[Marvel : The God Of Punishment] Chapter 66 - 70

Chapter 66: A Sudden Visitor to Xavier Academy

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester County, New York.

Jason stood at the entrance gates, contemplating his visit.

He had long known about the existence of mutants in this world and was well aware that Wolverine currently resided here.

David had helped him uncover some classified information.

A few years prior, a United Nations summit had been held on Ellis Island in New York, with numerous world leaders in attendance.

During the gathering, someone had attempted to attack the delegates from the nearby Statue of Liberty.

The attack had ultimately failed.

After reviewing this information, Jason immediately recognized the incident as the plot from the first "X-Men" film.

He hadn't visited earlier because he feared Charles Xavier's abilities.

Psychic powers were fundamentally unfair. The professor could read, copy, modify, or even delete memories without leaving a trace—a terrifying prospect.

But now that Jason had acquired [Soul Defense], he no longer felt vulnerable.

Although soul and mind weren't identical, they were inextricably connected.

The mind was to the soul what the heart was to the body.

The soul encompassed the mind; it was impossible to harm someone's mind without first breaching their soul's defenses.

Additionally, with his will attribute now at 280 points, he could at least shield himself from the professor.

That was sufficient protection.

Even if he could only defend himself for a few seconds, that would be enough time to kill the professor dozens of times over—and no one at the academy could stop him.

Before he could knock, someone greeted him.

Storm—Ororo Munroe.

She regarded him curiously but politely invited him inside. "Hello, the professor asked me to escort you in."

At the castle entrance, Jason spotted Wolverine smoking a cigar and initiated conversation. "Hey, Logan! How's it going with Jean lately? You have my full support!"

The comment immediately transformed both Storm's and Wolverine's expressions.

Wolverine coughed uncomfortably. "Jean already has a boyfriend, and until they break up, I wouldn't—"

Jason wagged his finger. "A strong man pursuing a beautiful woman—there's nothing shameful about fighting for love. Besides, isn't Jean... somewhat receptive to your advances?"

"Oh hell..." Wolverine shot a nervous glance at Storm, then quickly pulled Jason aside and spoke in a low, tense voice. Watch your mouth. Jean's a good woman—don’t go throwing shade on her character."

Jason shrugged. "I'm just stating facts. Maybe she has feelings for you too. When it comes to love, there's no 'first come, first served' policy. It's all about destiny, and I think you two are—"

Wolverine's face was a study in confusion. He suddenly realized: Who is this guy? Do I even know him? Why am I discussing my private life with a complete stranger?

At that moment, Jean Grey  and Scott Summer ‘Cyclops’ emerged from the building. Perhaps the professor had sensed the delay and sent them to escort the visitor.

Jean smiled warmly. "Sir, Professor Xavier invites you inside."

"Excellent!"

Jason nodded, then looked at Scott and Jean with a theatrical sigh. "What a perfect couple—talent and beauty in perfect harmony. When you eventually marry, don't forget to invite me!"

With that, he strode into the castle, leaving four bewildered mutants in his wake.

Without requiring a guide, Jason located the professor's office.

Upon entering, he found Xavier regarding him with a wry smile.

"Sir, please refrain from further complicating the relationships between those three. I already have quite the challenge managing their interpersonal dynamics."

Jason shrugged innocently. "I apologize—I'm straightforward by nature and couldn't resist. Don't worry, I'll advise him properly. There are countless women in the world; Scott shouldn't limit himself to just one tree in the forest!"

Charles couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Jason suddenly laughed. "Just kidding. Don't take it seriously."

Charles took a deep breath. "You seem remarkably familiar with us. May I ask the purpose of your visit?"

Jason arched an eyebrow. "Since you've asked so sincerely, I'll respond with great compassion. Naturally, I'm here to prevent global destruction, maintain world peace, and promote universal love and glory!"

Silence descended.

Charles remained expressionless. Jason glanced toward the doorway, where four heads were peeking in. They'd followed him.

He smiled. "Eavesdropping? Why not join us properly?"

The four hesitated momentarily before entering, with Wolverine leading the way.

Charles ignored them, focusing instead on the visitor whose mind remained inaccessible, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Was this man a cryptic sage or a rambling lunatic?

"It seems the professor doesn't believe me," Jason observed.

He turned to the four X-Men. "Do any of you believe what I've said?"

They shook their heads in unison.

Jason smiled subtly. He had come not only for the adamantium but also to potentially recruit the X-Men.

He was confident he'd established a strong impression—though whether positive or negative would depend on his next move.

He addressed each mutant in turn: "Scott, did you know Wolverine once saved your life? Ororo, if you seek love, why not explore the African continent? Jean Grey, are you finding it increasingly difficult to control the Phoenix Force? Logan... or rather, Mr. James Howlett, have you recovered your past memories yet?"

