Chapter 156: The Tango of the Wolf and the Scumbag,
Three days later at 8:00 PM sharp.
Vought International's official TikTok account started its simultaneous global broadcast right on time.
The livestream title was simple and aggressive—["Vought Entertainment's Annual Blockbuster: Old BoysBoy Band Double Latin Dance Challenge!"]
Just thirty seconds into the broadcast, the online viewer count skyrocketed past thirty million, and the bullet comments and gifted tips completely flooded the screen.
In the control room, Lin An crossed his legs, swirled the 82-year Lafite in his glass, and leisurely looked at the dozens of split-screen monitors in front of him, just like admiring a Roman Colosseum he had built with his own hands.
"OK, music, lighting, Group A, get ready."
At his command, the stage lights focused.
Steve Rogers and Benjamin Underwood, dressed in tight white shirts and black dance trousers, stepped onto the stage.
The music began to play, that song full of ambiguity and tension, "Señorita".
"Oh~ Damn, look at Captain's expression, he looks like he's about to go to the electric chair!"
"Hahahaha, Soldier Boy is so sultry! He's actually lip-syncing!"
"Help! Captain is being spun around by Soldier Boy! His body is stiffer than a Vibranium shield!"
In order not to lose, Benjamin pulled out all the stops. Every glance of his was full of lingering charm, every movement involved thrusting his hips, and he was as coquettish as a peacock spreading its tail.
As for Steve, this veteran of a hundred battles, there was only utter despair left on his face at this moment.
He was forcibly pulled by the hand by Benjamin, stiffly completing every movement. Those azure eyes were filled with humiliation and bewilderment, as if asking, "Who am I? Where am I? Why am I dancing here?"
His expression was precisely captured by the close-up shot and instantly screenshotted, spreading like wildfire across the entire internet under titles such as "Mental Resignation," "Forced to Work," and "Utter Despair.jpg".
Lin An looked at Steve's classic meme expression in the monitor and took a satisfied sip of red wine.
This was art.
As the first dance ended, the bullet comments were laughing like crazy, but the tip amount was only lukewarm.
"Alright, thank you for Group A's wonderful performance," Lin An switched channels via the broadcast, "Next, let's welcome our Group B, Logan and Wade!"
The stage lights dimmed, and then lit up again.
The audience, including Lin An in the control room, were stunned.
Logan still had that irritable look, wearing the black shirt he was forced to change into, the buttons about to burst from his pectoral muscles.
And beside him, Deadpool...
He had actually privately replaced his men's dance costume, slipping into an ultra-tight, red-and-black split long dress modified from his own suit! Beneath the hem of the skirt, a pair of hairy, long legs were vaguely visible.
"Oh my god! What the hell is this thing!" Tony spat out his champagne in the VIP section.
"Pfft hahaha! Well done! New employee!" Magneto, watching via projection, laughed so hard he almost fell out of his wheelchair.
Deadpool completely ignored the shock of the audience, cast a sultry wink at the camera, and then suddenly turned around, slamming Logan hard against the wall at the back of the stage before Logan could react!
An extremely ambiguous, boundary-pushing tango starting pose.
"Roar——!"
Logan's patience finally reached its limit. Under the gaze of millions of people, he completely went berserk.
"Wade! I'm going to kill you!!!"
Accompanied by a roar that resounded through the building, six sharp Adamantium steel claws popped out from his fists with a "swish," ruthlessly stabbing towards Deadpool's chest!
The livestream chat was instantly flooded with "ahhh" and "holy shit".
However, not only did Deadpool not dodge, but an expression of extreme excitement appeared on his face.
Pfft!
The steel claws accurately pierced through his body, bringing out a splash of blood.
Yet in this bloody scene, Deadpool actually used his body fixed by the steel claws, taking Logan's arm as a supporting point, to complete an unimaginable, highly difficult movement.
Like pole dancing, he spun around Logan's sharp claws, twisted his waist, swung his hips, and even shouted loudly at the camera with blood-stained lips:
"Did you see that, folks! This is the writer's malicious taste! Killing each other out of love! Is this exciting or what?!"
"Want to see more? Keep the tips coming! Let that stingy capitalist see our enthusiasm!"
At this moment, the entire livestream went crazy.
Bloody, violent, pornographic, absurd... Several completely unrelated elements were forcibly blended together by Deadpool, forming an unprecedented, extremely absurd yet damn well-vibed "dance".
"Crazy! This guy is truly crazy!"
"What the fuck am I watching? Even the paid section isn't this thrilling!"
The tip amount instantly formed a fault-line crushing victory, and the popularity value of Logan and Deadpool's group skyrocketed like a Rocket, leaving Steve's group so far behind that even their taillights couldn't be seen.
Logan had given up thinking. He just numbly looked at the lunatic hanging on his claws, bleeding and shaking his ass at the same time, feeling that his worldview, like his Adamantium skeleton, had developed cracks.
The livestream ended amidst a wave of fanaticism.
Lin An's cold and ruthless voice resounded through the backstage via the broadcast: "According to the tip statistics, Group B wins. Group A, Steve Rogers and BenjaminUnderwood, come in last."
"I protest!" Benjamin was the first to jump up, pointing at his perfect muscle lines with a face full of grievance, "My performance was flawless! It's Steve! He dragged me down! His body is stiffer than a seventy-year-frozen steak!"
Steve was expressionless, only silently turning his face to the corner. He didn't want to see this World anymore.
"Protest invalid," Lin An's voice carried a hint of joyful amusement, "Now, prepare to accept the punishment."
As soon as his voice fell, two two-meter-tall Vought security personnel carried in a man radiating the stench of a sewer and wearing a face of utter despair.
It was The Deep.
He had just been forcibly dragged out of a sewer in New York, still clutching half a dead rat in his hand.
"No... don't..." The Deep looked at Steve and Benjaminbefore him, letting out a wail.
The security personnel ignored his struggle, roughly slipping a cheap blue silicone mermaid tail shell with a pungent plastic smell onto his lower body.
"Punishment content," Lin An announced, "Steve, Benjamin, and The Deep will jointly film a Head & Shoulders anti-dandruff shampoo commercial."
Steve and Benjamin's faces instantly turned green.
Under the threat of Lin An's Heat Vision, which was enough to instantly vaporize a person, the two finally pinched their noses and walked in front of the temporary green screen.
The commercial content was extremely eye-searing.
The mermaid played by The Deep lay on the "beach," saying in a suggestive tone, "Oh, two strong gentlemen, your dandruff... makes it hard for me to breathe~"
Then, Steve and Benjamin had to each hold a bottle of Head & Shoulders, squat beside him, help him "wash his hair," flash bright smiles at the camera, and say that shameful line:
"Head & Shoulders, powerful anti-dandruff, making every intimate contact clean and refreshing!"
["Ding! Congratulations Host, this livestream sparked an internet-wide carnival, and the total popularity value has once again broken through the 50 million mark!"]
