Drip. The last drop of coffee fell into the cup.
Queen Maeve picked up the cup.
The water was too full, and a few drops of scalding coffee liquid spilled out, splashing onto the back of her hand.
The skin immediately turned red from the burn.
She didn't even frown.
She didn't feel any pain.
She placed the cup on the silver tray and put a small silver spoon next to it.
She turned and walked out of the pantry.
Ninety-ninth floor. President's office.
The double doors were half open. The corridor carpet had been half-cleaned by the janitorial staff.
The smell of blood in the air was covered by a strong air freshener, carrying a pungent lemon scent.
Queen Maeve carried the tray to the door.
Taking a deep breath, she adjusted the frequency of her breathing.
She raised her hand and knocked on the door.
Knock, knock. Two knocks, knuckles hitting the wood.
"Come in."
The man's voice came out.
She pushed the door open.
The main lights were not turned on in the office, only the city neon lights outside the floor-to-ceiling windows shone in.
Hitting the mahogany desk, half bright and half dark.
Shen Che sat in that large leather executive chair.
His suit jacket was taken off and draped over the back of the chair.
Chloe was kneeling on the carpet.
Holding a small silver pair of scissors, she was trimming a stray thread on Shen Che's suit pants bit by bit.
That Female Homelander who could shoot heat rays in the sky and split airplanes in half,
Was now like a thoroughly tamed golden retriever.
Her golden hair was scattered over Shen Che's knees, her eyes full of morbid obsession.
Queen Maeve didn't dare to look more.
Her gaze was locked firmly on the tray in her hand.
Carrying the coffee, she walked to the desk.
Her high heels stepped on the thick carpet, trying not to make any extra noise.
"President Shen. Your coffee."
She held the cup with both hands, her waist bent down by thirty degrees.
Carefully placing it on the mahogany desktop beside Shen Che's hand.
The bottom of the cup tapped against the wooden desktop with a very light dull thud.
The coffee liquid swayed in a circle without spilling.
Queen Maeve let out a huge sigh of relief.
Her hands hanging at her sides, she stepped back half a step and stood straight, waiting for instructions.
Shen Che leaned back in his chair.
Reaching out, he picked up the coffee cup and took a sip.
His brows furrowed slightly.
"A bit bland."
He put the cup back on the desk, making a crisp porcelain collision sound.
Queen Maeve's heart tightened abruptly.
Her heart slammed heavily against her ribs.
"I... I'll go brew another cup right away."
She reached out to grab the cup, her movement a bit too rushed as her fingertips almost knocked it over.
"No need."
Shen Che leaned back into the leather chair, his gaze sweeping across her face.
That look had no temperature, like evaluating the wear and tear of a tool.
"You are more sensible than Starlight."
Shen Che looked at her tight jaw.
"Recognize your own position, and you can keep eating Vought Company's meal for a long time."
Queen Maeve bit her back teeth tight.
The muscles on her cheeks bulged.
"Understood."
She bit these two words down hard, swallowing her last shred of temper into her stomach along with them.
Shen Che withdrew his gaze.
He thoroughly enjoyed this feeling.
Not simply smashing people with fists,
But watching these high-and-mighty superhumans, these gods on television,
Having their spines extracted bit by bit by him,
Having their dignity crushed to pieces, turning into dogs begging for pity.
Chloe cut off a thread.
She raised her face, resting her chin on Shen Che's knees.
"Shen. She's an eyesore standing here. Make her get lost."
Chloe turned back and glared at Queen Maeve.
An uncontrollable red glow surged in her blue eyes, the precursor to unleashing heat rays.
Queen Maeve's back was instantly soaked in cold sweat.
Being targeted by this mad dog was more agonizing than having a gun pointed at her.
She immediately lowered her head.
"I'm leaving right now."
She turned and walked toward the door with quick footsteps, almost in an escaping posture.
Just as her hand touched the bronze doorknob,
Beep—!
A sharp electronic ringing burst out in the quiet office.
It wasn't the phone in Shen Che's pocket.
It was the red internal secure phone on the far side of the desk.
Queen Maeve stopped her movement.
Her hand froze on the doorknob.
She recognized that phone.
It was a dedicated line.
In the entire building, only one person could get through on this red phone.
The true mastermind and big boss behind Vought Company, Stan Edgar.
Shen Che's gaze fell on the red plastic receiver.
The ringing continued, one ring after another, as urgent as a death summons.
He wasn't in a hurry to answer.
Reaching out, he stroked Chloe's golden hair.
"Be a good girl. Go sit on the sofa."
Chloe pouted in dissatisfaction.
But she didn't dare to resist, obediently standing up and walking over to sit by the sofa.
Crossing her arms, she stared fixedly at that phone.
Shen Che extended his right hand.
