Chapter 16: Who Exactly Is That Person?
"Is this the little Janitor the whole internet is talking about?"
The question hung in the air of the office for a few seconds; no one answered.
Ryan stood where he was, his mouth closed.
Stillwell had called Homelander in much faster than expected. He had thought the woman would first test him with more conventional methods, but she had laid all her cards on the table right away.
"Not talking?" Homelander tilted his head, a smirk still playing on his lips.
"Thinking about how to answer you."
"What is there to think about?" Homelander took a step forward. "I ask, you answer. It's that simple."
"The person in that video—is it you?"
"What do you think?" Ryan asked in return.
Homelander tilted his head slightly to one side. His eyes didn't move, but his attention was no longer on Ryan's face.
Ryan knew what he was doing.
X-ray Vision.
"Interesting." Homelander narrowed his eyes. "Your bone density isn't quite right."
"How so?"
"Ordinary people wouldn't have this reading." Homelanderstood up straight, most of his smirk fading. "You're no ordinary person."
"I just have good bone quality. From drinking milk."
The office fell silent for two seconds.
Homelander burst out laughing.
He laughed loudly and dramatically, the sound echoing off the four walls.
"Interesting." He wiped the corner of his eye with a finger. "Very interesting. You're the first Janitor who's ever dared to joke with me."
His tone deepened: "And the last."
"Enough," Stillwell spoke up from the side. "Homelander, I didn't call you here to scare him."
"You think I'm scaring him?" Homelander turned his head to look at her.
"I think you need to calm down. This situation requires a strategy." Stillwell's pace of speech didn't change, each word carrying heavy weight.
Homelander stared at her for two seconds.
The smile returned to his face.
"Alright, Madelyn." He took a step back and crossed his arms. "You do the talking."
Stillwell turned to Ryan.
"One last chance, Ryan. Join Vought, accept our management, and you will receive resources and treatment beyond your imagination."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I cannot guarantee your safety."
"You mean he'll come looking for trouble?" Ryan gestured with his chin toward Homelander.
Homelander grinned.
"Me? I never look for trouble." He spread his arms. "I just... solve problems."
Ryan looked at that face, his heart rate not changing even a bit.
He knew Homelander wouldn't make a move right now. With Stillwell present, as long as this woman was around, Homelander wouldn't lose control—a rule repeatedly proven in the original story.
"Ms. Stillwell, let me tell you a story."
"What is it?"
"I have a friend who was almost run over and killed by A-Train of The Seven in front of a convenience store in Brooklyn a couple of days ago."
Stillwell's expression didn't budge.
Homelander's smile faltered for a beat.
"A-Train was high on compound v, running like a maniac, and almost turned an innocent girl into a red mist."
Ryan stared at Stillwell.
"If someone hadn't stood in the way, that girl would be a puddle of red jam on the sidewalk right now."
"Your point is?" Stillwell asked.
"The point is, does Vought do anything about this kind of thing?"
"We have a well-established accident handling mechanism."
"Accident handling?" Ryan interrupted her. "You call a supersonic junkie running wild on the streets an 'accident'?"
"You call Superhumans killing civilians an 'accident'?"
Stillwell pursed her lips.
Homelander was still smiling, but the focus in his blue eyes shifted.
"You've got a lot of nerve," Homelander said.
"Whether I have nerve doesn't matter. What matters are the facts."
"I have no interest in joining Vought for the time being."
"As for how you want to deal with me..."
He took two steps back toward the door and placed his hand on the doorknob.
"You can certainly try."
He opened the door and walked out.
Homelander's voice came from behind him.
"Hey, little Janitor."
Ryan didn't stop.
"Your Bio-field is indeed strong enough." He didn't shout, but every word carried clearly to the end of the hallway. "But do you know what?"
"No matter how strong a field is, it has its limits."
"But my Heat Vision... doesn't."
Ryan stepped into the elevator.
In the final second before the doors closed, he glanced back.
Homelander stood in the hallway, hands on his hips, his red cape draping behind him, his face smiling brilliantly under the lights.
The elevator doors closed.
Ryan leaned against the elevator wall and let out a long breath.
Homelander had scanned his bone density and confirmed he wasn't an ordinary human. He couldn't be sure yet that the masked man in the video was him, but that was only a matter of time.
The elevator reached the first floor.
He walked out, picked up his mop, and continued mopping the floor, his mind never stopping for a second.
Homelander's last words were a test, measuring his reaction.
If he had shown fear, it would be as good as admitting his identity as the Preservation Walker. Only those with a guilty conscience would be afraid.
He hadn't shown fear, and Homelander must have noticed that.
There was still a little time.
He couldn't go to Brooklyn again today. Homelander had just met him; if the Preservation Walker appeared again tonight, Vought's intelligence department would easily connect the dots once they cross-referenced the timeline.
But the Emotion Points couldn't stop coming; he was still short by over a thousand points.
He asked the system in his mind.
[Online emotions continuing to decay and harvest... +42... +31... +27...]
[Current Total Emotion Points: 8,801/10,000.]
They were rising, but slower and slower.
The photos and live stream replays of the Brooklyn Bridgewere still spreading, but the novelty had worn off, and the emotion harvest would only continue to dwindle.
He needed big news—a piece of big news that could instantly blow up the entire internet.
He thought of Translucent.
This idea had been brewing since early morning on the bridge, and it was becoming clearer now. But before he made a move, he needed to find out Translucent's whereabouts first.
The phone in his pocket vibrated.
An unknown number, a text message.
Just a single line: "That person is you, right? I'm Hughie."
Meanwhile, in an appliance repair shop on a small street in Brooklyn.
Hughie Campbell sat behind the counter, gripping his phone and staring at the message he had just sent, his ten fingers trembling uncontrollably.
The other half of his phone screen showed Twitter, with the top trending topic displaying five words: "Brooklyn's Faceless God of War."
He had spent the whole morning scrolling through videos—Blackie's live stream recording, the convenience store surveillance, the photo on the bridge—watching them dozens of times.
He recognized him.
The man in the gray jacket in the video—his posture while walking, his tone of voice, and even the angle when he tilted his head—was exactly the same as the person who had saved him and Robin in front of the convenience store that night.
"Are you watching it again?"
Robin walked out from the back of the shop, holding two cups of hot cocoa. She handed him one and sat down on a folding chair next to the counter.
"Yeah." Hughie took the cup but didn't drink.
"How many times now?"
"Twenty? Thirty? I lost count."
"You think it's him?"
"It has to be." Hughie turned his phone around to show her. "Do you remember the last thing he said before he left that night?"
"I remember." Robin held her cup and blew on the hot steam. "He said, 'None of the heroes in this world are clean.'"
"Exactly. Did you see what he said in the live stream last night after he beat up that arms dealer?"
"What did he say?"
Hughie scrolled to a certain point in the video and turned up the volume.
On the screen, the man in the gray jacket said to the camera, "No arms deals allowed in Brooklyn, no drug trafficking. Whoever violates this, I will personally come to deliver a massive slap to their face."
"'Deliver a massive slap,'" Robin repeated, letting out a laugh. "Just like that night, that's exactly how he talks."