His words triggered an explosion of reactions.

Cyclops, who typically regarded Wolverine with contempt, frowned. "What? I was saved by Logan? That's absurd! How could someone so reckless possibly—" His thoughts raced. Wait, what can't Jean control?

Storm's pupils contracted slightly. Africa... where my true love awaits?

Jean was stunned. I can't control the Phoenix Force? No... wait, what IS the Phoenix Force?

Wolverine had the most visceral reaction. With a metallic SNIKT, his adamantium claws shot out. His blood surged as he roared, "You know about my past! TELL ME!"

"CALM YOURSELVES!"

Charles's commanding shout, amplified by his psychic abilities, instantly brought the four back to their senses.

He fixed Jason with a severe, threatening gaze. "Sir, explain how you possess this knowledge and why you've come here."

Jason remained unperturbed. He extended his palm and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. We're kindred spirits."

As he spoke, tiny electrical flashes danced between his fingertips.

His entire palm began to glow with heat and light, small electrical arcs crackling at his fingertips with an audible sizzle.

The display left them all momentarily speechless.

Though they couldn't identify his abilities as Flash and Dragon Chi specifically, they recognized that the man before them possessed at least three distinct powers.

No—including his resistance to Xavier's telepathy, that made four!

The professor's eyes widened in surprise. "Who... are you?"

Instead of answering directly, Jason posed a question: "Do you believe in God's existence?"

"Bull!" Wolverine growled.

Jason brushed off the response with a laugh. "Not just God—Odin, Thor, and Loki from Norse mythology; Zeus from Greek mythology—they all exist in reality! Additionally, vampires, werewolves, demons, hell, death, monsters—all real."

Charles asked calmly, "What exactly are you trying to convey?"

"This world is far more complex than you realize."

Jason's expression turned serious. "Recently, you may have heard about the vampire incident, the devastating earthquake in Manhattan, and the 'Day of Mourning' in Afghanistan. Our world grows increasingly dangerous.

On Earth, super-criminals multiply, global stability deteriorates, and disasters occur with alarming frequency. In the cosmos, a purple titan executes a plan to eradicate half of all life in the universe. Our planet sits at the nexus of countless converging events, held captive by destiny."

Jason looked each of them in the eye. "The world faces unprecedented peril. The time has come for the righteous to stand and fight for its salvation!

As a champion of justice, I've taken the initiative. Now, I extend my invitation to you. Join me, and together, let's make our contribution to preserving this world!"

Chapter 67: Wolverine: I Will Write Seven Tragic Words with Blood

"You asked who I am, and now I can tell you. I am destined to save this world. I am mankind's last conscience and strongest line of defense! I am the man of destiny!"

These grandiose declarations left everyone slack-jawed.

Jason maintained a composed expression, though inwardly he sighed. He hadn't intended to deceive them.

In the early stages of any enterprise, gaining traction was challenging—sometimes requiring desperate measures.

To achieve his ideal of [unifying the world for eternity], he reluctantly sacrificed his cherished virtue of [honesty and trustworthiness].

How tragic!

He didn't expect them to believe him completely—he barely believed it himself.

But if they accepted even half or a quarter of his claims, that would suffice.

Charles shook his head slowly. "I truly... find it difficult to accept what you're saying."

Cyclops nodded emphatically. "I strongly suspect you're trying to manipulate us!"

Jean frowned. "But how does he know so much about us?"

Storm and Wolverine looked equally perplexed.

Jason smiled and shook his head. "Scott, why would I lie to you? I'm wealthier than you, stronger than you, and more handsome than you. What could you possibly possess that I would covet?"

He sighed dramatically. "Well, I came here with noble intentions. If you don't believe me, so be it."

He rose to leave, but Wolverine interjected anxiously. "Don't go! I believe you! Professor, I sensed he was trustworthy from the start—let him stay!"

Jason affected a heartbroken expression. "Logan, if they don't trust me, what's the point of remaining? Life is challenging enough—being virtuous is even harder! This cold world has no place for genuine compassion..."

"Very well!"

Charles wore a conflicted expression. "I can't immediately accept your claims, so please provide proof!"

"What kind of proof would satisfy you?"

"That's for you to determine."

Jason stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well... as a man of destiny, I can foresee the future. Would that suffice as evidence?"

Charles and the others reacted with surprise. Predicting the future?

"It's merely limited foresight—the future isn't immutable. It's not as impressive as you might imagine."

Ororo asked curiously, "So, what future do you currently envision?"

"The president may face assassination, New York will endure another catastrophe, and... the world will officially welcome superheroes once again!"

