"Ford's manager asked, 'How much do you charge for your service?'"
"Stanment replied, 'Ten thousand dollars.'"
Barbara smiled faintly, guessing the direction of the story.
"The manager was shocked, saying it was too expensive just to draw one line. But Stanment wrote the details on the invoice: 'Drawing the line: one dollar. Knowing where to draw the line: nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine dollars.'"
At that moment, Coulson re-entered the room, finishing the story with a faint smile. "After reading that, the Ford manager not only paid in full—he immediately hired Stanment at a high salary. So, if Mr. White is willing, we are ready to offer you a position... and of course, a big paycheck."
Lance raised his hand and waved it dismissively. "Forget it. I'm not interested in an office job, especially one that involves dealing with the streets."
Lance then turned away, his tone now more relaxed, almost mumbling. "Oh, and Max... I mean Nancy still has some business to take care of. So Nancy might take a while to report back."
Coulson nodded slightly, the smile never leaving his face. "Alright. I will inform Agent Hill."
...
...
...
Coulson left a check for ten million dollars and departed with a group of SHIELD agents, their footsteps quick, disappearing in a flash of black vehicles that left no trace.
Moments later, Kagenobu Yoshioka returned. Nobu's steps were calm, his cloak swaying slightly in the evening wind that was beginning to descend.
There was no mistake in his mission. The man named Eddie turned out not to be a killer, but rather a low-level intelligence agent from a mercenary organization. No perseverance, no discipline. Just a foolishly brave facade covered in pretense.
Kagenobu placed a check for five hundred thousand dollars on the table, silent. Then, without saying a word, Kagenobu drew his sword and slashed the pure wooden cabinet beside him until it split in two, wooden splinters flying like shards of anger. Eddie, witnessing this from two meters away, turned pale. He hastily handed over the dagger, as if it had suddenly become a hot coal in his hand.
As John Smith had introduced earlier, the dagger was a pair of seemingly ancient weapons: straight, slender, and adorned with finely carved phoenix patterns along the blade, almost alive under the dim light.
Lance observed it for a moment. Then he crossed his swords and calmly called upon the power within him.
In an instant, the pair of short daggers fused together, transforming into a glowing long sword. From its flames, a phoenix erupted, dancing gracefully in the air, leaving a trail of fire with every flap of its wings.
By uniting the two daggers—two Kris knives—the complete Phoenix Spirit could be awakened.
And when that happened, the fire that had always been known as a healer now revealed its other side. Not only could it heal wounds, but it could also incinerate anything that stood in its way. The fire was no longer an illusion. It was real. Hot. Lethal.
However, in essence, this instrument was a healing instrument. Its healing power far exceeded its destructive capability.
Combined with the White Lantern Ring, this combined power was like transforming a nurse into a celestial entity. Surrounded by Phoenix fire, even the most severe wounds could heal in seconds.
Initially, Lance thought Christine would be the main healer in the team. But after witnessing this power, Lance changed his mind. The Phoenix fire was not just great; it was extraordinary. It could heal not just one person, but an entire group at once. The primary healing material? Undoubtedly.
"It seems there are still other abilities..." Lance murmured. He directed both swords toward the fire phoenix. The phoenix let out a soft cry, then pounced on him eagerly.
Wuussshh!
A flurry of fiery wings spread from Lance's back, soaring and igniting, vibrating the surrounding air.
Burning Wings.
"Haha... this is interesting," Lance said with a small laugh. He flapped his wings once, his body slowly floating, the fire on his wings glowing but not burning anything. Fortunately, the temperature of the Phoenix fire could be controlled. Otherwise, the entire building's alarm system might have been blaring.
In the distance, Nancy watched with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted. Jealous? Clearly.
It had been Nancy's dream since childhood—to fly. Not just to be free, but to escape from the dark cage once called a laboratory. From a place full of wires, injections, and surveillance. Nancy had once imagined growing wings and leaving it all behind.
Now, could it be possible for Nancy to truly do so?
Burning Wings.
Burning Blade.
A burst of red.
Raging fire.
Lance concluded the display by calling the fire back into the sword, then handed the dagger to Nancy.
"Oh right, this White Lantern Ring is for you too," Lance said as he handed over the softly glowing ring.
"Nancy from Earth... your destiny has been waiting for you for a long time!" Lance said, his tone half-joking, half-serious. Nancy smiled stiffly, still in awe, then began to delve into the power of the ring and learn the technique of controlling the white energy flowing through her body.
However, it didn't last long.
Unfortunately, Nancy was still a cat... in heat.
And Lance, after all, had to deal with that primal matter first.
...
...
...
That night, there were no words. Just heavy breaths and the slow ticking of time.
As morning approached, Lance got up. He jumped out of bed, put on some makeshift pants, and sat on the sofa with a magic book in hand, accompanied by the soft sounds of a classical music box playing slowly.
For Lance, who had spent years studying magic, understanding the magic system of the Harry Potter world was not difficult. But controlling it? That was another matter.
As Lance attempted a simple spell to make the teapot brew tea automatically, something went wrong. The spell was incorrect. The teapot suddenly went berserk, spewing hot tea in all directions like a little dragon running out of patience.
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