"It's not just how he talks." Hughie put down his phone and looked at Robin. "He saved you that day. If it weren't for him, you'd now be..."
He swallowed the second half of his sentence.
Robin reached out and covered the back of his hand.
"I know."
Neither of them spoke again for a moment.
After a while, Robin spoke first.
"Hughie."
"Yeah?"
"He's the real deal." Robin stared out the window, lowering her voice to a level only the two of them could hear. "The world is full of fake heroes, but he is truly protecting people."
"He doesn't care about being on camera, he doesn't care about endorsement fees, and that Vought contract is less than scrap paper to him."
"He's just protecting people."
Hughie squeezed his phone.
The scene from that night flashed in his mind again—the afterimage of A-Train, the deafening crash, the man in the Janitor's uniform standing completely still, and then turning back to look at him.
There was nothing in that glance—no arrogance, no condescension. It was just one ordinary person looking at another, pure and simple.
It was that very glance that left a thought in his heart he had never had before: maybe he could do something too.
"I texted him," Hughie said.
"Did he reply?"
Hughie looked down at the screen; there was a new message.
"How did you get my number?"
Hughie typed rapidly: "After you left that night, I asked the convenience store owner for the surveillance footage. In the video, you used your phone to scan a code to pay when you bought a Coke. A friend of mine helped me track down your phone number through the payment record."
The other side went silent for over a dozen seconds.
"Are you playing detective, kid?"
Hughie's fingers tapped clumsily on the screen: "I didn't mean anything by it, I just wanted to say thank you. You saved Robin."
A reply came a few seconds later.
"No need to thank me. When you stood in front of your girlfriend that day, you had way more guts than A-Train."
"Just text me if you need anything in the future. Don't call, it's not convenient to answer at work."
"But remember one thing: do not tell anyone about my identity."
"Not a single soul."
Hughie stared at the message and nodded vigorously, even though the other person couldn't see him.
"I promise."
After sending the message, he placed the phone on the counter and looked out the window.
Sunlight spilled over the streets of Brooklyn, and pedestrians walked back and forth, just like any other day.
But Hughie knew that starting from that night, some things had changed.
"Robin."
"Yeah?"
"If one day he needs help..."
"What kind of help can an ordinary person give a Superhuman?"
"I don't know." Hughie took a sip of cocoa. "But I want to try."
Robin looked at him, said nothing, and reached out to pat Hughie on the shoulder.
The two of them just sat side by side, looking at the sun outside the window, neither speaking again.
On the phone screen, Ryan's last message was still lit up.
"Don't do anything reckless, just mind your own business."
"You're still a bit too green to play hero."
Chapter 17: A Coffee Cup Shattered Against the Wall
"You're still a bit too green to be a hero."
After sending this message, Ryan put his phone back in his pocket and continued mopping the floor.
He had made contact with Hughie Campbell.
This was a good thing.
In the original story, Hughie was one of the core members of The Seven's opposition faction, The Boys.
Although he was an ordinary person without any Superhuman abilities, he possessed unique intelligence-gathering skills outside the Vought system—because no one would pay attention to the small owner of an electronics repair shop.
"He might be useful in the future." Ryan made a mental note.
But right now, the most important thing wasn't developing allies, but gathering the remaining thousand-plus emotion points.
Current emotion points: 8801 / 10000.
1199 more to go.
As he mopped, he observed the activity in the lobby out of the corner of his eye.
After returning from the thirty-ninth floor just now, everything seemed calm.
No security personnel were following him, and no one had come to talk to him again.
But Ryan knew a storm was brewing.
At the same time, on the seventy-second floor of Vought Tower.
Inside Stillwell's office.
"Bang!"
An exquisite white porcelain coffee cup slammed against the office wall, shattering into seven or eight pieces. The brown coffee liquid trickled down the wall, dripping onto the light gray carpet and creating a dark stain.
Stillwell stood behind her desk, one hand still held in the posture of throwing something.
Her secretary cowered at the doorway, not daring to breathe.
"Look at this," Stillwell pointed to the tablet on the desk, "look."
The secretary cautiously leaned over to take a look.
The tablet screen was split in two.
On the left was the popularity curve for topics related to The Seven—within the past forty-eight hours, the curve had plummeted from a high position, dropping by nearly forty percent.
On the right was the popularity curve for Preservation Walker, the "Brooklyn Faceless God of War"—starting from zero, it had soared to the number one spot on the trending list within forty-eight hours, the curve rising almost vertically.
The two curves formed a perfect scissor cross.
"The Seven's topic popularity has been snatched away by forty percent by some wild, unknown Superhuman who popped out of nowhere." Stillwell's voice was very low, but every word seemed to be squeezed out from between her teeth.
"On the VoughtPlus platform, video views related to The Seven have dropped by twenty-two percent. The total views for Preservation Walker's livestream replays and related secondary creation videos have exceeded eighty million."
"Our stock price fell by one percentage point in today's intraday trading. One percentage point! Do you know how much market value that means has evaporated?"
The secretary shook her head.
"Four point three billion."
The secretary swallowed hard.
Stillwell walked around to the front of the desk, sat on the edge, and pressed her hands to her temples.
"This isn't some spontaneous rise of a grassroots hero," she said. "It can't be."
"A Janitor, suddenly displaying Superhuman abilities far surpassing those of members of The Seven? Plus a perfectly coordinated livestream team? And impeccable timing in dissemination?"
"There must be someone behind this."
The secretary tentatively asked, "Do you think it's a competitor?"
"Not a competitor." Stillwell shook her head. "The Passenger Group doesn't have this level, and those people on the West Coast are even worse."
"This looks like someone is specifically creating a god to target Vought."
She picked up the phone on the desk and pressed an internal number.
"Ashley, come to my office."
Three minutes later, Ashley pushed open the door.
"You called for me?"
"Sit."
Ashley sat down. Seeing the coffee stain on the wall, she made no comment.
"Report, how is the blockade progressing?" Stillwell asked.
"Not great." Ashley opened the file in her hand. "We contacted Twitter, YouTube, and VoughtPlus, requesting the removal of videos related to Preservation Walker. Twitter refused, saying it didn't violate community guidelines. YouTube agreed to partial removal, but hundreds of mirror accounts are already reposting it; we can't suppress it. Although VoughtPlus is our own platform, users are uploading external videos in large quantities; as soon as we delete them, someone re-uploads them."
"You can't block it?"
"We can't block it." Ashley shook her head. "The spread is too fast. This matter is no longer something that internet PR can solve."
Stillwell was silent for a few seconds.
"What other suggestions does the Public Relations Department have?"
"There are currently two directions," Ashley handed over the file. "First, actively embrace him. Officially acknowledge the existence of Preservation Walker and package him as a 'folk hero under the Vought system,' turning an enemy into a friend."
"He refused to cooperate."
"I know. So there is a second direction," Ashley's voice lowered slightly, "smear him."
"How do we smear him?"
"Create negative news. Fabricate evidence, molding Preservation Walker into an out-of-control, dangerous Superhuman. Make the public turn from admiration to fear."
Stillwell thought about it.
"This direction is worth a try."
"But it will take time," Ashley said. "At least two weeks to complete the public opinion reversal. And if he makes any big news within these two weeks, our previous groundwork will all be in vain."
