Chapter 76: Honest Logan, Furious Director
Clang!
The explosion-proof temporary door on the film set flew off its hinges and slammed into a pile of dirt a dozen meters away.
Logan's boots crunched over the gravel as he strode through the wreckage.
He blew a cloud of thick smoke into the face of a security guard charging at him, then casually swatted the two-hundred-pound brute aside like a ragdoll.
Looking around, Logan spat a piece of tobacco leaf onto the ground, his voice sounding like rusty sandpaper grinding against an iron pipe.
"Vought International's Superheroes? This bunch of sissies in spandex playing in the mud? When I was using a shovel to slice off Kraut heads in the trenches of World War I, you brats were still nursing!"
Tony, who had been lounging on a beach chair, immediately swapped his Long Island Iced Tea for popcorn and scooted over to make room.
This was going to be a good show.
Even the usually composed Scott was furious.
He ripped off his ruby quartz visor.
A high-powered red laser beam shot straight at Logan's face.
The high-temperature beam scorched the air; this energy, capable of melting main battle tank armor, slammed squarely into the savage's chest.
Logan didn't even dodge.
His flesh was seared by the high heat, the surface carbonizing over a large area, revealing blinding white bone.
Immediately after, new tissue grew back from the charred, rotten flesh at a terrifying speed.
The smell of barbecued human flesh mixed with the stench of cheap cigars wafted across the set.
Shing.
The harsh sound of metal scraping metal tore through the air.
Six Adamantium claws, glistening with a cold light, burst through the skin on the back of Logan's hands.
He shook the blood droplets from his hands and flashed a set of white teeth: "Cupping therapy has more force than you."
"Good! Cut! Keep filming like this!" Lin An held a megaphone, and instead of stopping them, he egged them on at the top of his lungs: "Bobby! Pietro! The three of you, attack together! Whoever can knock the teeth out of this old wild dog today gets their KPI waived for next month, plus a luxury apartment in New York!"
What was this? A top-tier team-building exercise used by capitalists to liven up the atmosphere.
Heavy rewards attract brave men.
Iceman Bobby attacked first, a vast expanse of cold air spreading out in an attempt to freeze Logan into an ice sculpture.
Quicksilver Pietro created a series of sonic boom afterimages, circling Logan and looking for blind spots to land a cheap shot.
Idols raised in a greenhouse against a veteran who had lived for over a century? It was just serving themselves up on a platter.
Relying on his beastly instincts, Logan didn't even look as he backhanded a claw, tearing through the absolute zero ice prison.
Pietro, just about to approach from the side, was accurately predicted.
A solid headbutt, with a forehead as hard as reinforced concrete, slammed into Pietro's pride-and-joy supersonic face.
Smack.
Quicksilver flew backward faster than he had arrived, slamming straight into the hood of a wrecked Ford, stuck so hard he couldn't be pried out.
Iceman's legs went weak, and he stood there completely stunned.
Lin An lay back in the Director's chair, watching his employees line up to get beaten, not even blinking an eye.
Feel bad for them? Not happening.
Workers' compensation claims were the HR department's problem.
"Madelyn," Lin An snapped his fingers, "Mobilize all drone cameras for a live stream. Title it: 'Vought Set Invaded by Mysterious Beast, Entire X-Men Team Wiped Out!' Pin it to the top of the trending list and buy traffic for it."
These young idols' careers were too smooth; they needed to personally experience the harshness of society, and he could make a big profit while he was at it.
Madelyn was extremely efficient.
Within three minutes, the number of viewers in live streams across major global platforms skyrocketed.
Netizens, usually accustomed to the flashy, empty moves in front of green screens, had never seen such violent aesthetics—fists hitting flesh and blood splattering everywhere—and the whole internet exploded.
The comment feed densely covered the screen.
"Holy shit, who is this hunk? A new Vought idol??"
"What idol? This kind of muscular uncle is my favorite!"
"OMG, can Homelander handle this Beast?"
The wild uncle, chomping on a cigar with muscles and steel claws, gained countless fans within minutes.
"Ding! Fanaticism detected from netizens, Popularity +1 million!"
Lin An listened to the mechanical sound in his head, feeling completely satisfied.
On the set.
Logan was in the zone; he spat out a mouthful of bloody foam, stepped on Cyclops's chest, and pointed his six steel claws directly at Lin An outside the scene.
"Your turn, kid in a cape." Logan's eyes gleamed with bloodthirsty fanaticism. "Let me see what you've got to dare call yourself Homelander?"
Lin An sighed.
He handed his Long Island Iced Tea to an assistant.
These days, when a leek sticks its head out to be harvested, it would be extremely impolite not to satisfy it.
A sonic boom pierced the eardrums.
Lin An disappeared from where he stood.
Logan's Beast radar screamed danger, but his pride-and-joy reaction speed was as slow as a toddler's compared to the Silver Superman genetic panel.
A hand clamped tightly onto the back of Logan's neck.
There were no fancy techniques.
Pure, absolute physical crushing power.
Lin An treated Logan like a chick, carrying the force of a falling meteorite, and slammed him hard into the ground.
The marble floor collapsed and shattered, with spiderweb-like cracks spreading for dozens of meters, and the surrounding steel load-bearing columns groaned in agony.
Logan let out a humiliated roar from his throat, backhanded his Adamantium claws, and aimed straight for Lin An's throat.
Clang!
Blinding sparks flew everywhere.
The supposedly indestructible Adamantium, slashing against Lin An's Steel Body, didn't even kick up any dust.
That's right, two days ago, Lin An had exchanged for Silver Superman's core ability: Steel Body.
Let alone Logan's claws.
Even if he stood here and let Mjolnir smash him over and over, Lin An wouldn't lose a single hair.
Invincibility is so lonely.
Tony watched from the side, stunned.
This hardness had completely ground the basic laws of physics into the dirt.
Lin An looked down at Logan.
His eyes lit up with a heart-stopping red glow.
Two high-frequency Heat Vision beams hit Logan's chest at point-blank range.
Under the extreme heat, even the Adamantium skeleton began to glow with a blinding red light.
Logan's healing factor repaired frantically, only to be immediately seared and carbonized.
The healing system teetered on the brink of collapse, and the smell of charred, curled flesh was extremely pungent.
Lin An controlled the heat; he didn't want to burn this tough nut to ashes completely.
He retracted his gaze.
Logan lay at the bottom of the pit, vomiting blood, healing as he coughed.
He stared fixedly at Lin An, not raising his claws again.
Is this guy really a god?
Beasts know when to yield; if you can't win, you can't win.
Lin An pulled a contract from his suit pocket and slapped it onto Logan's bloody, mangled face.
"Sign it. Join Vought." Lin An threw out his chips. "Unlimited supply of top-tier Cuban Cohiba cigars, and the strongest whiskey in the World piped directly into your mouth. Most importantly,"
Lin An leaned in closer, lowering his voice, "I'll give you a license to kill legally."
For a god of war who had lived for a century with the battlefield carved into his soul, that last sentence was the killing blow.
Logan was silent for half a minute, finally cursing under his breath, and pressed his bloody thumbprint onto the paper.
