The Restaurant
The hotel, once bustling with guests, had fallen into an eerie silence.
Ever since Renjie appeared again, every diner had left of their own accord—without protest, without hesitation.
If Iron Man was considered a superhero—
Then the power Renjie had revealed was something far beyond that.
A force destined to be feared,
revered,
and ultimately worshipped.
Those eight descending Battlefield Mechs looked less like weapons of war and more like extraterrestrial engines of slaughter.
Before them, human technology had suffered a total, unquestionable defeat.
…
Renjie calmly held his knife and fork, slicing into the steak on his plate.
He raised the meat to his mouth.
Juices burst across his tongue—rich, tender, perfect.
He savored it fully, utterly detached from the chaos of the outside world.
Sitting across from him was an unexpected guest.
Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.—the shadow-dwelling agents had finally lost their patience.
Fury's mood was… terrible.
His thick fingers tapped relentlessly against the table, producing an irritating, rhythmic knock.
The purpose of his visit was actually very simple.
To invite Renjie—
Into the Avengers Initiative.
Yes.
The power Renjie possessed—if guided down the "right" path—could protect this planet more effectively than anyone else.
He could even create a new world.
A world without war.
A world where all races coexisted in harmony.
He had the strength.
And he had already proven it.
Since they couldn't defeat him—
Then they would recruit him.
Unfortunately…
That plan was doomed to fail.
"Director Fury," Renjie said lightly,
"I hold a rather pessimistic view of your… tight-ass superhero club."
"Your idea of gathering exceptional individuals to protect Earth is admirable."
"But how do you ensure they remain united?"
"What happens when your 'heroes' disagree… and civil war breaks out?"
"When that day comes—who protects the Earth then?"
Renjie set down his cutlery and smiled as he asked.
Standing behind him, Android 18 gently wiped the grease from the corner of his lips with a handkerchief.
A sudden, merciless display of affection.
Fury's expression darkened further.
"Renjie," Fury said coldly, dropping all pretense,
"you've had Hammer Industries acquire massive quantities of rare metals."
"Some of them include Vibranium and Adamantium."
"According to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s estimates—enough to produce hundreds of Iron Man–class suits."
"What exactly are you planning?"
"Are you trying to destroy the world?"
"For the future of all humanity, S.H.I.E.L.D. cannot sit idly by!"
He raised the banner of moral justice high.
If Renjie wasn't preparing for war—
Then why create so many unmanned combat units?
Renjie laughed softly.
"Don't project the base, predatory instincts of Western civilization onto me."
"Centuries before your ancestors were sold from Africa to this land—"
"The fleets of the Ming Dynasty were already sailing the seas."
"We brought civilization."
"Prosperity."
"The Maritime Silk Road."
"But the crimes committed by the Anglo-Saxons on North American soil—"
"You know them better than I do."
"By geographic and ethnic logic, the dominant race of North America should have been yellow."
"So tell me—"
"In today's white-dominated continent…"
"Where did the indigenous people go?"
Renjie's smile turned cold.
"What right do you have—standing here—to lecture me about the future?"
Nick Fury's face looked as if it had been slapped.
Hard.
Everything the young man said was fact.
Uncomfortable, undeniable fact.
"I still hope you'll reconsider," Fury said after a pause.
"Joining us is the smartest choice you can make."
"Otherwise, you'll lose everything you have now…"
"And become the enemy of all mankind."
That was his final card.
Renjie burst out laughing.
"Are you telling me how to do things?"
"Do you think you're even qualified to negotiate with me?"
"To provoke someone standing above destiny itself…"
"Nick Fury—you've got some nerve."
Renjie leaned back in his chair.
Then
He lifted his leg and kicked the table.
Steak juice exploded across Fury's face.
Thick. Sticky.
Like blood.
Carrying the stench of death.
"I've said enough," Fury said stiffly, standing up.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. will always welcome you."
The tension had reached its breaking point.
Fury knew he couldn't stay any longer.
He wiped himself clean, turned around, and left the restaurant.
Renjie watched him go, a mocking curve lifting the corner of his lips.
The Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. had gravely underestimated him.
Through his smartwatch, Renjie contacted Android 21.
"21—get in touch with Ada Wong."
"Tell her the operation can begin."
"I don't think Alexander Pierce…"
"The former Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.—"
"Will refuse the little gift I've prepared for him."
…
A few minutes later.
At a hotel somewhere in North America.
Having received her orders, Ada Wong stretched lazily.
She picked up a briefcase bearing the Umbrella logo—
And walked out of the hotel without looking back.