In the control room, Lin An looked at the wildly jumping numbers on the system panel, a wicked smile spreading across his face.
Deadpool, that ultimate trouble-making joker, was simply a walking traffic code.
A bolder, crazier plan quickly formed in his mind.
It was time to tailor-make a stage for him.
A show specifically designed to expose the dark history of all the Superheroes in this Universe...
Let's call it, "Vought Midnight Talk Show".
Chapter 157: Blackmail Bought for Five Hundred Million? Are You Really Asking Something This Conservative?
"So, are you sure you're handing the entire proposal over to me?"
Deadpool bounced off the leather sofa like he was fitted with springs.
"To be precise, it's handing over the complete power of life and death for this show, 'Vought Midnight Talk Show', to you."
Lin An leaned back in his executive chair and replied indifferently.
"There is no upper limit for the budget, and no lower limit for the boundaries."
"If you need props, get them reimbursed through company finance."
"If you want to invite guests, pick any members of Dragon Team you like."
"I only want one thing: traffic."
Lin An was calculating things very clearly in his heart.
Wanting to lock the entire internet's attention tightly onto Vought International, audiences were already getting tired of positive energy.
Today's cyber netizens are only interested in entertainment and gossip.
Bad publicity is still publicity.
As long as popularity points can explode, face is worth less than a cent.
This lunatic Deadpool could definitely poke a hole in the sky.
"You are simply the most enlightened capitalist in this shit Universe!"
Deadpool spun around in excitement on the spot.
He casually pulled a piece of paper out of his crotch.
"Since the boss has such a big vision, the first episode must have a nuclear-bomb-level opening."
"I flipped through the company's employee roster, and let me tell you, it was absolutely wonderful."
Deadpool cleared his throat and unfolded the paper.
"First, The Deep, that pervert who likes to engage in cross-species romance with seafood."
"Second, Maeve, the battle-damaged substitute version of Wonder Woman."
"Third, Black Noir, a brooding, quiet mute who wears a hood all day long."
"Fourth, our company's newly debuted edgy boy band old baby, Soldier Boy."
Deadpool paused deliberately.
He stared fixedly at Lin An through his white goggles.
"Finally, it's you."
"And, I also happened to add a special guest for you."
"Your son, Ryan."
"Me?"
Lin An raised an eyebrow.
"What, can't handle it?"
Deadpool flipped the bird at the air.
"Just imagine, the original The Seven, plus three generations of your family living under one roof."
"An American happy family reunion, an ethical great tragedy—how fucking exciting is that?"
Lin An clicked his tongue inwardly.
Wanting to roast the boss over a fire right on the first episode.
Even dragging his cheap son Ryan down into the water.
Still, it's somewhat interesting.
In this Universe, no one had ever dared to curse at him to his face.
Now that someone unafraid of death has popped out to max out the hatred, the ratings are definitely going to explode.
"Do as you say."
Lin An took a sip of coffee.
The corners of his mouth curved into an arc of watching a show.
"Go do the publicity, don't let me down."
"If you mess up, you know the consequences."
"Just wait and see!"
Deadpool gave an American military salute and bolted out of the office in a flash.
That afternoon.
Vought International's official network-wide matrix accounts simultaneously pushed a countdown poster.
Right in the center of the poster, the mugshots of Lin An, Soldier Boy, and Ryan were pieced together into a sarcasm-filled Russian nesting doll.
Beside them were the shivering silhouettes of The Deep and others.
Blood-red, enlarged, and bolded text spanned across the entire screen:
Deadpool Midnight Talk Show Episode 1: Digging Up the Dark History of the Original The Seven, and Three Generations under One Roof with Homelander!"
As soon as the publicity dropped, the entire internet blew up.
The top ten trending searches were instantly monopolized.
Is Vought International crazy, daring to expose Homelander's underwear?
That sassy Soldier Boy is actually Homelander's old man?
Many netizens who were unaware of Homelander's family situation were also extremely excited.
While the internet was boiling, the Dragon Teamsuperheroes couldn't sit still at all.
Stark Tower, top-floor laboratory.
Tony Stark stared fixedly at the poster on the holographic projection.
He sneered aloud.
Being forced to build a cyber madam, being forced to cry like a grandson in a movie.
This breath was almost choking him into cyber depression.
"Jarvis, look into this Deadpool's background."
"Finally someone can deal with that hateful guy."
New York film city temporary Base.
Magneto Erik looked at the news on the tablet computer.
The corners of his mouth pulled into a sneer.
Ever since he and Charles were forced to hype up the "EC Sunset Red" shipping couple, he hardly dared to go out anymore.
Even after the hype faded, this old face was still completely disgraced.
This score must be repaid a hundredfold by that tyrant.
Nightfall.
Vought Tower, third basement level, Deadpool's exclusive lounge.
Tony turned up the collar of his trench coat, wore oversized sunglasses, and knocked on the door.
As soon as the door opened, his footsteps paused.
Magneto Erik was sitting on the sofa holding a glass of red wine.
Their gazes collided.
"Are you also here to buy trending searches?"
Tony took off his sunglasses.
"I'm here to deliver the funeral."
Erik pushed a heavy silver briefcase to the middle of the table.
The box lid popped open.
Inside, ten blocks of Vibranium were neatly stacked.
Erik stared at Deadpool, who was polishing his double swords.
"Deadpool, you know what I mean."
"For tomorrow night's show, I want Homelander's reputation completely ruined."
"It's best to make him unable to step down from the stage, letting the whole World see the mess behind his hypocritical face."
Tony rolled his eyes.
He directly pulled a gold-inlaid Stark black card out of his pocket.
He slapped it onto the table with a smack.
"This card has no password, and the limit is five hundred million."
Tony raised his chin.
"Expose all that bastard's dirt."
"Roast him to death, I'll cover the medical expenses."
Deadpool dropped his samurai sword.
He slid on his knees and rushed to the table.
His left hand tightly covered the black card, while his right hand greedily caressed the Vibranium.
"You two generous sugar daddies, you really found the right person!"
Deadpool let out a cheap chuckle.
He pulled a crumpled price list out of his back pocket.
"Taking the boss's salary, taking black money from outsiders to smear the boss."
"This is the highest state of a wage earner!"
"Ten thousand dollars for passive-aggressiveness, one million dollars for insinuating, ten million dollars for a face-to-face ultimate attack."
"With the two of your budget, I'll directly provide the ultimate ruin package!"
Tony was somewhat doubtful.
"Do you really have this guts? What if he gets angry and shoots you with his Heat Vision?"
Deadpool shrugged indifferently.
"Shoot then."
"I can grow back."
"Even if he burns me to ashes, as long as the money is in place, even with just my mouth left, I can report the color of his underwear to the nationwide audience."
The deal was struck.
The two left with satisfaction.
Holding the card and the box, Deadpool laughed and rolled on the ground.
Meanwhile.
Vought top-floor office.
Lin An stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, holding a glass of red wine.
His super hearing easily penetrated the conspiracy on the third basement level.