"Madelyn." Lin An turned and clapped his hands, his smile extremely malicious. "Take our new employee to get fitted. Bring out that outfit the props team worked all night to make."
Half a minute later, Madelyn held a bright yellow spandex suit so vibrant it was blinding, plus a mask with two small black pointed horns, and placed it in front of Logan.
"Tomorrow morning at eight, wear this to work. If you dare not to, I'll personally help you put it on."
Lin An dropped this sentence and strode away.
Logan looked at the shameful yellow mouse-like battle suit and let out a desperate roar, his voice sounding even more miserable than when he was being seared by the Heat Vision.
...
Washington, D.C., S.H.I.E.L.D. Trident Headquarters.
Nick Fury stared fixedly at the live stream on the holographic screen, his only eye bloodshot.
The ceramic coffee cup in his hand was crushed until it cracked, and black coffee spilled all over the table.
"Director, facial recognition match successful. It's that Weapon X from the files who has been missing for years."
Agent Hill reported from the side, her expression grave.
Fury gritted his teeth.
Captain America, that banner of national spirit, had been snatched away by Lin An; he had swallowed that.
Now even this most uncontrollable Beast had been intercepted?
What exactly is Vought International planning to do?
Do they really intend to privatize all of America's superhuman combat power?
Conventional laws and politicians couldn't control that bastard who draped himself in the Stars and Stripes and did whatever he pleased.
Fury slammed his fist hard onto the desk, no longer hesitating.
He dialed a single-line top-secret channel.
"Agent Romanoff."
Fury's voice was harsh, "Initiate Phase Two of the 'Widow' protocol. At all costs, no matter what means you use, even if you have to sleep in Homelander's bed, I must get the bottom card of his power!"
There was silence on the other end of the communicator for a few seconds.
At the Villa at this moment.
Natasha was wearing an oversized men's white shirt, sitting on the sofa with her long legs crossed.
She was skillfully mixing nutritional formula for Ryan.
And incidentally preparing some fresh milk for Homelander as well.
Hearing Fury's death order from the communicator, Natasha rolled her eyes with great flair.
Sleep in his bed?
She was already Homelander's shape inside and out.
Get the bottom card?
Get a damn bottom card.
That man was even more violent in bed than he was tearing down houses on set.
"Received, Officer. I am working hard to understand him deeply." Natasha decisively turned off the comms.
The more she understood this man, the more she felt Homelander's power; if she angered this guy, he might just blow up the White House.
Director, I've done my best.
Keeping Homelander from destroying the World is already a sacrifice for human peace.
Chapter 77: Movie Premiere, Magneto is Going to Stir Up Trouble Again
The dust at the abandoned film Base in Queens hadn't settled for an entire month.
The city fines piled up like a small mountain on Madelyn's desk.
The mayor of New York City called every day to curse, but Lin An treated it as wind blowing past his ears.
While Hollywood blockbusters rely on green screens and CGI modeling, Lin An's production focused on waste recycling and reuse.
Every day, Pietro ran around the unfinished building creating sonic booms until his stomach acid refluxed, leaving him crouching in the corner dry-heaving.
Logan was roasted by Lin An's Heat Vision until his skin curled; every day after filming, he couldn't even sleep without drinking three bottles of high-proof vodka.
Scott's eyes were swollen like two red walnuts, making it impossible for him to even see the road at night.
Everyone was giving it their all.
"These Mutants are practically being treated like cattle. Compared to this, my sweatshops at Stark Industries are like Angels doing charity."
Tony stood nearby, shaking his head with his sunglasses on, though the corner of his eye couldn't help but twitch wildly.
What about Lin An?
Capitalists never work; he was only responsible for reaping the rewards and enjoying himself.
The air conditioning in the production van was set extremely low.
Wanda curled up on the leather sofa, her chest rising and falling heavily.
Her scarlet costume was tattered and torn, her battle-damaged makeup mixed with sweat, and her red hair clung messily to her forehead.
Having just finished filming a major scene of being thoroughly beaten by Magneto during the day, she was called into the van by Lin An at night to "delve deep into the script."
Leaning against the back of his seat, Lin An leisurely buttoned his shirt collar and picked up his whiskey on the rocks, taking a satisfying sip.
"Your movements are still too stiff," Lin An said, looking down at her teasingly. "Tomorrow we're shooting the Chaos Magic rampage, and your emotions aren't full enough. Do you want me to put a Stark Industries missile under your feet to help you get into character?"
Wanda grabbed a throw pillow and hurled it at him, but she barely had the energy left to curse.
"You absolute demon..." Wanda bit her pale lip, her eyes filled with resentment and humiliation.
This man was a bastard, a demon.
Yet in this mire of a life, she could do absolutely nothing about him, and her body had even shamefully begun to grow accustomed to this control.
Lin An lived this Vampire-like lifestyle with utmost comfort.
He acted as the absolute overlord on set during the day and played around with the battle-damaged Mutant at night.
In his spare time, he would take Starlight to top Michelin-starred restaurants to play out a pure-love romance.
On weekends, he could go to the Manhattan Villa to eat steaks cooked by Natasha herself, while also training his cheap son, Ryan.
Treating the real Earth as a sandbox game—nothing was more satisfying than this.
A month passed.
"X-Men: First Class" wrapped filming at breakneck speed.
How should they handle the promotion?
Lin An threw the entire traditional process into the trash can.
Going on talk shows? Too cheap.
They closed off Times Square directly and set up a stage themselves.
Lin An made a high-profile appearance draped in the Star-Spangled Banner.
As soon as he stood there, the screams of tens of thousands of die-hard fans below shook the asphalt road.
He had Bobby build a standard ice hockey rink right on the streets of Manhattan in forty-degree-Celsius heat.
Pietro ran laps around the fan section, the gust of wind he whipped up lifting the skirts of the female fans in the front row, drawing bursts of wolf whistles.
Logan was forced to use his Adamantium claws to slice steel plates on stage, sending sparks flying high, while the old wolf's face was as dark as the bottom of a pot.
"My God! Mutants aren't freaks at all; they are living gods!"
A young girl in the front row stared at the ice rink and screamed until her voice cracked, nearly passing out from excitement.
This wasn't a premiere; this was a global superhuman talent showcase.
Traffic flooded into Vought International's servers like it was free.
The internet's appetite was completely whetted.
A week later, premiere night.
The largest 6D wrap-around theater in Manhattan, New York.
In the VIP panoramic suite, the sofa was soft enough to sink a person completely.
Lin An leaned right in the middle, with Natasha in a tight black leather suit on his left, and Ryan holding a giant tub of popcorn on his right.
The lights dimmed.
The Vought Studios logo flashed by, and the movie cut straight to the action.
On the big screen, there was no crude CGI, let alone any green fringing from chroma-keying.
It opened with Logan in a muddy trench, snapping the necks of three soldiers with one hand.
The raw, grating friction of steel claws slicing through bone, paired with top-tier Dolby audio, scraped directly against the eardrums of the entire audience.
A chubby white man in the front row spilled cola all over his lap, not even bothering to wipe it off.
"This breathtaking realism... those Hollywood Directors who survive on green screens and chroma keying can all go hang themselves after tonight!"