Charles's expression grew solemn, his eyes revealing intense concentration. "When disaster strikes, will you intervene?"

Jason smiled confidently. "Of course. What about you? Are you willing to become my right-hand man and save the world together?"

Charles remained silent momentarily. "If catastrophe truly occurs, you will see us appear!"

"Perfect!"

Jason applauded enthusiastically. "This will undoubtedly be a historic moment! Just imagine—after you save the world before everyone's eyes, the divide between mutants and humans will significantly diminish. All mutantkind will be grateful for your contribution to their cause! This is something Erik could never achieve, regardless of how many force he establishes, how many mutant he invitred, or how many times you prevent his schemes!"

Charles initially appeared pleased, but as Jason continued, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Watch it. Don’t badmouth the Professor—he’s done more for mutants than anyone." Wolverine’s frown deepened, but he didn’t press the point. Instead, he shifted gears. "Forget that. Tell me about me. My past—what the hell was it?"

"Hasn't the professor told you?"

Wolverine spoke with urgency, his voice edged with frustration.
"My mind was wrecked—bad. The Professor could only catch bits and pieces. He told me I'd have to find the truth on my own."
He growled under his breath.
"Dammit… I don’t even know where to start."

Jason hesitated momentarily before replying, "Alright, I'll help you. You were born in Canada in 1860 to a wealthy but dysfunctional family. When you were fifteen, your gardener suddenly murdered your father. In that moment, your mutation manifested—bone claws erupted between your fingers, and you killed the gardener. But before he died, he revealed he was your biological father! Your mother despised you afterward. The gardener's son—your half-brother—took you away from home, and you've wandered ever since."

Wolverine was stunned. "I killed my father?"

The others reacted with shock. "Your family situation was truly disturbing!"

"Logan is over a century old?"

"Wait, I have a brother?" Logan's eyes widened. "Did he... die of old age?"

"No, he possesses the same regenerative mutation as you. Living for a century or two isn't particularly remarkable for him."

"Do you know his whereabouts?" A glimmer of hope flashed in Wolverine's eyes.

"Why search for him?" Jason questioned.

Wolverine faltered. "Why...?"

"Could you live with the fact that he conspired against you—with others at his side? Could you accept the adamantium in your bones, the same metal that nearly killed you—knowing you went through that hell just to get revenge on him?

Could you accept that he’s nothing more than a cold-blooded killer?"

Wolverine froze in place.

"Losing your memory is painful, Logan. But regaining it doesn't guarantee happiness!"

Professor Xavier intervened. "Perhaps we should pause here, Logan. He can reveal the rest later."

"NO!"

Wolverine suddenly extended his adamantium claws and violently slashed the table before him. CRACK! The corner splintered off.

"I killed my own father, my mother hated me, my brother betrayed me—what else should I fear? I want to know NOW. TELL ME!"

"Logan!"

Jason placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've searched for your memories for years—can't you wait a few more days? Calm yourself, and I'll tell you when the time is right!"

"Yes, Logan, don't let rage control your actions!"

Jean approached and cradled Logan's face in her hands, while Scott's teeth audibly ground together.

"You're our friend. I won't let you harm yourself this way! Wait until you're calm before seeking answers. We'll stand with you through it all!"

The enraged Wolverine gradually calmed.

Beside him, Cyclops repeatedly raised his hand to his visor, then lowered it, then raised it again.

To avoid potential bloodshed, Jason made a hasty exit.

During this visit, although Charles and the others remained skeptical of his claims, the door had been pried open. They wouldn't be able to resist Jason's persuasion from this point forward!

As long as he maintained his commitment to [saving the world], he would remain unassailable among the superhero community!

On his journey back, Jason glimpsed a live news broadcast on his phone—J. Jonah Jameson of the Daily Bugle.

Beside him appeared a blurry photograph of a figure soaring skyward.

Jameson delivered his report in his characteristically bombastic style: "Ladies and gentlemen, behold this shocking image. Reports indicate a mysterious individual in Afghanistan single-handedly eliminated over a dozen terrorists and even destroyed a tank! This figure remains unidentified, but Daily Bugle experts have meticulously analyzed this photograph and confirmed it depicts a man in some sort of iron armor! Incredible! Can you imagine? When you're in peril, a hero encased in metal suddenly descends from the heavens! Good lord! Human flesh wrapped in iron sheets! This is essentially a canned human! Hahaha!"

Jameson suppressed his laughter and continued, "Dear viewers, I have immense respect for this hero who rescued civilians, and I harbor no prejudice against him. It's just that when I see him, I'm reminded of canned meat! Haha... my apologies! That concludes today's report!"

Chapter 68: Stark's Vendetta - The Daily Bugle's Days Are Numbered

Stark regained consciousness quickly after being admitted to the hospital that day.

