Pepper finally left, though not without protest. Tony sat up in one sharp motion—then winced as the movement pulled at his wounded shoulder. He ignored the pain, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and striding to the workbench. "Open the blueprints."
Jarvis's voice held uncharacteristic hesitation. "Sir, you require rest."
Tony bared his teeth. "I'll rest when I'm dead."
The AI fell silent. A holographic schematic flickered to life above the workbench, displaying the unfinished armor design. Tony studied it, brow furrowed.
"Life support needs upgrading," he muttered, fingers dancing through the air to adjust parameters. "More offensive capabilities. Highest priority on mental shielding—and I want override protocols for emergency intervention." A pause. "Also, build in an electroshock module. Forced awakening." The memory of that knife piercing his shoulder flashed bright—along with the sudden, jarring clarity that had followed. "Best solution? Block their mental control entirely. Create a new folder. Pull all research on neural frequency modulation."
A robotic arm extended, offering a bottle of viscous dark green liquid. Tony took it, swirled the contents, and grimaced. "Tastes like swamp water."
"Chlorophyll concentrate, sir. Effective for toxin filtration."
"I know." He tipped it back, swallowing with visible effort. "Track his exit route?"
The workbench's surface shimmered, reconstructing Manhattan in miniature. Red dots bloomed across the grid, tracing erratic paths. "He didn't believe your cover story. After leaving Hell's Kitchen, he employed advanced evasion tactics—deliberate circling, false trails. Current residence remains unverified."
"Crafty bastard." Tony's smirk lacked humor. "Keep surveillance. Alert me the second you get a lock."
"Of course. However..." Jarvis hesitated. "Before regaining consciousness, he issued an additional threat."
Tony stilled. "Go on."
"Should you meet again under similar circumstances, he intends to target your kidneys, neck, and cranial region with bladed weapons."
Ice crawled down Tony's spine—three distinct points of phantom pain flaring where Hong Fei's knife might strike. The memory of steel parting flesh was visceral, second only to nearly dying by his own missile. But Tony Stark had two defining traits: stubbornness, and a refusal to stay down. The poison simmering in his veins only clarified the third—he wasn't afraid to die.
"Please. That shoddy pigsticker couldn't scratch my armor's paint."
Jarvis remained pragmatic. "Recommend long-range, high-yield ordnance. Eliminate the threat before engagement."
"Too messy. Collateral damage. I'll decide if we go there." Tony's fingers twitched. "But... add a knife to the new schematics. I want to return the favor."
Silence settled.
Hong Fei didn't know yet that Tony had already started modifying and designing a set of "Anti-Hong Fei Master Armor." Across the city, he lounged with Frank, sipping tea while the other man scowled at his cup.
Frank drained it with obvious distaste. When Hong Fei moved to refill it, he slapped a hand over the porcelain. "Enough. Tastes like grass. Where's the whiskey?"
He grabbed the bottle, pouring amber liquid into the delicate teacup. Hong Fei watched, amused. Some habits defied refinement.
As long as he was willing, it wouldn't matter even if he drank from a basin. Smacking his lips, Frank said: "I thought that someone who can fight as well as you must be able to hold their liquor." "Why?" Frank pointed at himself. Hong Fei chuckled and shook his head. He had drunk alcohol before, but he could only taste the spiciness, bitterness, and astringency; he couldn't experience the so-called mellowness or anything else.
Turning his head to look out the window, on the construction site, a figure wearing a white hat was pacing back and forth in a rush, occasionally exchanging a few words with the people around, looking very active. Frank followed his gaze and immediately curled his lip: "Is it nice to look at?" "Yeah." "Big Head says she spent another two billion." In an instant, Hong Fei's hand shook, and most of the full cup of tea spilled. Turning his head abruptly, he asked in shock: "How did she spend it?" Frank shrugged: "Some strange experimental equipment.
I don't understand it, and you certainly wouldn't either." Hong Fei was still stunned: "Didn't she already buy some before?" "It's different. I heard she was planning to rent before, but then you gave her the money. She thinks buying is more cost-effective than renting. What, regret it?" After saying this, without waiting for Hong Fei's response, he added: "Regret is useless. You signed the contract. She has full authority over the procurement of specialized laboratory equipment.
She originally wanted to consult you, but unfortunately, you weren't there last night, and your phone couldn't get through." Well, the money that had just arrived hadn't even warmed up before more than half of it was gone. Bought is bought. Just consider it adding a fixed asset; he could earn more later. However... "Wait, what did you say just now? Big Head? What does he have to do with this?" Frank explained: "You insisted on handing the money to me to manage despite my objections, but I've never been good at financial management.
I sometimes can't even do multiplication or division well, so I handed the money to Big Head to manage temporarily. He is very smart and learns very quickly." "Aren't you afraid he might run away with the money?" Frank raised an eyebrow: "Wouldn't that be exactly what you want?" Hong Fei: "You are slandering me!" If Big Head really ran off with the money or transferred it away, then Hong Fei could, without any excuse, just twist off his Big Head and kick it like a ball. Frank was understanding Hong Fei's thoughts better and better, and the two were becoming more and more in sync.
If Hong Fei were an emperor, then Frank would be the closest head eunuch to the emperor. Frank suddenly frowned at Hong Fei's gaze: "Are you thinking about something very impolite?" "No, I think finding you first was truly the right decision. We have the same ambitions, the same ideals, and the same style of doing things. Remember what I said? You are worth at least a billion dollars." Frank gave a forced smile: "But the second woman you found has already spent 2.5 times of me." "That's different. She's a scientist, and science always costs a lot of money.
You have to invest first to get results." With a light huff to let it pass, Frank turned to say: "I won't be staying at home much lately. The conflict between The Hand and the Mafia is increasing, and I should go light a fire." "Sure, stay safe. You can take a few people with you; don't be in a hurry to refuse. Some things are indeed easier to do alone, but you are facing two gangs with many members. It wouldn't hurt to have them provide support work. There's no need to always be a lone wolf; it's like having a cannon but stupidly using a gun instead. Don't you think?" "...You're right.
"I'll take ten with me and take them out in batches later. This is a rare chance for real combat experience—all the training in the world can't replace actual fieldwork."
Hong Fei raised his glass with a sharp grin. "Here's to you successfully turning New York's two biggest gangs against each other."