A veteran film critic, usually extremely nitpicky, was now trembling wildly as he held his shorthand notebook.
The sheer value of shooting entirely on location was on full display at this moment. Even the blood mist from bursting capillaries was captured with absolute clarity.
Next, Scott lost his temper, took off his Ruby-Quartz Glasses, and his high-energy beams split the entire block in two.
The burnt smell of melting floor tiles was released precisely through the 6D theater's special effects equipment, rushing straight into everyone's nostrils.
This wasn't acting; they were literally risking their lives to demolish buildings.
In the climax, the imitation Magneto launched his attack.
Tens of thousands of tons of scrap steel rose into the air out of nowhere, and the impact of them crashing to the ground shook the theater seats violently.
Ryan stopped eating his popcorn, his mouth slightly agape, completely dazed.
"Did you guys actually level those blocks?" Natashawhispered in Lin An's ear. Having been an Agent for so many years, she could spot real explosions from fake ones at a glance; those collapsing load-bearing walls in the footage were definitely not props.
Lin An rested his hand on Natasha's incredibly supple leg and gave it a firm squeeze. "We spent tens of millions to buy that land. If we don't demolish it, what are we keeping it for? To grow vegetables?"
Natasha looked at the carnival on the big screen with a helpless expression.
If the Director saw that this bunch of out-of-control freaks had not only avoided lockup but had also become global superstars, he would probably be furious again.
The two-and-a-half-hour film felt like a high-voltage roller coaster from start to finish.
Not a single person among the hundreds in the audience went to the restroom, holding it in until their faces turned pale, terrified of missing even a single frame.
At the end, Wanda's Chaos Magic fully blossomed in the night sky, its eerie red glow dominating the entire screen.
Black screen.
The theater was dead silent for a full three seconds.
Then, the roof was nearly blown off by the wave of sound.
Screams, whistles, and applause.
The fat man in the front row screamed until his voice cracked.
The keyboard warriors who usually called Mutants freaks online were all transformed into the most devout believers in the face of this peak violent aesthetic.
The human instinct to revere the strong was completely triggered.
Stepping out of the theater, the night breeze did nothing to cool the crowd's fanatical excitement.
The giant screens across the streets had already been updated with the movie's ultimate poster.
Lin An's phone was hot enough to fry an egg.
Madelyn's call came through, her voice trembling.
"Mr. Lin, Twitter's servers crashed for ten minutes! Out of the top ten trending topics on Facebook and YouTube, we occupy nine!" No matter how calm Madelyn usually was, she completely lost her composure now.
"Especially the theaters in Asia are frantically urging us to increase screenings, and the midnight shows in Europe have even sold out standing-room tickets!"
This was what you call a cultural nuclear explosion.
On social media, netizens had gone completely wild.
"Holy shit! Was that CGI? I swear I saw actual steel plates being sliced into pieces!"
"Uncle Wolf's muscle definition! I want to have his babies!"
"Vought Studios is fucking doing charity! What the hell was Hollywood filming before this?!"
Influencers and film critics collectively wrote long essays to heap praise on it.
Anyone who dared to go against the tide at this time would be drowned in the spit of fanatical fans in minutes.
Lin An leaned back on the leather seat of his stretch Lincoln, closing his eyes comfortably.
On the system panel, the numbers in the popularity points column were ticking wildly like a stopwatch, on the verge of breaking the ten-million mark.
It had to be cultural invasion.
"Fuck! Why is his stock price rising even more crazily than mine? This spotlight absolutely cannot be stolen entirely by him!"
In Stark Tower, Tony gritted his teeth as he looked at the market data, his eyes red with jealousy.
The phone vibrated.
Tony Stark sent a text message, the strong scent of sour jealousy practically wafting through the screen.
"Bro! Where's my script? I want to be the main character too!"
Lin An laughed out loud, his thumbs typing rapidly.
"Come get your armor measurements tomorrow. Bring enough sponsorship money, and your bro will set you up."
...
Bang!
The LCD TV was smashed to pieces by a twisted steel bar.
Magneto Erik's chest rose and fell violently.
His eyes were bloodshot as he stared intently at the footage still playing in the wreckage.
On screen, the "Magneto" played by a look-alike actor was wearing a ridiculous uniform with purple underwear worn on the outside.
The lines were utterly chuunibyou and devoid of logic.
He was kicked into a mud pit by a few Mutant kids, accompanied by extremely cheap comedic sound effects.
His entire life had been spent fighting for the survival of Mutants.
For the future of his race, his hands were stained with blood, and he bore the infamy of Terrorists.
Yet now, with billions in capital and a publicity stunt, Vought International had turned his life's work into a laughingstock of a buffoon in a popcorn flick!
What made him tremble with rage even more were the comments online.
Those netizens actually said the villain captured the tsundere little girl personality at Magneto's core.
"Tsundere... little girl??! Homelander...!!"
Eric clenched his withered fingers.
The iron tables and chairs in the room were instantly twisted into a heap of scrap metal under the terrifying magnetic compression.
"I'm going to rip that cape off you and shove it up your asshole!"
"Are you ready?"
Eric asked with a dark expression, not even turning his head.
Behind him, the nearly three-meter-tall Red Tank spoke in a low, muffled voice.
"He's already thawing. But that guy has a bad temper; are you sure you want to let him out?"
"A bad temper?"
Eric sneered, turning to walk toward the deepest part of the underground air-raid shelter.
The huge High-Pressure Liquid Nitrogen Chamber made a dull venting sound.
The white cold mist dispersed.
Behind the thick explosion-proof glass stood a giant block of ice as tall as two people.
Frozen inside was a man.
He wore a dark green retro combat suit, with a dark gold eagle spreading its wings printed on his chest.
Through the thick layer of ice, one could still clearly see the man's cold, hard jawline and his face full of wild stubble.
He was clutching a heavy metal shield tightly in his hand.
"I might not be able to deal with that little beast flying in the sky."
Eric looked at the man in the ice, his eyes fanatical.
"But Vought International's Homelander is, in the end, just some serum freak created in a lab."
"Since he's a product of a serum, I'll dig up the ancestor who created these freaks to teach him a good lesson."
Chapter 78: The King of Show-offs Appears Again
The next day.
Times Square, New York.
Camera flashes lit up the area like a sea of blazing white fire.
Lin An stood on a giant, temporarily erected stage.
His star-spangled banner cape fluttered loudly under the breeze of artificial fans.
His face still wore that perfect smile—thirty percent fatigue, forty percent determination, and thirty percent compassion.
"As of eight o'clock this morning, the global box office for 'X-Men Prequel' has exceeded 2.5 billion dollars."
Lin An spoke into the hundreds of microphones in front of him, his voice deep and magnetic.
"But this number is not important at all to Vought International."
"What matters is that we have smashed a massive hole in the high wall of prejudice and arrogance."
The screams of tens of thousands of fans below the stage were deafening.
Lin An turned and pointed behind him.
The main cast of the movie stood in a line.
Iceman Bobby rubbed his hands nervously facing the camera.
Pietro waved, trying his best to maintain his sunny boy persona.
Wanda, wearing her scarlet uniform, kept her head down, only daring to look at Lin An's back out of the corner of her eye.