"So the key is still to control him."
"Yes."
"Homelander met with him today," Stillwell said.
Ashley's expression changed slightly.
"And the result?"
"That Janitor said 'You can try' right to Homelander's face."
Ashley: "..."
She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, then swallowed it back.
"What do you want to say?" Stillwell looked at her.
"I want to say... he doesn't seem like he's bluffing."
"I think so too."
The two looked at each other for two seconds.
"Ashley, I want to tell you something." Stillwell stood up and walked to the window.
"Go ahead."
"Letting Homelander meet him today was my decision."
"Mm."
"But I regret it now."
Ashley didn't speak.
"After Homelander met him, he came back and said one thing to me."
"What did he say?"
Stillwell's voice sank.
"He said—'This person is very interesting. I want to see him again.'"
Ashley's fingers unconsciously tightened around the edge of the file.
She knew Homelander too well.
When Homelander called someone "interesting," it meant one of two things.
First: He wanted to play with that person.
Second: He wanted to kill that person.
Sometimes both meant the same thing.
"Do you know what Homelander cannot tolerate the most?" Stillwell asked with her back to her.
"I know."
"Say it."
"Someone being stronger than him."
"Correct." Stillwell tapped her fingers lightly on the window frame. "Now the whole internet is spreading a story about a 'Superhuman more powerful than The Seven.' If these discussions reach Homelander's ears—"
"He will tear that person to pieces," Ashley continued.
"No," Stillwell turned around. "He will first tear all the ordinary people around that person to pieces. Then he will go find that person."
"Because Homelander will never admit he can't beat someone. He will use other ways to prove his power—by destroying everything that person cherishes."
The office was quiet for quite a while.
"So," Stillwell walked back behind the desk and sat down. "From now on, all information regarding Preservation Walker must be strictly blocked from Homelander."
"Suppress the trending searches, delete the videos, and cut off all channels that might let Homelander see it."
"Although he met that Janitor today, he doesn't know how popular Preservation Walker is online. Keep him in the dark."
"Understood." Ashley stood up.
"One more thing." Stillwell called out to her.
"What is it?"
"Investigate who leaked those few vials of compound vthat were seized at the Morales warehouse."
Ashley was stunned for a moment.
"compound v?"
"Yes. That warehouse that Preservation Walker destroyed had samples of compound v. The police have already intervened. If someone is selling compound v internally, this is even more serious than the Preservation Walkermatter."
"This... shouldn't be under the Public Relations Department, right?"
"It is under your jurisdiction." Stillwell's tone left no room for negotiation. "Because if the leak of compound v is dug up by the media, that will be the real public relations disaster. It's more terrifying than one hundred Preservation Walkers combined."
Ashley was silent for a second, then nodded.
"I'll go investigate."
She turned and walked out of the office.
The moment the door closed, Stillwell picked up another file on the desk.
The header of the file read—"compound v Supply Chain Internal Audit Report (Top Secret)."
She opened the first page, scanned it twice, and then closed it.
"These idiots," she cursed under her breath.
Outside the window, the V logo of Vought Tower glittered in the sunlight.
When Ashley walked out of the seventy-second floor, she paused in the elevator lobby.
She took out her phone and pulled up Ryan's contact information.
She hesitated for three seconds.
Then she sent him a message.
"She has started investigating the compound v supply chain. Be careful."
After sending it, she deleted the message.
Then she edited a new one.
"I'll find you on the first floor this afternoon. I have something to tell you."
Chapter 18: Super Eavesdropping Through a Wall
"Look for me on the first floor this afternoon. I have something to tell you."
Ryan finished reading the message on his phone screen and didn't reply.
Remembering it was enough.
At 12:15 PM, he pushed his cleaning cart, slowly drifting down the hallway of the 72nd floor.
That's right, the 72nd floor.
After lunch, he didn't return to the first floor to continue mopping; he grabbed a mop and a bucket of water and took the elevator straight up.
The excuse was ready-made: the Cleaning Department's work order system showed that no one was scheduled for this floor's public hallway today.
So, he added himself to the list.
His actual purpose was only one thing.
To listen.
With the Super Hearing granted by the Tighten panel, ordinary partition walls couldn't block any sounds within thirty meters.
Stillwell's office was at the corner at the end of the hallway, the second door.
He pushed the mop to the position closest to the door, squatted down, took out a rag, and wiped the tiles at the base of the wall.
A Janitor squatting on the floor wiping the baseboards—no one would give him a second look.
He tilted his head slightly, aiming his ear toward the wall.
Sounds came flooding in.
Two people were talking.
Stillwell, and another man, speaking quickly in a reporting tone.
"...The preliminary results of the supply chain audit are out. Over the past three months, a total of fourteen vials of compound v samples from batches V-7 to V-12 have had abnormal distribution flows."
"Abnormal to where?" Stillwell's voice asked.
"Logistics tracking records show that after these fourteen vials left the Vought International Biological Research Institute, they were replaced with empty vials at a transit warehouse, and the real ones entered the black market."
"Who is in charge of the transit warehouse?"
"Salvador Morales, from the Morales Family."
Ryan's hand, wiping with the rag, paused for a beat.
Morales.
The warehouse he wiped out on the first night of the sweep belonged to this family, and there were indeed a few vials of blue liquid in the safe.
This was the root of it.
Someone inside Vought International was using the Morales Family's channels to offload compound v.
"Who approved Morales to take over the transit warehouse?" Stillwell pressed.
"The document was signed by the Deputy Director of Logistics, Anderson, but Anderson said he was just following orders from above."
"Above? Who?"
The man paused for a second.
"He said it was a verbal instruction from Mr. Edgar."
There was silence in the office.
Ryan squatted at the base of the wall, his rag suspended in mid-air.
Edgar.
Stan Edgar.
CEO of Vought International.
The mastermind behind the compound v supply chain—was it him?
"Is Anderson's word credible?" Stillwell spoke up, her tone shifting, carrying a weight that Ryan couldn't quite describe.
"I'm not sure, but if this is true..."
"Do not continue the investigation." Stillwell cut him off.
"What?"
"Seal the existing materials. Do not show them to anyone."
"But..."
"That is an order."
The man stopped speaking.
"Go back. This matter ends here."
Footsteps, the door opened, the door closed.
Stillwell was the only one left in the office.
The back of her chair creaked as she leaned back.
Then came a sigh, very light.
"Edgar... what on earth are you up to?"
Ryan squatted in the hallway, his mind racing.
The compound v supply chain, Morales acting as the transit, Anderson claiming Edgar authorized it, and Stillwell choosing to suppress it.
She either didn't dare to investigate, or she knew more inside information and was intentionally not investigating.
Regardless of which it was, the leakage of compound vitself was Vought International's biggest festering sore.
The Seven, the signed Superhumans, the entire business empire—it was all built on the myth that Superhumans were chosen by destiny.
The existence of compound v proved that Superhumans were manufactured.
Once the public knew, the myth would collapse.
This was a nuclear bomb; it wasn't time to detonate it yet, but it had to be kept close.
He stood up, grabbed the mop, and walked toward the other end of the hallway.
Passing the elevator bank, a middle manager in a white shirt came out and glanced at him.