His index and middle fingers pinched the red receiver.
He pressed the speakerphone button.
The call connected.
The rustling sound of pages turning came from the speaker.
Followed by an aged, cold, and hard voice.
Carrying the unquestionable arrogance of someone who had been in a high position for a long time.
Like lecturing one's own farmhand.
"Shen."
Stan Edgar's voice sounded somewhat distorted through the loudspeaker.
"The bill for the ninth-floor restroom, and the report on the disappearance of the Deep. Just placed on my desk."
Shen Che leaned back in his chair without speaking.
He tapped his finger once on the desktop.
There was a two-second pause on the other end of the phone.
"You went too far today."
Stan's tone was as cold as a block of ice, carrying a hidden anger.
He was accustomed to treating everyone as chess pieces.
"Come to the eighty-second floor."
The old man's voice rose by an octave.
"I'll wait for you here."
"Immediately."
Click.
The phone hung up, leaving a rapid busy tone.
Chapter 18: CEO Stan wants to suppress me with capital? Tossed straight out the window.
The intercom on the wall rang.
The red indicator light flashed repeatedly, looking glaringly obvious in the dim hallway.
Queen Maeve held two cups of black coffee, standing three steps away.
Her hands were shaking violently.
The bone china coffee cups and saucers collided, producing a continuous, crisp clatter.
A few drops of scalding coffee splashed onto the back of her hand, but she didn't even dare to wipe them away.
Shen Che walked over and picked up the receiver.
Without putting it to his ear, he casually pressed the speakerphone button.
The rustling sound of paper turning came through the speaker.
Then came an old man's voice, speaking at a slow pace with heavy articulation.
"Upstairs.
Come to my office."
It was the true big boss behind the scenes of the Vought Company, Stan Edgar.
His tone was as flat as if he were ordering around a minimum-wage cleaner.
Listening to this voice, Shen Che pressed the tip of his tongue against his back molars.
A short burst of breath rolled out from his throat.
He smashed the receiver directly onto the telephone base.
A crack split open on the plastic shell.
He turned and walked toward the private elevator.
One hundred and twelfth floor.
The elevator doors slid open to both sides, and stepping out meant stepping onto a thick Persian carpet.
There were no unnecessary partitions on this entire floor.
There was only a pair of double doors made of agarwood.
The scorched scent of Cuba cigars drifted in the air.
Shen Che pushed the door open and went in.
The room was very large, with floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides, overlooking the entire Manhattan.
Stan Edgar sat behind that large mahogany desk.
He was a lean, thin old Black man, wearing a dark-patterned gray suit and gold-rimmed glasses.
A document was placed on the desk.
Stan was holding a sterling silver fountain pen, signing at the end of the document.
The nib glided across the paper, making a rustling sound.
He didn't raise his head.
"You soiled the carpet on the ninth floor and destroyed a load-bearing wall."
After finishing his signature, Stan capped the pen and placed it on the pen holder on the desk.
"Translucent is dead.
The PR department has to spend at least twenty million to smooth this over.
They have to make up a touching story about him sacrificing himself while executing a secret mission."
Shen Che pulled open the chair opposite the desk.
This chair had a brass frame and was very heavy.
He sat down directly, stretching out his long legs, his leather shoes resting on the crossbar under the desk.
"Twenty million."
Shen Che leaned back, "Vought's stock rose three points yesterday, and you can make two hundred million in a single day."
Stan finally raised his head.
He took off his glasses, took a flannel cloth from the drawer, and slowly wiped the lenses.
"This is a matter of rules, Shen."
Stan's voice carried no trace of emotion.
He looked like a headmaster observing a failing student who had made a mistake.
"You have power.
That is very good.
But power is worthless on Wall Street.
What can buy the right to ring the Nasdaq bell is order."
Stan put on his glasses, crossing his hands and placing them on the desktop.
"You beat Madelyn into the dental hospital.
Do you think you can take over The Seven with violence?"
The old man sneered.
It was a condescending contempt.
"They fear you because your fists are hard.
But I can make them risk their lives for me because I pay their wages."
Shen Che looked at the old man in front of him.
Finding it somewhat boring.
In his past life, he had heard too much of this patronizing capitalist preaching.
Their mouths were full of rules, order, and the big picture.
Peel off the skin and take a look, and it's all the stinky green smell of US dollars.
"You called me up here just to give me a basic economics lesson?"
Shen Che asked.
Stan pulled open the cigar box beside his hand.
He took out a cigar, picked up the silver cigar cutter, and snipped off the cap with a snap.
He didn't light it.
He just held the cigar in his hand and played with it.
"I called you up here to reprice you."
Stan looked at Shen Che.
"You will lead The Seven from now on.
I'll give you a five percent non-contributory share of the company's annual security profits.