The most miserable one was Logan, standing at the very end.
This iron-blooded veteran, who had lived for over a century, was currently squeezed tightly into a bright yellow spandex suit.
A cowl with two small black pointed cat ears was forced onto his head.
With half a cigar clamped in his mouth, his face was utterly grim.
"How long the hell do I have to stand here wearing this yellow-skinned rat suit?"
Logan lowered his voice, gritting his teeth as he squeezed the words out.
"Keep smiling."
Scott pushed up his ruby quartz glasses beside him and warned in a low voice.
"Do you want him to stuff you into a microwave and roast you later?"
Logan fell silent.
He snorted with the cigar in his mouth, his weathered old face written all over with humiliation.
Lin An was practically dying of laughter inside.
Good leeks.
All of them are top-tier leeks.
Just Logan's aggrieved look as a tough guy squeezed into spandex had contributed a whopping 300,000 popularity points the moment he debuted this morning.
Netizens nowadays just loved seeing this kind of extreme contrast.
"Power knows no good or evil; it only depends on the one who uses it!"
Lin An suddenly raised his voice.
He recited the most core line from the script aloud, his expression full of sincerity.
"Vought International has always been committed to maintaining World peace."
"Whether they are Mutants or superpowered individuals, as long as they have justice in their hearts, Vought's doors will always be open to them!"
The fans began to cheer.
"Homelander!"
"You are the true savior!"
"Thank you, Vought, for giving us such an awesome movie!"
At the edge of the crowd, a bald old man sat in a wheelchair.
He quietly watched Lin An's towering figure on the giant screen.
On Charles Xavier's deeply wrinkled face, a complex look of relief appeared.
"Charles, do you really believe his rhetoric?"
Beside him, Beast Hank pushed up his black-rimmed glasses, his brow furrowed.
"His methods may be somewhat crude, even reeking of capitalist greed."
Charles looked at the children on the stage, basking in the cheers under the Sun.
"But look at their faces, Hank."
"Mutants finally don't have to hide in the sewers anymore."
"They can stand proudly under the Sun."
Lin An stood on the stage.
The system notification sounds in his mind chimed frantically.
[Ding! The culture created by the host has triggered a global fanatical resonance. Popularity points +800,000!]
[Ding! Mutant leader Professor X has developed an extremely high sense of approval. Hidden achievement completed! The popularity points commission rate of the Mutant team is permanently increased by 5%!]
So satisfying.
Just as Lin An was about to raise his hands and blow another kiss to the fanatical female fans below...
*Creak, creak, creak—*
A harsh screech of twisting metal echoed from deep underground.
The sound wasn't loud.
But captured by Lin An's super hearing, thousands of tons of steel were grinding together in the New York sewers.
Lin An's hand, suspended in mid-air, froze.
His eyelid twitched slightly.
In the next second.
*Boom!*
Over a dozen giant manhole covers near the central fountain in Times Square shot into the sky!
Dozens of tons of high-pressure water columns, mixed with foul-smelling silt, sprayed into the air.
"Ah—!"
The crowd of fans, who had been cheering just a second ago, instantly erupted in panicked screams.
The fanatical crowd instantly descended into chaos.
People shoved and trampled each other frantically.
Dozens of people were left bleeding from their heads on the spot, struck by water columns and debris.
Lin An didn't move.
Instead, the smile on his face widened even more.
"You old bastard, you've finally arrived."
"This celebration banquet for the 2.5 billion box office wouldn't be perfect without you, the big villain, personally crashing it."
The ground began to vibrate violently.
The asphalt road cracked inch by inch.
Thick gas pipes buried underground were forcibly torn apart by an invisible force.
A few sparks fell.
Deafening explosions rang out one after another.
Flames shot into the sky along the cracks, instantly turning half the block into a sea of fire.
"Fuck! What's going on!"
Logan ripped off the cat-eared cowl and slammed it hard onto the ground.
He shook his hands.
With a sharp clank, six gleaming Adamantium claws snapped out.
His beastly instincts caused his muscles to bulge.
The load-bearing steel bars of the surrounding buildings snapped one after another with sharp cracks.
Large sections of the hundred-meter-tall glass curtain walls shattered.
Thousands of tons of shattered glass and steel were forcibly stripped away by an invisible giant hand.
They converged in mid-air into a terrifying metal storm that blotted out the sky.
Within less than ten seconds, the entire Times Square was forcibly transformed into an apocalyptic wasteland.
Piercing air raid sirens echoed over Manhattan.
Right in the center of the raging metal tornado, a figure slowly drifted down.
He wore his classic crimson armor.
On his head was a dark red helmet capable of blocking all telepathic control.
His dark red cape fluttered wildly in the storm.
This old man, who had been portrayed as a comic relief in the movie, now exuded an aura of extreme oppression.
Every Mutant present felt a bone-chilling dread.
Erik Lehnsherr.
"Maintaining World peace?"
Eric hovered in mid-air.
His bloodshot eyes stared intently at Lin An on the stage.
His voice boomed and echoed across the entire sky of New York through magnetic resonance.
"Treating Mutants like circus monkeys, trampling our dignity with a hypocritical script..."
"Homelander, you call this peace?!"
Eric suddenly raised both hands.
The tens of thousands of tons of metal debris suspended in mid-air instantly stopped spinning.
All the sharp steel tips turned in unison.
Pointing directly at the stage below.
The ordinary people below were already scared out of their wits.
They wept and scrambled to escape.
Charles turned pale in his wheelchair.
He pressed his temples desperately, trying to enter his old friend's mind, only to be completely blocked by the helmet.
"Eric! Stop! There are only innocent people down there!"
Charles shouted in despair.
Magneto didn't even spare him a glance.
In his eyes, there was only that hypocrite draped in the star-spangled banner.
Lin An stood right in the center of the stage.
Facing the tens of thousands of tons of steel hanging precariously overhead, he didn't even budge.
He unhurriedly cleaned his ear with a finger.
Looking at the old man in mid-air, he was absolutely thrilled.
The live stream cameras from all platforms were now focused entirely on this spot.
This old man was practically a super gift package sent by heaven to farm highlight moments.
"You came to crash my party just for this?"
Lin An tilted his head up and scoffed indifferently.
"It's just a movie, old man. Don't be a sore loser."
Lin An's eyes instantly glowed with a crimson light.
The surrounding air warped and distorted from the extreme heat building up in his eyes.
"But since you've delivered yourself to my doorstep..."
Lin An tilted his head slightly.
The smile on his face turned extremely cruel.
"Then I'll use your old bones to put on a free live-action show for the global audience."
"Kill him."
Eric coldly spat out three words.
No sooner had he spoken.
A muffled roar echoed from deep within the torn ruins underground.
A two-and-a-half-meter-tall blood-red figure crushed the collapsing road underfoot.
Carrying a violent kinetic energy meant to crush everything, it charged straight toward the stage where Lin An stood.
Red Tank charge!
Amidst the deafening roar, no one noticed the movement in the corner of the ruins.
A heavy metal shield emblazoned with an eagle totem was slowly pulled out of the icy mud.
A large foot wearing a tweed military boot stepped heavily onto the cracked asphalt road.