"Are you from the Janitor staff? Was anyone scheduled for the 72nd floor today?"
"It's on the system." Ryan shook the mop, "As you can see, I've finished cleaning it."
The man looked at the water stains on the floor, said nothing more, and turned to leave.
Ryan entered the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor.
The moment the doors closed, he took out his phone and sent himself a memo.
compound v supply chain, Morales as transit, Deputy Director of Logistics Anderson, suspected authorization by Edgar, Stillwell suppressing the investigation.
He locked the screen and shoved the phone back into his pocket.
First floor, the doors opened.
Ashley was standing in the corner of the lobby, holding a cup of takeout coffee.
"Where did you go? I've been waiting for almost twenty minutes."
"Went upstairs to mop the floor."
"Mop what floor? I looked for you all over the first floor."
"The 72nd-floor hallway wasn't being taken care of, so I went to help out."
Ashley stared at him.
"You went to the 72nd floor?"
"Isn't the floor on the 72nd floor still a floor?"
Ashley's brow furrowed. She reached out and pulled Ryan into a corner of the lobby where the surveillance cameras couldn't see, her voice almost brushing against her own hand as she spoke.
"What did you hear?"
"Hear what?" Ryan spread his hands.
"Don't play dumb." Ashley said, practically gritting her teeth. "You have Super Hearing. Your reaction speed in the convenience store video—it's impossible without Super Perception. You went to the 72nd floor to mop because you went to eavesdrop."
Ryan looked at her.
"Ms. Ashley, you guessed quite accurately."
"What did you hear?"
"You tell me first, what are you looking for me for today?"
Ashley paused.
"Stillwell issued two orders today. The first: block all online dissemination channels for Preservation Walker, suppress the hot searches, and delete the videos."
"The second one..."
"Keep the news from Homelander." Ryan finished for her.
Ashley's expression changed.
"You really did hear it."
"Not just that." Ryan leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. "I also heard about the compound v supply chain."
The color drained from Ashley's face instantly.
"You..."
"Don't worry, I won't go around talking about it." Ryan looked at her. "But it's good for you to be aware of it."
"Aware? What do you mean?"
"If one day Vought International's people push me too hard, this information about the supply chain will be my insurance policy."
"So I advise you, don't stand on Stillwell's side."
Ashley pressed her lips into a thin line.
"I'm not on her side."
"Then whose side are you on?"
"My own."
Ryan looked at her for a few seconds.
"Fine. Then in the future, let's keep each other in the loop if something comes up."
"In the loop?"
"You have information channels inside Vought International, and I can get things done outside. It's mutually beneficial."
"Do you know what would happen if I were caught tipping you off?"
"I know, so you'll have to be careful."
"You..."
"What's wrong?"
"Are you really not afraid of anything?"
Ryan thought for a moment.
"I am."
"Afraid of what?"
"Afraid of being late for work and getting my pay docked."
The corner of Ashley's mouth twitched; it was unclear whether she wanted to laugh or curse.
She said nothing, turned, and left.
She walked a few steps, then stopped and turned back.
"One thing to remind you."
"Go ahead."
"Homelander scanned you with X-ray vision today. He knows your bone density is abnormal. Although he hasn't confirmed you are Preservation Walker, he is already watching you."
"I know."
"Be careful."
"Thanks."
Ashley left.
Ryan leaned against the wall, watching her back disappear at the elevator entrance.
compound v supply chain, Edgar, Stillwell, Homelander.
The entanglements between these people—the water was much deeper than it looked.
But for now, it didn't have much to do with him.
He pulled the mop out of the bucket and continued mopping.
Now, he only needed to focus on one thing.
[Current Total Emotion Points: 8857 / 10000.]
Still short by 1,143.
He couldn't go out today. Vought International was suppressing the hot searches; if Preservation Walkershowed up again tonight, they would pursue him like mad.
He had to wait, wait for the right opportunity to make up the remaining points all at once.
His gaze passed through the lobby's glass doors and landed on the New York streets outside.
Translucent.
Just you wait.
His phone vibrated.
A message from Blackie.
"Brother Walker! Vought International is deleting my videos! The footage on several platforms has been taken down!"
Ryan replied.
"Don't panic. The more they delete, the more effective it means it is."
"Back up the videos well. Save three copies on encrypted cloud drives. Upload them again after the heat dies down."
"Got it! By the way, Brother Walker, when are you coming out next?"
Ryan thought for a moment and typed a line.
"Soon. Next time I come out, it won't be small fry I'm taking down."
Chapter 19: Time for Something Big
"Almost there. Next time I come out, I won't be going after small fry."
Blackie stared at the message, so excited that he did a somersault on his bed and nearly fell off the edge.
The same day, during lunch break.
In the basement of Vought Tower, inside the Cleaning Department storage room.
Ryan locked the storage room door, sat down on a broken plastic stool, closed his eyes, and pulled up the system panel.
[Host: Ryan]
[Current Panel: Tighten (Dandruff-Slightly Flawed Version)]
[DNA Purity: 0.3%]
[Emotion Points: 8857 / 10000]
[Required for First Purification: 10000 Points]
Eight thousand eight hundred fifty-seven.
One thousand one hundred forty-three short of ten thousand.
"System, how much is still coming in from my online emotion harvesting?"
[Online emotion harvesting in decay... Current harvest rate: +3 to +5 points per hour.]
Three to five points per hour.
Compared to two days ago, this figure has dropped more than tenfold.
"It really has decayed." Ryan clicked his tongue.
The novelty of the Brooklyn sweep and the flying has worn off. Vought is also going all out to suppress the trending searches and videos, severely compressing the dissemination channels. If he relied on passive online harvesting, it might take several weeks or even longer to scrape together the remaining one thousand one hundred points.
"Too slow."
Ryan opened his crumpled notebook and flipped to the page labeled "Ways to Acquire Emotion Points."
"Offline face-to-face contact: High returns, but limited audience."
"Online dissemination: Wide audience, but severe decay, and Vought is suppressing it."
"Changing the fate of key characters: Large one-time intake, but opportunities are rare and hard to come by."
"Defeating high-profile Superhumans: Extremely high returns, low decay coefficient."
He drew a circle around the last point.
"The system mentioned last time—high-value emotion sources come from high-profile Superhumans."
"The Seven is the most famous Superhuman group in the world."
"Beating up a member of The Seven can net thousands or even tens of thousands of Emotion Points at once."
"The question is, who to hit?"
He went through the list of The Seven in his mind once again.
Homelander—no, too early. He can't have a direct confrontation until the speed gap is resolved.
Queen Maeve—not a bad person, won't hit her.
Starlight Annie—definitely can't hit her, she's a good person.
A-Train—ran away last time, don't know where he is now, and he's often out on patrol, hard to corner.
The Deep—spends all year in the water, doesn't come ashore.
Black Noir—not in New York.
Translucent—
Ryan tapped his finger on the notebook twice.
Translucent.
From every perspective, this choice is the optimal solution.
First, Translucent is an official member of The Seven with extremely high fame. The Emotion Points gained from beating him once far exceed those from low-level gangsters.
