"Boss, he's dead?!"
Everyone stared in shock as Pierce's body crumbled into black ash and scattered in the air.
They all gasped sharply. Terror spread in their eyes as they looked at the woman standing before them, as if she were death itself.
These agents were all elites, hardened with cold hearts and iron nerves. Yet this woman was even colder, even more ruthless.
In the blink of an eye, she had killed so many, without the slightest shift in her expression. It was as if she had not slain humans, but a pack of stray dogs.
The scene was terrifying beyond words. Alongside their fear came a deep sense of powerlessness. Their commander had just died before their eyes, and they could do nothing but watch.
The humiliation was unbearable, but they had no choice. They couldn't resist. They could only accept it.
Just as the agents thought they would share Pierce's fate, a steady sound of footsteps echoed from the building behind them.
They turned their heads instinctively. The man walking out was none other than Nick Fury, the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., whom Natasha had been waiting for. Beside him was a beautiful woman, Agent Hill.
"Miss Bismarck, this is S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base, not your master's private garden," Fury said, his face dark.
"Impudent. Who are you to speak to me like this? Do you have a death wish?" Bismarck said coldly.
In the same moment, a crushing aura descended on Fury. His legs bent involuntarily, sweat slid down his face, and his complexion turned red.
For the first time, the ever-calculating Nick Fury found himself on the receiving end of a threat. Worse, he couldn't even move, let alone fight back. It was unbearable.
Realizing his hard stance was useless against this overwhelming pressure, Fury had no choice but to soften.
"Miss Bismarck, I mean no harm," he said in a calmer tone. "I only wish to remind you that killing Pierce so soon was unwise. As a minister of the Security Council, his death will cause great turmoil among the higher-ups. That will not benefit anyone."
Bismarck sneered. "Are you teaching me how to act? Whether he lives or dies is not your decision, it's my commander's. As for turmoil, that is your problem, not ours. If you disagree, then declare war. As long as you can bear the consequences, we'll gladly oblige."
Fury's face flushed deeper, partly from her words and partly because her pressure still bore down on him. Standing before her was exhausting. If she decided to strike, even he, the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., would not survive.
He had heard from videos and Natasha's reports that Phils' subordinates were terrifyingly strong, but secondhand knowledge was nothing compared to this firsthand experience. This power wasn't human, it was godlike.
The plan must be brought forward, he thought silently.
"I'll suppress this incident, consider it a gesture of goodwill," Fury finally said after a moment of silence.
"That's it? We don't need goodwill, we need accountability," Bismarck replied icily.
"I understand. I'll arrange a proper meeting with Mr. Phils, face to face. I'll give him an explanation. But for now, please restrain yourself. You've killed enough people. End it here," Fury sighed.
Never had he bowed down like this before.
"The one I needed dead is already gone. As long as you don't act foolishly, I have no reason to continue," Bismarck said.
She then added with meaning, "My commander asked me to remind you, our enemies are also your enemies. That is his stance toward S.H.I.E.L.D. Think carefully about this. If you misunderstand, don't blame us for what happens next."
With a faint, mocking smile, she leaped onto the flying ice dragon. In a flash, the beast turned into a black streak and vanished into the sky.
Everyone exhaled in relief. With her departure, the crushing aura disappeared, leaving them collapsed on the ground, looking utterly battered.
Fury's face darkened. "Hill, from this moment, S.H.I.E.L.D. is on full combat readiness. We cannot ignore Phils."
"Understood, sir!" Hill replied and quickly set to work.
"Natasha, come with me. I have something for you," Fury said suddenly.
"Alright," Natasha nodded, following him.
A week passed quietly. Without Dormammu's threat or S.H.I.E.L.D.'s interference, life was peaceful.
Jason Kin spent his days in the divine realm, playing mahjong or games with his followers, sometimes just watching their antics. It wasn't boring.
One day, in the Roland family estate, inside the bedroom—
"Commander, like this? Does it feel better?"
"Mm, that's right, use a little more strength. Didn't you eat?"
"Oh, sorry Commander, I'll press harder!"
"Good, that's better."
The strange exchange might sound suggestive, but the reality was far different.
Jason lay face down on a soft bed while the cold, elegant Bismarck massaged his back with her feet. He closed his eyes in enjoyment.
Ever since he gained his four apostles, the women had been competing to care for him. To Jason, they were just apostles, believers in him. But to them, Jason was everything. They longed to stay by his side and do anything for him.
If there had been only one woman, it would have been fine. But with four, it turned into constant competition. At first, it gave Jason a headache, until he came up with a solution: take turns. Whoever's turn it was got the role.
It worked perfectly. The fighting stopped, and their bonds even grew stronger.
Today was Bismarck's turn. Though inexperienced, she learned quickly and was already giving him a decent massage. Sometimes her strength was off, but that was easily corrected.
"Commander, your back's done. Should I have you turn over?" Bismarck asked shyly, her face flushed.
This was her first time alone with Jason in such a way, and it made her nervous. She wore a strappy top and a pink sheer skirt, showing her stunning figure. Normally she dressed conservatively to avoid displeasing him or harming his reputation, but in private her daring taste in clothes showed.
"Alright, turn over," Jason said, flipping onto his back. From this angle, he saw what he usually couldn't, and it made him inhale sharply as heat stirred in his body.
Sensing it, Bismarck fidgeted, not daring to meet his gaze.
"Commander, are you alright? Are you uncomfortable?" she asked with a red face.
"On the contrary, I feel very comfortable," Jason said awkwardly.
Blushing, Bismarck tried to continue the massage, but soon her hands stopped. She looked at him with hesitation, lips trembling.
"What is it? Speak," Jason asked curiously.
Bismarck nodded, finally gathering her courage. "Commander, Effie told us… that your favorite way to relax isn't massage, but something else."
Jason froze. He knew exactly what Effie meant. That was their private secret, their shared preference built over years. He hadn't expected Effie to reveal it.
Would the others even like that? He had no idea. All he could do was give her an awkward look.
"That's something just between me and Effie. You might not like it, and I can't exactly teach you. Forget it," Jason said with a forced smile.
But Bismarck shook her head quickly. "Commander, how can you know I won't like it if I've never tried? Besides… I don't need you to teach me. Effie already showed us in private."
Jason's eyes widened. "What? Effie taught you? How?"
Bismarck's cheeks burned. "She bought a lot of lollipops and popsicles."
Jason fell silent. Instantly, the image appeared in his mind.
All he could think was: Effie… truly impressive.
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Chapter Word Count: 1,313