Chapter 79: Soldier Boy Enters the Scene, Who Is the King of Trash Talk?
Lin An stood on the podium, took his phone out of his pocket, and skillfully dialed Natasha's number.
"Natalie, get all the live-streaming drones over here and film right in their faces. This is a super grand spectacle sponsored for free by Magneto; if one camera angle is missing, I'm deducting your performance bonus for this month."
As soon as he finished speaking, tens of thousands of tons of steel crashed down from overhead like a meat grinder.
Lin An didn't even raise his head.
The scarlet light in his eyes instantly flared to a blinding intensity.
Two high-frequency Heat Vision beams swept across the night sky.
There was no explosion, only a teeth-gritting sound of melting.
That metal Storm, capable of sinking an aircraft carrier, was abruptly sliced in two mid-air, turning into molten iron that rained down like a downpour onto the ruins of Times Square.
Magneto, watching from the sky, felt his eye twitch violently.
Before the molten iron could even hit the ground, Red Tankhad already slammed toward Lin An like an out-of-control high-speed train.
That violent kinetic energy compressed the air, creating a piercing sonic boom.
Lin An sighed.
He unhurriedly raised his right hand and, meeting Red Tank's head—which was as large as a water vat—swung a slap without any fancy tricks.
Slap!
A crisp sound of a slap echoed throughout Manhattan.
Red Tank's massive body paused abruptly in mid-air, then flew backward at ten times the speed he had arrived at.
Boom, boom, boom! Like a red bowling ball, he smashed through the load-bearing walls of three buildings, finally embedding himself in an underground parking lot hundreds of meters away, his life or death unknown.
Lin An shook his wrist and turned to look at the group of Mutant employees behind him who were stunned.
"What are you all standing there for?" Lin An rolled his eyes. "Are you waiting for me to give you your year-end bonuses? Don't you want your KPI? Get to work!"
Once the capitalist's whip cracked, the worker bees instantly snapped back to reality.
Pietro, with a bitter face, left a series of sonic boom afterimages as he sprinted across the field, moving the terrified bystanders to the safe zone one by one.
He felt like his legs were going to break from running, and this damn boss would definitely not reimburse him for his shoe costs.
Bobby sprayed absolute zero cold air from his hands, building walls of ice on the ground to block the scorching iron rain.
Cyclops Scott and Storm Ororo went directly to meet the second-generation Brotherhood of Mutants members who had come with Magneto.
Red quartz beams intertwined with gale winds and lightning, and Times Square instantly turned into a top-tier Hollywood special effects set.
The entire Times Square had completely turned into an overtime scene for Vought International employees.
"Eric, stop now."
Raven, wearing high-fashion leather clothes and stepping in high heels, walked to the center of the ruins and looked up at Magneto in mid-air.
She was now a Vought International superstar with a salary of tens of millions, and even her hair strands exuded the refinement of capital maintenance.
"Look at what you look like now?" Raven's tone carried three parts pity and seven parts mockery. "Causing explosions on the street with a few stragglers? That's too low. What's popular now is monetizing traffic. Your set of terrorist attacks for the rise of Mutants is long outdated. Why not sign with Vought International? I'll have the boss arrange a lead villain role for you; it comes with room and board and social insurance."
Magneto almost spat out a mouthful of blood.
His proud right-hand man, the core backbone of the Brotherhood of Mutants, was actually persuading him to enter the entertainment industry and become an actor?
"Raven! You've been brainwashed by that capitalist!" Magneto roared, the surrounding magnetic field distorting violently due to his loss of emotional control.
Watching employees work their lives away and seeing the villain lose his composure—the joy of a capitalist is just that boring and dull.
Just as Lin An was about to take out some sunflower seeds to snack on while watching the show, a strange palpitation suddenly surged from the depths of his bone marrow.
It was an instinctive reaction originating from the depths of his genes.
It was like encountering a natural enemy, or perhaps some kind of resonance connected by blood.
This body of Homelander actually uncontrollably broke out in goosebumps.
Lin An frowned, his super vision instantly piercing through the sky full of smoke and dust.
At the edge of the ruins, a man was walking over unhurriedly, taking extremely arrogant, pigeon-toed steps, stepping on broken glass all over the ground.
In his left hand, he held a heavy metal shield, and in his right, he pinched a half-smoked cigar he had picked up from somewhere.
Messy hair, wild stubble all over his face, and those eyes that exuded contempt and a malicious smile.
Lin An gasped.
What the f***?
Is that old hooligan from The Boys World here?
Soldier Boy!
Homelander's biological father!
Soldier Boy stopped less than ten meters away from Lin An.
He exhaled a cloud of thick smoke, his eyes, filled with deep disdain, looking Lin An up and down.
"Look at this outfit." Soldier Boy sneered, his voice hoarse and rough, carrying a thick old-fashioned American accent.
"Spandex, red boots, and that cape that looks like a cheap curtain. You must be that... Homelander who's so popular out there right now?"
Lin An stared at him, saying nothing.
The urge to roast him in his heart was about to overflow.
Magneto teaming up with Soldier Boy? This crossover is too ridiculous.
"I saw your poster. Wearing hair gel, smiling at the camera like a cheap gigolo."
Soldier Boy threw the cigar on the ground and crushed it fiercely with his military boot.
"They say you were made using my genes. Honestly, I think this is the greatest insult to me."
He pointed at Lin An's nose, his mouth curling into a malicious arc.
"You're just a mass-produced cheap product, a freak concocted in a laboratory test tube. You haven't experienced real war, haven't fought with bayonets in the mud with the Germans. A weakling like you, in my time, would only be fit to wash underwear for the soldiers in the logistics department."
Soldier Boy spat.
"Be my son? You think you're worthy? You don't even have a real father."
Lin An had originally been in the mood to watch a show, but hearing this barrage of curses, his brain didn't react for a moment.
This old geezer, running to my turf, smashing my place, and still trying to act like my father here?
Want to have a cursing contest?
Do you really think my level 500 Zaun account is for show?
Lin An laughed in extreme anger, his body slowly descending to the ground, standing in front of Soldier Boy.
"Old man, did you get frozen stupid in that popsicle box? You want to talk to me about war? About being a real man?"
Lin An took a step forward and directly activated trash-talk mode.
"The toughest battle you've fought in your life was probably being stripped naked by those Russians, tied to an iron bed, and having tubes shoved down your throat every day!"
As soon as these words were spoken, Soldier Boy's expression changed instantly.
That memory of being imprisoned and tortured was his absolute Achilles' heel.
"You're courting death..."
"I'm courting your mother's death!" Lin An didn't give him a chance to talk back, his speaking speed as fast as a machine gun.
"What are you pretending to be an iron-blooded tough guy for? When your teammates in 'Payback' sold you out to the Russians, were you still having wet dreams about being an American idol?"
"Are you cosplaying Captain America with that broken shield? You're just a cheap imitation!"
"Drugged and packed away by your own woman and brothers, and you still have the nerve to brag about your glorious days to me?"
Captain America, who was taking care of Peggy in the hospital, sneezed.
Who's talking about me?
Soldier Boy's eyes instantly turned red, and the muscles in his chest swelled violently due to extreme rage.