Media exposure will tilt toward you, and I will make you the spiritual totem of the United States."
Stan tossed out his chips and paused for a moment.
He was waiting for Shen Che's breathing to grow heavy or for greed to appear in his eyes.
But he saw nothing.
Shen Che didn't even twitch an eyebrow.
Stan frowned.
He felt that this young man's appetite had grown larger.
"This is my bottom line."
Stan threw the cigar on the desk, his tone sinking.
"Don't be too greedy.
Vought can lift you up as a god, and it can also turn you back into a rat in the Underground Room."
"Turn me back with what?"
Shen Che tapped his fingers twice on the armrest.
"With the rules in your mouth?"
Stan opened the last drawer on his right-hand side.
He took out a black plastic remote control.
It was square, with only a single red button on it.
"With this."
Stan placed the remote control beside his hand.
He looked at Shen Che, his gaze revealing the confidence of controlling everything.
"Do you really think the company would spend sixteen years cultivating a monster without a fuse?"
Stan leaned back into the leather chair, spreading his hands.
"Lab Seven.
The last batch of nutrient solution injected into you the year you were ten."
"A little good stuff was mixed inside.
A neurotoxin."
Stan pointed at that red button.
"This signal transmitter is connected to the micro-dissolution capsule in your heart's blood vessels."
"As long as I press the button, within three-tenths of a second, your heart will explode like a crushed tomato."
The office was very quiet.
The antique wall clock made ticking sounds.
Stan picked up the water cup on the desk and took a sip of Water.
He felt the matter was already resolved.
The collar was back around the dog's neck.
"Accept that five percent.
Then get the hell downstairs and clean up your mess."
Stan swallowed the Water, the bottom of the cup clinking against the desktop.
Shen Che laughed.
His chest vibrated, and his Adam's apple rolled twice.
The laughter wasn't loud, but it was deep.
He stood up.
His tall and sturdy body blocked the natural light from outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The shadow covered more than half of the mahogany desk.
Stan watched Shen Che stand up, his gaze changing slightly.
His palm covered the remote control, with his thumb hovering above that red button.
"Sit down."
Stan rebuked sternly.
Shen Che didn't stop.
He walked around the desk, taking small strides, his leather shoes making not a single sound as they stepped on the carpet.
A thin layer of sweat broke out on Stan's forehead.
The composure he took pride in cracked open a seam.
"Stop!
I'm not joking!"
Stan shouted.
Shen Che had already walked up to him.
His long legs pressed directly against the edge of the mahogany table.
Stan slammed his thumb down fiercely.
"Click."
The plastic button was pressed all the way down, producing a crisp sound.
The red light flashed once.
Shen Che just stood there.
He didn't even frown.
The sound of his heartbeat remained steady, like a heavy-duty engine.
That crappy neurotoxin had long been expelled from his body as waste by his immune mechanism the moment the Silver Age Superman panel loaded.
Let alone a micro-dissolution capsule, even if a ton of Red-Crested Crane poison was injected into his veins right now, it would only be enough to quench his thirst.
Stan froze.
He stared intently at Shen Che's chest, then looked down at the remote control in his hand.
His thumb pressed down frantically.
"Click, click, click!"
The plastic shell was pressed until cracks formed.
The red light flashed into a blur.
Nothing happened.
The capitalist's ultimate trump card had turned into a plastic toy that couldn't even fool a three-year-old child.
Shen Che reached out his right hand.
His index and middle fingers clamped onto Stan's neck.
He didn't use his full strength, using less than ten percent.
Just like casually hoisting a squawking little chick.
He lifted his wrist upward.
Stan's entire body was hoisted up.
His feet instantly left the ground.
The tips of his leather shoes kicked wildly in mid-air.
His knees knocked over the water cup on the desk, and Water spilled all over the table, wetting the newly signed document.
"Ugh..."
Stan's Adam's apple was locked tight.
That whole lengthy set of business theories was all blocked in his trachea.
Oxygen couldn't get in.
His face rapidly turned crimson.
Both of his hands grabbed tightly onto Shen Che's arm, his fingernails desperately digging into the suit fabric.
Breaking two fingernails, Shen Che's arm didn't even shake an inch.
Holding him, Shen Che turned and walked toward that huge floor-to-ceiling window.
Manhattan's scenery extended outside the glass.
The cars below looked like moving little black boxes.
Stan understood what Shen Che wanted to do.
His eyeballs bulged outward due to fear and oxygen deprivation, bloodshot veins filling the whites of his eyes.
He twisted his body violently in mid-air.
His expensive suit was torn out of shape, and his necktie hung crookedly around his neck.
A stench of urine emanated from his crotch.
A large patch of his dark gray suit trousers was wet.