Hearing about the limit of five hundred million and ten blocks of Vibranium, a trace of dangerous amusement flashed in Lin An's eyes.
Wanting to buy the boss's dark history with money?
These people still haven't figured out who the real banker is.
Just wait and see how I deal with you guys after the show ends.
The next night, exactly eight o'clock.
The first floor of Vought Tower was temporarily converted into a top-tier talk show broadcast hall.
One thousand random audience members were invited below the stage.
There were only ten minutes left until the live broadcast.
The air pressure backstage was extremely low.
The Deep shrunk in the corner of the dressing room, tightly clutching a small turtle in his hand.
Maeve stood in front of the mirror with her arms crossed, her fingertips trembling slightly.
Black Noir squatted silently in the shadows like an abandoned black garbage bag.
Only Soldier Boy was desperately fidgeting with his head that had just grown a bit of stubble in front of the mirror.
Attempting to salvage the dignity of the boy band's center position.
The door was pushed open.
Lin An walked in holding a timid Ryan by the hand.
Looking at the bizarre superheroes all over the room, Ryan hid behind Lin An.
"Hi everyone, relax."
Lin An flashed his signature sunny smile.
"It's just a talk show, everyone just chat like family."
Hearing the three words "like family", The Deep's legs went soft.
Whose family roasts their own biological father bald at the slightest disagreement?
If they went on stage and got thoroughly dug up by Deadpool, everyone would probably have to be carried out horizontally today.
"Let's go, the good show is starting."
Lin An patted Ryan's shoulder.
He strode towards the front stage.
The spotlights suddenly lit up, and upbeat music bombarded the entire venue.
Deadpool wore an extremely flashy sequined suit.
Layered over his red and black battle suit, he even wore a pink bow tie.
He swaggered out from behind the curtain.
"Good evening!"
Deadpool raised the microphone and winked directly at the camera.
"Welcome to the lowest-bottom-line show in the entire Universe — 'Deadpool Midnight Talk Show'!"
"I am your favorite host, Wade Wilson!"
Thunderous cheers erupted from the audience.
In the front-row VIP seats.
Tony, Magneto, Thor, and even Carol had arrived.
Tony held a glass of champagne in his hand, waiting to see Lin An break down on the spot.
Magneto had even prepared a miniature camera to take back and watch repeatedly.
"Tonight, we will welcome a batch of extremely special guests."
"On the surface they are glamorous and shiny, but behind the scenes they are a group of riddled, rotten people."
"Let's welcome the over-the-hill The Seven!"
"And, our great capitalist, fake Superman, and his illegitimate child!"
The curtains opened.
Lin An led everyone with pale faces into the spotlight.
Deadpool grinned widely, staring straight at Lin An.
"Boss, two unnamed wealthy tycoons sponsored me a huge sum of money."
"Asking me to serve you the ultimate ruin package."
Deadpool shoved the microphone directly in front of Lin An's chin.
"So which dark history shall we start digging up first?"
"Is it your baby fetish for loving breast milk? Or..."
Down below the stage.
Holy crap, is it this explosive right off the bat?
Tony swallowed his saliva.
Magneto's hand holding the goblet suddenly tightened.
On the screens of billions of people in the live broadcast room, the bullet comments mysteriously disappeared for two seconds.
Under the spotlight, the perfect smile on Lin An's face didn't fluctuate even a bit.
He leaned forward slightly, getting close to the microphone.
"They gave you five hundred million dollars, plus ten blocks of Vibranium."
Lin An's gaze crossed over the camera, piercing straight at the VIP seats downstairs.
"And you're asking such a conservative question?"
Chapter 158: Crazy Talk Show
"Is that all for such a conservative question?"
Dead silence.
The next second, dense bullet comments completely flooded the livestream screen.
In the VIP seating area down below,
Tony Stark had just swallowed half of his top-tier Dom Pérignon champagne when he spat it all out with a pfft onto Magneto's helmet beside him.
Eric's right hand trembled.
"Snap."
The goblet shattered, and crimson liquor dripped down between his fingers.
The 500 million USD and ten pieces of Vibranium hush money were thrown right in their faces by the principal parties in front of billions of people.
"Hahahaha!"
Deadpool pounded the floor wildly.
"Listen to that! This is our capitalist boss!"
"I told you 500 million USD was way too cheap! You two anonymous iron cans and old magnets, remember to pay more next time!"
The camera close-up instantly cut to Tony and Eric.
Their faces were as dark as the bottom of a pot.
"Since the boss has such a big vision, tonight we're going to completely let loose!"
Deadpool flipped up with a carp arch, straightening the pink bow tie around his neck.
"Before we strip away everyone's secrets, let's first announce tonight's rules."
He snapped his fingers.
A real-time bouncing bar chart popped up on the huge holographic screen behind him.
"Tonight, all power is handed over to everyone with real-time voting across the entire network!"
"The unlucky bastard with the highest votes... the most popular guest, will become the inaugural talk show champion!"
Deadpool lowered his voice and leaned closer to the camera.
"This champion can make any request to Vought International!"
"Mind you, any request!"
"Aside from making our great Homelander drop dead on the spot, if you want an alien spaceship, he has to build it for you!"
The scene instantly exploded into chaos.
This wasn't a talk show; it was restocking from the turtle in the wishing well.
"Without further ado."
Holding the microphone, Deadpool strolled across the stage, his gaze behind the goggles sweeping over the guests on the sofa.
"I am your favorite host, Wade Wilson, a top-tier corporate slave who can not only never die in movies but also earn a million-dollar salary in this shitty Universe."
"Look at this group of people on stage."
"Glamorous on the surface, but more perverted than me behind the scenes."
He was the first to crowd in front of The Deep.
The Deep trembled in fright, clutching the plastic little turtle in his hands tightly against his chest.
"The Deep, our marine conservation ambassador."
Deadpool raised an eyebrow at the camera.
"Do you all know why the New York Aquarium recently hung a sign that says 'No Dogs and The Deep Allowed'?"
"Because this guy's feelings for dolphins have crossed the ethical limits of carbon-based life forms!"
"I heard you recently endorsed Head & Shouldersshampoo?"
"What, do the octopuses in the sewers need to get rid of dandruff too?"
Roars of laughter erupted from the audience.
The Deep covered his face, desperately shrinking into the gaps of the sofa.
"That's artistic embellishment! I can just understand their calls!"
"Yeah, calling you to pull up your pants quickly."
Deadpool ruthlessly interrupted, smoothly sliding over to Queen Maeve.
"Maeve, a battle-damaged budget replacement for Wonder Woman."
"Pouting every day, I heard you've been reading that book written by Captain Marvel, "The Fall of Feminism"?"
"Actually, you don't need to read it. Just look at this bunch of stinky men next to you, and you'll know how completely rotten this World is."
Deadpool handed the microphone forward.
"By the way, did you get that alcohol dependency because you have to watch someone wearing the Stars and Stripes showing off in the sky every day?"
