Chapter 54: I Am The Professional One
"The reason we take jobs at the Company," he said, striving to maintain a perfect smile, "is mainly because we hope to set a more correct example for the masses through our heroic deeds."
He paused, his voice growing gentler, "Everything is for the betterment of America."
"Oh, so that's how it is," Mark nodded in sudden realization. "That's wonderful. I'm sure heroes like you would never engage in illegal activities, public lewdness, drug use, or prostitution, right?"
Homelander's smile froze.
Did you just list everything we actually do?
For the first time, Homelander felt his facial muscles become so stiff.
"Ah... yes, yes, of course we wouldn't do those things," he said, every word squeezed out through his teeth.
Homelander realized for the first time that three correct words strung together could convey the wrong meaning.
What on earth did my language teacher teach me back then?
I'm going to blast him with my laser eyes!
"Haha, that's great then," Mark laughed heartily and extended his hand again. "I believe the people of this country wouldn't want to see scandals involving the heroes they once admired."
Homelander looked at the outstretched hand, his palm still faintly throbbing.
But he still reached out and shook it.
"Ah... yes, yes." Their hands clasped, one with a brilliant smile, the other with a stiff one.
"Oh, look at my memory," Homelander quickly changed the subject. "I almost forgot the main point."
He took a deep breath and suppressed all those negative emotions.
"To thank you for saving an entire airplane full of passengers, we at Vought Corporation would like to invite you for a tour." His smile returned to perfection.
"Of course, we will also prepare a banquet for you."
He finally managed to say what Edgar had instructed him to.
"Ah, I see." Mark readily agreed. "Then I will definitely come."
Of course he would go.
He was planning to visit Vought tonight anyway.
After all, tonight was the critical moment for workplace bullying at Vought Corporation!
How could Mark miss such explosive footage?
Crowd-watching is in the nature of our people!
Furthermore, that cute girl Starlight is being bullied by that idiot Deep!
He clearly doesn't respect me, the Viltrum Emperor!
Doesn't he know that I am the professional one?
Who dares to bully in front of me!
I am the one who enforces hegemony!
You are practically showing off your broadsword in front of Guan Gong [a historical general renowned for his martial prowess]!
Watch me use a Viltrumite Hand Chop to castrate you!
Is this the legendary 'Adult Workplace'?
The Adult Workplace involves illicit relationships, office romances, gray income, and workplace bullying.
What about the 'Child Workplace'?
The Child Workplace is just like students nowadays.
What students do every day is curse the school, curse the leaders, and curse their classmates.
The Child Workplace is the same: cursing leaders and colleagues, plus discussing what to eat tonight.
To summarize: The Adult Workplace is full of scheming every day; the Child Workplace is full of stir-fried green beans every day.
"Can you take me on the Vought tour tonight?" Mark turned his head and asked Queen Maeve beside him softly.
His gaze was clear and direct, like a child asking an adult if they could go to an amusement park.
Maeve was momentarily stunned, then she smiled.
"Of course," she said, a hint of teasing in her tone. "You can ask me about anything you don't understand."
Mark's eyes narrowed slightly, a meaningful curve on his lips.
"Anything at all?"
"Heh heh," Maeve stepped closer and lowered her voice. "That depends on how brave you are."
Mark laughed loudly, grabbed Maeve's hand, and turned to walk out of the crowd.
Their steps were light and firm, like two lovers about to elope.
Homelander was left standing alone.
The wind blew past him, picking up a few fallen leaves that spun in the air before settling back on the ground.
At that moment, a Chinese song faintly began to play, as if from some distant land:
"I shouldn't be in the car, I should be under the car~"
Homelander's face turned completely dark.
"Hmph!" He flung his cape, lifted off the ground, and instantly vanished into the sky.
He didn't want to stay in this place for another second!
It is common knowledge.
Changing clothes quickly is a mandatory skill for a superhero.
In ancient times, there was Superman changing in a phone booth; today, there is Mark changing in a public restroom.
With the boost of super speed and flight, Mark didn't have to worry about his trouser cuffs touching the filth on the ground.
In just a moment, he had changed into that British-style trench coat.
The black trench coat swayed gently in the night wind, the white shirt underneath was immaculate, and the crisp suit pants outlined his long leg lines.
He stood in front of the restroom mirror, looking at his reflection, and nodded with satisfaction.
"I look more like The Boys now," he murmured.
Meanwhile, Queen Maeve had also finished changing.
The outfits of these Superheroes—especially the female ones—were always somewhat sexy and revealing.
Walking down the street wearing that kind of clothing was worse than streaking.
It was cooler than streaking but not as satisfying as streaking.
Maeve was now wearing a long dress made of fabric that looked very soft.
The dress was light purple, and the cinched waist design highlighted her toned figure. The skirt draped naturally, swaying gently with her steps.
Her figure was well accentuated, looking quite pleasing to the touch.
She walked out of the restroom and saw Mark standing under the streetlight.
The man was leaning against the lamppost, his black trench coat reflecting a soft sheen under the dim yellow light.
He was slightly bowing his head, tidying his cuff, his movements composed and elegant.
Chapter 55: Get in, Madam
Maeve suddenly felt a little dazed.
"Actually, I don't like those superhero costumes."
She blurted out the words without thinking.
Mark looked up at her.
His action of tidying his cuffs didn't stop, but his gaze had fallen on her, from top to bottom, then bottom to top, finally resting on her face.
"Outfits that cater to the public eye," he responded with a chuckle, "who would like them?"
The warmth and elegance he displayed at this moment made Maeve feel that the person in front of her truly didn't resemble a hero.
Instead, he was somewhat like an English Noble.
That ingrained composure, that unintentional display of nobility, couldn't be faked with a few pretty clothes.
"Come, my Queen."
Mark smiled and extended his hand to Maeve.
That hand was long and strong, glowing softly under the streetlight.
"Haha," Maeve laughed as she walked towards him, "where are you taking me?"
Mark was standing on the steps at this moment. Hearing her, he leaned slightly and made an inviting gesture.
"A true gentleman shouldn't disappoint a lady," he said, "so this surprise must be revealed early."
He straightened up and clapped his hands.
In the night, a carriage slowly drove over.
The soft light of the streetlights shone, and the night was beautiful.
The intrusion of a carriage made Maeve feel as if she had instantly traveled through time to the Victorian Era.
That was the most elegant era in the history of Western civilization.
Ladies wore corseted, wide-skirted dresses, lace, hats, gloves, and walked with an inherent graceful curve.
Gentlemen wore sharp suits, high hats, carried canes, their tailcoats gently swaying behind them, exuding full gentlemanly charm.
Restrained, refined, and respectable, it was one of the most mature and elegant periods of European aesthetics.
"Oh my goodness," Maeve exclaimed, "where did you find a carriage?"
She truly felt as if she had returned to her purest maidenhood at this moment.
Back then, there was no Vought Corporation, no The Seven, no dirty dealings or fake performances.
Back then, she would still be surprised by a carriage.
Mark turned elegantly, his British-style trench coat swaying gently in the night breeze, making him look like a true English gentleman.
"Central Park has carriage rental activities."
He said.
He walked towards the carriage, took the reins, then turned around, bowed and extended his hand to Maeve, making a perfect inviting gesture:
"May I invite you to get in, beautiful lady?"
