Coulson quickly walked to the desk, not even pausing to nod at Natasha, and pushed the data pad forcefully towards Fury. The data pad slid gently across the smooth desktop, stopping precisely in front of Fury. The screen automatically activated, a dazzling white light exploding in the dim office, illuminating Fury's face, hard as if carved from granite. At the top of the screen, a bold, crimson headline glared like congealed blood:
**"Lane Foundation Charity Gala - Final Confirmed Guest List"**
Fury's gaze, like a cold probe, swiftly scanned downwards. The list was filled with names of political and business luminaries, titans from various fields, each representing immense power and influence. However, his eyes were drawn as if by an invisible magnet, fixed on two names in the middle of the list. Those two names were automatically highlighted by the system, surrounded by flashing, glaring red warning boxes:
"Gu Ja-yoon!"
"Shin Shi-ah!"
And prominently displayed in the host's position was the name of the gala's host:
**Hawk Lane**
Fury's gaze moved slowly between the three names, from Gu Ja-yoon, Shin Shi-ah, finally settling on "Hawk Lane." Time seemed to stretch and distort infinitely at this moment. The simulated flowing night curtain outside the window appeared to stop undulating, and even the tirelessly blinking indicator lights on the control panel seemed to freeze. Fury's intact eye, his pupil suddenly constricted.
A moment later, his gaze returned to the faintly glowing virtual screens hovering on the desktop. Hawk Lane's light-brown eyes, which appeared so clear and sunny in the photo, now looked back at him silently across time and data.
Just then, something suddenly flashed back into his mind. A month ago, he had personally approved the entry of a four-person combat team from Korea, three women and one man, led by a petite, stern-faced woman named Eun-bi. Alexander Pierce had personally come to him, so he hadn't paid much attention at the time, simply signing it off. Later, there was breaking news: the Lane Group's executive conference room had been attacked by unknown individuals, a fierce battle ensued, with heavy casualties, ultimately saving their lives at the cost of almost the entire bodyguard team.
Fury frowned deeply. As the world's top agent, he instantly connected these events. Supernatural forces had appeared at the scene of the battle in the Lane Group's conference room, something he only learned later. The four-person combat team was hired by Bates Capital, a long-standing rival of the Lane Group. He also knew that Bates Capital was one of Alexander Pierce's shell companies, and Alexander had long coveted the Lane Group's global mining assets.
As he was contemplating, Coulson's voice spoke again: "Director... while investigating the Busan base wreckage... searching for information within the server... we found a name..."
"'King'."
"King..." Fury frowned, repeating in a low voice, "Is that one of the street heroes active in Brooklyn these past few years?"
Coulson pursed his lips, noncommittal. Clearly, there was currently no evidence to prove whether there was a connection between the two. Natasha's gaze was also drawn over. What kind of script was this? A super-rich man transforming into a crime fighter at night? Bruce Wayne? Natasha thought of the character who only existed in comics. Of course, Brooklyn's "King" was just a hero fighting street crime, but the person who caused the shocking incident in Korea clearly wasn't operating on such a small scale. Were these two "Kings" the same person?
Fury no longer looked at Hawk Lane's sunny smile, his single eye turning towards the dense, simulated darkness outside the window. The temperature in the office seemed to drop several degrees, his tone icy: "Truly brazen..."
***
Late night in New York, Manhattan, Steinway Tower, penthouse apartment. The night, like expensive velvet, gently enveloped this immortal city perched among the clouds. Below was a flowing river of stars – billions of lights converging into an unceasing sea of light between the Hudson and East Rivers.
Hawk Lane leaned back against the headboard of his bed, the amber liquid in his crystal glass swaying with the slight movement of his wrist. The surroundings were undeniably disheveled, and the light cut across Aunt May's bare back on the rumpled bed. Sweat-damp brown hair clung to the curve of her swan-like neck. When she propped herself up, the velvet duvet slipped, and her exposed skin suddenly tensed. She suddenly felt Hawk's young fingers still resting on the small of her back.
Fragments of memory from two hours ago surged back: his hands lifting her, pressing her against the cold floor-to-ceiling window, her sweaty back drawing misty swirls on the glass.
"My God, what have we done..." Aunt May rose slightly, her eyes wide with shock, her lips silently moving. She grabbed a crumpled cup to cover her chest, curling her toes, the Persian rug's pile tickling the soles of her feet. "This is insane..."
She swore to God, she had only "casually met" this man who frequently appeared in economic and entertainment headlines. She never expected him to say he knew her nephew – Peter Parker – and could pull strings for her to get into Midtown School of Science and Technology, but it would only cost her one dinner.
Sensing the unusual activity beside him, Hawk turned his head. "Insane?" Hawk rubbed his chin, a smile playing on his lips. "Hmm... how should I put it? Aunt May, you're already a widow, so I can't let you remain a 'living widow' anymore! And since Peter Parker is your nephew, then he's my nephew too!"
Aunt May: ???
She widened her eyes, listening incredulously to these audacious words! This encounter also made Hawk marvel at how well Aunt May maintained herself. At this time, Peter Parker hadn't even started high school, and Aunt May, in her thirties, had glowing white skin, supple and elastic, truly a woman at her most charming. Her intellectual and elegant demeanor was even more captivating, full of alluring grace.
Aunt May was momentarily stunned. Close up, she saw the vibrant energy emanating from every pore of the twenty-year-old man before her, his newly grown stubble glinting golden-blue, his smile as bright as the rising sun. She remembered having been a widow for many years, equally empty for just as long, and the intermittent pleasure of two hours ago...