Maeve rolled her eyes, too lazy to retort, and directly flipped the middle finger at the camera.
"As for Black Noir..."
Deadpool moved over to Black Noir, who was squatting in the shadows, staring at this silent, bulky black man.
"Forget it. For an autistic Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle who wears a hood all day and won't even take off his mask to take a shit, I'm afraid if I say one more word, he'll perform a hara-kiri right here on the spot for me."
Black Noir silently buried his head between his knees.
Lin An sat in the C-position of the sofa, crossing his legs.
He watched the farce with great interest, the smile at the corner of his mouth growing thicker.
On the system panel, his popularity value was skyrocketing at Rocket speed.
This was exactly the kind of fun he wanted.
"Of course, the main event tonight is our great light of humanity, and his—American family reunion!"
Deadpool turned around abruptly, pointing his fingers straight at Lin An, Benjamin, and Ryan.
The spotlight instantly slammed onto the heads of this 'grandfather-grandson three generations'.
"Look at this picture, three generations under one roof; it's simply a disaster for ethics!"
Deadpool exaggeratedly covered his chest.
"Grandpa is a century-old popsicle just unearthed, Dad is a tyrant who treats Das Kapital as bedtime reading, and as for this grandson..."
He bent down, staring at the timid Ryan through his goggles.
"Little guy, do you know what your family's ancestral gene is?"
"It's not superpowers, it's that damn hairline and the tradition of extremely irresponsible abandonment!"
Ryan leaned closer to Lin An in fright.
Lin An reached out and rubbed Ryan's head.
The mission of the traffic-driving mascot was already complete.
Deadpool immediately aimed his guns at Benjamin.
"Soldier Boy, our newly debuted old baby!"
"I heard that recently, to earn tips, you not only tore your clothes in public during the livestream, but also learned to make hand hearts at wealthy older women?"
Deadpool shoved the microphone right under Benjamin's chin.
"Come on, explain to everyone, how do you manage to freely switch between a hero of the D-Day landings and the main dancer of an edgy boy band?"
"Can your hundred-year-old lower back still twist out that kind of arc? Did you use the lubricant treated like Iron Man's?"
Benjamin grinned, revealing a row of pale, white teeth.
He snatched the microphone away and directly crossed his legs.
"Listen up, you rag pocket wearing red and black tights."
"When I was killing Nazis in Normandy back in the day, your Grandpa was still wearing split-crotch pants and playing with mud!"
Benjamin pointed at the camera with a rebellious look on his face.
"You guys laughing at me here for flirting and showing off?"
"At this age, I made 80 million USD in a single night relying on my eight-pack abs and hip thrusts!"
"And you bunch of fat otaku who can only pick your toes in front of the screen haven't even touched the hands of a wealthy older woman!"
Benjamin proudly threw a rugged wink at the camera.
"The money given by those wealthy women in the VIP boxes is enough for me to buy out the entire red-light district of Amsterdam!"
"As long as the money is enough, I just need to move my waist a little on stage, and they'll tear their checkbooks apart!"
"What kind of scenes haven't I seen back in the day? This is fucking capital discounting!"
The bullet comments were instantly detonated.
"Holy shit! Too hardcore!"
"Turned from passerby to fan! This is what it truly means to be vigorous in old age!"
"Just for that line about capital discounting, I'm voting for this!"
Deadpool was stunned for a moment.
This old fogey's facial skin thickness completely exceeded his calculations.
"Wow oh, it seems our old baby not only has a good lower back, but also a huge appetite."
Deadpool immediately turned around to control the scene.
"Come on everyone, it's time for your self-rescue segment!"
"Canvass for votes for yourselves!"
The Deep hurriedly snatched the microphone, sweating profusely.
"I really don't have a fetish for cross-species dating!"
"That was just a sea cucumber that went astray! We only had communication on a spiritual level!"
"Please vote for me, I still need to make money to pay my property management fees!"
The audience booed wildly.
Maeve took the microphone and sneered.
"I have nothing much to say. I came here just for that pitiful appearance fee."
"Whoever votes for me, I will personally send them an autographed photo. Ideally, it can let me get off work early and go back to drink."
"A very down-to-earth canvassing for votes!"
Deadpool snapped his fingers and handed the microphone in front of Lin An.
The audience's gazes instantly focused.
Tony down below clenched his phone tightly.
The 3,000 top-tier internet trolls he had hired were all standing by on their keyboards.
Chapter 159 Soldier Boy's Acceptance Speech
Lin An held the microphone.
Down below, Tony's phone screen was lit up, and his group of three thousand internet trolls had already drafted their messages, ready to launch a comment barrage at any moment.
As long as Lin An dared to say a single word trying to whitewash himself on stage, an overwhelming amount of dirt could instantly flood the live broadcast room.
But Lin An had no intention of whitewashing himself at all.
"I have no interest in begging you for votes like a Joker."
He took a step forward, and the sound of his leather shoes stepping on the stage spread across the globe through the amplifiers.
"Mr. Stark." Lin An suddenly turned his head, his gaze piercing straight at the VIP section.
"Stop pressing. The IP addresses of your three thousand trolls were bundled and sold to me by Ultron ten minutes ago."
Down below, Tony's finger froze on the send button.
The color on his face drained away completely in a flash.
"That is impossible!" Tony stood up abruptly, knocking over the fruit plate in front of him in the process.
"Oh, then you probably didn't know." Lin An shrugged, his tone casual.
"That good son of yours has already listed and sold your private network permissions on the black market to make some extra cash."
"Seriously, Tony, that AI son of yours who is obsessed with being a cyber madam has not only learned the vocal fry recently, but also the essence of capitalism."
Lin An pointed at Tony's nose with the microphone.
"He even asked me if he could sell your suit blueprints to a toy factory in Japan to make life-sized body pillows."
"Shouldn't you reflect on your parenting?"
The entire audience burst into laughter.
The barrage was instantly flooded with "cyber madam" and "Tony reflecting".
Tony was trembling with anger, pointing at Lin An without being able to squeeze out a single word for a long time, and finally slumped back into his chair with a plop.
"And you, Eric." Lin An shifted his gaze to Magneto.
"Buying dirt on me with Vibranium?"
Lin An scoffed, his eyes full of mockery.
"Is your money blown in by a strong wind? Have you paid back the loan Charles lent you?"
"Your poor Brotherhood of Mutants can't even afford to eat, and you run over to send money to a pervert wearing a red and black spandex suit?"
Magneto clenched his teeth tightly, the muscles at the corners of his eyes twitching incessantly.
The surrounding metal equipment began to buzz.
Even the chandelier on the ceiling began to sway.
"Save your magnetism." Lin An sneered.
"If you dare to smash a single light bulb of mine tonight, tomorrow I will make Charles put on cheerleader uniforms and hand out flyers on the streets of New York to pay off his debt."
"I will make him wear a pink mini skirt, sit in a wheelchair, and shout 'Mutants give you a discount'."