"Of course, elegant sir."
Maeve gladly accepted.
Mark smiled.
"Can't you call me 'handsome sir'?"
Maeve lifted her skirt, stepped onto the carriage, and looked at Mark with indulgence:
"Something so well-known doesn't need to be said."
"Haha, I like that!"
Mark laughed happily and immediately flicked the reins.
The horses began to trot.
The night wind blew, and amidst the crowds and traffic, a carriage abruptly appeared.
Suddenly, the wind picked up.
It was a strong wind, forcing everyone to squint their eyes to see.
And in that howling wind, a carriage cut through the crowd, crossed the traffic, as if it were about to fly, crashing through everything!
At the end of the road, countless streetlights lit up.
The carriage was moving so fast that the streetlights couldn't quite keep up with it.
It was as if the streetlights were welcoming it, or perhaps chasing it.
If you could withstand the strong wind and look closely at that carriage.
You would see the proud gentleman riding the horse on the carriage, and the lady with a peach-blossom complexion in the coach!
The carriage was jubilant.
It seemed not to be rushing to a date, but to a battlefield!
It broke through the strong wind, and the gentleman on the horse became even prouder, head held high and chest out.
He didn't look like he was riding a horse, but rather driving a Ferrari to battle.
Every man has a dream date.
It could be dinner by candlelight, gazing at the face of their beloved through the flickering light.
It could be a slow walk by the lake with their loved one, sighing that it would be wonderful if it could last forever.
Everyone's imagined dates are diverse, and this is closely related to each person's character.
So what kind of date would an aggressive person fantasize about?
Perhaps Mark could provide the answer.
He likes to drive a vehicle, carrying the person he loves, breaking through storms, and rushing towards that so-called happiness!
Just like a knight riding his warhorse, crossing thousands of mountains and rivers, rushing to the battlefield!
They passed through the 843-acre urban oasis in the heart of Manhattan.
Passing Bethesda Fountain, Bow Bridge, Strawberry Fields, and the Dakota Building.
In winter, carriages would have warm canopies, which would obstruct the open view.
But on this summer night, everything felt exceptionally pleasant.
This journey would normally take fifty minutes by carriage.
But under the pack of Mark's Smart Atoms, the entire carriage's quality surpassed this era!
It was so fast, and this horse seemed to feel no fatigue!
The carriage did not stop.
It kept rushing forward, past the City Hall entrance, towards the Brooklyn Bridge.
Looking at the sunset from the Brooklyn side, golden sunlight would spill over the Gothic bridge towers and the Manhattan skyline.
That sunlight flew over the water, flew onto the bridge, and flew towards the galloping carriage.
Chapter 56: Wild and Unrestrained
Mei Fu saw it.
She saw the face of the youth wantonly acting under the sunlight.
And at this moment, inside her dress, Madelyn's calls from the Vought Corporation, even Edgar's calls, were ringing frantically.
Mei Fu knew what they wanted to say.
Build a good relationship with Mark, pull him into The Seven, and let this unrestrained youth also become one of their commodities.
Should I do this?
As soon as this question was asked, the answer came.
Mei Fu smiled and crushed the walkie-talkie in her hand.
She raised her hand high, letting the fragments in her hand disappear with the wind into the sea of traffic behind her.
On the Brooklyn Bridge, within the golden skyline.
Those black fragments seemed to be the gloom of her past life.
From then on, in the process of rushing towards happiness with this youth, they vanished without a trace!
"Faster, Mark, faster!"
Mei Fu stood up.
She leaned against Mark's back, enjoying the softness of the summer evening breeze brushing across her cheek.
Her long dress fluttered in the wind, and her hair was messy from the breeze.
But on her face bloomed a truly free smile she hadn't seen in many years.
Vought Corporation Headquarters, Top Floor Banquet Hall.
"Is Invincible coming here tonight?"
Starlight, who had just joined The Seven, asked timidly beside her to the Deep Sea.
She was wearing an ill-fitting evening gown temporarily prepared by the company and felt completely uncomfortable.
"I don't know either."
Deep Sea was still wearing his superhero uniform, but the rows of candlelight dinners beside him made him uneasy. "I heard Homelander say he would come.
The entire company didn't even allow us to have a party; instead, they arranged this banquet setting."
When had these unrestrained Superheroes ever witnessed such an elegant scene?
There was no scent of aphrodisiac in the air; instead, it exuded a fresh fragrance of roses and pine wood.
Rows of candlelight were lit, the flames gently swaying on the silver candelabras.
Even many executives were wearing elegant formal wear; the men were impeccably dressed in suits, and the women were adorned with jewels.
After discussing for an hour, the group of executives finally reached a conclusion:
This Invincible was simply like Sun Wukong from five hundred years ago, as if he had popped out of a stone crack.
No origin, no past, as if he had suddenly arrived in this world.
At this moment, they deeply realized that perhaps there really were aliens, the kind spoken of in legends, in this world!
This made them stand on high alert, even changing their usual demeanor to present the banquet that best represented their civilization.
Even capitalists, when facing negotiations with another civilization, the first thing they thought of was not trade, but—
Can I show off our elegance!
"This attire is truly unfamiliar to me."
Edgar, holding his female companion, smiled as he looked around.
This was his finest set of clothes.
It had just been custom-tailored, sprayed with the best perfume, and perfectly suited his physique at this moment.
Now, he exuded both elegance and authority, his hair meticulously combed.
He believed he could overshadow all the guests, including that Mark Grayson!
The only thing that displeased him was that Queen Mei Fu still hadn't replied to his messages.
He was hoping to get firsthand information about Mark from her.
And at this moment, Homelander was standing next to Madelyn.
He was wearing Homelander's exclusive costume, the emblem on his chest shining brightly, as if he truly symbolized a nation.
But he showed no composure whatsoever at this moment.
He stared at the main entrance, gnashing his teeth.
He would definitely make Mark look bad at the banquet later.
That country bumpkin had absolutely never witnessed such a high-class banquet.
Countless heroes had changed into formal wear and were conversing with each other.
They had actually managed to replicate a degree of Victorian elegance.
Although their debauched souls could not display even a hint of grace.
Starlight looked at the scene, marveling at how high-class these heroes' leisure time was.
She clearly remembered that the heroes' conduct used to be a little bit messy.
"Is it because of Invincible?"
Starlight looked toward the entrance.
All the guests had arrived.
The conversations grew louder; some people were starting to get impatient.
Where was Invincible?
And where was Queen Mei Fu?
He said he would attend today's banquet, so how would he make his entrance?
Would he descend from the sky in that clown costume like Homelander, showcasing his power?
Or how?
"Perhaps I should send someone to fetch him."
Edgar frowned and walked toward the entrance, intending to ask the doorman if he had stopped any country bumpkins from entering?
Homelander followed behind him, eager to see Mark make a fool of himself.
Just at this moment—
They seemed to hear something.
Homelander's eyes narrowed.
He heard the sound of the wind.
That sound entered his inner ear like a roaring gale!
"What did you hear, Homelander?"
Edgar looked at Homelander, who was stunned and lost in thought, and asked directly.
Homelander froze for a moment, then managed to force out two words:
"Freedom."
"Huh?"
