One was a respected master, the other a childhood friend.
Colleen felt very conflicted.
Since childhood, aside from issues with women, Mike had always been reliable, and Colleen was more inclined to trust him. Moreover, as Mike said, what he said was easy to verify.
Her original intention was to help those street children, but she never expected to send them into a deeper abyss. Colleen absolutely could not accept this.
"No! I'm going to confront him!" Colleen suddenly stood up.
Mike pulled her back.
Colleen's eyes were firm: "Don't stop me!"
Mike: "I'm not trying to stop you, it's just… do you know where Botou is?"
Right!
Thinking about it, Colleen realized that Botou had always contacted her, and she didn't know where Botou lived. Upon closer inspection, Botou had always played the role of a compassionate, wise elder in front of her, which was why Colleen respected him.
However, to understand a person, details are needed.
Thinking about it, Botou seemed more like a perfect image than a living person. A living person has joys and sorrows, strengths and weaknesses, and even moments of foolishness.
Colleen slumped back down, then her eyes turned sharp: "Let go!"
Mike muttered in a low voice: "Holding hands won't make you pregnant."
"What did you say?!" Colleen snapped, her eyebrows bristling.
"Hehe." Mike grinned, not intimidated at all.
Thin-skinned?
Doesn't exist.
Daredevil watched Mike interact with Colleen, then compared it to the "mass murderer" he knew, thinking: "Which one is the real you?"
Iron Fist was a bit anxious. Mike hadn't gotten to his matter yet, and seeing Colleen and Mike flirting, he quickly spoke up and asked.
Mike said that Harold Meachum colluded with The Hand, laundering money for them, and that his large docks facilitated The Hand's criminal activities.
Iron Fist also said: "How do I know if what you're saying is true or false?"
Mike immediately laughed.
Believe it or not, fine.
What does it have to do with me?
I didn't even charge a consultation fee.
It's like a woman walking down the street, and suddenly someone points at her and says, "You're not a woman!" Do you think that woman would pull out her ID or take off her pants to prove herself, or just curse, "Lunatic"?
Nonsense!
Iron Fist was stunned for a moment, then reacted. His emotional intelligence wasn't low; he just hadn't adapted to the ways of the outside World after being in K'un-Lun for so long.
"Sorry," Iron Fist apologized directly.
An apology from a billionaire with a net worth of five billion U.S. dollars.
It felt a little good.
Mike's impression of the curly-haired guy improved a lot.
However, Iron Fist was skeptical of Mike's statement, not because he thought Mike was intentionally deceiving him, but because he had such a good impression of the Meachum siblings. If not for the support of the two siblings, how could Iron Fist have so easily reclaimed the Rand family inheritance?
That was five billion U.S. dollars.
Haven't you seen how many siblings and good friends end up in court and never speak to each other again over a single house?
"Thank you," Iron Fist thanked Mike again, "I will investigate this matter thoroughly."
Mike placed a business card on the bar and pushed it over: "To date, 100% completion rate, low fees, excellent service, no deception."
Financially, the system's treatment of Mike was simply a tear-filled history of a laborer, yet it charged employers low fees. If he didn't get Soul Energy and Destiny Energy, would Mike go on strike?
Do strong people not need money?
Even if money isn't used or spent, it's comfortable to see it lying in the account, right?
Too much!
Iron Fist picked up the business card and read it carefully until he saw "Homework Helper"… Was "Homework Helper" literal, or some kind of code?
Seeing Iron Fist's expression gradually turn strange, Colleen leaned in.
She burst out laughing.
Knowing Mike, it was definitely literal.
She nudged Mike: "Still so frivolous!" Her mood inexplicably improved a little.
Mike disagreed. How was being a Homework Helper frivolous?
With their own thoughts, today wasn't a good time for reminiscing. Mike drank two glasses of whiskey, and before leaving, he told Colleen to be careful, not to confront Botou alone, and to call him if anything happened.
"Nagging!" Colleen feigned impatience, smiling as she said goodbye.
Driving his sports car, Mike hesitated at the intersection, then turned left.
He decided to go see Jessica.
Looking up from downstairs, the lights in Jessica's apartment were off.
Arriving at the door, Mike heard the sound of Water and suppressed sobs.
"Should I call Trish and ask her to comfort Jessica? Forget it… she has to work tomorrow." Mike put his phone back in his pocket and knocked on the door.
No response.
The door was locked from the inside.
So Mike just broke the door down.
Simple and crude.
Effective.
In the bathroom, the sink faucet was on, and the shower was also on, pointed directly at Jessica, who was curled up in the corner of the bathroom.
Mike turned off the faucet and the shower.
"You're the victim. Purple Man was killed by me, so… why torture yourself? I really don't understand, are you sick?"
"Get out!" Jessica grabbed a bar of soap and threw it at him.
Plop!
The soap fell to the floor and slid a few meters happily.
Should I pick it up?
"Oh, you're biting The Hand that feeds you! Come out."
"No!"
"I'm saying it again, come out!"
"This is my home, I can do whatever I want, you can't control me."
Mike strode forward and scooped Jessica into his arms.
It was then that Mike realized this girl, 1.75 meters tall and possessing super strength, was surprisingly thin.
Jessica was only wearing a small tank top at this point, and it was soaking wet.
Hmm, confirmed, A-cup, no mistake.
"What are you looking at?!"
Slap!
Jessica slapped Mike across the face.
It hurt quite a bit.
Mike was stunned for a moment, "You crazy woman…"
Before he could finish, Jessica hooked her arms around Mike's neck and clamped her legs around his waist, hanging onto him like a sloth.
She used her lips to block Mike's cursing words.
Her lips were cold!
"She really is a crazy woman," Mike thought.
He had only been a little worried.
He never expected it to turn into a battle of tongues.
Good heavens!
Mike was not to be outdone.
Rip!
Enemy's shame, I go to take off her clothes!
Tactical suppression!
Jessica was not to be outdone.
You sing, I appear on stage, truly a worthy opponent.
Boom!
The poor innocent bed finally succumbed to the weight, groaning and collapsing.
Fortunately, there was a mattress.
The next day.
Mike woke up, the space beside him was empty. He felt a large spring that had popped out of the mattress.
Uh… the mattress was also dead.
He got up and took a cold shower, ready to put on… uh, his clothes were torn yesterday.
Phew~ Thankfully, the system space always had spare clothes, otherwise, women's clothes?
Mike took out his phone, which had a text message from Jessica.
[I went to work. When you wake up, leave. What happened last night, let's pretend it never happened. Also, if Trish finds out, be careful of a "snip" for eternal peace.]
[Also, the bed and mattress are broken, we're each half responsible, AA. I'll send you the bill later. You broke the door, you're responsible for repairing and installing it.]
Mike stared blankly at the text message for a long while before he managed to squeeze out a word: "Damn!"
Turns out he was a tool again.
Who will compensate for his bad back?!
Who will compensate for the hundreds of millions of Heavenly Soldiers and Generals who perished last night?!