"You little beast, I'm going to tear your mouth apart!"
"Come on! You old piece of trash!" Lin An continued his output, his mouth as smooth as if it were smeared with honey.
"You think your broken shield can block anything?"
"You can't even control your own prostate!"
"You probably drip on your shoes every time you pee, right?"
"You're an antique over a hundred years old, and you still walk around dressed like a green turtle."
"That gene you're so proud of, in my eyes, is just a pile of waste filled with alcohol and syphilis!"
"F*** you! You uneducated test-tube baby! I'm going to shove you back into that damn petri dish today!"
Soldier Boy completely lost his composure, swung his shield, and smashed it toward Lin An's face.
"F*** you too! You old geezer who's been eliminated by the times! Today, I'm going to shove this broken shield of yours up your promiscuous ass!"
Chapter 80: Righteousness Over Family
Lin An did not yield an inch, meeting the shield head-on with a punch.
Boom!
Two terrifying forces collided, and the shockwave instantly blew away all the ruins within dozens of meters.
But that wasn't the point.
The point was that these two individuals, possessing the strongest bodies in the World, had completely abandoned any semblance of Superhero dignity, acting like two street thugs.
While brawling frantically, they were also hurling the most vicious, bottom-of-the-barrel profanities at each other, cursing each other's ancestors for eighteen generations.
"You're just a love-starved pervert! A bastard who likes breast milk!"
"What about you? That mistress of yours, Crimson Countess, has already cheated on you eight hundred times!"
"F*ck you!"
"F*ck your ancestors!"
In the air not far away.
Magneto, holding two steel pillars weighing over a dozen tons each, froze in mid-air, completely dumbfounded.
He had expected an earth-shattering, epic showdown.
But what was going on now?
Why were these two people only arguing about low-brow, vulgar nonsense?
Is this a Superhero fight, or are two brothel madams fighting over territory?
Raven stood on the roof of a car, the persuasion lines she had prepared stuck in her throat, her mouth agape, unable to say a word for a long time.
Iceman Bobby and Pyro John, who were in the middle of a firefight with the second-generation Brotherhood, also stopped.
The two looked at each other, not knowing where to throw the icicles and fireballs in their hands.
Logan felt like he'd been hit by AOE damage. "Old fogey eliminated by the times," was that directed at him?
"These two… are father and son?" Logan exhaled a puff of smoke, his mouth twitching. "Are father-son relationships this hardcore these days?"
In all of Times Square, the tense, hair-trigger battlefield atmosphere had vanished completely.
Everyone, whether they were employees of Vought International or the Mutants brought by Magneto, stopped what they were doing and stared in unison at the two men in the center of the ruins, screaming at each other and trading heavy blows.
From the south to the north, they insulted everything from physical defects to psychological perversions.
The richness of their vocabulary and the deviousness of their angles were truly eye-opening.
At this moment, dozens of drones controlled by Natashawere faithfully broadcasting this scene live to the entire World.
On the internet.
The barrage of comments, originally panicked due to Magneto's attack, experienced an unprecedented, massive explosion after a minute of dead silence.
"Holy sh*t, holy sh*t, holy sh*t! What did I just hear? Homelander has a dad??"
"Who is that guy in the green clothes with the shield? He can sure take a beating!"
"'Prostate enlargement,' seriously?! Homelander's trash-talking skills are definitely those of a ten-year veteran player from Zaun!!"
"I'm dying of laughter! Look at Magneto's expression, the old man's CPU is about to fry. He's probably wondering where these two lunatics popped out from."
"Is this Vought International's top-tier reality show? I love it! This is ten thousand times better than a movie!"
"Fight! Pull his hair! Poke his eyes! Kick him in the crotch!"
The trolls were going absolutely wild.
The social media servers let out another groan of being overwhelmed.
The system notification sound in Lin An's mind had merged into one long, jarring tone.
[Ding! Detected extreme excitement among global netizens, Popularity +500,000!]
[Ding! Displayed ultimate Zaun culture, subverted Superhero image, Popularity +500,000!]
[Ding! Popularity has exceeded the threshold, cumulatively obtained...]
Lin An had no time to check the system prompts.
He was currently being choked tightly by Soldier Boy, while his own hands were digging deep into Soldier Boy's nostrils.
"Old man, even if you exhaust all the strength you used in the jerk-off booth today, don't think about making me call you Dad!" Lin An cursed through gritted teeth.
Soldier Boy's face was covered in blood, furious.
"Little bastard, I'm going to beat you back into a sperm cell today!"
Magneto in mid-air finally lost it.
"F*ck! Benjamin! What the hell are you doing?! Beat the hell out of this bastard for me!"
In the center of the ruins.
Hearing the roar from above, Soldier Boy felt ten thousand times more frustrated than Magneto.
Did he not want to kill this test-tube baby who was spewing filth in front of him?
Since just a moment ago, he had used every dirty trick available.
Kneeing the crotch, poking the eyes with two fingers, throat locks, even close-range shield bashes.
Useless.
It was all f*cking useless!
That shield bash he had just delivered, which was enough to smash an adult elephant into pulp, had slammed hard against the bridge of Lin An's nose.
The result was that the heavy metal shield, which had accompanied him through countless battles, was forcibly dented with a fist-sized crater.
And Lin An hadn't even turned his head, even taking the opportunity to spit in his face.
What kind of material was this kid's body made of?
Soldier Boy gasped for air, his chest heaving violently.
His combat suit was torn to shreds, and his face was covered in bruises, all from Lin An's chaotic, wild flailing.
"You damn old bastard, didn't you eat?"
Lin An threw off the hand Soldier Boy had on his cape, leisurely adjusting his collar.
He had played enough, and cursed enough.
That screaming match just now had caused the popularity in the system backend to soar by nearly two million.
Global netizens were probably frantically taking screenshots to make memes.
The traffic had been harvested, it was time to get down to business.
Lin An adjusted his collar and spoke seriously to the camera.
"Fellow citizens, as you can all see, this man is indeed my father in name, but! He has caused chaos in Manhattanwith the villain Magneto. Today, I, Homelander, shall destroy my kin for righteousness!"
Lin An twisted his neck and looked at Soldier Boy.
"Old man, I gave you face just now, didn't I?"
Lin An took a step forward.
Soldier Boy's animal instinct screamed warnings. He instinctively raised the already deformed shield to block his chest.
Bang!
Lin An smashed a fist into the center of the shield.
The terrifying kinetic energy poured directly into Soldier Boy's arms through the metal shield.
His entire body flew backward like a cannonball, skimming the ground, carving a deep trench dozens of meters long into the asphalt road before slamming heavily into a remaining load-bearing pillar.
"Cough…"
Soldier Boy spat out a large mouthful of blood mixed with organ fragments, struggling to stand up.
Before he could steady himself, a huge shadow cast down from above.
Lin An hovered in mid-air, holding a two-ton pickup truck with one hand.
"Since you like lying in a popsicle box so much, today, you can be a radish in the ground for me."
He gripped the chassis of the pickup with both hands, using the entire vehicle as a giant sledgehammer, and smashed it down hard at Soldier Boy below.
"Eighty!"