Just as Edgar was about to tell Homelander, 'Did Compound V scramble your brain?'—
The next second!
A gale swept through!
The main doors of the banquet hall were blown wide open!
Then, a deafening sound flooded in!
It was a sound more powerful than an engine's roar.
It was like a heart beating a drum!
Edgar felt his carefully styled hair being messed up, and his neatly arranged suit became somewhat disheveled under the fierce wind.
But he didn't have the mind to care about these things.
Because—
A carriage was flying right before his eyes!
Like an arrow, it pierced through the dull environment, through the heroes' attire, dominating the entire scene in the purest, most direct manner!
Mark smiled, shaking the horse's reins, looking spirited and high-spirited.
And the horse was flying in the air just like that, as if it were laughing.
It had never run so freely!
On the carriage, Mei Fu spread her arms open, allowing her chest to surge freely.
Although her face was flushed pink with excitement, at this moment, she still displayed a dignity and wildness worthy of a queen!
Starlight's eyes widened.
She felt purity.
That was definitely not a superhero.
What was that?
Starlight didn't know.
She could only whisper:
"This is..."
"Invincible!"
—Invincible!!!
Chapter 57: He Wants Him So Badly!
"I kept you waiting? My apologies then."
Mark walked down from the carriage with a smile.
His smile was exceptionally dazzling in the candlelight, as if he were naturally filtered with a soft glow.
The hem of his black trench coat swayed gently in the breeze, and the man exuded an air of languid nobility.
A servant quickly walked over, respectfully took the reins, and led the horse away.
The horse snorted, its four hooves tapping the ground, and it even turned back to look at Mark with a hint of reluctance—it had never run so freely, and tonight's experience would be enough for it to brag about in the herd for a lifetime.
Mark turned around and elegantly extended his hand to Maeve.
Maeve placed her hand in his palm and used the leverage to step down from the carriage.
The moment she landed, she naturally leaned against Mark's shoulder, like a little bird that had finally found its roost.
"!?"
Starlight next to her widened her eyes.
She admitted that Invincible was indeed very handsome.
That kind of appearance was both powerful and refined.
He looked like the type who would praise how cute you are in bed while smiling and making you cry.
When you were about to reach your limit, he would suddenly stop.
When you shyly expressed what you wanted, he would watch you mischievously from the side.
As a woman, even she found it hard to resist this type of man.
But she remembered that Queen Maeve hadn't had any scandals for such a long time.
Had Invincible won her over in such a short time?
Hiss...
Is this guy a succubus!
But thinking about the way Mark stormed into the banquet hall with Maeve, Starlight felt like her own underwear was looking down at her disappointedly from the sky.
No woman could refuse a date like that.
It was too domineering, too romantic!
"Hello, Invincible, or should I say, Mark Grayson."
A steady voice rang out.
Edgar walked towards Mark; his female companion next to him had just finished slightly tidying his hair and suit.
After all, as the CEO of Vought Corporation, he had to maintain a perfect image in any setting.
"I am Stan Edgar, the CEO of Vought Group. It's a pleasure to meet a handsome hero like you."
Edgar extended his hand, looking at Mark with burning eyes.
He was extremely excited at this moment!
He was certain that if he could recruit Mark Grayson into Vought Group, this guy would absolutely be a massive hit!
He was practically walking testosterone—Edgar could feel it!
It was commonly known that rich people were highly unlikely to only like women.
Edgar was exactly like that.
He enjoyed the feeling of conquering women, and sometimes he also enjoyed conquering men, or being conquered by men.
Upon seeing Mark, he urgently desired to conquer Mark, or be conquered by Mark.
Whether physically or mentally.
Sensing the other party's fervent gaze, Mark felt like the smart atoms inside him were about to stop spinning.
Such a hot gaze.
Even if he wasn't gay, Mark could sense that feeling.
It felt like a man with a square face, a full beard, and white socks standing on a street in Chengdu.
The surrounding gazes were as scorching as fire.
Sitting by a campfire, you could always feel that scorching heat.
"I'll get straight to the point," Edgar said, gripping his hand and showing no intention of letting go.
"I want to invite you to Vought Corporation. You can name your salary; I can even give you ten million a year!"
He said it directly.
He wanted Mark.
He wanted him so badly!
"I don't fight as a hero for money," Mark refused directly, pulling his hand back at the same time.
A joke, I am the Emperor, why would I care about your little money?
Did you think I wanted your money?
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
What I want is you...
The entire company!
Seeing Mark reject him so bluntly, a trace of disappointment flashed in Edgar's eyes.
But he quickly recovered.
As a qualified businessman, he had plenty of ways to make his merchandise obedient.
"It's a pity we can't cooperate right now," he said, his tone carrying a deep meaning.
"But I believe you will definitely be moved by my sincerity."
As he spoke, he signaled a nearby attendant to bring over a badge.
It was a golden badge, bearing the symbol of The Seven.
"I can make you the leader of The Seven."
!!!
Homelander next to him immediately activated his Hakimi Dragon form.
What are you trying to do?
Are you trying to cuck me right in front of me?!
If he becomes the captain of The Seven, then what do I become?
His slave?
Homelander knew very well how he usually treated the team members—ordering them around, being bossy, and casually swatting them away when he was in a bad mood.
Although that was based on absolute strength.
But now...
His strength might not be absolute against Mark.
"Oh?"
Mark hadn't expected such a surprise.
He could certainly just grab Edgar's neck with one hand and force the man to become his black slave.
But looking at Homelander's eyes, which seemed ready to shoot heat rays, Mark felt a surge of impulse.
Cucking others really felt amazing, okay!
What I love will only be the lives of others!
Mark laughed heartily and directly shook Edgar's hand.
"Oh, sir, your sincerity has moved me."
"Then your salary will be ten million a year."
Edgar vigorously shook Mark's hand, his smile as bright as a fox that had stolen a chicken.
"Hahahaha..."
"Hahahaha..."
Mark and Edgar both let out the laugh of the old money elite.
That restrained, composed laughter, suggesting everything was under control.
Maeve's eyes lit up.
She had already decided that Mark was her husband.
What could be more satisfying than her husband becoming her direct superior?
Moreover, she was certain that Mark definitely wouldn't fear Homelander.
He might even be able to treat Homelander like a ball in terms of physical fitness.
Don't ask her how she knew.
She had been holding onto Mark's sexy waist in the carriage the whole time.
That feel, that hardness, those muscle lines full of power yet not abrasive...
Maeve now had the smile of a satisfied married woman.
She could enjoy being a couple and playing office politics at the same time!
Starlight next to her blinked blankly.
I just started my first day, and I'm already getting a new boss?
She looked at Homelander, who had gone completely silent next to her with a very ugly expression, and then looked at Mark.
The young man who was currently shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with Edgar, smiling brilliantly.
Considering how Deep Six from The Seven had been inappropriately touching her from the start of the banquet until now...
Inexplicably, Starlight replaced the object of the inappropriate touching in her mind with Mark.
Her face flushed red.
This kind of workplace bullying...
Seemed not entirely unacceptable.
Daddy, come here~~
...These were all written yesterday.
The damned censor has taken away my love!
Heaven knows how much I wanted the readers to see this content I painstakingly polished yesterday! (⸅ ⸟ ⸄ )
Chapter 58: Only Today Do I Know Who I Am
Deep Sea felt as if he had plunged into an ice cave.