Second, Translucent's combat power ranks at the bottom of The Seven. Although his Carbon Metamaterial skin is theoretically impenetrable, his strength and speed are at the level of an ordinary person. Facing Ryan, who has eighty tons of arm strength and a max-level Bio-field, he has absolutely no power to fight back.
Third, and most importantly—Translucent is a complete pervert.
He uses his invisibility to peep at women, harass women, and even do more disgusting things. In the original work, he is one of the most morally bankrupt members of The Seven.
Beating him is completely justified.
Beating him, the audience will only cheer.
Beating him, public opinion won't backlash.
"Perfect."
Ryan wrote two words in his notebook: Translucent.
Then he drew a rough sketch of a slap next to it.
"The problem now is—where is he?"
Ryan closed his eyes and accessed the memories in his mind regarding Translucent.
In the original work, Translucent has a fixed hideout—a high-end private club near Vought Tower.
That club is called "Zenith Club" and is one of the most high-end establishments on the Upper East Side of New York. Only Vought executives and signed Superheroes are qualified to enter.
Translucent goes there almost every night.
Because the club has a VIP area where the corridor leading to the women's locker room has no anti-invisibility detection equipment installed.
This is tantamount to opening an exclusive peeping channel for Translucent.
"Disgusting." Ryan curled his lip downward.
[Ding! Negative emotions and combat intent towards The Seven member 'Translucent' detected from the host.]
[Confirm marking him as the next target?]
"Confirm."
[Target marked: Translucent (The Seven No.6)]
[Estimated defeat reward: 1500 to 3000 Emotion Points (depending on the method of attack, number of witnesses, and dissemination effect)]
One thousand five hundred to three thousand.
If he hits the maximum reward of three thousand, combined with the existing eight thousand eight hundred-plus points, the total will break ten thousand!
The first DNA purification is right before his eyes!
Ryan rubbed his hands together.
"System, anything else to note?"
[Note 1: Translucent's Carbon Metamaterial skin has extremely high physical hardness; conventional attacks cannot destroy its surface structure. However, the host's eighty tons of arm strength, combined with the shockwave conduction effect of the Bio-field, can transmit blunt force through the skin to the internal organs without damaging the skin. Simply put—the skin won't break, but the internal organs can be shattered.]
"The power of a slap penetrating Carbon Metamaterialskin?"
[Yes. Commonly known as 'flesh and skin unharmed, internal organs blooming'.]
"Good grief, who taught you that phrase, System?"
[Self-taught.]
"Fine."
[Note 2: Translucent can turn completely invisible. It cannot be captured by the naked eye. However, the host's Super Hearing can locate his position through his heartbeat and breathing. Furthermore, the host's Tate panel has a probability of unlocking X-ray vision after purification, at which point invisibility will be completely ineffective against the host.]
"Haven't unlocked X-ray vision yet?"
[DNA Purity 0.3%, has not reached the unlocking condition. There is a 30% chance to unlock it after the first purification.]
"30%... Good enough. I'll rely on hearing to fight for now."
[Note 3: It is recommended that the host ensure live streaming or recording equipment is present when attacking Translucent. The emotion harvesting multiplier brought by online dissemination will significantly increase the total reward.]
"You don't need to tell me that." Ryan took out his phone and sent a message to Blackie.
"Tonight at eight, wait for me at the intersection three blocks north of Vought Tower."
"Bring your phone, and make sure it's charged."
"Big job tonight."
Blackie replied instantly: "What big job?"
Ryan replied with four words.
"Beating up The Seven."
Blackie's reply came slower than all the previous ones. It popped up after about ten seconds.
"Are you serious?"
"Serious."
Another five seconds of silence.
Then Blackie sent a long string of text.
"Brother Walker! If you say we hit them, we hit them! I'm in this with you! My phone is fully charged! I'll bring a power bank too! I'm going to borrow a backup phone right now just in case! I've already thought of the stream title for tonight, let's call it 'Preservation Walker vs. The SevenMember'! It's going to be absolutely explosive!!!"
It was followed by a dozen exclamation marks and a long string of fist emojis.
Ryan looked at this string of messages, shook his head, and the corners of his mouth curled up.
"This kid, his guts are bigger than his brain."
He put his phone back in his pocket, stood up, opened the door, and walked out of the storage room.
The corridor was empty, and the sound of a few cleaning ladies chatting came from a distance.
Ryan looked up at the elevator door at the end of the corridor.
The floor indicator light above the elevator was flashing.
72... 71... 70...
Someone was coming down from the high floors.
He didn't pay it any mind and turned to walk towards the lobby on the first floor.
He still had half a day of mopping to do in the afternoon.
But he could mop a bit faster today.
Because tonight—
"Translucent."
He recited the name in his heart.
"Your Carbon Metamaterial skin, I'd like to see if it can withstand a slap from me."
( ≖ ᴗ ≖ ✿ )
The phone vibrated again.
It was from Ashley.
"Don't go running around this afternoon. Security has been tightened on the 72nd floor today, and there are several more patrols."
Ryan replied with one word.
"Received."
Then he typed a line and deleted it.
He originally wanted to say "Keep an eye out for me tonight to see if Translucent goes to the Zenith Club," but after thinking about it, he decided against it.
He couldn't let too many people know about his plan.
He would handle tonight's business himself.
The phone vibrated a third time.
This time it was from Hughie.
"Um... I don't know if I should tell you this."
"A man named 'Billy Butcher' came to my shop to find me today."
"He said he knows about the time A-Train almost killed Robin."
"He wants to recruit me into an organization dedicated to taking down Vought and The Seven."
"Do you know this person?"
Ryan stared at this message, his finger hovering on the screen.
Billy Butcher.
The Butcher.
The leader of The Boys.
He has arrived.
Ryan thought for five seconds, then replied.
"Don't agree to him yet, but don't refuse him either. Wait until I finish my business tonight, then we'll talk."
Chapter 20: Target Locked: Translucent
"Don't agree to him yet, but don't reject him either. Let me finish what I'm busy with tonight first."
Hughie looked at the message, then glanced at the shop entrance.
The man named Billy Butcher had just left ten minutes ago, and before leaving, he dropped a business card and a sentence: "Call me when you've made up your mind; the window of opportunity isn't long."
There was nothing on the business card, just a phone number.
Hughie tucked the business card into the drawer under the cash register, then replied to Ryan: "Okay, I'll wait for your news."
7:30 PM. Ryan got off work.
He didn't go back to his rental apartment, but instead turned directly into a small alley next to Vought Tower, putting on a long gray coat, a black scarf, and five-dollar sunglasses.
The sky had already darkened. The streets of New York lit up with neon lights and streetlamps, with traffic and crowds weaving together.
Ryan walked briskly along the street, mentally confirming his plan for the night one last time.
Target: Translucent.
Location: Zenith Club.
Time: Around 9:00 PM—according to memories of the original work, Translucent usually appears during this time.
Method: Direct confrontation. End the fight with a single slap.
Risk Assessment: Translucent himself poses no threat. However, the Zenith Club is Vought International territory; there might be security personnel and surveillance systems. Also, if Translucent chooses to turn invisible and flee after being attacked, tracking him will be troublesome.
"But it shouldn't be a big problem," Ryan thought to himself. "As long as he's nearby, my Super Hearing can lock onto his heartbeat. Invisibility can only fool the eyes, not the ears."