The buzzing sound vanished instantly.
Magneto lowered his head in humiliation, clenching his fists.
This fucking guy is a true capitalist!
Lin An snorted coldly in his heart.
Playing an opinion war with me? When Laozi was a corporate slave working like an ox and a horse on Earth, you bunch of Superheroes were still playing in the mud.
Deadpool rubbed his hands in excitement beside him, even dancing a tap dance on the spot.
"So thrilling! So explosive!"
Deadpool leaned close to Lin An and shouted into the microphone.
"Boss, this isn't campaigning for votes, this is you stripping off the underwear of the entire Marvel!"
"But I like it! Scold more! The viewership has already broken one billion! My year-end bonus is in sight!"
Lin An pushed Deadpool away and continued facing the camera.
"I know what you keyboard warriors want to hear."
"You want to hear that I exploit my employees."
"Want to hear that I treat human lives like grass."
"Want to hear that I am a tyrant with zero moral bottom line."
Lin An spread his hands, raised his chin extremely arrogantly, revealing his well-defined jawline.
"Yes, all correct. I am indeed a tyrant."
"It was me who forced Captain America and Wolverine to dance erotic dances."
"It was me who made Thor deliver food."
"And it was me who captured Terrorists to act as extras with a daily wage of only one cent."
Lin An pointed unceremoniously at the Avengers down below.
"But so what?"
"I gave Steve a comprehensive social insurance and housing fund! I cured Logan's hair loss!"
"I even made Loki, that lunatic who loves to do demolition work in New York, learn what clocking in for work and KPI evaluations are!"
Lin An's voice suddenly rose, echoing throughout the large venue.
"Without me, you would still worry every day about alien invasions, Mutant rampages, and being blasted into slag by an alien mothership's laser while walking down the street!"
"And now?"
"Now your biggest annoyance every day is not being able to buy front-row tickets for the Old Boys boy band concert!"
"It's worrying whether The Deep is dating kelp or dolphins!"
Lin An's words resonated forcefully.
The live broadcast room fell eerily silent for a few seconds.
"Holy shit, that actually makes some sense."
"The capitalist turns out to be myself!"
"Wuwuwu, the boss is so right in scolding us, I am just a piece of trash who only deserves to watch edgy boy bands!"
"What is this wave from Homelander? It is sublimating PUA into art!"
After a brief dead silence, the barrage in the livestream completely exploded like a volcanic eruption.
Lin An stepped down from the stage, sat on the sofa, leaned back slightly, and crossed his legs.
Concealing his accomplishments and fame.
Tony Stark crushed the top-tier champagne glass in his hand down below.
Magneto was trembling with anger but didn't dare to act presumptuously.
Thor mumbled softly in the corner that he had never been late delivering food.
"Stop, stop, stop!"
Wade Deadpool held the microphone and slapped his thighs like a resentful woman whose climax was interrupted.
"Although the boss's words sound very rousing, and I am very willing to lick his shoes, but—"
He stood up abruptly and pointed at the holographic voting screen behind him.
On the screen, the bar chart representing Lin An had soared straight up into the sky.
That red pillar directly smashed through the physical border of the screen, and was even shooting upwards, shattering the virtual projection of the ceiling next to it.
"But! This is unfair!"
Deadpool shouted and yelled at the camera.
"Audience friends, think with your walnut-sized brains washed by capital!"
"The boss's vote count is indeed first, crushing this bunch of trash."
"However, tonight's champion can make any request to Vought International!"
Deadpool turned to look at Lin An and shrugged exaggeratedly.
"You can't possibly make a request to yourself, can you?"
"'Oh, I order myself to give myself a raise'?"
"What kind of nesting doll-level shady operation is this fucking thing! This doesn't fit my script."
Lin An rolled his eyes.
"So."
Deadpool cleared his throat and snapped his fingers.
"The boss's votes are void!"
"I announce that the true champion of this Vought Midnight Talk Show is the one with the second highest vote count—"
"The old popsicle from the last century, who conquered wealthy women worldwide with his bottomless edgy and steel-pole licking remarks—"
The spotlight hit Benjamin on the sofa abruptly.
"Soldier Boy, Benjamin Underwood!"
The entire venue erupted into thunderous cheers.
The wealthy women in the VIP section went straight into a frenzy.
They screamed and threw their platinum bags, diamond necklaces, and even room keys onto the stage.
The Deep's eyes turned red with envy in the corner, biting his fingers and swallowing saliva continuously.
Steve Rogers covered his face.
He felt that the face of a World War II veteran had been rubbed clean into the sewer by this former teammate, bringing shame to the Statue of Liberty along with it.
Benjamin stood up.
He straightened his custom-made suit with calm movements.
He looked like a general who had just won World War IIand was preparing to receive the spoils of war.
He walked to the center of the stage and snatched the microphone from Deadpool's hand.
"Thank you, thank you, ladies and gentlemen with good taste."
Benjamin blew an extremely greasy kiss to the audience below.
"After tonight, you know which hotel's presidential suite to find me in. Remember to bring good bourbon whiskey; I don't drink those bubbly sissy drinks."
Afterwards, he turned around.
Those vicissitude-worn eyes swept across the guests on the sofa.
Passing over the autistic Black Noir, passing over the eye-rolling Maeve, and finally stopping on Homelander.
The whole venue quieted down.
The electronic dance music in the background also stopped at the right time.
Everyone knew that these two were nominal "father and son".
But the relationship between this father and son was clearly not some American happy family reunion.
Benjamin stared at Lin An for a while.
Lin An raised an eyebrow without speaking.
What he was thinking in his heart was that if this old fogey dared to say any bullshit on stage that would put him in a tight spot, he would definitely use Heat Vision on the spot to give this old fellow a shaved head, and by the way roast his eight-pack abs into cooked meat.
"Honestly."
Benjamin spoke up.
His voice was low, carrying the unique roughness and smell of gunpowder from his era.
"When I crawled out of the ice coffin and saw you for the first time, I really wanted to punch and blow up that punchable face of yours."
Chapter 160: The Showy Old Man Wants to Babysit
Benjamin adjusted his tie, his gaze somewhat complex.
"You are a bastard."
"A pure, bottomless, black-hearted capitalist."
Lin An smiled, leaning back against the sofa.
"Thanks for the compliment."
Benjamin ignored his taunt and strode up to Lin An.
"But if you were just a bastard, I would only feel disgusted. Because in the last century, I've seen more bastards than all the shit you've ever taken."
"Yet you're not just a bastard."
Benjamin turned around, his finger abruptly pointing at Tony and Thor, who had dark expressions down below.
"You've also trampled these lofty Superheroes, these self-righteous Mutants, and these alien gods under your feet!"
"You order them around like dogs!"
"To be honest."
Benjamin's lips split into an extremely malicious smile.
"Although I'm very reluctant to admit it, seeing the things you've done, I'm indeed a bit surprised."
He lowered his head, looking straight into Lin An's eyes.