What did that mean? Was my captain being replaced?
Did all the efforts I made to curry favor with Homelanderjust go to waste?
He couldn't help but look at his former teammates.
Black Noir—this guy had never shown any excessive characteristics from beginning to end.
Forever silent, forever standing in the shadows, forever making people guess what he was thinking.
A-Train—he had disappeared entirely.
That man who once sped like lightning on the racetrack was nowhere to be seen now.
Out of just two male teammates, both turned out to be useless.
As for Homelander? Deep Sea knew very well that he couldn't command Homelander.
Even if Homelander was currently in a state of 'a tiger fallen into the plains being bullied by dogs,' he, the 'dog,' still couldn't give orders.
Deep Sea's expression became dark and unreadable.
He had to win over a few more people.
He just needed to win over one more.
He looked at Starlight—the girl who had just joined, still carrying a hint of innocence and youth.
She was wearing an ill-fitting evening gown, standing at the edge of the crowd like a small deer that had wandered into a wolf pack.
Deep Sea made up his mind.
Tonight, he absolutely had to take care of Starlight.
That way, he would have four people on his side—himself, Starlight, plus those two guys who were useless but at least could make up the numbers.
Four people could psychologically pressure Mark.
He believed this guy before him—this gentle, gentlemanly fellow—would definitely be morally blackmailed!
He, Deep Sea, could certainly become the true, substantive leader of The Seven!
He was betting that Mark was kind!
Meanwhile, Mark walked through a sea of flowers, his arm linked with Maève's.
His steps were neither fast nor slow, his demeanor as composed as if he were strolling in his own backyard.
His black trench coat swayed gently with his movements, and the candlelight outlined a soft halo around him.
Yet, he was just walking like that!
Deep Sea still felt pressure.
Because Mark was walking toward him!
That feeling was so obvious, yet so profound!
Deep Sea could feel the two gills beneath his ribs flapping frantically.
Trying to pump more oxygen into his body so his heart wouldn't stop beating due to the pressure Mark exerted!
He had encountered a mutated Great White Shark in the ocean before.
When that top predator swam toward him, every cell in his body screamed—Run! Run!
But the feeling now was a hundred times more terrifying than encountering a mutated Great White Shark!
Because you could still escape a Great White Shark.
But this person before him—you couldn't escape.
Deep Sea almost held his breath at this moment.
Because Mark was only three steps away from him!
One step closer...
One step closer!
Mark was already standing in front of him!
Every cell in Deep Sea's body was screaming wildly—Run! Run! Use every means you possibly can!
He instinctively wanted to use his powers, wanted to summon seawater, wanted to cause chaos, wanted to—
But he couldn't move.
He could only stand there, stiff as a frog stared at by a snake, letting fear spread from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.
He started breathing desperately through his nose, like a stranded fish fighting to draw air into its lungs.
But all he could feel was his body trembling continuously.
He looked up at Mark.
That face was right before his eyes.
Handsome, young, with the faintest hint of a smile.
But those eyes—
Those eyes were black, an unfathomable black.
Like the abyss, like a black hole, like a void that could suck everything in.
"Why so nervous?"
A steady voice rang out, as if descending from the heavens.
Although the tone was as soothing as a stream, to Deep Sea's ears, it was more clamorous than any wave in the sea!
I'm going to die!
I'm going to die!!
I'm going to die!!!
In that instant, Deep Sea seemed to comprehend the universe.
He understood.
If he dared to say the wrong thing next, he would die on the spot!
The person before him, although appearing calm with no visible signs of muscle tension.
But for some unknown reason, he had the feeling that if he made the slightest move, he would immediately die!
It was just like Sun Quan meeting Guan Yu at the Hongmen Banquet.
Everything was understood without words!
That feeling was so real, so intense, so undeniable!
This was the instinctive intuition of a predator toward a predator.
This was the most primal fear of the weak toward the strong.
Is this my end?
At that moment, Deep Sea's eyes turned cold.
In a flash, he made a decision born entirely from instinct—
Thud!
His knees slammed hard onto the ground.
The sound was so loud it startled everyone nearby.
"Member of The Seven, Guardian of the New York Bay, Commander of Seawater, Communicator with Marine Life, Deep Sea, real name Kevin Kohler! I pay my respects to you!!!"
This declaration echoed throughout the venue, resounding and powerful!
Deep Sea stared fixedly at the pair of leather boots belonging to Mark in front of him.
He was panting heavily.
His eyes were bloodshot from congestion and fear, but he knew clearly—life and death hung by a thread!
The entire venue fell silent.
Everyone stared blankly at this scene.
The usually arrogant and overbearing Deep Sea was now kneeling on the ground like a dog, paying homage to a newcomer.
Homelander's face turned ashen.
Black Noir's figure paused slightly.
Starlight's eyes widened roundly.
Finally, a voice descended from the sky like a judgment:
"Quite polite."
The voice carried a hint of a smile, a hint of amusement, and a hint of... satisfaction.
"A truly good teammate."
With that, Mark walked past him without even sparing him a second glance.
Deep Sea almost collapsed onto the ground instantly.
He was alive.
Hahaha, he was alive!!
His back was drenched in cold sweat, and his legs were weak like two strands of noodles.
But in his heart, an indescribable ecstasy surged.
The feeling of being alive was wonderful.
He remained kneeling on the ground, gasping for air, watching Mark's retreating back, his gaze gradually becoming fanatical.
The current Deep Sea believed his instincts implicitly.
He knew the person he would follow for the rest of his life had appeared!
A new storm had arrived; how could he stop moving forward!
He wanted to follow him.
He wanted to become the sharp blade in that person's hand.
The person before him was definitely more worthy of following than Homelander!
In that moment between life and death, Deep Sea seemed to have achieved enlightenment.
Lust, let go.
Gluttony, let go.
All desires, completely let go.
He understood.
If he wanted to live, he just needed to listen to the words of the person before him!
The tide signals the New York shore; only today do I know who I am.
Deep Sea seeks no lord; willing to serve the master as Emperor!
Chapter 59: May The Seven Be Great Again
Black Noir on the side moved slightly.
He watched everything in silence.
Under the mask that never showed any expression, no one knew what he was thinking.
He wanted to move.
He wanted to go to Mark and pledge his loyalty.
But Mark had already left.
Just as Black Noir started to move to chase after Mark—
Mark turned around.
With a single eye, he looked toward Black Noir!
!!!
In that instant, Black Noir felt as if he had fallen into an ice cellar!
It was like crossing the Chu-Han boundary, with the King of Guanzhong deep inside Xiang Wang's tent!
At that moment, when Xiang Wang's double pupils swept over—where was the King of Guanzhong?
Liu Ji of Pei County was already kneeling in submission!
What kind of look was that?
Ice-cold.
Dead silent.
Full of killing intent.
As if a supreme Emperor was pronouncing a death sentence upon you!
From that moment on, the entire world turned its weapons against you!
Black Noir fell silent.
He quietly retreated to his original spot.
He stood next to The Deep, looking at his teammate who was still kneeling on the ground, trembling all over, and profoundly realized his current predicament.
"Can I still live?" he asked in a low voice.
The sound was hoarse and dry, as if squeezed out from the depths of his throat.