7:55 PM. Ryan arrived at the agreed-upon location.
Blackie was already waiting at the intersection. Today, the kid had actually changed into a brand-new outfit—a black hoodie and a pair of new sneakers.
"Where did you get the money to buy new clothes?" Ryan looked him up and down.
"Earned it from livestream donations!" Blackie grinned. "After my follower count hit a million, the donations really picked up. I made over a thousand bucks yesterday alone!"
"Over a thousand bucks?"
"Yeah! I bought my mom a pair of slippers, and for myself, I bought these shoes and this!" Blackie pulled a brand-new phone from his hoodie pocket. "It's used, but it can record in 1080P! It's a hundred times better than that one with the cracked screen I had before!"
"Not bad," Ryan nodded.
"Brother Walker, you said we're going to fight The Seventonight? Who are we fighting?" Blackie asked, looking excited.
"Translucent."
Blackie's smile froze for a second.
"Translucent? That... that guy who can turn invisible?"
"Yes."
"How do you fight someone you can't see?"
"Who said I can't see him?"
Blackie blinked, deciding not to ask further.
"Whatever you say, Brother Walker! I'll handle the filming!"
"Good. But tonight is different from before," Ryan's tone became more serious. "Before, we fought gangs and low-level Superhumans, but tonight we're fighting an official member of The Seven. The commotion will be much bigger."
"You need to do two things."
"First, livestream the whole thing. The clearer the footage, the better. Tonight's content is for the whole internet to see; the quality can't be blurry."
"Second, keep a safe distance. At least fifty meters. Although Translucent can't beat me, he might act recklessly if pushed into a corner. If something comes flying at you, run."
"Did you hear me?"
"Heard you!" Blackie nodded vigorously.
"Alright, let's go."
The two walked east along the street for about fifteen minutes.
The Zenith Club was located on a quiet street in the Upper East Side. The exterior was a three-story white stone building with no sign at the entrance, only two dim yellow wall lamps. It looked extremely low-key.
But the cars parked at the entrance revealed the true identity of the place—three stretch Lincolns, a Bentley, a Maybach, and an official vehicle from Vought International.
"This is it," Ryan stopped across the street.
He closed his eyes, concentrated, and used his Super Hearing to scan the entire building.
In the first-floor lobby, a few waiters were whispering to each other.
On the second floor, someone was playing billiards; the sound of the balls clicking was crisp.
Third floor—VIP area.
Ryan's ears captured a special sound. A heartbeat.
There was a heartbeat in the third-floor corridor that didn't match the location of anyone else's heartbeat.
The location of that heartbeat—right next to the wall of the women's locker room.
No footsteps. But the heartbeat and breathing were right there. He was invisible.
"Gotcha," Ryan opened his eyes.
"Blackie, start the stream."
"You got it!"
Blackie pulled out his new phone and opened the streaming app. As soon as the stream started, follower notifications went out.
Within thirty seconds, the number of viewers online surged past fifty thousand. The comments began to flood in.
"It's here, it's here, it's here!"
"Big job today!!!"
"I heard we're fighting The Seven? Is it true???"
"Preservation Walker is the GOAT!!!"
Ryan nodded at the camera.
"Good evening, viewers."
"Today's program is a bit special."
"I'm going to have a chat with someone."
"His name is Translucent. He's from The Seven."
"I have reason to believe he is currently doing something rather indecent inside that building."
The comments exploded.
"Translucent?! The Translucent from The Seven?!?"
"Is he really going to fight a member of The Seven????"
"Holy crap! Preservation Walker, have you lost your mind!!!"
"Begging the stream not to lag! Tonight is a night to witness history!"
Online viewers: 128,000. And it was still skyrocketing.
Ryan smiled at the camera, then pulled his scarf up to cover half his face.
"Blackie, come with me. Once we get to the entrance, wait outside. Don't go in."
"Got it!"
Ryan turned around and strode toward the main entrance of the Zenith Club.
Two security guards in black suits stood at the entrance; they were huge, with communication earpieces in their ears.
"Sir, this is a private club, it is not open to the public." The security guard reached out to stop him.
"I know."
"Then please—"
Ryan reached out and grabbed the security guard's wrist.
The security guard's expression changed from alert to terrified in 0.3 seconds—because he felt his wrist being clamped by a hydraulic press, completely unable to move.
"I said, I know." Ryan let go and patted the guard on the shoulder. "Move."
The two guards looked at each other, hesitating for a second.
Then Ryan walked past them. They didn't try to stop him again.
Because they recognized the aura on Ryan—it wasn't the aura of an ordinary person. It was that of a Superhuman.
In this city, Superhumans are the rules themselves.
The lobby of the Zenith Club was luxuriously decorated. Crystal chandeliers, dark solid wood floors, leather sofas, and a bar. A few well-dressed guests were sitting in the corner drinking and chatting.
The receptionist at the front desk saw a man wearing a gray coat, a scarf, and sunglasses stride in. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, Ryan had already walked past the front desk and headed toward the stairs.
"Sir! Sir, please stop! You need to show your membership card—"
Ryan didn't even look back. He went up the stairs.
Second floor. The people playing billiards looked up at him, but didn't say a word.
Third floor. The corridor in the VIP area was dimly lit, with a thick red carpet on the floor.
At the end of the corridor was the door to the women's locker room. The door was closed.
But Ryan's ears told him—right next to the wall of the locker room, there was a heartbeat.
"Here we are." He stopped in the middle of the corridor.
Next to the door of the women's locker room, no one could be seen in the air. But the heartbeat was right there. The breathing was right there.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Very even. Very steady.
Even while peeping, his heartbeat could stay that steady. It meant this pervert was already used to it.
Ryan's mouth turned down.
"Ahem." He cleared his throat.
The heartbeat skipped a beat. Then it resumed, but the frequency increased. He had heard it.
"Hey," Ryan spoke to the air at the end of the corridor. "Are you done with your peeping addiction yet?"
The corridor was silent. No one answered.
"Don't pretend," Ryan took two steps forward. "I can hear your heartbeat."
Another three seconds of silence. Then a faint sound came from the air. Like someone gasping for air.
Then, the air at the end of the corridor began to distort. A human silhouette gradually emerged from the void. Translucent.
Completely naked, his skin had a Translucent Carbon Metamaterial texture, refracting a faint luster under the lights.
He wasn't wearing clothes—because his invisibility ability only worked on his skin; if he wore clothes, only the clothes would disappear, and if he moved too much, the clothes would shift and expose him.
So, when he was peeping, he was always naked.
Ryan looked at the naked man in front of him, the disgust on his face visible to the naked eye.
"Can you cover yourself up first?"
Translucent's expression switched from fear to anger.
"Who the f*** are you?!"
"I'm here to slap the s*** out of you."
Chapter 21: The Zenith Club's VIP Room
"I'm here to give you a slap."
Translucent glared at the man in the scarf and sunglasses before him, his fists clenching and unclenching.
He was completely naked, his Carbon Metamaterial skin gleaming with an unnatural luster under the corridor's wall lights, as if waxed.
