It didn't take long for Meng Ran to arrive in New Mexico.
He landed on a dirt slope, then stored his aircraft back into his spatial space and looked off into the distance.
Following his gaze, one could see that an open clearing not far away had already been fenced off with barbed wire.
Inside the fenced area stood a makeshift worksite made of white plastic sheets. The entire place spread outward from a square clearing in the center, covered by rows of white plastic tents.
Just then, thunder rumbled across the sky. Along with the rolling booms came a light drizzle of rain.
At the same time, Meng Ran noticed a figure rushing toward that small square clearing in the middle.
Judging from the tall, broad-shouldered frame and the flowing golden hair as smooth as if washed with shampoo, Meng Ran didn't need to guess—it was Thor, the God of Thunder.
Seeing that Thor was about to reclaim his hammer, Meng Ran wasn't in a hurry. He simply sat down cross-legged on the spot. Meanwhile, a dark cloud began to gather over his head.
Because of that dark cloud, the original rain clouds were pushed aside, and the rain around Meng Ran's little patch of land stopped as if by miracle.
The cloud was the product of Meng Ran's large-scale skill Ghostly Rainfall. He had long mastered this technique, but rarely had a chance to use it.
Most of the enemies he faced were one-on-one and not particularly powerful, so there was seldom a need for large-area skills like this one.
Now, using half of that technique just to keep himself dry, he found it rather convenient.
Settling comfortably, Meng Ran rested his chin on one hand and watched Thor perform his "man among men" act.
Thor truly lived up to his reputation as a warrior who had fought for a thousand years. Even though Odin had sealed away all his powers, his exceptional combat skills and vast experience alone were enough to outmatch most of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agents.
Meng Ran watched as Thor fought his way into the crater where the hammer had fallen. Though Hawkeye—Barton—had been aiming at Thor from the shadows the whole time, Coulson, curious to see what was special about both the hammer and the man, hadn't ordered him to shoot.
Finally, Thor reached the center, where the hammer lay.
Covered in mud, his face filled with joy, he looked at Mjolnir lying not far ahead. During his fight, he had rolled through the dirt several times, his hair and clothes soaked and caked with rain and mud.
Grinning broadly, Thor approached Mjolnir. Coulson, watching secretly, was focused intently on every move, while Barton kept his bow drawn, the arrow aimed squarely at his target.
Thor, unaware of all this, stretched out his right hand toward Mjolnir and grasped the handle.
When it didn't lift, his smile froze. In all the millennia of his life, he had never once experienced such a thing.
Unwilling to believe it, he gritted his teeth, grabbed the handle with both hands, and pulled with all his might.
But even so, Mjolnir didn't budge. Thor released his grip, staring blankly at the hammer that refused to move even an inch.
Rain drenched his clothes and hair. He lifted his head to the stormy sky, lightning flashing, thunder roaring, cold rain lashing his desolate face.
"Ahhhh!" Thor let out a roar of anguish toward the heavens before collapsing weakly onto the muddy ground.
In that moment, realizing he could no longer lift his hammer, his heart filled with despair and sorrow.Had his father truly exiled him here forever?
From the two-story scaffolding, Coulson watched the kneeling Thor below. Picking up his radio, he said calmly, "Show's over. Ground team, move in."
Hearing that, Barton put away his bow. Several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents rushed in, quickly restraining Thor's hands behind his back.
Thor didn't resist. He simply looked up at the hammer, where three ovals briefly formed a triangular pattern on its side. A look of understanding flickered in his eyes.
The markings disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents led the fallen god away into custody.
From afar, Meng Ran stood up and activated his Ghost Stealth, gliding swiftly toward the site.
"Sigh… Odin really does worry himself sick over Thor," Meng Ran murmured as he moved, carefully sensing the presence of Heimdall's gaze.
As the guardian of the Bifröst, Heimdall possessed eyes that could perceive all things across the Nine Realms.
Earlier, when Meng Ran had quieted his mind, he could feel Heimdall's attention fixed on Thor. He only acted once he sensed that Heimdall had turned his gaze away.
Even though it wouldn't matter much if Heimdall saw him, Meng Ran preferred to stay cautious. He had no intention of exposing his unique abilities to Asgard.
Just as he slipped into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s camp, Meng Ran noticed another infiltrator.
The man was remarkably handsome, yet there was a cold, delicate sharpness about him. His eyes glimmered with intelligence and calculation, as though his mind was constantly turning with schemes.
Recognizing the intruder, Meng Ran immediately knew who he was—Loki, the God of Mischief.
Meng Ran silently followed Loki into the room where Thor was being interrogated by Coulson.
At this moment, Meng Ran could see Loki—but Loki couldn't see Meng Ran.
To be precise, what Meng Ran had wasn't mere sight; it was an acute perception. Having once possessed Gwen and Peter, and because of his own unique bond with Venom, his senses had become incredibly sharp.
Just as he could sense Heimdall's gaze on Thor, he could now clearly feel Loki's presence—as if he were seeing him directly with his eyes.
For Loki, meeting someone with such an abnormal level of perception was sheer bad luck. His illusions and concealment techniques were completely useless against Meng Ran.
And so, as Loki watched Thor, Meng Ran watched Loki watching Thor—a strange, silent chain of observation—while Coulson continued his interrogation.
Standing before Thor, Coulson said coldly,"Those highly trained professionals we sent against you performed like underpaid mall security guards."
"From my experience, you've clearly had similar training to move like that."
"Tell me—where were you trained?"
"Pakistan? Chechnya? Afghanistan?"
"You look like the type who fights for money. A mercenary, perhaps."
"So where's it from? South Africa?"
Thor, sitting silently in the chair, kept his eyes lowered, saying nothing.
He had lost all confidence. That immovable hammer was like a needle lodged in his heart, constantly reminding him of his exile.
Seeing Thor's silence, Coulson grew even more convinced that this man was a well-trained soldier.
So he kept pressing, trying to get something out of him.
"Someone must've paid a fortune for a mercenary of your caliber. KGB, maybe?"
"Who are you?" Coulson's gaze hardened, his voice cold.
Thor finally lifted his eyes, glanced briefly at Coulson—but still said nothing.
Coulson stared at him, internally frustrated by this stubborn brute, though his face remained impassive.
"Either way," he said evenly, "we'll find out what we want to know."
"We're very good at this sort of thing."
Just as he was about to continue, his phone rang.
Coulson glanced at the screen, then told Thor, "Don't go anywhere."
With that, he stepped out of the small room, leaving Thor alone inside.
The moment Coulson left, Thor, who had been silent all this time, looked anxiously at the figure that appeared before him.
"Loki! What are you doing here?"
-----------------------
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(End of Chapter)