"I don't know..." The Deep replied softly, his voice still carrying the tremor of having narrowly escaped death.
The two of them were clearly standing among the crowd, yet they were utterly isolated and helpless.
It was as if the entire world had moved far away from them, leaving only each other to depend on each other in this cold abyss.
"Hahaha—"
A burst of hearty laughter rang out.
Mark raised a glass of champagne, standing in the center of the crowd.
His smile was brilliant and unrestrained, as if nothing had happened just now.
"I have taken on the responsibility of The Seven, and I will definitely lead everyone toward glory, making us bigger and stronger!"
He saluted all the members around him.
Finally, his gaze landed on Homelander's side.
Holding his champagne, he lightly tapped the wine glass in Homelander's hand.
"Clink—"
A crisp sound echoed.
The clear wine rippled in the glass, reflecting the candlelight and shimmering with golden ripples.
Mark looked at Homelander, his smile deepening.
"May The Seven be great again."
Homelander pursed his lips at that moment.
He didn't want to say it.
He absolutely did not want to respond to Mark's words!
If he responded to Mark's words, wouldn't that be admitting to everyone—that The Seven under his leadership wasn't good?
Or rather, he would be admitting that The Seven under his leadership wouldn't be as good as the one led by Mark!
He didn't want to admit it.
Homelander was unwilling to abandon his pride!
But Mark was looking at him now.
Everyone around was looking at him.
Those were countless gazes—the kind of gazes Homelander usually loved the most!
But at this moment, those gazes were like a thousand cuts, slicing across his body!
The silence grew longer and longer.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
That cold gaze, that heavy breathing, weighed upon Homelander's spine like a mountain.
His back began to sweat, his hands started to tremble, and his breathing grew rapid.
He looked into Mark's eyes.
In those black eyes, there was no urging, no threat, not even emotion.
He was just calmly watching him.
As if watching prey struggling in a trap.
Finally—
"May... The Seven be great again..."
As if using up his last bit of strength, Homelander uttered the sentence with difficulty.
His wine glass lightly tapped Mark's glass.
But Mark's glass remained perfectly still.
Mark laughed.
He laughed heartily, he laughed mockingly, he laughed... somewhat lonely.
"You did well..."
He said softly.
Then, he turned and left.
Leaving only Homelander standing there.
Despite possessing the most powerful strength in this world—Homelander at this moment wanted to rush into his room, strip off his clothes, and sob into his hands like a baby.
He had lost to Mark.
At least this time, completely and utterly.
Finally, the protagonist of the banquet returned to the center of the celebration.
Mark linked arms with Maeve, raising his wine glass high amidst the gaze of the multitude.
The wine glass shimmered with a golden light in the candlelight, as if carrying the hope of the entire world.
"May Vought Corporation—be great again!"
His voice was clear and powerful, echoing throughout the entire banquet hall.
Everyone froze for a second.
Then—
"May Vought Corporation be great again!"
Everyone raised their wine glasses, saluting Mark.
The sound surged like a tide.
Converging into a massive wave of sound, it rushed out of the banquet hall, out of the Vought Tower, and toward the sleepless city.
The clinking of glasses rose and fell, crisp and pleasing to the ear.
Golden wine rippled in the glasses, reflecting every face—be it fanatical, awestruck, or fearful.
Mark stood in the center of the crowd, linked with Maeve, his smile brilliant.
"It truly is an unbelievable day."
In the night, Starlight returned to her apartment.
She shed her superhero attire, taking off the glowing battle suit and those complicated accessories.
At this moment, she was only wearing a simple white T-shirt and loose pajama pants.
Her damp hair hung over her shoulders, making her look like an ordinary girl next door.
The kind who just stepped out of the bathroom, ready to curl up on the sofa and scroll through her phone.
She looked exactly like someone who would devour spicy ramen!
The apartment wasn't large, but it was kept very clean.
A training schedule was posted on the wall, a few dumbbells sat in the corner, and the pull-up bar by the window gleamed under the moonlight.
Thinking of Mark's demeanor today, Starlight felt a hot current boiling inside her.
Her underwear looked at her from across the room with disappointment.
"Sigh, I washed my hair for nothing again today."
Starlight walked over and grabbed the pull-up bar.
Chapter 60: Organized and Disciplined
One, two, three...
She began doing pull-ups.
One-armed.
This had already become an indispensable part of her life.
From the first day she entered the Vought training camp, she told herself: to become a true superhero, to help those in suffering.
Not the kind of fake hero who only knows how to pose for photos, not the kind of commercial hero who only knows how to endorse products.
A true hero.
Her arm muscles were smooth and powerful, and every ascent was as steady as a machine.
Sweat slid down her cheeks, dripping onto the floor with a slight pattering sound.
What made Starlight happy was that after the banquet, Deep stayed far away from her.
No, not just stayed away.
The way Deep looked at Mark was just like... just like a dog that had finally found its Master.
That kind of fanaticism, that loyalty, that determination to die for him, made Starlight feel a bit strange.
The guy who had been groping her before was now filled with nothing but another person.
Isn't this a form of cuckoldry?
He looked excited, seemingly with a sense of ambition.
Starlight wasn't sure if the word "ambition" could be used here.
Perhaps "vibrant" would be more appropriate?
How to put it—
New York in its youth?
She released the horizontal bar, landed on the ground, and wiped her sweat with a towel.
"I'm a bit looking forward to tomorrow."
After showering, Starlight threw herself into the soft bed.
She stared at the ceiling and whispered softly.
The moonlight outside the window spilled through the gaps in the curtains, paving a silver river on the floor.
On the other side of the city.
Above the high-rises, the wind howled.
This was one of the tallest buildings in Manhattan, over three hundred meters from the ground.
The wind surged from all directions, carrying the chill of the night and the breath of the city.
Beneath her feet were brightly lit streets, traffic like weaving shuttles, neon lights flickering; the whole city was like a flowing painting.
"Is this where we're dating tonight?"
Maeve snuggled up to Mark, her long dress fluttering gently in the wind, and her long hair blown a bit messy.
But she didn't care; she just clung tightly to this man, feeling the temperature radiating from him.
She didn't understand why Mark had brought her here, but she trusted him unconditionally.
Mark smiled helplessly.
He reached out and gently flicked Maeve's nose.
"How could I bring you to this place for a date?"
"That would be too unromantic."
He said, with a hint of doting in his tone, "Didn't I tell you to go home first?"
Maeve buried her face in his arm, like a lazy cat, unwilling to let go for a moment.
"As long as I'm with you," her voice was muffled, but filled with a smile, "I feel like it's a date no matter where we are."
Mark looked at the woman in his arms.
One meter eighty in height, a robust figure, and striking, heroic features.
Yet right now, she was acting like a little girl.
As a Viltrumite, Mark simply couldn't refuse this!
He couldn't help but laugh.
"You really should have stayed home," he said, casting his gaze into the distant darkness, "After all, the next part won't be fun."
"If it's with you," Maeve raised her head, her eyes shining, "I'll be waiting and watching."
She paused, then added: "Let me see your plan for tonight."
Mark held her, his feet slightly off the ground.
They hovered in the air, the wind whistling past their sides.
"Look down there," Mark pointed below, "There is a group of gangsters."