Shen Che walked up to the floor-to-ceiling window.
This was six-centimeter-thick aviation-grade explosion-proof glass.
It could withstand the frontal explosion of C4 explosives.
He didn't have time to touch the door handle.
Shen Che thrust Stan's body forward.
Using the back of this old man's head, he smashed it fiercely against the glass.
"Bang!"
A muffled thud.
Stan's scalp instantly split open.
Fresh blood trickled down the glass, smearing a large area.
A circle of white spiderweb-like cracks appeared on the surface of the explosion-proof glass.
Shen Che pulled his head back half a foot.
Smash again.
Boom!
The glass shattered completely.
Large pieces of debris flew out of the window like raindrops.
The fierce wind instantly poured into the office, blowing over the documents on the mahogany desk.
White paper fluttered chaotically all over the sky.
High altitude of the one hundred and twelfth floor.
The sound of the wind was piercingly sharp.
Shen Che stood by the edge of the shattered window frame.
His right hand reached outside, suspending Stan's entire body in mid-air outside the building.
The streets below made one dizzy to look at.
A little air finally squeezed into Stan's throat.
The wind poured into his mouth, tearing his screams into pieces.
"No... No!
All the shares are yours...
I resign..."
Both of his hands hugged Shen Che's wrist tightly.
Snot and tears were blown all over his face by the wind.
Blood flowed down his forehead into his eyes.
The arrogance of capital had long been blown away completely by the high-altitude wind.
Only the animal's most instinctive fear of Death remained.
Shen Che listened to this bunch of nutrientless pleas for mercy.
Feeling that it was truly too noisy.
He couldn't even be bothered to say a single parting word to this old man.
His five fingers spread open.
Let go.
The moment he lost support, Stan's body plummeted downwards fiercely.
His hands were still clutching blindly in mid-air, catching only a few wisps of New York's cold wind.
That lean, thin old man wearing a custom-tailored suit fell spinning downwards like a broken sack.
The screams were drawn out very long by the wind, growing further and further away.
A few seconds later, a muffled "squelch" sound came from below.
It was like a fully ripened tomato smashing onto the asphalt road.
Then came the screeching sound of emergency car brakes and the terrified screams of the crowd.
Shen Che didn't look down.
He patted his right hand.
His palm was stained with a bit of blood from the back of Stan's head.
He took out the handkerchief given by Chloe from his pocket and wiped it clean.
He casually threw the handkerchief into the wind.
Shen Che turned around.
His leather shoes stepped on the scattered A4 paper all over the floor.
He walked behind that large mahogany desk.
He pulled open the leather armchair that symbolized the supreme power of the Vought Company.
He shook out the hem of his suit.
And sat down.
Chapter 19: Starting from today, I, Shen Che, call the shots at Vought Company.
Shen Che leaned back against the leather back of the chair.
This chair was custom-made according to Stan's body shape.
The hydraulic rod could not bear Shen Che's current weight, letting out a faint "hiss" sound as it sank down two inches.
Outside the broken floor-to-ceiling window, the cold wind of Manhattan poured straight inside.
It blew the documents on the desk flying everywhere; A4 sheets stuck to the wall and then slid down onto the carpet.
There was a very faint smell of urine in the air, left behind by Stan.
The mahogany double doors were half-open.
Seven or eight people were standing outside the corridor. They were all members of the Vought Company board of directors.
One by one, they were dressed in suits, with pomade in their hair, combed meticulously.
Yet at this moment, they looked like a flock of startled quails, huddled at the edge of the doorframe and peeking in.
Someone took off their gold-rimmed glasses and frantically wiped away sweat with a handkerchief.
"Standing there acting like door gods?"
Shen Che turned his swivel chair to face the doorway.
"Get in here."
The old men outside the door shuddered.
They pushed each other a few times before biting the bullet and stepping into the office.
Leather shoes trod on the scattered documents, making a rustling sound.
Walking at the very front was the second-largest shareholder, Richard.
He leaned on an agarwood cane in his hand, keeping his back straight.
Behind Richard followed two tower-like bodyguards, bulging under their suits.
This was the source of his confidence to walk at the front.
"Shen, what the hell are you playing at?"
Richard looked around, his brows knitted into a knot.
"What's going on with this wall? Where is Stan?"
He tapped the floor with his cane, making a loud thumping sound.
"We were holding a board meeting. He ran up halfway, saying he was going to deal with you, an disobedient product..."
Shen Che did not speak.
He raised his hand and pointed his thumb back toward the shattered floor-to-ceiling window.
A bloody patch of scalp still remained on the edge of the window frame.
Several old men looked over following his finger.
As the cold wind blew, someone shivered.
"He went down." Shen Che put down his hand and crossed his fingers on the desktop.