"Do you have any idea where you've broken into?" Translucent retreated half a step, his shoulder blades pressing against the doorframe of the women's changing room. "This is the Zenith Club, a VIP-exclusive venue for Vought! You, some wild card who crawled out of nowhere—"
"You're invisible just to peek at women changing, right?"
Ryan's words didn't beat around the bush; they went straight to the point.
Translucent's expression changed.
The stiffness of being caught red-handed crept from the base of his neck all the way to the tips of his ears.
"What nonsense are you spouting? I'm here on a mission!"
"What mission?" Ryan tilted his head. "A mission where you stick your bare ass against the door of the women's changing room?"
The corridor went quiet for two seconds.
Inside the changing room, the sound of women laughing and talking could be heard through the door.
Ryan's Super Hearing dismantled those sounds into fine detail—two women chatting, one changing, the sound of zippers, the rustle of fabric.
Translucent was pressed right outside this door.
Invisible.
Completely naked.
"For someone of your caliber, Vought actually gave you the title of 'The Seven'." Ryan's voice dropped. "I spent three months mopping floors at Vought Tower, I've seen all sorts of disgusting things, and you're the most disgusting of them all."
"Shut up!" Translucent's voice rose. "Who the hell are you? How can you see me? I was clearly invisible just now!"
"You were invisible, but you forgot one thing."
"What?"
"Heartbeat and breathing." Ryan tapped his ear with his finger. "You were panting like a dog while pressed against the door; did you think I couldn't hear that?"
Translucent's Adam's apple bobbed.
He began to realize that the person in front of him wasn't an ordinary intruder.
"Are you a Superhuman?"
"What do you think?"
"Are you that..." Translucent's expression shifted from anger to alertness, "the Preservation Walker from the internet?"
Ryan neither denied nor admitted it.
He took a step forward.
Translucent took a step back, his back pressing against the changing room door.
"Don't come any closer." Translucent raised his hands, his Carbon Metamaterial knuckles flashing under the light. "I'm warning you, I'm a formal member of The Seven!"
"Mmhmm."
"My skin is Carbon Metamaterial! Ten times harder than steel! You want to try touching me? Even bullets can't pierce me!"
"Mmhmm."
"If you dare to lay a hand on The Seven, Vought will smash you into dust! Homelander will come for you personally!"
"Uh-huh."
Ryan kept saying "Mmhmm" while continuing to walk forward.
Translucent was forced into the corner at the end of the corridor.
There was nowhere left to retreat.
"Stop!" Translucent's voice began to crack. "I said don't come any closer! Are you deaf?"
"You just said your skin is ten times harder than steel?"
"That's right!"
"Perfect." Ryan stopped one meter in front of him.
"I was just looking for something hard to test my hands on."
"You—"
Rapid footsteps came from the other end of the corridor. Two club security guards in black suits ran over, holding stun batons.
"Sir! This is a VIP area! You cannot—"
They saw Translucent.
The naked Translucent, standing at the door of the women's changing room, his Carbon Metamaterial skin shimmering.
The two security guards braked to a halt.
"This..."
"Go back." Ryan didn't even turn his head. "I'll handle things here."
"Who the hell are you?" Translucent shouted at the security guards. "Call your manager! Call the people from Vought! Now! Immediately!"
The security guards looked at each other.
One took out a walkie-talkie.
The other looked at Translucent's naked form, his voice trembling as he asked a question.
"Trans... Mr. Translucent, why aren't you wearing any clothes?"
"None of your damn business! It's required for the mission!"
"What kind of mission requires standing at the door of the women's changing room?" Ryan interjected.
Translucent's face turned completely green.
At that moment, the changing room door opened from the inside.
A young woman in a bathrobe walked out and, seeing the scene at the door, froze for a second.
Then her gaze landed on Translucent.
A naked man with Carbon Metamaterial skin standing less than half a meter from the women's changing room door.
She screamed.
The sound was so piercing that the wall lights in the corridor flickered.
Hearing the scream, the other women in the changing room swarmed to the door.
"What's wrong? What happened?"
"Someone... there's a man! He's outside the door! Naked!"
"Oh my god! That's Translucent!"
Screams erupted one after another.
Translucent's expression changed from green to white, then from white to red.
"Quiet! Everyone, be quiet! I'm on a mission!"
No one listened to him.
The corridor was in chaos.
Ryan stood where he was, arms crossed, watching the farce, the corners of his mouth curling up.
"Mr. Translucent, would you like to explain to everyone what the specific content of your 'mission' is?"
"Shut your mouth!"
The woman in the bathrobe was already crying.
"He was peeking at me changing! He's been outside the whole time!"
"No! I wasn't!"
"You were standing at the changing room door! Without any clothes!" another woman shrieked. "Do you think we're stupid?"
Translucent's eyes darted around.
He knew that no matter how he explained it now, it was useless.
"I'm done talking to you people." Translucent's body began to turn transparent, the refractive index of his Carbon Metamaterial skin changing rapidly, his outline fading.
He was going to turn invisible and escape.
Ryan's ears caught his heartbeat accelerating.
He moved his right foot fifteen centimeters to the left.
He reached out his right hand.
It clamped precisely onto Translucent's neck.
Translucent's invisibility was interrupted, his body returning to a visible state, held up by Ryan's five fingers around his neck.
His feet were thirty centimeters off the ground.
The Carbon Metamaterial skin was indeed very hard.
Ryan's fingertips could feel the density of that skin, like pinching a polished stone.
But Ryan didn't need to crush it.
He just needed to carry this person.
"Let... let me go!" Translucent clawed at Ryan's wrist with all his might.
It was useless.
His strength was at the level of an ordinary person.
In the face of eighty tons of arm strength, it was no different from an ant pushing an elephant.
"Ladies." Ryan turned to look at the women huddled at the changing room door. "Are you alright?"
Several women stared at him blankly.
The one in the bathrobe wiped the tears from her face, her voice still trembling.
"Who... who are you?"
"The janitor." Ryan carried Translucent toward the other end of the corridor. "Today's trash is a bit large, I have to take it outside to throw it away."
Translucent was carried away, his feet kicking wildly in the air, his face turning purple.
"You don't know what you're doing! Vought will—"
"Vought will what?"
"Vought will make you disappear! Homelander will tear you to pieces!"
Ryan stopped, tilted his head, and looked at Translucent's bruised face.
"You're quite the intimidator. Too bad—"
"I don't buy it."
"Come on, let me test just how hard this Carbon Metamaterial of yours really is."
Chapter 22: One Slap to Shatter Your Internal Organs
"Come on, let me test just how hard this Carbon Metamaterial of yours is."
The moment the words fell, Translucent's pupils constricted to the smallest point.
He was held by his neck by Ryan with one hand, his feet dangling in mid-air. Five finger indentations remained on his Carbon Metamaterial skin—it wouldn't break, but that force drilled through the skin and into his bones.
"You wouldn't dare." Translucent squeezed out a sentence, his throat constricted, his voice sounding like a leaking tire. "You hitting a member of The Seven... is equivalent to declaring war on Vought..."
"Consider it declared."
"You're crazy!"
"Maybe."
Ryan released Translucent from his neck.
After landing, Translucent stumbled two steps, one hand supporting himself against the wall, coughing violently.