Without wasting a moment, he held a press conference from his hospital bed and announced the immediate shutdown of Stark Industries' weapons division.

Many reporters present had only one thought racing through their minds: Fuck, this guy isn't physically broken, but his brain certainly is, right?

Nevertheless, Stark's orders were carried out to the letter.

The weapons division was indeed shut down, and Stark Industries' stock price plummeted—even more dramatically than when Stark had disappeared.

After being discharged from the hospital, Stark turned a deaf ear to the outside world and focused entirely on his mechanized suit. With his unparalleled intelligence and talent, he quickly developed the Mark 2 and Mark 3 armors.

Yesterday, after learning that a substantial cache of Stark Industries weapons remained in Afghanistan, he flew there without hesitation at the crack of dawn.

On the return journey, U.S. radar detected him, and he was directly hit by two missiles. Though he managed to escape, his head was still ringing from the impact.

But he never expected that as soon as he turned on the TV, that bastard Jameson from the Daily Bugle would label him "The Human Can Man"!

Bullshit!

Has this little weasel always been so cruel? I'm a hero who saves lives, and you call me "canned human meat"?

Such an exquisite iron suit, with such brilliant gold and red coloring, and you call it a can?

Blind fool!

The more Stark dwelled on it, the more furious he became. A thought sparked in his mind: why not just buy the Daily Bugle and fire that pompous blowhard!

No, firing him would be too merciful. I should force him to praise me on television every single day!

Praising me as... the Can Man?

Damn it. I need to come up with a better name. Armor Man?

Steel Man? Billionaire Man?

Why don't any of these sound right?

For some inexplicable reason, the name "Iron Man" suddenly resonated in his mind.

Strange... why do I feel like I've lost something important?

Jason had just returned to Hopewell Sanctuary when David informed him that he had located Frank.

He paused for a moment, lost in thought.

Ever since his last encounter with the Assassin's Fraternity, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something about the Creed in the system that he hadn't yet deciphered.

This damn system didn't even come with user instructions, forcing him to explore most features through trial and error.

However, since receiving the [Spreading Creed] reward previously, he decided to continue building on this foundation.

Since I've already claimed the name of the Avengers, then...

Alias: Avengers, Real Name: Cult of Slaughter

Leader: Jason, Deputy Leader: Frank!

Official Members: Wesley, Blade

Pending Members: Deadpool, X-Men...

The reason Frank would become the deputy leader was his ability to gradually influence all members by instilling the creed of killing and redemption.

Without delay, Jason set out to find his deputy leader for the cult.

In a small diner, Frank, who had just returned from his construction job, was enjoying a modest dinner.

Suddenly, a man slid into the seat opposite him. It was Jason.

"Isn't that dinner a bit too simple? Will you have enough energy to fight tonight?" Jason said with a smirk, raising his hand. "Waiter, eight steaks, medium rare!"

"Who the hell are you?" Frank's face filled with suspicion.

Jason glanced at the spoon in Frank's hand and chuckled. "What, planning to kill someone with a spoon?"

He nodded toward the old pickup truck parked outside. "Don't worry, I've prepared pistols, rifles, submachine guns, sniper rifles, and grenades for you in the car. We're going to have quite the evening."

Frank's confusion only deepened.

Jason pulled out his phone and played a video of Operation Cerberus that Frank had participated in years ago.

After the video ended, Frank stared at the phone intently. "How did you get this footage?"

"How about we make a deal?" Jason proposed.

Frank gritted his teeth. "What do you want?"

"I'll help you get your revenge, and in return, you'll work for me."

Frank was stunned. Jason shook his head and continued, "You've killed the mercenaries who murdered your wife and children. But do you know why they did it? Do you want to know who was pulling the strings and why you were caught in this conspiracy?"

Frank's hand tightened around the spoon, and a glint of bloodlust flickered in his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"Tonight, I'll take you to exact your revenge and uncover all the conspiracies behind this tragedy. After tonight, you'll help me—help me save the world."

The waiter arrived with eight plates of steaks.

Jason casually picked up his knife and fork and began eating with gusto. "You can think it over while I finish my meal. If you decide to trust me, I'll let you have two of these steaks. Tonight's going to be intense—you'll need your strength."

Frank remained silent.

After a while, he suddenly picked up his knife and fork and started eating.

The mastermind behind the CIA drug trafficking operation was William Rawlins, director of the CIA's covert operations division. His collaborator was Navy Captain Monty Bennett, who oversaw matters related to military remains in Afghanistan.

Only by working together could they complete the grisly operation: gutting soldiers' bodies, stuffing them with drugs, and shipping them back to the United States.