Maeve looked in the direction his finger pointed.
In a dim alley, three men in black suits were beating up an old man.
The old man's screams drifted up faintly, mixed into the city's hustle and bustle, almost inaudible.
"Are you going to punish those three gangsters?" Maeve frowned.
She already wanted to twist those three people's heads off.
"Of course."
Mark said, "But that's for later."
"Oh? What do you mean?"
Maeve was a bit confused.
Does Mark's righteous action have a delay?
Is delayed justice still justice?
"Look closer."
Mark reminded her, "Those three people are wearing the same attire, which means they have a certain level of organization."
Maeve followed his gaze.
Indeed, all three men were wearing black suits.
In such midsummer, their suits were clearly a lightweight style, adapting to the current weather without losing seriousness.
"I don't really understand."
Maeve admitted honestly.
"No need to force yourself to understand."
Mark said, his voice as calm as if he were giving a lecture:
"When you usually carry out missions, you just need to beat down the criminals and lock them in prison.
That is meaningless."
He paused, continuing to explain: "To be able to have everyone wearing lightweight custom suits in such a hot summer.
That shows their organization has strong discipline and financial power.
This kind of organized and disciplined group.
Beating down these three members is painless for that organization.
They can cultivate more thugs at any time."
Maeve looked at him, feeling a bit surprised.
Is this man really an alien?
How is he so knowledgeable about this world?
"So that's how it is..." she murmured.
"So," Mark smiled, and that smile was exceptionally dazzling in the night, "Let's go carry out justice."
"Let's wipe out the organization behind them as well."
Mark held Maeve and slowly descended into the alley.
The three men were facing away from them, focused on the old man at their feet.
"Heh, even if you scream until your throat breaks, no one will come to save you!"
One man in a black suit kicked the old man hard, "Hurry up and hand over the money you have!"
The next second—
His body twitched and fell to the ground.
Blood gushed from his chest like a suddenly erupting human fountain.
Mark calmly pulled his hand back and flicked it lightly against the nearby wall.
Blood splattered, drawing a scarlet arc in the dim light.
"Are you alright, grandfather?"
He crouched down, looking at the old man curled up on the ground.
His voice was as gentle as a spring breeze in March.
"Don't worry, Invincible is here."
"From now on, I will be responsible for your safety."
The old man's eyes lit up.
It was a light that was hard to describe.
Like a drowning person seeing a lifebuoy, like a lost traveler seeing a lighthouse.
"Really?" The old man's voice trembled, with a sob.
Mark's smile became even gentler.
"Of course it's true."
"You have to be responsible for me!"
The old man suddenly became excited, hugging Mark's calf, "I have no children and no family! My medical bills and retirement expenses are all on you!
I know you, Invincible! You must have money! You must take responsibility and take care of me!"
Chapter 61: Love My China!
He held on so tightly, as if he were afraid Mark would run away.
A shrewd light flickered in his eyes.
He had not expected that the culture of America would regress to such a state, regressing even to the same level as China!
Long live the regression of versions!
This is truly wonderful!
A long-term meal ticket, hasn't it just arrived?
Mark's smile remained gentle, as if nothing had happened.
He looked down at the old man clutching his calf, his gaze calm as water.
"Of course, no problem," he said.
"From now on, I will cover all your expenses until you die."
"Wonderful!"
The old man's voice became even more excited, "I knew you, Invincible, were a true superhero!
May I call my wife and my sons over as well?
My son is an unemployed drifter; he is living a very hard life right now!"
He hurriedly added, fearing that this wealthy benefactor would run away.
He had truly encountered a big spender!
Mei frowned at the side.
She knew Mark was kind-hearted, but there wasn't a single word of truth in the old man's mouth.
He had just said he had no children, and now he was saying his son was an unemployed drifter.
This was clearly an attempt to swindle Mark's money.
Although Mei was also kind-hearted, she did not want Mark to be fleeced by this wicked old man.
She tugged at Mark's sleeve.
Mark turned his head to look at her.
In those black eyes, there was no fluctuation whatsoever.
He just gently tapped the tip of Mei's nose and said in a voice only the two of them could hear: "Don't worry."
"I will take care of these things."
Seeing that Mark had not denied the previous proposal even after being tugged by his female companion, the old man smiled triumphantly.
He looked at Mei with a provocative expression.
But after noticing Mei's appearance and figure, that provocation slowly turned into lust.
The dress this superhero is wearing looks like it's of good quality.
Maybe if he secretly pounces on this superhero later, he can get some benefits?
Once he moves into the home of this Invincible and this superhero.
He would have his wife apply to be the nanny for this household!
When the time comes, he would have his wife constantly suppress this superhero at home, saying she is not a virtuous wife and mother, and apply psychological pressure on her every day!
He would trick and cajole this superhero into becoming their daughter-in-law.
In this way, the money in this superhero's family and the superhero herself would all belong to their family!?
Perhaps he could even join forces with his son!
Thinking this way, the old man began to size up Mei from all angles, 360 degrees.
From head to toe, his perspective was even constantly shifting.
"???"
"Strange..."
The old man suddenly froze.
"How am I able to look at this cheap woman from 360 degrees without any blind spots?"
Another wave of vertigo.
The old man's gaze stopped, resting on Mei.
He could see the look of terror in Mei's eyes.
But he did not understand—
Why?
Why was his perspective rotating?
Why did he feel like he couldn't feel his body anymore?
And Mark, that man with the gentle smile, walked calmly in front of Mei.
He blocked Mei completely with his body, not leaving even a sliver of a gap for the old man's eyes.
In the next second, a leather boot stepped on the old man's head.
That head, which had just been spinning, was now lying quietly on the ground.
"Look, I said it."
Mark's voice came from above, as calm as if he were discussing the weather:
"I would cover your expenses from birth to death."
"But cremation is not popular around here."
"I believe the homeless on the street would be very happy to sell your body to the local gangs."
The words fell.
That leather boot stepped down fiercely.
The old man's head exploded, and blood and brains splattered all over the ground.
Mark crushed the old man's final consciousness with one foot.
Long before the old man said those words and stared lecherously at Mei, a Viltrumite Hand Chop had already sliced off his head.
Those well-trained Superheroes could at least react to having their heads sliced off.
But for a dead old man like this, he couldn't perceive it at all.
This was the mercy of the great Viltrumite Emperor, Mark Grayson.
He didn't let the old man feel the slightest pain before he died.
"I am truly too kind..."
Mark sighed.
He even regretted it enough to want to punch himself.
He should have ripped off the old man's lower parts the moment he saw him, and then tortured him severely.
Dying so painlessly was really letting this old beast off too easily.
Mei looked at him, her eyes somewhat complex.
But immediately, that complexity dissipated, replaced by a deeper infatuation.
That was right.
This was the man she should love!
It was time to use the Viltrumite Sit on him!
On the side, the two remaining gang members were already standing in place, at a loss.
They knew very well that the man in front of them was Invincible.
They definitely could not escape the opponent's attack range.
Gang members should have a clear understanding.
This was a basic skill.
And these two gang members' basic skills were very good.
They both stood honestly in place, waiting for Invincible's judgment.
"Tell me the location of your headquarters," Mark asked directly.
The sturdy bald man on the side frowned, his face looking tough: "If you want to kill or cut, just..."