"No need to look for him. By now, he should have been shoveled away by the sanitation department."
The office fell instantly silent.
Only the sound of the wind rustling the paper could be heard.
A fat shareholder turned pale, clutching his chest and taking two steps back.
He heavily sat down on the leather sofa.
The sofa cushion emitted a muffled "poof" sound.
Richard's cane stopped in mid-air.
He stared at the bloodstains on the window frame, then looked at Shen Che sitting in the president's seat.
The muscles on his face began to twitch.
"You're crazy," Richard said with a tight voice.
"You killed him? Do you know who Stan represents? You are declaring war on the entire Wall Street!"
Shen Che felt these people's brains reacted too slowly.
They always had to have things spelled out so explicitly.
"What the hell is Wall Street?" Shen Che stood up.
He adjusted the hem of his suit and walked around the mahogany desk.
Step by step, he walked toward Richard.
The footsteps weren't loud, but treading on the carpet felt like stepping on these old men's hearts.
"I called you in not to hold a seminar."
"Have the people from the legal department come up with the equity transfer agreements."
Shen Che stopped half a meter in front of Richard.
"Transfer everything to me. Zero-dollar purchase. Any problems?"
Richard laughed out of anger.
He had lived for over sixty years, wielding wind and rain in this capitalist empire.
He had never seen such an arrogant robbery.
"You're a monster, that's right," Richard gripped his cane tightly, his knuckles turning white.
"But this is the United States. Do you think you can seize billions in assets through violence?"
He took a step back, making room for the bodyguards behind him.
"Hold down this insane experimental subject. Dead or alive."
The two bodyguards moved.
They were the highest-level modified humans of the Vought security department, with high-strength alloy injected into their bones.
The one on the left pulled out a silver electromagnetic pistol from his bosom, pointing the muzzle directly at Shen Che's forehead.
The one on the right lunged forward fiercely, both hands grabbing toward Shen Che's shoulders like vises.
Shen Che didn't even blink an eye.
He raised his right hand and grabbed straight toward the muzzle.
"Bang!"
The electromagnetic pistol misfired, and a blue plasma projectile shot out.
It hit Shen Che's palm, not even leaving a white mark, looking like a shattered mud ball.
Shen Che closed his five fingers.
Along with the high-tech pistol and the bodyguard's right palm, he gripped them all in his hand.
Crack.
The sound of metal shattering and the sound of bones being crushed into dust mixed together.
The bodyguard's miserable scream hadn't had time to come out.
Shen Che's left hand had already moved.
With a backhanded slap.
Without any fancy movements, it was pure brute force.
It struck the side of the face of the lunging bodyguard on the right.
"Snap."
That alloy-reinforced head directly spun three and a half turns on the neck.
The cervical spine was twisted into a twist.
The body weighing over two hundred pounds flew out like a broken sack.
It crashed into the nearby bookshelf.
Over a hundred hardcover books came crashing down with a rattle, burying the bodyguard underneath.
He was dead, with no movement left.
The bodyguard on the left whose palm was crushed knelt on the ground from pain, shivering all over.
Shen Che found him in the way.
He raised his leg and kicked him right in the chest.
His sternum collapsed into a deep pit.
The entire bodyguard slid more than ten meters across the carpet, crashed into the corner, and spat out a large mouthful of blood mixed with visceral fragments.
In less than three seconds.
Richard's confidence had turned into two deformed corpses.
The agarwood cane dropped to the ground, rolling to Shen Che's feet.
Richard's legs went weak, and he bit his lips until they bled.
Shen Che lowered his head to glance at that cane.
A leather shoe stepped on it.
"Crack."
The tens of thousands of dollars worth of wood broke into two halves.
"The United States talks about law," Shen Che looked at Richard.
"But I only talk about physics."
He reached out and grabbed Richard's custom suit tie.
With one hand, he lifted the old man up.
Richard's feet hung in the air.
The tie tightened around his neck. He opened his mouth wide, unable to utter a single sound.
His hands beat futilely against Shen Che's arms.
His face turned purplish-red from holding his breath.
Carrying him, Shen Che walked toward the broken floor-to-ceiling window.
"No... Don't..."
The other shareholders were frightened out of their minds; some screamed and ran toward the door.
Someone directly knelt on the ground, a large patch of their crotch wet.
Shen Che walked to the window.
The Manhattan wind blew Richard's sparse white hair into disarray.
"Stan was hanging here just like this a moment ago," Shen Che's tone was very calm.
"The two of you can continue your board meeting in hell."
He let go of his hand.
Richard fell down.
The screams were carried away by the wind, exactly the same as ten minutes ago.
Shen Che turned around.
He looked at the remaining six old men.
Someone was crawling toward the door, their hands gripping the doorframe desperately.