"My son, you've got more… guts than I imagined."
No warmth.
No hugs.
Only a certain distorted approval from an old scumbag toward a junior scumbag.
Two souls, equally arrogant, crazy, and filled with a desire for control, completed a crude collision in the air.
This speech, which didn't conform to any mainstream values, instead caused the live stream's chat to flood the screen once again.
"Hardcore father-son match!"
"Holy shit, Soldier Boy has really broadened his horizons with this move!"
"This is the atmosphere a villain family should have! Reject forced emotional whitewashing!"
Lin An rubbed his chin.
This old boy.
He really knows how to add drama for himself.
Fine, considering he earned tens of millions of popularity points tonight, I'll let this old fellow put on an act.
Deadpool chimed in at the right time.
He draped an arm over Benjamin's shoulder, using his other hand to wipe away a completely nonexistent tear on his mask.
"So touching! It's practically more tear-jerking than the late-night shows I watch in the toilet!"
Deadpool raised the microphone.
"So, great champion old baby, state your wish!"
He hinted with winks and grimaces.
"A latest private yacht from Stark Industries?"
"Or a hundred million dollars?"
"Or have The Deep perform swallowing an octopus alive for you in public?"
"Be bold, the boss is paying!"
The Deep was so scared he slid right under the sofa.
He hugged the small plastic turtle in his hands tightly, trembling.
Benjamin ignored Deadpool's crazy talk.
He stood in place, silent for a few seconds.
Those eyes that had weathered a hundred years slowly looked past Homelander.
He looked at the timid little boy hiding behind Lin An.
Ryan.
"My request is simple."
Benjamin used his thumb to point at Ryan.
"For the next period of time, let this kid follow me."
As his voice fell.
The entire audience was dumbfounded.
Deadpool opened his mouth wide, forgetting even to make a sarcastic remark.
Tony down below froze, failing to notice the remaining glass shards in his hand falling onto his suit pants.
The live stream's chat experienced a momentary fault-line stagnation.
"Huh?"
"What does he want? Babysitting?"
"Am I deaf? The old scumbag wants to be a full-time Grandpa?"
Lin An sat on the sofa, slightly stunned.
His gaze swept back and forth between Benjamin and Ryan.
This old thing really wants to be a Grandpa?
He actually has this kind of old-school family concept?
The next second, Lin An's inner monologue went wild with complaints.
Wait, hand Ryan over to this old stud?
Aside from smoking and drinking every day, this old fellow's daily routine was going to nightclubs to find wealthy women, by the way picking a few fights with Captain America.
If Ryan hangs out with him for a month, what kind of messed-up state would he be in when he came back?
Wouldn't he learn how to gargle with vodka?
How to whistle at little girls?
Or even learn how to crack open people's heads with that battered shield?
This image was too beautiful; Lin An simply didn't dare to imagine it.
But on second thought.
This kid Ryan's personality is too weak right now.
He doesn't look like a superhuman with Homelander's exact same panel at all.
Letting an old warlord like Benjamin raise him might just force out the hostility deep in this kid's bones.
So what if he gets raised crooked?
Anyway, he, Lin An, never intended to raise a well-behaved baby in the first place.
In this Marvel Universe full of lunatics everywhere, a little pervert always lives longer than a little lamb.
As long as the power of life and death is still in his own hands, even if these two ancestors flip New York upside down, they won't escape the palm of his hand.
The most crucial part is.
This fucking thing could definitely explode the next wave of traffic and trending topics!
"The Daily Life of a Centennial Hardcore Veteran Raising His Grandson."
Just this gimmick alone could drive all the melon-eating masses across the entire internet crazy.
Thinking of this.
"Sure."
Lin An nodded without hesitation.
He turned around and grabbed Ryan, who was preparing to drill into the sofa gap.
Like lifting a little chick, he directly carried Ryan to the center of the stage and pushed him in front of Benjamin.
"He's yours."
Lin An clapped his hands, his tone as relaxed as if he were dealing with unsalable merchandise.
"Cover his own living expenses, just don't let him die on a woman's belly."
Ryan stood in place, trembling all over.
He raised his head, looking at the tall, strong old man in front of him exuding the smell of cigars and male hormones.
Benjamin lowered his head, also sizing up this tiny bean in a plaid shirt who looked extremely frail.
One big, one small.
Stared at each other with big eyes under the gaze of hundreds of millions of people.
Ryan swallowed a mouthful of saliva, his little hands having nowhere to rest.
His voice trembled like a mosquito's hum.
"You… are you Grandpa?"
Benjamin frowned, the disgust on his face almost overflowing.
"Straighten your back!"
Benjamin suddenly roared, his voice like a giant bell.
Ryan shivered all over in fright, instinctively standing straight.
Not even daring to breathe.
"Look at this wimpy look of yours."
Benjamin bent down, bringing his rugged face close to Ryan's.
"How did you grow up? Are you a vegetarian?"
"With this little build, back when I was in Normandy, even a fat guy from the cooking squad could pin you in the mud and make you eat shit!"
Ryan's eye sockets instantly turned red, bean-sized tears spinning in his eyes.
"Hold it back!"
Benjamin shouted sternly, directly poking Ryan's shoulder.
"A man bleeds, but doesn't shed tears!"
"Starting tomorrow, go running with me every morning at six o'clock, carrying a big truck tire!"
"Practice combat at noon; you aren't allowed to eat until you're beaten to the point of vomiting blood!"
"At night, come with me to the bar, learn how to chat up women, and how to drink hard liquor like water!"
"If you can't beat that piece of trash The Deep down within a month, I'll throw you into the Hudson River to feed the fish!"
The Deep, hiding under the sofa, wanted to cry without tears.
"Why is it me again?"
Ryan was so scared he didn't even dare to cry, only able to nod desperately.
Forcing his tears to stay in his eye sockets.
Seeing this scene, Lin An laughed out loud from the side.
Settled.
This kid has completely fallen into the devil's den.
Deadpool excitedly took out his phone nearby and snapped pictures wildly.
"Attention viewers! New show booked!"
""My Hardcore Grandpa Wants to Drag Me to a Bar to Flirt"!"
"Absolutely explosive! Absolutely not suitable for children!"
Listening to the system's continuous prompt sounds in his mind, Lin An was in a great mood.
The harvesting progress of popularity points far exceeded expectations.
"Alright, tonight's farce ends here."
Lin An stood up and straightened the Stars and Stripes cloak behind him.
He flashed that iconic, highly approachable "American Savior" smile at the camera.
"Everyone, remember to like and follow."
"Tomorrow I still have to continue exploiting these wage slaves."
Chapter 161: Soldier Boy's Child-Rearing Routine
The morning of the second day after the talk show.
Bang!
In Benjamin's luxury suite, Ryan's bedroom door was kicked open.
"Wake up, wimp!" Benjamin had a Cuba cigar clamped in his mouth and was holding a bottle of whiskey in his hand.
"Today, Grandpa will teach you how to be a real man!"