According to intelligence Jason had gathered in Afghanistan, this drug smuggling operation was an unspeakable secret within the CIA. Each division showed their "talents"—the unscrupulous ones used corpses, while the more "refined" ones used military ammunition and supplies as cover.

The drugs weren't just sent to the United States. All of America's allies had accepted this "gift" from the CIA. Additionally, they often produced and sold their own product, helping "brother" units along the way.

As the director of covert operations, Rawlins's whereabouts were secretive and difficult to track, but Navy Captain Bennett was much easier to locate.

Under the cover of night, Frank assaulted the house where Bennett was staying alone.

Crack! Crack! Gunshots echoed through the air.

Bennett was protected by soldiers. After a fierce firefight that left most of his men dead, he finally managed to escape.

But he was terrified.

Just moments earlier, Frank had pressed the muzzle of his gun against Bennett's forehead, forcing him to reveal the truth about the operation in Afghanistan.

Fortunately, the soldiers guarding him had burst in and saved his life.

He scrambled into his bulletproof vehicle and frantically shouted to the driver: "Go! Go quickly! Find Rawlins—only he can handle this maniac!"

Bennett didn't realize that high above in the night sky, a pitch-black drone was tracking his every move.

Jason and Frank switched to an old garbage truck, which blended inconspicuously into the nighttime streets.

"I told you this guy was a coward. He's definitely running straight to William Rawlins, the man behind it all!" Jason said triumphantly.

Frank glanced at the tracking route on his phone. "How do you plan to deal with Rawlins, the head of covert operations? He must have extensive security."

By now, Frank had learned the whole truth behind the matter.

Jason laughed. "We'll just charge in—no need for elaborate tricks. Remember when I asked you to help me save the world? Who do you think I want to save it from?"

Frank frowned slightly. "Is it... terrorists? Ambitious politicians? Mad scientists?"

"Hahaha..." Jason erupted in laughter.

"What's so funny?" Frank asked, irritated.

Jason's expression turned serious. "Actually, the enemies you're going to face are alien armadas, out-of-control artificial intelligence legions, Nordic gods hell-bent on ruling Earth, and a terrifying space emperor wreaking havoc across the entire galaxy!"

Gulp!

Frank swallowed hard and thought, Fuck, will I even survive this?

Chapter 69: Confusion - If I Kill You, Your Money Becomes Mine

Jason and Frank crouched in the tall grass, observing their target.

Before them stood a secluded country house, brightly illuminated with all entrances sealed tight. Thanks to Jason's enhanced vision—he easily spotted numerous suited bodyguards patrolling beyond the windows throughout the compound.

The location was remote and heavily fortified. The panicked Bennett had rushed inside and hadn't emerged since. This had to be Rawlins' sanctuary.

Beside him, Frank wore a bulletproof vest and clutched two handguns, his expression grim with determination.

Jason gave a slight nod. "Ready?"

"Anytime," Frank replied, his voice steady.

"Okay, stand up straight."

"What?" Frank looked confused but complied nonetheless.

Jason bent down, positioned one hand under Frank's armpit and the other beneath his knee, then hoisted him up.

Frank's eyes widened in shock. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Don't move!"

Before Frank could finish processing what was happening, they soared through the air, streaking across the yard before coming to an abrupt stop at the main entrance.

Frank, still disoriented from the sudden flight, hadn't fully recovered when Jason frowned and asked, "Why don't you get down?"

Frank's face flushed with embarrassment. "You can fly?"

"How else do you think we'll fight alien hordes and steel robots?" Jason replied matter-of-factly.

As he spoke, Jason stepped forward and delivered a powerful kick. BANG! The two massive, solid wooden doors flew backward off their hinges!

BRRRRIIIIING!

A piercing alarm immediately filled the air.

Jason turned to Frank. "Listen, Rawlins is in the office on the west side of the third floor. Go up there and kill him."

"What about you?"

"I'll take the shortest route."

With those words, Jason's figure blurred as he shot upward.

"Fucking hell!" Frank's face turned ashen as he heard footsteps converging from all directions.

Jason flew directly to the window of Rawlins' office.

Inside, an older bald man with distinctive scar tissue at the corners of his eyes was looking outward and happened to lock eyes with Jason. His face instantly registered shock.

Jason smiled at him and threw a punch!

BOOM!

Even the reinforced bulletproof glass shattered under the impact!

The entire window frame flew inward, crashing to the floor in a chaotic spray of glass and metal.

The bald man hastily backpedaled to avoid the blast, but still caught a laceration on his arm. Blood immediately began flowing from the wound.

Jason soared into the room like Superman. Before his feet even touched the ground, BANG! BANG! Several bullets flew toward him.

He didn't bother dodging.