"Run out this door," Shen Che picked up a white porcelain coffee cup from the desk.
He weighed it in his hand twice.
"And I'll shove this cup into his head."
The shareholder crawling to the door froze instantly.
Like a toad that had its pause button pressed.
He slowly retracted his hand, flipped over, and sat on the carpet wailing bitterly.
"I'll sign... I'll sign anything..."
He cried until snot bubbled, wiping his face indiscriminately with his sleeves.
"Don't kill me. I'll give you all my shares!"
The remaining five people snapped back to reality as if waking from a dream.
"Call legal quickly! Fast!"
"I'll transfer my shares too, gratuitously!"
A group of usually lofty capitalist tycoons were now like aunties snatching discounted Chinese cabbages in a vegetable market.
Terrified that being a second slow would get them thrown out the window.
Five minutes later.
The chief lawyer of the legal department stumbled into the office running.
Holding a stack of freshly printed equity transfer agreements in his hand.
The paper still carried the heat of the copy machine.
The lawyer's hands shook like a winnowing sieve, unable to even hold a pen steadily.
No negotiation needed. No due diligence needed.
Even less need for prolonged commercial dragging.
These shareholders snatched the signature pens and quickly signed their names on the paper.
Someone exerted too much force, and the pen tip tore the paper.
To show sincerity, someone directly bit their finger to press a bloody handprint on it.
In less than half an hour.
A thick stack of documents was piled on the mahogany desk.
Shen Che leaned back in the swivel chair and casually flipped through them twice.
From this moment on, over ninety percent of Vought Company's equity was entirely under his name.
The rest were just retail investors on the market.
The once-unconquerable Vought conglomerate completely changed hands.
This massive capitalist machine transformed from a star-making factory into Shen Che's personal private arsenal.
"Get lost." Shen Che tossed the documents onto the desk.
The six shareholders felt as if they had received a grand amnesty.
Supporting each other, they scrambled and crawled out of the office in a panic.
They didn't even want the gold-rimmed glasses that dropped on the ground.
The office quieted down again.
There was only the sound of the wind.
Shen Che rubbed the space between his eyebrows.
This feeling of directly robbing money was much more satisfying than looking at K-line charts on Wall Street.
Simple, crude, and efficient.
He was just planning to call someone to block the window.
"Bang!"
A loud crash.
That solid wood door, which was already tottering, was kicked flying from the outside by someone.
The door panel flipped twice in the air and smashed onto the carpet.
Sliding three or four meters, it crashed in front of the desk.
A red and blue intertwined shadow rushed in with the sound of the wind.
Chloe was wearing her Star-Spangled tight uniform.
Her red boots were still stained with some unknown white ash.
Her blonde hair was unkempt.
She completely ignored the mess all over the floor, nor did she care about the corpses lying in the corners.
Like a cannonball, she lunged straight toward Shen Che.
"Shen!"
Shen Che just wanted to raise his hand to block.
Chloe had already crashed into his arms.
Silver Age Superman had a very steady base, but that leather swivel chair couldn't withstand this impact force.
The swivel chair slid backward by half a meter, its wheels rubbing a black mark on the wooden floor.
Chloe straddled Shen Che's lap.
Her hands tightly wrapped around his neck.
Her face pressed into the crook of his neck, rubbing against it desperately.
"I heard about it! You threw that talkative old man down!"
Chloe raised her head, her blue eyes shining brightly enough to emit light.
Pouting her red lips, her face was full of excitement.
"That meat pie down below looks so good! I knew it, you are the most amazing one!"
She was like a child who had just scored a full mark and ran home to ask parents for candy.
But her actions were very violent.
Her fingers tightly grasped the back of Shen Che's suit, her nails almost digging into his flesh.
Her breathing was rapid, carrying a strong sense of morbid attachment.
"This company is ours now, right?" Chloe stared into his eyes.
"From now on, if anyone dares to disobey here, I'll chop them into pieces and feed them to the dogs. Sound good?"
Chapter 20 Female Homelander Acts Spoiled and Blows Up Half the City's Power Grid
Chloe pressed down on Shen Che's lap. She wasn't light.
The material of the Vought exclusive uniform was very stiff, rubbing against Shen Che's haute couture suit pants.
She didn't care about these things.
Her face was buried in the crook of Shen Che's neck, her nose tip pressing against his tie knot.
Her blonde hair brushed past Shen Che's chin.
It carried a pungent smell of blood, mixed with the sweet and cloying vanilla scent unique to her body.
"They're all gone." Chloe's voice was muffled.
Her hands were wrapped around Shen Che's neck, her fingers weaving through the hair at the back of his neck.
"Those old bastards usually look at me like they're looking at a priced dog."
She raised her head.
Her blue eyes gleamed with excited moisture.