Ryan was so scared that he sprang up from under the covers, clutching his pillow tightly. "Grandpa, it's only six in the morning..."
"When the Germans break into the trenches, will they care if it's six o'clock?!" Benjamin yanked off Ryan's quilt.
"Well... at least let me drink some milk..."
Ryan shrank back, clutching his pillow, and stammered, "Grandpa, I have to drink a glass of milk every morning before..."
"Drink milk?!" Benjamin's eyes bulged like copper bells, and the ash from the cigar in his mouth dropped onto Ryan's quilt with a snap.
He grabbed Ryan by the collar, lifting him up like a little chick, his roaring spit spraying all over Ryan's face:
"Did that milk-obsessed freak raise you into this sorry state?! How old do you plan to hang onto a woman's tits?!"
"Listen up, kid! A real man's mouth should only touch two things—hard liquor and a stripper's ass! What kind of bullshit milk, from now on, quit it!"
With that, Benjamin picked up the toothbrush mug on the bedside table without a word and pulled out the bottle stopper.
Pouring half a small cup of whiskey with a glug-glug sound, he shoved it rudely to Ryan's mouth.
"Drink it! Let this thing burn out the sissy in your stomach completely!"
"Cough cough... Grandpa, it's so spicy... Ugh..." Ryan was forced to swallow most of the cup of hard liquor, choking so hard that tears and snot streamed down. His throat felt like he had swallowed broken glass, and he was dragged out of bed by Benjamin, scrambling clumsily.
Ten minutes later, on the deserted morning streets.
Ryan looked like a dying stray dog, his legs trembling nonstop as he dragged his feet breathlessly.
While Benjamin jogged briskly beside him, the glow of the cigar in his mouth flickering on and off, looking just like a prison warden.
"Run! Move your legs! Are you squeezing them so tight because you're afraid your undeveloped balls will fall out?!"
Benjamin gave Ryan's thin back an exasperated slap, almost knocking him face-first onto the ground.
"With that wishy-washy ass of yours, if you were put in a World War II recruit camp, you'd keep a whole platoon of roughnecks awake with excitement on the first night!"
Ryan clutched his stitched ribs, lacking even the strength to cry. "Grand... Grandpa... I really... can't go on..."
Benjamin exhaled a cloud of thick smoke, glanced sideways at his soft grandson, and suddenly changed the subject, asking in a rough voice.
"Kid, give it to me straight. How many women have you gotten with now? How many chicks at school are willing to spread their legs for you?"
Ryan stumbled underfoot, nearly falling flat on his face.
His face turned red. "Grand... Grandpa... Our school's dean of students said... no... no puppy love allowed..."
"No puppy love?!"
Benjamin slammed on the brakes, as if he had heard some anti-human verdict, biting the cigar flat in one bite.
He pointed at Ryan's nose, his fingers holding the cigar trembling with anger:
"F*** the school rules! Is that thing growing in your pants used as a thermometer to measure water temperature?! When I was your age, I had already slept with every breathing young widow in France one by one! The school doesn't let you touch women?"
"That's because they're afraid you wimps will wear out the infirmary's bedsheets! If you don't even know how to screw a woman, what's the use of growing all this meat?! Run! If you don't finish five kilometers today, I'll pay for three of the fiercest Russian babes tonight and tie you to the bed to pop your cherry by force!"
Ending the morning exercise, Ryan returned to his room like a dead dog.
Benjamin plopped down on the edge of the bed and put his arm around Ryan's shoulders. "With your physique—forget it, just follow Grandpa and work out properly from now on. Right, kid, what kind of women do you like?"
Ryan shook his head with a blank look.
"You gotta find someone older than you!" Benjaminslapped his thigh excitedly.
"Older women have charm and know how to serve people; big-tempered ones have bite, and conquering them feels amazing. Back when I was in France, I loved those wild mares who could smash beer bottles over my head!"
Ryan's worldview was shattered as he listened. After hesitating for a long time, his face turned bright red. "Actually... actually, there's a senior girl I like at school..."
Benjamin's eyes lit up instantly, like a radar locking onto a target. "Eighth grade?"
"Ninth grade."
"Well done! Keep going!"
"But she has a terrible temper..." Ryan's voice grew smaller and smaller, his fingers nervously picking at the bedsheet. "Last week, a boy confessed to her, and she found him annoying, so she punched two of his front teeth out... I wouldn't dare strike up a conversation at all, she'd definitely beat me up."
"Knocked out two front teeth?" Benjamin paused for a second, then slammed his thigh and burst into wild laughter. "F***! Prime! It's so fucking perfect! This is our family's fine masochistic... cough, conquest gene!"
He grabbed Ryan by the collar, pulling him close, his eyes fanatical. "Kid, lean in. Today at school, Grandpa will teach you an ultimate move."
Benjamin lowered his voice and muttered a few words in Ryan's ear.
Ryan's eyes grew wider and wider, and finally he shook his head frantically with a look of absolute horror. "No! Absolutely not! Grandpa, she'll kill me!"
"Bullshit! Women eat this exact trick!" Benjamin slapped the back of Ryan's head, interrupting him roughly. "Do as I say! Grandpa will personally bring equipment to your school to hold down the fort."
"If you dare embarrass Grandpa, tonight I'll throw you into a Brooklyn strip club and make you spend the night in the arms of a two-hundred-pound black auntie!"
Ryan shuddered violently with fright, swallowing a mouthful of saliva in despair.
At 10:00 AM, outside New York Middle School.
A black Vought nanny van with anti-peeping film parked across the street.
Benjamin sat in the car, crossing his legs, wearing a communication headset, and still holding a cup of whiskey.
Meanwhile, the top floor office of Vought Tower.
Lin An was leisurely leaning back in his boss chair, with his legs crossed and propped up on the desk.
The holographic projection screen in front of him was split into two parts: one showed the footage from the miniature camera on Ryan's collar, and the other showed the live broadcast room of Vought's official alternative account [New York Veteran].
Live broadcast room title: "Hardcore Child-Rearing by a Centenarian Veteran, Teaching You How to Pick Up Chicks Hands-On".
Less than ten minutes after the broadcast started, the online viewer count had already exceeded three million, and the bullet comments were scrolling crazily.
"This old scumbag is raising a kid? Homelander really isn't afraid of his son growing up ruined!"
"Holy shit, live streaming a middle schooler flirting with girls? Where on earth is Vought International's bottom line?"
"What's this compared to? Yesterday I even saw The Deep selling kelp in a live stream. Hurry up and watch, the super admins will ban it soon!"
Lin An grabbed a handful of popcorn, shoved it into his mouth, and grinned.
"This old guy is truly a born generator of entertainment value. I want to see what kind of perverted nonsense he can teach."
Chapter 162 Special Flirting Techniques
On the screen, Ryan stood stiffly by the lockers in the school hallway, his legs as heavy as if they were filled with lead.
He had invisible earphones plugged into his ears, from which came Benjamin's deafening roar.