The bullets struck him and ricocheted away as if hitting solid steel.

He moved with blinding speed, becoming nothing but a blur. With devastating force, he slammed the two bodyguards who had fired against the wall so hard they became embedded in the plaster, impossible to dislodge even with substantial effort.

BOOM!

Jason snatched up a fallen weapon and dispatched Bennett, who had been cowering in the corner.

Now, only he and Rawlins remained in the room.

The bald man clutched his injured arm, terror etched across his face. "Don't—don't kill me! I have millions in my safe, plus gold bars—all yours!"

Jason strolled over to the desk, casually brushed the glass shards off the chair, and sat down comfortably.

Outside the firmly closed study door, the sound of intense gunfire echoed.

He toyed with the gun in his hand. "Idiot! If I kill you now, the money becomes mine anyway."

"I have another offshore account with thirty million in it. I'll transfer it all to you. Just let me go!"

Jason shook his head. "Thirty million can't buy my conscience!"

"Fifty million!"

Jason stared at him impassively.

"Seventy million! That's everything I have."

"I don't believe you."

Rawlins clenched his jaw and remained silent.

Jason gestured toward the door. "You'd better hurry. If that guy outside breaks in, I won't be able to save your life."

Rawlins jolted. "Aren't you two working together?"

"Yes. But there's a difference—I can be bribed. He can't."

Rawlins' expression changed as the gunfire outside grew louder and closer.

He realized, with sinking dread, that his only chance for survival lay in gambling on the reputation of the man before him.

"Eighty million dollars. How will you keep me alive?"

"One hundred million. The guy outside can't fly, but I can. We'll escape through the window."

"Ninety million!"

Jason shoved the computer across the desk toward him. "Your life isn't up for negotiation. One hundred million. Transfer it now."

Rawlins stood frozen, his eyes reflecting his internal struggle.

He suspected the man before him might be deceiving him, but even the slimmest chance of survival was worth taking!

Jason looked at him and shrugged. "Time's running out! What good is a fortune if you're dead?"

Rawlins' eyes flickered, and at that moment, several bullets pierced the wooden door of the study, sending splinters flying everywhere.

He finally nodded. "Fine. I hope you keep your word!"

After a few keystrokes and confirmation codes, Jason's offshore account received a transfer of $100 million.

CRASH! Something heavy collided with the study door.

Rawlins panicked. "Quick! Get me out of here!"

Jason grabbed him by the collar. "Get ready. You're leaving through the window!"

With a powerful throw, Rawlins went airborne.

"FUUUUUUCK—THUD!"

Jason shrugged. "I said we could go through the window. I never said we'd go together."

BOOM!

Frank burst through the splintered door, bloodied and breathing heavily.

After surveying the room, he heard screams from below and approached the window. "Why did you throw him out?"

Jason drifted toward the window and floated outside. "He said he wanted to leave, so I helped him along."

Frank gritted his teeth. "Shit. The bastard isn't dead yet."

What followed was straightforward. Frank interrogated the broken Rawlins, confirming everything Jason had told him about the conspiracy.

Then, Jason executed him with a single shot to the head. The progress bar for his gold-tier target reached 4/5.

Unfortunately, since the first three target had died in mundane ways with minimal emotional response, this bounty package would struggle to reach five stars.

Otherwise, Jason would have needed to get more creative.

With his revenge complete, Frank voluntarily joined the Avengers.

Jason purchased both estates adjacent to his research facility and designated them as the Avengers' headquarters.

The three properties connected formed an expansive compound. With minor renovations, the space would accommodate both living quarters and training facilities.

Obadiah sat in his car, feeling more triumphant than ever before.

The oppressive mood that had plagued him for days had finally lifted.

He couldn't resist opening the briefcase beside him. The Arc Reactor emitted a soft blue glow.

Magnificent!

This tiny marvel could power an entire suit of armor and enable flight. Truly incredible!

Tony Stark was, without question, the most brilliant weapons inventor in the world.

For seven days and nights, Obadiah had racked his brain, unable to comprehend how Tony had escaped alive from those ruthless terrorists.

Then came the news broadcast showing that the weapons Obadiah had secretly sold to those same terrorists had been obliterated by someone the Daily Bugle dubbed "The Human Can Man."

Studying the blurry photograph in the tabloid, he noticed a circular light on the mechanical man's chest. It looked strangely familiar!

In a flash of realization, he connected it to the Arc Reactor embedded in Tony's chest!

He immediately retrieved the cave surveillance footage the Ten Rings had sent him earlier.

After analyzing these recordings, he was astonished to discover that Tony's weeks of hammering in that cave weren't spent building missiles—he'd been constructing armor!

Initially, Obadiah had worried that Tony suspected his betrayal, and that his crimes would soon be exposed.