Boom!
The two-ton pickup slammed onto Soldier Boy's head. The car's metal shell deformed severely, and glass shards splattered everywhere.
Soldier Boy's knees buckled, and his legs were driven directly into the cracked asphalt, sinking all the way to his thighs.
"You f*cking…" Soldier Boy shook the blood off his head, just about to curse.
Lin An didn't give him the chance to speak, raising the half-flattened pickup and swinging it down again.
"Eighty!"
Boom!
The ground shook violently.
Everything below Soldier Boy's waist was buried in the ground.
"Eighty!"
Lin An was like a tireless pile driver, shouting the count while outputting frantically.
This was the mysterious renovation power from the East.
If I don't hammer you, you old antique, until you're perfectly flush today, I'll write my name backward!
After smashing it a dozen times, the Ford pickup had completely turned into a lump of unrecognizable scrap metal.
Lin An casually tossed the scrap metal aside, clapped his hands, and looked at his masterpiece with satisfaction.
Only Soldier Boy's head remained exposed.
He looked like a nail driven firmly into the ground, unable to move.
Chapter 81: The Collector Homelander
Even so, the old rogue's mouth still wouldn't rest.
"Pah!" Soldier Boy spat out a glob of bloody saliva, staring daggers at Lin An. "You son of a bitch… have the guts to kill me! You think this will make me surrender? Back in World War II…"
Lin An picked at his ear, his face full of impatience.
He turned his head and looked toward Iceman Bobby, who was peeking out from behind a half-broken low wall not far away.
The kid had been enjoying the show, even holding a popsicle made of ice in his hand, sucking on it with gusto.
"Is the show good?"
Bobby shuddered in fright, and the popsicle in his hand dropped directly to the ground, shattering into pieces.
"Bo… Boss, I was keeping watch! Yes, keeping watch!" Bobby stammered in explanation.
"Keeping watch my ass!" Lin An pointed at Soldier Boy on the ground. "This big idiot's mouth is too foul; it's ruining the city's image. I'll give you three seconds to seal his mouth shut for me!"
"Right away! Don't worry, Boss!"
Bobby scrambled over, aiming his hands at Soldier Boy's mouth, which was still chattering away.
"You little brat, how dare you…" Soldier Boy's eyes widened in rage.
Sssss—
A burst of freezing white frost erupted from Bobby's palms, precisely plastering itself over the lower half of Soldier Boy's face.
The World was finally quiet.
Soldier Boy could only glare with bloodshot eyes, muffled "woowoos" emitting from his throat.
Not far away, Logan leaned against an overturned Policecar, silently pulling his last crushed cigar from his pocket and sticking it in his mouth.
Watching Soldier Boy planted like a radish, he felt deep sympathy for this old soldier who had also experienced war.
Good thing he signed the contract.
High in the air.
Magneto Erik was completely stunned.
The secret weapon he was so proud of. The monster he had to be wary of, just crushed so casually?
"Eric."
A cold voice interrupted Magneto's shock.
Raven's voice held a hint of weariness. "That act of yours, that terrorism, is worthless in the face of absolute power. Surrender."
Magneto looked around abruptly.
At some point, the Mutant employees of Vought International had quietly closed the encirclement.
The Quicksilver siblings watched their father coldly.
Several X-Men students had also finished off their enemies and were surrounding Magneto.
They were no longer those stray dogs hiding in sewers, hunted by humans.
They were now official employees of Vought International, earning high salaries and enjoying the cheers of fans worldwide.
And Magneto, this former Mutant leader, had now become a stumbling block preventing them from getting their year-end bonuses.
"You bunch of Mutant traitors…"
Magneto gritted his teeth, his withered fingers clenched tight.
The game was up.
"Traitors? Don't put it so harshly, old man."
Lin An's voice drifted up from below.
He leisurely clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking with a crisp sound.
"I said it just now: this is a free live-action show."
Lin An's eyes suddenly lit up with a blinding crimson glow, and the surrounding air was instantly distorted by high heat.
"Now, that foul-mouthed supporting actor is off the screen. It's time for you, the big villain, to wrap up."
Magneto's lips trembled violently.
He looked at the group of Mutants eyeing him covetously below, then looked at the monster with the cruel smile in front of him.
"Nooo!!"
A shrill scream pierced the sky of New York.
Click.
The crisp sound of a lock echoed in the confinement room beneath Vought Tower.
Magneto Erik sat on a white plastic chair, two high-tech silver shackles locked around his wrists.
This time he hadn't been wrapped up like a mental patient; Lin An had given him a bit of the dignity befitting an old villain.
In the CEO's office upstairs, Lin An leaned back in the boss's chair, his legs crossed and propped up on the mahogany desk.
On the virtual light screen in front of him, the system's data panel was jumping frantically.
"Two million." Lin An watched the popularity points contributed by Soldier Boy on the panel, his lips unable to help curving upward. "This old rogue's mouth is foul, but his ability to generate traffic is damn hardcore."
Looking further down, the number next to the name of Magneto, who once made all of humanity tremble with fear, was a pitiful 800,000.
Old man, you're past your prime.
Netizens' tastes these days are getting more and more demanding; simply tearing down buildings and smashing bridges can no longer stimulate much dopamine for them.
Even more absurdly, the fear value fed back by the system only accounted for twenty percent.
He casually swiped open the social media comment section. The style of the top comments had completely gone off the rails.
"Old Magneto is here to do live-action promotion for 'X-Men' again. Is this their second collaboration?"
"This tsundere little girl is out looking for attention again. Homelander, you should just take him in."
"To be fair, the speed at which the Vought Dragon Teammaintains public order is ten thousand times faster than the New York Police Department. I feel like calling Homelander whenever I walk down the street at night and encounter a robbery."
Lin An sighed comfortably as he watched these comments.
This was the absolute sense of security that Vought had hammered out with billions of U.S. dollars and show after show.
As long as his persona as the savior stood firm, even if these netizens saw an alien invasion, their first reaction would be to take out their phones, record it, and post it to their social media.
But there was a problem now.
Lin An's gaze shifted to the surveillance screen in the corner of the office.
Soldier Boy, still maintaining the posture of being planted in the road, with a large chunk of Bobby-brand ice stuffed in his mouth, was glaring at the camera through the screen, making angry woowoos in his throat.
How to deal with this old thing? Vaporize him with a shot of Heat Vision?
Lin An rubbed his chin.
Too wasteful.
Although this prick's mouth is a bit foul, compared to the traffic, this little annoyance is nothing.
In the eyes of a capitalist, there are no fathers, only cash cows.
Killing him would be a bit of a waste.
"Madelyn." Lin An pressed the intercom on his desk. "Send someone to drag that green-skinned old popsicle downstairs to the high-security cold storage and keep him frozen for me."
Let him cool his temper first, so I don't have to listen to him spewing shit.
After dealing with the old antique, Lin An started pondering about Magneto.
Although this old man is past his prime, the trick he has in his hands for controlling magnetic fields is definitely industrial-revolution-level productivity.
If he could really be brought into the fold, Vought International's construction steel costs for the second half of the year could be halved.
This old thing is, at any rate, the spiritual leader in the Mutant circle.