A certain string suddenly snapped.
Her silk shirt slipped from her shoulders like a white flag of surrender. In the moonlight, her tensed feet once again swayed in the air...
An hour later.
Aunt May stood at the entrance, straightening her collar, new marks on her neck overlapping old ones. Aunt May wore a long navy-blue trench coat over a white shirt that accentuated her full bust. The double-row belt design at the waist elevated her waistline and showcased her individuality, her waist as slender and soft as a willow branch. Her long trousers, with their smooth decorative lines, made Aunt May's figure appear more contoured, and her taut, full, and round buttocks, with their astonishing curve, created a striking visual effect.
"Aunt May, are you really not staying the night?" Hawk had come up behind her, pressing against her, his body fitting her S-curve perfectly, like an "S"-shaped buckle.
Aunt May waved her hand, hastily refusing. Seeing that Hawk didn't forcefully try to make her stay, she breathed a sigh of relief. After all, she wasn't a twenty-something girl and couldn't handle such exertion. After all this, she only felt that Hawk was simply too strong, strong in every aspect! She decided she must make time every day to work out and exercise when she got back, otherwise next time... Aunt May thought, suddenly blushing, and silently cursed herself, *Why would I expect a next time?*
As she entered the elevator, her phone vibrated. The screen lit up with a text from Peter: [Aunt May! Midtown High sent the acceptance letter!!! When are you coming home? I made blueberry muffins.]
Seeing Parker's confirmed message, and imagining his happy smile behind the screen, Aunt May felt a wave of relief, followed by a pang of bittersweetness: *Peter, you really must study hard. This acceptance letter was hard-won!*
Then, as if having made a decision, she took out her phone, sent Hawk a text, and then deleted Hawk's contact information: "Mr. Hawk, thank you for your help. I believe I have repaid you. Let's not contact each other anymore!"
Meanwhile, after seeing Aunt May off, Hawk walked alone to the glass window. Seeing the text from Aunt May, he smiled: "Already repaid me? Heh heh, a general's kindness can never be fully repaid in a lifetime..."
Hawk's twenty-year-old face was almost excessively young, his golden-brown hair appearing soft and harmless in the warm indoor light. His light-brown eyes reflected the city's brilliance.
*A physics teacher at a certain university in his previous life...* This thought, like a stone dropped into a deep pool, rippled through his consciousness. The figure who stood at the podium, eloquently discussing the fundamentals of quantum mechanics to hundreds of students and a dozen renowned physics professors who came to listen, and who was privately teased by students as a bit "bookish," had already blurred like a nightmare from his past life.
A sudden laboratory accident, or rather, the "ticket" for the system to activate, had thrown him from his familiar, stable reality into this bizarre, perilous Marvel Universe. Fortunately, he landed with a high enough status – John Lane's adopted son and only heir, the undisputed successor to this vast commercial empire. John Lane, a tough and perceptive old man, had given him material wealth and protection beyond imagination. More importantly, when Hawk cautiously revealed an abnormality far beyond the scope of a "child prodigy," John chose to trust and support him unconditionally.
And the foundation for all this confidence came from the "golden finger" that had crossed over with him in the depths of his consciousness – the **[Annual Destiny Wheel]**. A cold, precise, emotionless system. Every year on his birthday at midnight, the wheel would activate on time. Twenty slots, all shrouded in mist, with the reward only revealed when the pointer stopped. The prizes were all-encompassing, from ordinary items to character summoning cards, to permanent knowledge infusions, and even superpowers that granted him extraordinary abilities.
Twenty years, twenty spins.
On his 1st birthday, he drew an unremarkable fountain pen.
On his 2nd birthday, he drew a Glock pistol with infinite ammunition.
On his 3rd birthday, he drew a Diamond Brain [Non-Upgradable], a quite practical passive ability, the words "non-upgradable" indicating its absolute defensive capability in mental and spiritual aspects.
On his 4th birthday, Extremis Virus serum *1, with a 100% success rate.
On his lucky 5th birthday, he gained his most used ability – Flight Lv1, currently capable of flying at speeds approaching subsonic.
On his 6th birthday, he drew a skill card, used for upgrading already acquired skills.
On his 7th birthday, he drew a genuine Balenciaga silk stocking. When seven-year-old Hawk gave the stocking to a female intern who had just joined the company, his father severely beat him.
On his 8th birthday, he drew a new category: Character Card: Business Elite - Andy. When he saw the card with a likeness to actress Liu Tao, his eyebrow twitched. He had watched the hit drama "Ode to Joy" in his previous life. The day after he used the skill card, his father suddenly told him that he had sponsored a Chinese female student named Andy and that she would be their homestay guest. Thus, 8-year-old Hawk and 18-year-old Andy began an unrestrained life...
On his 9th birthday, he drew a skill card.
On his 10th birthday, the ability he drew was his current core offensive skill – Heat Ray Lv1.
On his 11th birthday, it was an unlucky day; his first "Thank You for Playing" appeared on his forehead.
On his 12th, Mind Soothe Lv1, a practical minor mental skill, useful when Andy cried after he teased her.
On his 13th, Thank You for Playing...
On his 14th, Thank You for Playing...
Two nightmarish years...
On his 15th, Hacking Lv1, a protagonist's essential skill, no need to elaborate.