But now, he had conceived the perfect solution.

Ever since the "Day of Mourning" incident in Afghanistan had erupted, the U.S. government—despite its outward composure—had been internally terrified.

They desperately needed to restore their diminished confidence and the fear of their enemies.

If he could acquire the technology to manufacture the armor and sell it to the U.S. government, they would undoubtedly regain their standing.

Then, his past transgressions—selling weapons to terrorists, arranging the hit on Stark—would become irrelevant.

He might even become the most distinguished guest at both the White House and the Pentagon!

Unfortunately, he'd discovered that even the collective genius of the world's most brilliant scientists under his employ couldn't match Tony Stark working alone in a cave!

The bulky armor would have been challenging enough, but that miniaturized Arc Reactor that Tony had built with scraps? His team had labored for two weeks and couldn't produce a functional prototype!

Worse still, Pepper had just uncovered evidence of his crimes.

He had no choice but to extract the ready-made Arc Reactor from Stark's chest.

Don't blame me, Tony. It's all for the good of the company.

After all, you wouldn't want Stark Industries to collapse!

Oh, wait—I should say, Stane Industries!

Chapter 70: A Desperate Plea - Father, Help Me!

Stark lay rigid on the sofa, veins bulging across his body.

Moments ago, Obadiah—the man he'd regarded as a surrogate father—had forcibly removed the Arc Reactor from his chest with his own hands.

A searing pain radiated through his chest, as if the remaining shrapnel fragments were drilling directly into his heart. His consciousness began to blur, darkness encroaching on the edges of his vision.

But he fought against it. He couldn't die like this—Pepper was in danger!

He suddenly remembered the original Arc Reactor in the basement lab, and a flicker of hope reignited his determination.

Struggling to lift himself from the sofa, he braced his palms against the cushions for support. As he shifted his weight, his fingers brushed against the phone he'd used to call Pepper earlier. He paused, an idea forming through the haze of pain.

It was a beautiful evening, and Jason was treating himself to a lavish dinner.

David sat across from him, drooling slightly as he eyed the spread of food before them.

Jason picked up a piece of brisket and was about to place it in his mouth when the phone beside him began to ring.

He ignored it and continued with his meal.

David glanced up from his plate of BBQ corn and mashed potato with season brisket "The phone's ringing."

"I know."

"Looks like it's Tony Stark calling."

"How can you tell?"

"I set a special ringtone for him. Recognized it instantly."

Jason set down his chopsticks with a sigh of resignation. "This guy... I've told him eight hundred times that Yinsen came on his own accord, and he still calls non-stop! I'm going to tear him a new one!"

He picked up the phone, and before he could launch into the verbal tirade he'd prepared, a faint, desperate voice came through the speaker: "Father... help me..."

"Stark?"

When Jason arrived, he found Stark unconscious in the basement.

After reviving him, Stark immediately clutched Jason's arm. "Didn't I ask you to save Pepper? Why are you here?"

Jason rolled his eyes. "Funny coincidence—I called her, and she insisted I rescue you first. I wanted to tell her not to go running around with those useless agents and just stay put until we arrived, but she must have entered an area with phone interference because the signal cut out. I was worried you'd die here with no one to save you, so I came here first."

"There's a signal-jamming device at the Stark Industries factory. It has to be Obadiah's doing. We need to save her!"

Jason nodded. In truth, he'd warned Stark about Obadiah before, but the genius inventor hadn't taken it seriously.

Nothing could be done about that now. Some lessons were so painful you couldn't understand until you experienced them firsthand.

As Stark donned his Iron Man suit, he said, "If Pepper's truly in danger, I'll handle Obadiah while you get her to safety!"

"No problem."

Stark completed suiting up and prepared for takeoff, then paused suddenly. "Uh... how are you getting there?"

He'd never seen Jason fly before.

Jason rolled his eyes. "How about I straddle your neck and you carry me?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Do you still want to stop Obadiah and save Pepper?"

Iron Man gritted his teeth. If it weren't for Pepper's safety...

In the end, he soared into the sky with Jason clinging to his back.

Stark flew sideways, but Jason found the piggyback position too awkward, so he simply sat on Stark's waist with his legs clamped firmly around the armor.

Stark endured the indignity.

He could only console himself that if he flew fast enough, no one would see them! Speed up, speed up—it would be better if the wind could tear this guy right off my back.

Feeling the wind whistling past his ears, Jason couldn't help but marvel at Stark's velocity. Compared to this, his own top speed of 150 kilometers per hour was no better than an old jalopy.

Stark Industries factory.

After installing the Arc Reactor, Obadiah couldn't wait to don his massive armor.