"You threw that most annoying one down. I saw it outside just now."
"Splat. Like a squashed tomato."
Shen Che leaned against the back of his chair.
The hydraulic rod let out an overloaded squeak, sinking down another section.
He raised his hand.
His fingers plunged into Chloe's blonde hair, smoothing down along her scalp.
Her hair was slightly tangled and stained with dust blown in from the corridor.
Chloe was like a cat being petted.
A faint purr came from her throat, her eyelids half-drooping.
She liked Shen Che touching her. She only liked him touching her.
Hundreds of pages of A4 paper were scattered on the carpet.
They were covered with the crooked signatures of Wall Street financial giants. Some even had bloody fingerprints.
Shen Che stepped on these papers.
His toes ground a black mark onto a document marked "15% equity".
"You won't have to look at their faces in the future." Shen Che's voice was very steady.
"Vought belongs to Shen now."
Chloe lunged forward abruptly.
Her lips brushed past Shen Che's chin, her teeth clicking against his Adam's apple. She didn't use force, just lightly biting and grinding against his flesh.
"Then can we change this to a big bed?"
She pointed at the large mahogany desk.
"This broken desk is too hard. Stan always liked to lean on it to sign documents, disgusting."
Shen Che looked at her.
This woman's thought process was never on a normal person's track.
He pinched the back of Chloe's neck.
His fingers exerted a little force.
Chloe instantly softened, collapsing back onto his chest.
"Whatever you want." Shen Che said.
"Even if you demolish this building and rebuild it, I can afford it."
Chloe laughed out loud.
Her chest vibrated, wrinkling Shen Che's suit jacket.
She closed her eyes, enjoying this sense of security of absolute possession.
The commotion from the outside world crawled up through the shattered floor-to-ceiling window.
Stan slamming onto the street couldn't possibly make a small commotion.
From a height of over a hundred floors, a puddle of meat paste was enough to dispatch the Police of all New York.
Red and blue Police lights flashed wildly on the street below.
The sound of sirens intertwined like a pot of boiling water.
But by the time these sounds reached the top floor, they had been mostly blown away by the wind.
Shen Che didn't bother with downstairs.
The Police wouldn't dare come up. Vought's legal department would clean everything up.
He just wanted to stay quietly for a while now.
To feel the throne of this capitalist empire.
A low roar broke the silence.
It wasn't sirens.
It was the dull sound of propellers cutting through the air, coming from far to near.
The wind grew stronger.
Scraps of paper in the office were whipped into mid-air, spinning and crashing against the wall.
Shen Che opened his eyes.
A red-and-white painted Bell 206 helicopter plunged down from the clouds.
The fuselage was printed with the huge white words "CNN Live".
News flies always arrived faster than the Police.
They smelled the blood in Vought Tower.
The helicopter hovered a hundred meters away from Vought Tower.
Strong winds poured in through the tattered window frame.
Chloe's blonde hair was blown across her face. She frowned in dissatisfaction.
The helicopter's side door slid open.
A man carrying a heavy camera leaned out halfway, tied with a safety rope around his waist.
The lens was locked tightly onto the hole on the 112th floor.
The person next to him pressed the switch of the external searchlight.
With a "snap".
A pale beam of light pierced through Manhattan's grayish dusk.
The beam of light was over two meters in diameter, carrying the blue halo characteristic of high-wattage xenon lamps.
This beam of light passed through the window frame and shone straight onto the president's desk.
The light spot shifted slightly.
It just happened to sweep across Shen Che's face.
Shen Che tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing.
Silver Age Superman's retina wouldn't be blinded by the light, but this light was glaringly white.
Like a needle piercing his face, making one feel irritated.
"There's someone inside! Shoot!"
A hoarse roar came from the helicopter, drifting into the office with the wind.
"It's the new product! He's sitting in Stan's seat!"
The red light on the camera flashed wildly.
Chloe's movements froze.
The fingers resting on Shen Che's chest suddenly clenched tightly.
Her nails penetrated the fabric of the haute couture suit and dug into Shen Che's pectoral muscles.
It felt a bit itchy.
She slowly stood up from Shen Che's lap.
The sweet smile on her face was gone.
The corners of her mouth sagged, her jawline tightly tensed.
She turned her head and stared fixedly at the helicopter outside the window.
Her blue eyes were full of gloom.
"They disturbed you." Chloe's voice was dry.
Like sandpaper grinding against a piece of iron.
"And they flashed that lousy light in your eyes."
She stepped over Shen Che's legs and walked forward.
Her red calfskin boots stepped on the transfer agreement where Richard had just pressed his bloody fingerprint.
The heel directly pierced through the paper.
She walked to the hole in the floor-to-ceiling window.
Manhattan's cold wind blew her Star-Spangled Banner cloak straight, snapping loudly behind her.