Emmm…
I feel like I've awakened some kind of collecting hobby.
The office door was pushed open, and Madelyn, wearing a tight professional suit, walked in quickly in high heels, holding a thick stack of documents in her arms.
"Mr. Lin, the casualty assessment and aftermath funds from the government side…"
"Let the PR department make up some story for that crap, and stuff some money into the mouths of a few council members to shut them up."
Lin An interrupted her and pushed the tablet in front of her. "Now, I'll give you half an hour to pick out a dozen or so comments praising him from these tens of thousands of comments mocking Magneto."
Madelyn was stunned. "Praising the Terrorists?"
"No, praise the lonely fighter who has lost his way and returned."
Lin An corrected her.
Chapter 82: Subduing Magneto, The Arrival of Thor
"Pick them out, print them, and bring them to me."
Madelyn looked at the rapidly scrolling comment section, filled with "old geezer" and "purple underwear man," and her eyelid twitched violently.
This was harder than giving Hulk psychological counseling!
In this screen full of filthy language, where was she supposed to find praise?
Half an hour later, Madelyn, covered in sweat, handed a thin sheet of A4 paper to Lin An.
To gather these dozen or so positive reviews, she had even forced the interns in the PR department to create eight burner accounts to spam them, and even the punctuation marks reeked of the "fan culture" style of backhanded compliments.
Lin An flicked the paper, stood up with satisfaction, and tugged at his Stars and Stripes cape.
"Let's go meet our old friend."
Vought Tower, eighth level underground, special containment cell.
The heavy alloy door slid open.
Lin An strode in, followed by Mystique Raven in high heels and Professor X Charles in a wheelchair.
This entourage really gave Magneto plenty of face.
Eric leaned back against the plastic chair, lifted his eyes to look at the three people entering, and his withered lips curled into a sneer.
"What? Homelander, are you here to watch your defeated opponent grovel?"
He looked at Raven and Charles again, "And you two traitors, are you here to collect my corpse?"
Lin An ignored him, pulled over a chair, and sat down brazenly across from Eric.
Raven sighed and took a step forward.
"Eric, put down your ridiculous pride. Look at the current situation."
"Mutants no longer need to hide. Vought International has given us legal status, we have health insurance, handsome salaries, and even countless fanatical fans. We have stepped into the light."
"That's called being kept by capital!" Eric roared, his arms struggling violently, the shackles digging into his flesh.
"You are just his tools for making money! A monkey in a suit is still just a monkey for people to amuse themselves with!"
"So what if you're a tool?" Lin An rolled his eyes. "Who in this World isn't a tool? Aren't you also working like a horse for that illusory Mutant empire of yours? At least I pay them."
Charles sat in his wheelchair, looking at his old friend with pity in his eyes.
"Eric. Your method of violent resistance will only push Mutants toward total destruction. Furthermore..."
Charles paused, looking up at the ceiling with a grave expression.
"Homelander told me that this Universe is far larger than you or I imagine. Ruling the World? Do you think there are only humans on Earth?"
Eric frowned, "What do you mean?"
"Old man, your perspective is too small." Lin An pointed to the sky.
"Do you think I went to all this trouble, pouring tens of billions into this Vought Dragon Team, packaging you all into stars, just for traffic and money?"
(Yes!)
But, the expression on his face instantly switched to that of a savior.
His cape fluttered without wind, and combined with the dim lighting of the Underground Room, he looked incredibly divine.
"We are but a drop in the ocean in the Universe."
Lin An rested his hands on the table, staring fixedly into Eric's eyes, full of oppressive pressure.
"Alien fleets! Dimensional demons! Celestial gods! magicusers! These monsters that have lived for who knows how many years..."
"Once they descend, whether it's ordinary humans or Mutants, in their eyes, they are just a bunch of bugs that can be crushed at will!"
This wasn't a bluff.
This World was dangerous as hell, and the whole reason Lin An went through so much trouble to keep this group of super-laborers in his hands to generate traffic was for a sense of security.
Eric was stunned.
He looked at Lin An's extremely serious face, and for a moment, he couldn't tell if this was fear-mongering or a statement of a terrifying fact.
Lin An straightened up and slammed the A4 paper printed with a dozen positive reviews in front of Eric.
"Humans need you, and Mutants need you even more. Look at these; not everyone treats you like a madman."
"They see your persistence, even if you took the wrong path."
Eric lowered his head and looked at the paper.
"He is a paranoid, but his love for Mutants is real."
"If Magneto could use his power to protect Earth, he would definitely be a great hero."
"Tsundere old man, join Vought."
Looking at these carefully crafted comments, the light in the eyes of this Mutant leader, who had been arrogant his whole life, flickered slightly.
His defenses began to loosen.
Wasn't what he wanted his whole life just the recognition of his kind and the dignity to live in the sunlight?
"Join Vought." Lin An extended his hand, the corner of his mouth curling into a standard capitalist smile. "Mutants shall never be slaves."
He paused and added the second half of the sentence.
"Unless it includes room and board."
Eric looked at Lin An's extended hand, his mind in a battle between heaven and man.
Reason told him that this bastard in the Stars and Stripes cape definitely had bad intentions, but Charles's words and the current situation of Mutants outside made him unable to refute.
Just as he was struggling, unable to extricate himself.
Bang!
The metal door of the containment cell was kicked open.
"Bo... Boss!" Madelyn gasped for air.
Lin An frowned. Damn it, he was just about to successfully sign him.
What was this woman going crazy about?
Didn't she know that interrupting a capitalist harvesting leeks meant a pay cut?
"Is the sky falling?" Lin An asked coldly.
"God... God!" Madelyn pointed outside, incoherent and trembling all over. "A god has really appeared!"
The three of them, including Charles, looked at each other, stunned.
Lin An narrowed his eyes. "Straighten your tongue and speak. What god?"
Madelyn took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and trembling, spat out a sentence.
"A man with a hammer fell from the sky in New Mexico. He claims to be... Thor!"
The containment cell fell into instant silence.
Charles gripped the armrests of his wheelchair in shock, and Eric's eyes widened suddenly.
The Thor from mythology?
And Lin An stood there, his pupils slightly constricted.
The plot had advanced to the eve of the Avengers?
Odin's foolish son had fallen... New fun, new traffic!
"Prepare the plane."
Lin An's eyes lit up, shining with fanatic greed.
There really is a god?
Magneto's mind was a mess, like a pot of boiling molten steel.
He slowly raised his shackled hand, his fingertips trembling slightly from the effort.
"Take me with you."
Eric's voice was hoarse and dry, as if squeezed out of a rusty iron pipe.
He had never begged anyone in his life.
But now, for that illusory yet incredibly heavy future of his race, he bowed his head.
[Ding! Successfully subdued Mutant leader Magneto, completed hidden achievement [Frenemies], rewrote X-Men plot direction, popularity points +1 million!]
A heavenly sound rang in Lin An's mind, and the smile on his face became increasingly sincere.
Good leek, so sensible.
He snapped his fingers with satisfaction, and an invisible force directly shattered the shackles on Eric's hands.
"Of course." Lin An patted Eric on the shoulder.
"Otherwise, why do you think I need a plane?"