Before he finished speaking.
His head shot up into the sky.
Blood gushed out from the severed neck, splashing onto the face of the medium-sized man in the suit next to him.
Mark shook the blood off his hand and looked at the remaining person.
"Are you also choosing to be killed or cut?"
His voice was calm, as if he were asking "Have you eaten today?"
A look uglier than crying was squeezed onto that man's face.
"No... no need."
He said, trembling.
"I don't talk about morality."
"You guys don't talk about morality!!"
A sobbing voice echoed in the abandoned church Villa:
"You have to have a conscience when doing things!?"
"Conscience... has been eaten by dogs!?"
The gang boss knelt on the ground, wailing at the mess all over the floor.
Just a moment ago, he had lost the wealth he had accumulated over a lifetime.
As everyone knows, most gangs like to exchange their wealth for gold bars and hide them in a huge and secure safe.
They would also design a password that no one else knew except themselves.
In the basement of this abandoned church, that safe was embedded in the wall.
Over a meter high, half a meter wide, with a thick alloy door panel and a complex combination lock.
It was touted as one of the safest safes in the world.
And just now, Mark had rushed in directly.
He had cursed his underlings for not talking about morality.
Then he had said arrogantly to Mark: "If you want to kill or cut, just go ahead! This old man only loves money in this life!
Even if you kill me, without the password, you won't be able to rob my money!"
He had originally wanted to see Mark flustered or cursing him out.
But what he got was only Mark's look of caring for the mentally disabled.
In the next second.
Mark used a Viltrumite Hand Chop to cut a large opening in the safe.
The alloy door panel, touted as the safest in the world, was like tofu under his hands.
Then, he carried the safe with one hand and flew away.
Flew away.
Just flew away like that.
He left, without making any determination at all.
The gang boss knelt on the ground, watching that figure disappear into the night sky, and finally collapsed.
Originally, Mark had wanted to kill him.
But after seeing this scene, Mark was also relieved.
Why bother arguing with an idiot?
The word idiot is really good!
Fool is slightly soft, dimwit is even more delicate!
As for the generation of prodigies, it is already behind the times!
Only idiot is enduring, lasting forever in the world!
It can express one's thoughts directly and thoroughly!
Chapter 62: Vought Tactical Response Directorate
Vought Tactical Response Directorate.
Commonly known as the "Iron Suits," or "Vought's Black Dogs."
A global force of two thousand.
Twelve hundred core combatants from the Alpha Special Service, and three hundred technical logistics experts.
And five hundred private military contractors who specialized in handling dirty work overseas.
This was the Vought Corporation's final line of defense to keep Superhuman in check.
It was also the place where Thorne had spent the last six years.
Elias "Anvil" Thorne stood before the mirror, slowly fastening the last button of his tactical suit.
The man in the mirror was thirty-eight years old, 1.9 meters tall, and built as burly as a standing bear.
The black Kevlar tactical suit was well-tailored; the burn scar on his left cheek, grazed by heat vision, gleamed hideously under the light.
He had received that during his third anti-Super mission; it was his medal of honor.
The modified large-caliber revolver at his waist lay quietly; it was the only thing he had to counter "money-power."
Thorne stared at his reflection, but his thoughts drifted back six years.
That was the darkest day of his life.
Commander of SEAL Team Six, executing a secret mission against a rogue Super.
Intelligence failure; the entire team was surrounded.
Vought Corporation immediately cut ties with them, throwing them to those monsters as sacrificial pawns.
He watched helplessly as his brothers were sliced in half by heat vision, torn to shreds by monstrous strength, and smashed into a bloody mist by supersonic speeds.
Only he survived.
Relying on tactical command, cold-blooded decisiveness, and—luck.
Later, Vought came knocking.
They valued his "anti-Super combat experience."
Using the "resurrection" of his fallen teammates' families as leverage, they recruited him into this shady department.
Those so-called "resurrections" were nothing more than using Compound V to sustain corpses as walking puppets.
But he wasn't in a position to refuse.
He felt he had failed his comrades.
His wife and daughter also needed this paycheck.
"I don't like Superhuman."
"And I don't like Vought Corporation."
Thorne whispered to the mirror, his voice as raspy as sandpaper on a steel plate.
He picked up the revolver from the table, popped the cylinder, and checked the bullets one by one.
His movements were mechanical and practiced, a routine repeated thousands of times.
"One reason I stay here is that I need the money."
To ensure total obedience from their subordinates, Vought Corporation had been suppressing the wages of staff like them.
Three thousand dollars a month in a place like New York was barely enough to live decently.
Additionally, they pressured surrounding security firms to reject resumes from people like Thorne.
First to prevent defection, and second to ensure they were completely submissive.
Thorne holstered the revolver, picked up the tactical gloves from the table, and slowly pulled them on.
"If the Superhuman go out of control, I will be the first line of defense protecting America."
His gaze in the mirror became as sharp as a blade.
"I will never allow anyone to destroy the peaceful life of my wife and daughter!"
Footsteps came from outside the door.
A subordinate pushed the door open and entered, his expression complicated.
"Captain, the newcomer... he's summoned all two thousand members of the Directorate to the conference room."
The meeting is this morning."
Thorne's movements paused.
He knew what his subordinate meant.
That new hero, Invincible, Mark Grayson.
The man who replaced Homelander as the leader of The Seven overnight, made The Deep kneel in public, and forced Homelander to bow and offer a toast.
"Captain," the subordinate asked hesitantly, "do you think... he'll try to intimidate us like Homelander did?"
Thorne was silent for two seconds.
"I don't know."
He continued checking his gear, his movements as calm as stagnant water.
"If he shows even a hint of such an intention—"
He looked up into his subordinate's eyes.
"Then find cover immediately and unload your bullets into him."
"Against a Super like that, even a split second of hesitation is fatal."
The subordinate's Adam's apple bobbed as he nodded vigorously.
Thorne pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway.
Aside from the thousand responsible for security, the remaining thousand followed behind him.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, heavy and rhythmic, like a silent declaration of war.
He had to lead the way.
Even though he was also afraid.
He feared that what awaited him would be a fist strong enough to tear through steel.
He feared he would never see his wife and daughter again.
But he had to lead.
Because he was Anvil.
At the end of the hallway, the conference room doors drew closer.
Thorne took a deep breath and pushed the door open with force.
And then—
All he could see was dark green.
Green.
Green everywhere.
An overwhelming sea of green.
It was dollars—banknotes—Franklins—greenbacks—
What a wonderful green!
My God, it was the most fucking authentic color he'd ever seen in his life!!
Dark green hundred-dollar bills covered the entire floor of the conference room.
A thick layer, like fallen leaves in autumn, like snow after a blizzard, like... like the fucking golden road to heaven!
Thorne's feet stepped onto the layer of green bills, and his whole body froze.
He looked down in disbelief.
The face of Franklin beneath his feet was so handsome it defied description.
As a miser.
As a poor bastard scraping by on three thousand dollars a month.
As an ordinary father who had to budget for half a month just to buy his daughter a new dress—
He only needed to take a deep breath.
To be certain that these dollars under his feet were a fresh batch straight from the bank today!
Authentic!
So authentic!!
As authentic as it gets!!!