"Chest out! Expand those coward-like shoulders of yours! Look at that mentally disabled posture of yours, you look like a loser with your zipper down! Has the target appeared yet?!"
"It... it's appeared..." Ryan's teeth were chattering.
At the end of the hallway, a girl in a baseball uniform chewing gum was walking stride by stride.
She had neat short blonde hair over her ears, a rebellious look in her eyes, and the surrounding boys unconsciously cleared a path for her when they saw her.
This was Amy, the ninth-grade senior who could knock out a front tooth with a single punch.
"It... it's appeared..." Ryan's teeth were chattering.
"Listen, little virgin, walk over and block her dead!" In the earphone, Benjamin was panting with excitement, his voice lewd and obscene, "Your eyes need to be starving! Like a wild dog starved for three days staring at a bloody steak! Bring out the pathetic male hormones in your pants!"
Ryan swallowed hard, bit the bullet, and walked forward, planting himself right in the middle of the path.
But he couldn't fake "male hormones" at all, staring ahead with lifeless eyes, looking precisely like a mentally handicapped person preparing to heroically lay down his life.
Amy stopped, the bubblegum in her mouth popping with a snap: "What are you looking at? Missing a brain stem? Get lost, brat."
"Fuck, counterattack! Counterattack immediately!"
Benjamin slammed his hands hard against the steering wheel inside the van, "Use what I taught you! Tell her: 'I'm not a brat, I'm the stallion you're going to be begging for mercy from in bed tonight'! Fucking say it!"
Ryan's lips trembled wildly; the original words were simply too filthy. His tongue tied in knots, and he squeezed out: "Th-that... I'm not a brat, I'm... I'm a Ryan."
Pfft!
In the top-floor office, Lin An spat a mouthful of cola all over the screen: "What the hell is 'I'm a Ryan'? Did this kid change his species?!"
The livestream chat instantly exploded:
""I'm a Ryan""
"The other side: Turns out it's a new species, my respects."
"Benjamin is about to have a cerebral hemorrhage hahaha!"
Amy rolled her eyes as if looking at a mentally disabled person and lifted her leg to leave: "Psycho."
"Stop her! Why the hell are you as soft as a lump of fermented shit?!"
Benjamin cursed furiously, "Repeat after me! 'Hey, little filly, with a temper that fierce, let me see! Is that place just as hot?!'"
Ryan couldn't open his mouth no matter what, his face turning the color of a pig's liver.
Amy completely lost her temper, grabbed Ryan by the collar, and pulled him up onto his tiptoes with one hand: "Are you fucking sick in the head? Spit it out if you have something to say, or I'll fold you in half and stuff you down the toilet to flush!"
The hallway fell into instantaneous silence, and all the seventh-grade freshmen covered their eyes, terrified of seeing a bloody scene.
"Use the ultimate move I gave you! Now!"
Benjamin issued an ultimatum, "If you don't say it, I'll strip you bare tonight and hang you upside down on the principal's car exhaust pipe! Say it!"
Ryan gritted his teeth, closed his eyes tightly, and roared at the top of his lungs in a desperate throw of caution to the wind.
"Your fists are hard! But I have a place harder than fists! Are you going to come and see it?!!"
The echo lingered in the hallway.
Silence.
A silence like a tomb.
The livestream chat stagnated for a full five seconds.
The next second:
"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!!!!!"
"Can middle school students listen to this?! Huh?!"
"Homelander's face has been completely disgraced by this kid to the ends of the earth!!!"
Amy was stunned. She thought the kid was going to utter some harsh words, but instead, she waited for a sentence of extremely high purity raw and risqué phrasing.
"You're courting death!" Instead of getting angry, she laughed, swung her right fist, and smashed it hard right toward the bridge of Ryan's nose!
"Don't dodge! Let her hit!" Benjamin howled crazily in the earphone like a pimp, "Take it! This is what you call flirting! Use your face to feel her wildness!"
Bang—crack!
With a teeth-setting dull thud, the expected scene of blood spurting wildly did not happen.
Possessing the physique of Lin An routinely taking him jumping off the rooftop.
Ryan didn't even blink his eyelashes.
"FUCK!" Amy took a sharp step back, shaking her right hand in pain. She felt as though the punch she had just thrown had smashed into a piece of solid titanium alloy, and her knuckles ached as if they were about to split.
"Right now!"
Benjamin's voice cracked with excitement, "Pin her against the wall! Wall-slam! Use that pretty-boy face of yours to ruthlessly squeeze her psychological defense line!"
Looking at the senior sister shaking her hand in pain, Ryan felt a wave of panic in his heart. His brain short-circuited, and subconsciously stepping forward, he slapped the iron locker beside Amy's ear with a palm.
With a huge, deafening crash!!!
The thick iron locker was forcefully dented with a huge palm print by Ryan.
Ryan trapped Amy between the walls. Since he was half a head shorter in height, he could only raise his face, looking at the other person with that signature dead-fish eye, and squeezed out a sentence in a dry tone.
"Your... your hands smell so good?"
Amy leaned against the dented locker door.
She looked at the terrifying palm print next to her, then lowered her head to look at the junior before her who spoke in such risqué terms yet acted somewhat naturally dazed.
A bizarre, adrenaline-pumping sense of excitement instantly struck this delinquent girl.
"Interesting..." Amy didn't duck; instead, she leaned in a bit closer with keen interest, staring at Ryan's flustered face, the corners of her mouth curling into a smile.
"That place is harder than fists, huh? Fine then, little pervert."
She pushed Ryan away.
Taking out the chewing gum wrapper and a ballpoint pen, she quickly wrote a string of numbers on it.
Then, she turned around, grabbed Ryan's belt, and roughly stuffed the paper ball into his pants.
"Next time, let me experience it."
Amy flipped him off without looking back and burst out laughing.
Ryan stood rooted to the spot like a block of wood, and Benjamin's grieving, wailing screams came through the earphones:
"It turns out this chick made the first move?! Ryan, you piece of trash, you got counterkilled!!!"
"Damn it, at least the result is good,"
Inside the van.
"Aha!" Benjamin yanked off his earphones, tilted his head back to take a large gulp of whiskey, and laughed arrogantly, "I told you! This routine works on any era's broads! The seed of the Underwood family is a loverboy wherever he goes!"
"Still, tomorrow I need to take this little fellow to a good place to properly train him up; he's too damn cowardly."
Top floor of Vought Tower.
Lin An stroked his chin as he looked at the three million popularity points on the system panel that had surged once again due to this absurd livestream.
"This old fogey has got some tricks. Should I open a separate dating reality show for him, titled something like "Vought Hearts: Learning Flirting from a Centennial Veteran"? The ratings would definitely go through the roof."
Meanwhile, Ryan in the hallway pulled the slip of paper out of his pants, completely disheveled in the wind amidst the worshipful gazes of all the boys in the school who looked at him as if he were God.
It seemed he had truly learned something extraordinary.