It's a bit cold tonight.
Very cold.
As soon as the wind blows, it feels like people's noses might freeze.
But fortunately, Blaine has a very strong physique and is not afraid of the cold.
He lay on the bed and quickly fell asleep.
The next morning.
The door was covered with a layer of frost.
In a school in Brooklyn.
The students didn't call the police right away after realizing that Teacher Bakuto had died. Instead, under the guidance of a few "seniors" who knew about the Hand's association, they returned to sleep and left a few people on guard.
And then they made a phone call.
The informant who answered immediately notified Madame Gao, passing along the news of Bakuto's death.
"He's dead?"
After receiving the message, Madame Gao boarded a plane and flew back to the United States before dawn on the same day.
She arrived at the school.
The building where Bakuto died was already heavily guarded by the Hand, ensuring that no one could approach the floor where his body lay.
"Take me up there. I want to see."
When she reached the third floor—the floor where Bakuto had died—Madame Gao narrowed her eyes slightly as she looked at his corpse, his body twisted in agony, covered in poison.
Leaning on her crutch with both hands, she stood quietly in front of the body. At her side stood two towering men, one black and one white, cold and expressionless like the black and white wardens of hell.
"Who killed him?"
She already knew the answer.
The Hand had received intelligence from Bakuto about the Bounty hunter's identity the day before.
And the very next day, Bakuto turned up dead under mysterious circumstances.
The connection was obvious.
"Move him."
Madame Gao instructed the two men beside her: "Be careful. Try not to touch his body directly—just hold his clothes."
"Yes."
The two nodded and carefully lifted Bakuto's corpse.
Blaine knew nothing of what had happened at the school.
Nor did he care.
It was inevitable that Bakuto would be taken away.
In the meantime, Blaine had rested well, and that was enough.
Yawning, he opened the window, only for a cold draft to sweep into the warm room, chilling him instantly. "Winter already? When I traveled through time, it was summer. Two seasons gone in a blink."
He hadn't paid much attention to time passing.
Only now did he notice the street outside had grown lively.
It reminded him of a Festival from his past life—except instead of lanterns and banners, there were trees of all sizes decorated with colorful lights.
Christmas trees.
Three days later.
Christmas had arrived.
Christmas in America was festive for many.
But not for everyone.
Some lives weren't so bright, and some people weren't so happy.
For example, Tony—who buried himself in his Mark Armor designs day and night.
Or Pepper Potts, who had moved into Malibu with Tony, carrying her own worries.
All the way from the alien invasion in Manhattan,
Tony hadn't done anything serious.
Well, not exactly. As Iron Man, he had been busy.
During this time, Tony locked himself in the villa's laboratory, endlessly building new Mark armors.
Starting from the Mark VII, he began a frenzied spree of armor manufacturing.
By now, he had models ranging from Mark VII all the way to Mark XLII.
Of course, these suits weren't like the leap from Mark I to Mark VII.
Marks VII through XLI were mostly specialized armors.
For example, he designed a space-combat suit after realizing his limitations in the Chitauri invasion—if he had possessed it back then, he could have sent his suits directly into their warships and lit them up like fireworks.
For stealth missions, there was the Mark X Stealth Armor.
For heavy lifting, there was the Mark XXXVIII, the Igor Heavy Lifting Armor.
For underwater missions, there was the Mark XXXVII, the Hammerhead Diving Armor.
These were all specialized variants.
Completely different from the all-around improvements and technological leaps between Mark I and Mark VII.
That's why Tony was able to build so many in such a short time.
The only real technological breakthrough was the Mark XLII. Although riddled with flaws, it was still a prototype worthy of being called a step from 0 to 1. With refinement, it could mark the next evolution of Iron Man.
The armor retained and enhanced the modular skeletal design. Made of steel, silicon, and titanium, it could assemble itself around Tony—or anyone he programmed—in seconds. It was waterproof, radiation-resistant, and adaptable to high-altitude flight, space operations, and long-distance transport.
The nerve-linked control system allowed Tony to summon and manipulate the armor remotely, and it even had limited self-repair functions. In addition, the Mark XLII was the only armor equipped with a traditional chest-mounted unibeam plasma cannon.
It was a highly versatile suit, with strong combat potential.
But even so, as a prototype, the Mark XLII remained experimental. It sounded advanced, but its real-world performance was unreliable.
Transformation was unstable, deployment speed was inconsistent, and malfunctions could be—let's say—humiliating.
It would take more work before it truly evolved.
At dusk.
Pepper returned to the villa by car.
When she reached the gate, she saw a giant rabbit—over three meters tall—standing there with a sign around its neck.
"Merry Christmas, Pepper."
Faced with this ridiculous oversized rabbit doll, Pepper could only sigh helplessly.
Inside the villa—
"I'm sorry I'm late, I—"
She began to apologize, but froze as soon as she stepped through the door.
'Tony' was sitting on the sofa, wearing Iron Man armor.
"What is this?"
Pepper looked exasperated as she walked over. "Why are you wearing this at home? Which one is this? The fifteenth version?"
"Ah, yes, something like that…"
'Tony' stood up, showing off the "MK XLII" logo on his hand.
"Everyone has hobbies."
Pepper slipped off her heels. "So your hobby is lounging around the house in armor?"
"It just takes some getting used to. It was tight at first."
'Tony' replied flatly.
Pepper couldn't help laughing.
"Did you see your Christmas present?"
"Of course. How could I miss that… unique gift? Can I move it inside?"
"Oh, I called a crew. They'll come tomorrow and blow out the wall."
That was Tony for you—the kind of billionaire who'd demolish a wall just to fit a doll inside. Blaine would definitely have complained if he'd seen it.
"Oh, are you tired? Let me give you a massage…"
'Tony' came up behind Pepper, reaching for her shoulders.
But she pushed him away.
"Listen, I appreciate the thought."
Pepper leaned close, resting her hands on the armor's chest plate. "But what I want right now is for you to take off this cold mask and give me a warm kiss."
'Tony' tapped his helmet with a clang and pointed at the steel mouthpiece. "See? It doesn't open. Or you could come closer and try."
"It's fine—I'll find a stronger tool to pry it off."
With that, Pepper turned toward the garage.
'Tony' quickly protested: "Wait, there might be a radiation leak down there!"
"I'm willing to take the risk."
"It's too dangerous… at least wear a protective suit—"
But when Pepper stepped into the garage, she froze.
There was Tony—doing pull-ups, wearing a VR headset.
In an instant, she understood.
"This is just plain pathetic."
Pepper frowned in disbelief, scanning the room. "You invited me to dinner, and then ate without me?"
"Emm… I just grabbed a few bites while finishing some work. I didn't know if you were coming home tonight—or out drinking with Killian."
Tony dropped from the bar, catching his breath.
"What?"
Pepper turned, stunned, staring at the Mark XLII standing nearby.
"What?"
"Aldrich Killian? Are you spying on me?"
"Happy's worried about you."
"No—you're spying on me. I'm going to bed."
Pepper shook her head and stormed upstairs.
"Pepper! Pepper! Sorry, I was wrong!"
Seeing she was truly upset, Tony quickly raised his hands in surrender.
Pepper glanced back.
"I'm not okay," Tony admitted quietly, lowering his arms. "I'm really not okay."
"It's been a long time, and I haven't said it."
"It was New York. That battle changed me."
Pepper exhaled softly and slowly walked back down the stairs. "Really? I didn't realize… I—"
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