The people on the helicopter became even more excited when they saw Chloe appear.
"Chloe! Look at the camera!"
The searchlight beam immediately shifted over, shining on Chloe.
Enveloping her in a pale halo of light.
Chloe clenched her hands into fists.
Her leather gloves made a faint pulling sound.
She stared at the camera lens.
Within 0.1 seconds, her blue eyes were instantly engulfed in blood.
Bloodshot veins crawled all over the whites of her eyes.
A dazzling red light lit up deep within her pupils.
The surrounding air began to heat up.
A wisp of black smoke rose from the edges of the A4 paper under her feet. The paper spontaneously combusted.
The cameraman on the helicopter saw that hint of red light through the viewfinder.
He had been filming superheroes for years and knew what this meant.
"Pull up! Pull up fast!" He turned his head and roared frantically at the pilot.
Too late.
Two bowl-thick crimson beams of light spewed out from the depths of Chloe's eyes.
The air was instantly pierced through by a temperature of tens of thousands of degrees.
Making a sharp, explosive "shh" sound.
The red light cut through the dim sky.
Like two red-hot sharp swords, they directly cut into the helicopter's belly.
Without obstruction.
The aviation aluminum alloy shell was vaporized the moment it made contact.
Half of the cameraman's body, along with the camera, turned into a ball of grayish-white flying ash.
The high-heat rays penetrated the fuel tank and cut off the drive shaft of the main rotor.
The fire burst open in mid-air.
"Boom!"
A huge orange-red fireball bloomed outside Vought Tower.
The deafening explosion shook glass shards straight off the window frame.
The burning metal debris wrapped in black smoke smashed toward the street below like a rain of fire.
Chloe stood by the hole.
The muscles on her face were somewhat distorted due to madness.
She felt it wasn't enough.
These bugs disturbed her and Shen Che's alone time, and just blowing up one helicopter couldn't relieve her hatred at all.
The red beams of light were not retracted.
She shook her head violently.
Two dozens-of-meters-long plasma light sabers swept across the sky of Manhattan with her movement.
The red light cut through the glass curtain walls of two commercial buildings.
Sparks flew everywhere, and scraps of paper fluttered about.
The light beam went all the way east.
Directly sweeping across the sky above the East River more than ten kilometers away.
Slashed toward the core trunk line substation of the municipal power plant.
That huge concrete cooling tower was struck in the middle by the red light.
The internal coolant instantly boiled and vaporized.
The terrifying pressure shattered the concrete shell.
The main transformer was split in two by the high-heat rays.
Tens of millions of volts of current instantly went out of control.
Dazzling blue electric arcs leaped wildly along the East River bank, like blue electric snakes.
Immediately after, a muffled sound that shook the earth came from the east.
A fireball hundreds of times larger than the helicopter explosion rose into the air.
Manhattan's lights flickered.
The cold light tubes on the top floor of Vought Towermade a "sizzling" electrical leakage sound.
The next second, the light completely disappeared.
Looking down from the 112th floor.
This was a shocking visual effect.
The lights of hundreds of buildings extinguished rapidly from east to west like dominoes.
The bustling night view was forcibly covered by a black cloth.
The huge electronic screen in Times Square went dark.
Wall Street's trading hall went dark.
The whole of New York, more than half of the city, fell into a dead silence in just a few seconds.
Panic broke out.
In the dark, cars collided in a chain reaction because the traffic lights stopped working.
The sound of collisions could be heard across several streets.
Air raid sirens wailed shrilly.
The screams and curses of millions of people converged into a huge noise, surging into the night sky.
The red light in the depths of Chloe's eyes faded.
The skin around her eyes was somewhat red due to the high temperature, emitting a trace of white steam.
She turned around.
Turning her back to the dark urban ruins.
The office was pitch black.
Only the fire of the distant helicopter wreckage barely illuminated an outline.
Chloe stood in the wind, her chest heaving violently.
Her breathing was heavy.
"Quiet now." She muttered softly, her tone returning to that cloying sweetness.
Shen Che sat in the dark.
The leather seat made a slight friction sound in the dark.
His hands were crossed and placed on his abdomen.
Looking at the yandere childhood friend before him who had paralyzed half the city.
He didn't blame her.
Not only did he not blame her, his Adam's apple even rolled, emitting a low laugh.
The laughter dissipated in the dark, carrying a bone-chilling coldness.
The helicopter's firelight reflected on half of his face.
Half-lit and half-dark.
He looked at New York City outside the window plunged into boundless panic, listening to those desperate screams.
This was the taste of power.
Unreasonable, without a bottom line, doing whatever one pleases.
In this chaotic darkness.
The era belonging to him, the god of the ultimate evil chaebol, had just begun.