The lights in the corridor stretched the shadows of the two men long.
The security personnel had long since run away. The dressing room door had also closed again.
Only the two of them remained in the corridor.
"I'll give you one last chance." Ryan raised his right hand, his five fingers spread open.
An open-handed slap.
"Kneel down and apologize to the women in the dressing room just now."
Translucent stared at that palm for two seconds.
Then he laughed.
He laughed horribly; his throat hadn't recovered, and his laughter sounded like a broken bellows.
"You want me to kneel?" Translucent straightened his waist and patted his own chest; his Carbon Metamaterial skin emitted a dull "thud-thud" sound.
"Did you hear that? This is Carbon Metamaterial."
"Bullets can't pierce it, blades can't cut it, even bombs are useless against me."
"A slap from you? What do you think a slap from you can do to me?"
"Bring your face over here."
He leaned his face in.
Tilting his head, he aimed his right cheek toward Ryan.
"Come on! Hit me! Let's see who's harder!"
Ryan looked at that tilted face.
The texture of the Carbon Metamaterial skin was very clear under the light; it was indeed very dense, completely different from ordinary human skin.
"You asked for this."
"Suit yourself."
Ryan made his move.
He raised his right arm, neither fast nor slow, his palm open, aiming at Translucent's right cheek.
This slap had no flashy wind-up.
No roaring to build up power, no running start, not even a large physical movement.
Just a slap.
A very simple slap.
Eighty tons.
All his base strength compressed into one palm, combined with the shockwave conduction of the Bio-field.
The moment the palm touched the surface of the Carbon Metamaterial skin.
Time seemed to be stretched out.
Then—
The air exploded.
The shockwave generated by the contact of the palm blew all the decorative paintings on the walls on both sides of the corridor, the frames shattering into wood fragments that fell to the ground.
The three wall lamps on the ceiling burst, and glass fragments rained down with a clatter.
A ripple rose from the red carpet on the corridor floor at the point of contact, spreading out more than ten meters before stopping.
Translucent's face.
The Carbon Metamaterial skin did not break.
The surface was completely intact, without even a single crack.
But his whole person—
Starting from the point of contact, his body flew to the right at a speed that violated common physical sense.
He crashed through the plaster wall on the right side of the corridor.
He went through a table in the next room—the table broke in two, its legs flying to the ceiling and bouncing back down.
Continuing to pass through, he crashed through the second wall.
The sound of crumbling bricks was as muffled as a string of firecrackers.
The third wall.
Translucent's body finally got stuck inside the third wall, half his body embedded in the brickwork, his head and one arm exposed outside.
He opened his mouth.
Something was flowing down from the corner of his mouth.
Red.
The Carbon Metamaterial skin did not break.
But the things inside were shattered.
The shockwave of the Bio-field penetrated the Carbon Metamaterial skin, conducting the force to the muscle tissue and internal organs beneath the skin.
The bones were intact—the part of the Carbon Metamaterial connected to the skeleton acted as a buffer.
But the internal organs did not have the protection of the Carbon Metamaterial.
The liver, spleen, and part of the stomach all suffered devastating shocks from the impact of that slap.
Internal bleeding.
Massive internal bleeding.
"Cough... cough-cough..." Translucent slid out of the wall, slumped on the ground, and spat out a large mouthful of dark red blood.
His eyeballs rolled twice, his focus blurred for a few seconds, then barely gathered back.
"You... you hit me?"
"I did." Ryan shook his wrist. "It felt pretty good; this Carbon Metamaterial skin of yours felt crispy when I slapped it, just like a ceramic tile."
"You hit a member of The Seven..." Translucent lay on the ground, his arms pushing against the floor, but he couldn't get up; his arms softened and he collapsed again.
"Forget about The Seven; with combat power like yours, do you deserve to be called a superhero?"
"You wouldn't even make it into a 'Top Ten' list."
Translucent coughed up another mouthful of blood.
The Carbon Metamaterial skin was covered in his own blood, appearing particularly glaring under the light.
"You... you will regret this..."
"I've regretted many things, but hitting you isn't one of them."
Ryan crouched down and grabbed Translucent's ankle with one hand.
"Let's go; it's time to meet the audience."
"What are you going to do?"
"Aren't you a big star of The Seven? Stars need exposure."
"Today, I'll help you get a boost."
Ryan picked up Translucent's ankle and dragged him toward the other end of the corridor like a sack.
Translucent's back rubbed against the broken carpet, leaving a dark red blood trail.
He tried to struggle, but the injury to his internal organs left him without any strength, and he could only be dragged passively.
"Let me go... let go..."
"Don't rush, we're almost there."
"Where are you taking me?"
"The entrance."
"What?"
"The entrance of the Zenith Club."
Translucent's complexion was paler than his Carbon Metamaterial skin.
"You can't do this... I'm not wearing any clothes!"
"You weren't wearing any when you were peeping at women changing clothes, either."
"That's different!"
"How is it different?"
"Outside... there are people outside..."
"Right." Ryan dragged him down the stairs; Translucent's back bumped against every step.
"There are a lot of people outside."
"And a kid, holding a phone, live-streaming."
Translucent's struggle stopped.
He heard the noise coming from the lobby downstairs. The guests of the club had already been alarmed by the commotion upstairs; some were running toward the door, others were taking out their phones.
"No... don't..."
"You should have thought that this day would come sooner." Ryan dragged him from the stairs to the ground floor lobby and threw him onto the marble tiles with a slap sound.
Translucent's body slid three or four meters across the smooth floor, flipped half a turn, and landed face up.
The Carbon Metamaterial skin was covered in bloodstains.
His eyes were unfocused.
His mouth opened and closed, like a fish lacking oxygen.
The people in the lobby were all stunned.
Someone recognized him.
"That... is that Translucent?"
"Translucent from The Seven?!"
"My god! Why is he naked?! He's covered in blood!"
Ryan grabbed one of Translucent's legs and continued dragging him toward the main entrance.
"Don't film... don't film me..." Translucent, with blood foam in his mouth, managed to spit out a few words.
"What were you doing before?"
The glass main door of the club was kicked open by Ryan.
On the street outside the door, Blackie had been waiting for a long time with his phone held up.
"Big Brother Walker! You're out! Inside—"
He saw the thing Ryan was dragging behind him.
A man who was completely naked, covered in blood, with Carbon Metamaterial skin glowing with an eerie sheen under the streetlights.
Blackie's mouth opened into a perfect O shape.
"Holy... shit..."
"Keep the camera steady." Ryan said.
"Is that Translucent? Is that really Translucent from The Seven?"
"The real deal."
Ryan dragged Translucent to the steps at the entrance of the club and let go.
Translucent slumped on the cold stone steps, shivering all over, his eyeballs rolling upward.
Passersby on the street started to gather around.
The light from the phone screens was as bright as a swarm of fireflies.
"Your member of The Seven, Translucent." Ryan gave a thumbs up to Blackie's camera, then flipped it down, with his thumb pointing to the ground.
"Peeping into the women's dressing room, I caught him on the spot. After I caught him, he was still talking tough, asking me to hit him in the face."
"So I did."
"Just one slap."
"Let's go, it's time to go out and let the whole world see your true face."