In that moment, countless thoughts flashed through Thorne's mind:
How much stuff could this buy?
Could this pay off the mortgage?
Was his daughter's college tuition settled?
Could he finally buy that dress for his wife?
His legs felt weak; he almost wanted to kneel on the spot and embrace these bills in celebration!
But he forced himself to hold back.
With all his strength, he suppressed the urge and looked up at the man at the front of the conference table.
Mark Grayson stood there.
He wore a charcoal gray power suit, tailored with almost harsh precision, wrapping his frame that stood as straight as a pine.
The fabric was Super 150s high-count pure wool—matte, dense, and with an incredible drape.
There wasn't a hint of cheap sheen; it only gave off a steady, cold texture under the lights, the standard of top-tier Italian fabrics.
A single-breasted two-button jacket, with only the top button fastened.
The shoulder lines were as stiff as steel plates—clean, tight, and carrying an unquestionable pressure that made his entire aura feel heavy and imposing.
Underneath was a crisp white high-count cotton shirt with a stiff collar that didn't sag.
He wore a dark blue silk tie with a subtle pattern, exuding the detachment and authority of a superior through its simplicity and quality.
His trousers fell in perfectly straight lines, paired with a set of highly polished black calfskin Oxfords.
He stood there like a sheathed blade.
Chapter 63: Gentlemen, Will You Let Your Long-Cherished Wishes Go Down the Drain?
"Good morning, everyone."
A gentle voice came from the podium, like a spring breeze in March.
"Did you have breakfast?"
Thorne finally found his voice.
He bent down with difficulty, using the last of his dignity as a soldier to bow respectfully to Mark.
"Hello, newly appointed Captain of The Seven!"
His voice was hoarse, but every word was clear.
"You can notify us of all security issues from now on!"
"We will arrive by your side at the first possible moment to resolve them for you!"
Mark smiled.
He stepped down from the head of the conference table, his leather shoes stepping onto the layer of US dollars, making a slight rustling sound.
"As a superhero, I can take care of my own security."
He walked up to Thorne and stood still.
"If I let you be responsible for my security now, it would be a waste of the energy of such talented people."
His gaze swept across the thousand people behind Thornebefore falling back on Thorne's face.
"Please do not doubt my words."
"I really am a member of Planetary Royalty."
"For us royalty, wasting resources is the greatest shame!"
"And I, Mark Grayson, hate waste the most! I usually eat every single grain of rice in my bowl!"
He reached out and shook Thorne's hand.
That hand was warm and powerful, without any tentative grip or any sense of condescending charity.
It was just an equal handshake.
"Although you are all ordinary people," Mark said, "there are some things that only ordinary people can do."
His gaze swept over the thousand people present once more.
"With just one look, I can be certain that you are all excellent talents."
"You are more suited to be heroes than I am because you know how to protect those who need protection."
"If your precious energy is not used where it should be, it would be a great waste and a great insult to me!"
"So, members of the Reaction Department, I hope that from now on, you can shift the focus of your missions to protecting civilians!"
Thorne was stunned.
He looked at the man before him, speechless for a moment.
This guy... was somewhat different from those animalistic Superhuman.
But Thorne's emotions didn't change much.
He was just glad that the next leader seemed easier to talk to.
Protection or not, their job from now on would still be cleaning up after these Superhuman.
Thorne was already used to it.
For a normal rescue team, the number of accidental injuries must be controlled within 20%, otherwise it's illegal.
But for these Superhuman, their accidental injury rate could reach 60%.
One could say their rescue operations were less like rescues and more like massacres.
As for those in the Reaction Department, although their salaries were enough to support a decent life...
...they faced the verbal abuse of the public and the lack of understanding from their families.
His daughter once asked him: "Dad, why do you help those bad people?"
He didn't know how to answer.
He just needed this job.
"I turned off the surveillance in this conference room today."
Mark's voice drifted over, interrupting Thorne's thoughts.
"So, I want to be completely honest with you all."
He paused, his gaze suddenly becoming deep.
"When I say protection, I mean with the prerequisite of killing Superhuman."
Thorne's heart skipped a beat.
!?
His eyes widened as he looked at Mark.
A gentle smile still hung on the man's face.
But in those eyes, something was burning.
"Superhuman—"
Mark's voice remained calm, yet it struck everyone's heart like a heavy hammer.
"—have endangered humanity for far too long!"
!!!
The air in the entire conference room suddenly went still.
A thousand people, a thousand gazes, all fell upon Mark.
The man wearing the charcoal-gray power suit.
His expression was still gentle, but the fire burning in his eyes was almost overflowing.
"As the logistics department of Vought Corporation, you know better than I do what kind of harm Superhuman have brought to the people of America today!"
His voice gradually grew louder, like distant thunder.
"The number of deaths caused by a single f*cking rescue is more than the number of people actually f*cking rescued!"
"Is this a f*cking rescue or a f*cking show?!"
"Captain Mark!"
Thorne suddenly roared!
Cold sweat poured down his face like rain.
He was worried this was a test from Vought Corporation.
Even if it wasn't a test, he knew what Mark wanted to do.
Did he want their two thousand mortal bodies to go against those Superhuman?
You've got to be kidding!
For three thousand a month, why risk our lives?
But after saying this, Thorne felt regret.
Have I really lost my backbone to this extent?
Just like a dog with its spine ripped out!
Although the thousand people behind him were standing, they all bowed their heads at this moment.
No one dared to look at Mark, and no one dared to answer the previous question.
Some people's faces turned red from suppression.
They wanted to look up, wanted to speak, but were held back by their companions.
Whispers continued to spread.
"Why?"
"Don't you want the people of America to return to their original stable lives?"
—This was the revolutionary.
"Are you kidding?"
"What's wrong with life now?"
"Are you asking us to risk our lives?"
—This was the opportunist.
"I think this kind of life is fine."
"Superhuman are naturally stronger than us; we just need to listen to them."
"As for this Mark... he's simply scum among Superhuman."
—This was the idiot.
Countless voices converged into a single sentence:
"We can't do it."
"I see. You can't do it?"
Mark said leisurely.
His voice wasn't loud, yet it drowned out all the whispering.
"Even I, a Super, feel that the world shouldn't be like this, yet you are willing to settle for the status quo?"
His voice suddenly increased in volume, piercing through everyone's chests like a sharp sword!
"I don't understand!"
"Why do you feel that you will definitely fail?"
"Just because those Superhuman possess abilities that we don't?"
"Just because of this, are you willing to let your children, your juniors, your wives, and your parents..."
"...all live under the shadow of Superhuman?!"
Having said his piece, he turned and walked away.
Walking toward the platform, he turned his back on everyone.
A long sigh drifted over, as if coming from a very, very far place.
"Gentlemen..."
"Will you really let your long-cherished wishes go down the drain..."
Silence.
The silence at this moment was deafening.
Thorne suddenly looked up.
He looked at Mark's back.
The man stood on the platform with his back to them, his figure as upright as a pine tree.
Even though his back was turned, he seemed like a rising sun.
Yeah...
Let our long-cherished wishes go down the drain?
I also want my wife, children, and parents to live in the sunlight again!
I also f*cking want to make America great again!
There is no savior...
...and no gods or emperors!
To live a better life, we don't need to rely on Superhuman!
We can make life better with our own hands!