As feedback signals flooded in from every section of the suit, an unprecedented sense of power surged through him. It felt like transcending humanity and becoming something greater—something divine.

But his moment of triumph was interrupted.

Stark's girlfriend, Pepper, burst in accompanied by several men in black suits.

He was genuinely surprised. Didn't these fools realize they were confronting a man in advanced battle armor? Charging in unarmed was practically suicide.

Their foolishness didn't diminish the effectiveness of his devastating blows.

With one lunge forward, he sent several agents flying.

This wasn't a movie—no mere human could escape the pursuit of his mechanized suit.

The only one who offered any resistance was an agent with a receding hairline and a mechanical prosthesis for his right hand. Obadiah recalled his name—Coulson.

However, even Coulson only managed to leave a few claw marks on the armor before being swatted aside like an insect.

Finally, at the building entrance, Obadiah raised his fist to crush the trembling Pepper.

But from the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a figure rapidly approaching through the sky. The shape appeared monstrous at first—as if it had two bodies and four legs.

He grew tense until it drew closer and he could see clearly: it was actually the "Human Can Man" carrying a passenger!

Fuck, Stark, you're really something else!

Stark felt a wave of embarrassment when he realized both Obadiah and Pepper were witnessing his undignified arrival.

He shook his body. "Get off, quickly!"

Jason nodded, but before dismounting, he leaned forward and whispered in Stark's ear: "Remember not to engage in an aerial battle with him—you don't have enough power reserves!"

"Enough!" Stark insisted.

Tsk, some people just can't appreciate good advice.

Jason executed a "heroic landing," touching down directly in front of Pepper.

Meanwhile, Stark accelerated, crashing headlong into Obadiah's Iron Monger suit!

The collision sent both armored combatants tumbling onto the main road adjacent to the factory.

Jason looked at Pepper with concern. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Pepper shook her head. "No, I'm fine. Thank you for saving Tony, Father Jason."

"This area isn't safe. I need to get you somewhere secure."

"Okay."

The moment Pepper nodded her consent, Jason swept her up into his arms.

She let out a startled gasp. "Father Jason, what are you doing?"

"The battle zone between Stark and Obadiah covers a wide area, and we're far from the safe zone. It would take too long for you to walk. Besides, you wouldn't want Stark to fight alone for too long, would you?"

"Oh, is that all?"

"What else would it be?"

Pepper's face flushed crimson, and she found herself at a loss for words.

Jason felt a flutter in his chest as they suddenly ascended into the air. Pepper screamed and clung to him tightly, burying her face against his chest.

"You—you can actually fly?" she asked, astonished.

"Stark can fly too. Hasn't he taken you flying before?"

"No, never."

The wind howled around them, and Jason, concerned she might not hear him clearly, leaned closer to her ear. His warm breath tickled her earlobe as he spoke.

"Does Miss Pepper have a boyfriend?"

The question sent a shiver down her spine, and her entire body tensed. Her voice came out muffled against his chest. "Why do you ask?"

"Maybe we could get coffee sometime."

Pepper trembled slightly.

By the time she fully processed what was happening, Jason had already set her down on solid ground. "I need to help Stark now. If you're interested in that coffee, call me anytime."

On the battlefield, Stark was getting pummeled so severely he was seeing stars.

His armor's power reserves were critically low, and with Obadiah on a rampage, he could only focus on protecting civilians while trying to survive the onslaught.

Finally spotting an opportunity, he grabbed Iron Monger and rocketed skyward, carrying his enemy into the atmosphere.

Jason arrived just in time to witness their ascent.

Watching the two figures climbing higher into the night sky, he could only shake his head helplessly. He couldn't catch up—not even close!

But what climbed quickly also fell with equal speed.

BOOM! BOOM! Twin impacts cratered the ground as both armored combatants crashed back to earth.

As Stark struggled to his feet, he saw the massive silhouette of Iron Monger charging toward him.

He raised his arm to fire his repulsor beam, only to discover his power tiers had dropped to critical.

Shit!

WHAM!

A devastating punch knocked him flat.

Obadiah laughed triumphantly. "Stark, I really must thank you for inventing such a magnificent weapon for me! It makes me feel invincible! Especially the sensation of crushing flesh with these hands!"

He raised his armored fist and brought it down mercilessly toward Stark's prone form!

BOOM!

A blur intercepted the blow.

Obadiah felt his arm stop mid-swing, as if it had struck an immovable object.

He was shocked to discover a lone figure standing between him and Stark, effortlessly blocking his punch with one hand!

What the hell?!

He tried to retract his arm, but the armor's transmission systems made an ominous clicking sound.

He couldn't pull back!

In the next instant, a small human fist rapidly expanded in his field of vision as it rocketed toward his faceplate!