After finalizing his next plan, Xu Mo closed his eyes.
From the countless techniques in his mind, he began selecting one—something that could amplify raw strength. The skills existed like spheres of light, floating in the space of his consciousness. Only when he touched one would the information flow into him. Without that safeguard, the sheer amount of knowledge would have long since torn his mind apart.
After more than ten minutes, he settled on a technique called Thunder Blade.
Though labeled a "sword technique," it was, in truth, a secret method of channeling and amplifying force. Thunder Blade belonged to a broader method known as the Nine-Layer Thunder Blade, which, after later refinements, was divided into thirty-six levels.
Each level doubled the user's physical strength. At its peak, mastery meant multiplying one's power thirty-six times over.
For Xu Mo—whose baseline strength was already around 600 kilograms thanks to the Super-Soldier Serum—the first level would raise his limit to 1,200 kilograms. If he ever mastered all thirty-six levels, his force could reach over 21,000 kilograms.
And the skill wasn't restricted to swordplay; it could augment any physical action, whether punches, kicks, or even grappling.
Since he lacked a weapon, Xu Mo began training with empty hands, shaping his arms like blades. The practice consumed his entire night.
"It's too difficult," he muttered at dawn, gazing at the first light seeping through the window.
Despite a whole night of effort, he had failed to truly grasp the first level of Thunder Blade. Still, he wasn't discouraged. Techniques capable of such amplification were never mastered overnight.
He stretched his body, surprised once again by the Serum's effects. Despite the sleepless night, his energy hadn't dipped at all.
---
An hour later, Xu Mo sat across from Wanda Maximoff at a massive dining table covered with dozens of breakfast dishes.
"Because I didn't know your taste, I asked the kitchen to prepare a little of everything," Xu Mo explained after noticing her look of surprise.
Wanda's eyes softened briefly, but the memory of the previous night—and the faint ache left in her body—quickly erased it. She masked her feelings, expression hardening, and quietly picked up toast and eggs without a word.
Xu Mo wiped his hands with a napkin, then produced a black bank card. He slid it toward her.
"There's one hundred million dollars in this. It would be better if you gave it to Pietro."
Wanda froze. The number shocked her. For years, she and her brother had barely scraped by, never earning more than a few thousand euros in a month. This was a lifetime's fortune—several thousand lifetimes, in fact.
Why?
Even selling herself wouldn't justify such a price. Did Xu Mo truly like her? No—that thought was absurd.
Still, she couldn't deny what this money would mean for Pietro. Her twin had always dreamed of more, and with this, he could finally live freely. She had raised him since childhood, despite him being older by a few minutes, and he had always deferred to her.
"After Pietro gets it, he'll probably be too excited to sleep," Wanda whispered, her resentment softening just a little. At last, she added, "Thank you."
Xu Mo paused mid-step, then continued walking toward the door.
She really does care deeply for her family, he thought.
---
A hundred kilometers outside New York, in a quiet town tucked between mountains, Xu Mo arrived at a secluded villa. This was where he kept the mercenaries he had recruited, all men and women with criminal pasts, far removed from the authorities' eyes.
Nine stood before him—seven men, two women.
"For the next while," Xu Mo began, "you'll be operating in Hell's Kitchen. Infiltrate the gangs, provoke rivalries, spark conflicts. The more chaotic, the better."
The mercenaries exchanged puzzled looks, but none spoke out of line.
Their leader, Soran, finally asked, "Boss, what level of struggle do you mean?"
"The kind that escalates until death," Xu Mo said coldly. "Nothing less."
He led them to his car and opened the trunk, revealing a stack of black suitcases. Each mercenary received one.
"Two million dollars per person. Your starting capital. Within one month, I want at least a third of Hell's Kitchen's vermin wiped out. Identities and cover stories are in your cases."
"Understood!" the nine replied in unison.
As they departed, Xu Mo sighed.
Too many constraints in this world.
Not only did New York hold gangs and crime families, but also the Avengers, the X-Men, and even the Sorcerer Supreme herself, the Ancient One. Any large disturbance risked drawing their attention. Otherwise, he could've simply dropped a nuclear device and reaped countless points.
With his resources, constructing such a weapon wasn't impossible. But the exposure would bring every major force down upon him. For now, he had to restrain himself.
Glancing at the dimensional teleportation function available in his system, Xu Mo considered it again. With it, he could escape to other worlds—ones without cosmic heavyweights—and build his empire more freely.
He shook his head and drove off.
---
On a winding mountain road leading toward Manhattan, Xu Mo cruised in an unremarkable Ford, avoiding suspicion.
As he cleared a stretch of dense forest, flashing lights erupted behind him. A police car surged from the treeline, sirens screaming.
Moments later, as Xu Mo's car neared a cliff edge, the cruiser swerved in front of him, forcing him to slam the brakes. His vehicle skidded, tilting dangerously before grinding to a halt just short of the mountain wall.