London. Jessica stared at the outfit laid out before her, her nose wrinkling in distaste.
"Do I really have to wear this?"
"You don't have to," Hong Fei replied smoothly.
"Then can I wear my original one?"
"I meant don't wear anything at all."
Jessica shot him a glare but reluctantly pulled on the helmet and mask. The mask was shaped like a skull, its hollow eyes and jagged grin giving it a distinctly eerie vibe. Beside her, Hong Fei suited up without complaint.
Both were clad in sleek black combat suits, their boots heavy and their gloves tactical. Weapons were strapped to their waists, each piece meticulously arranged. Hong Fei gave Jessica a once-over before nodding.
"From now on, you're mute."
"Got it," Jessica muttered sullenly.
"Hmm?"
Hong Fei's tone was sharp.
Jessica immediately clamped her mouth shut, nodding quickly instead. Behind them stood a team of twenty-eight individuals, each dressed identically, their faces obscured.
Ulysses stood apart, his desert camouflage outfit making him easy to spot.
"Are you ready?" Hong Fei asked.
Ulysses nodded, then hesitated.
"Master, shouldn't we have a plan first?"
"What else are we supposed to arrange?"
"The British Museum is massive. I'm worried we don't have enough manpower."
"Relax," Hong Fei said, his voice calm. "Big Head's already hacked in. He'll handle locking the doors."
"Won't that draw too much attention?"
Hong Fei frowned.
"What are you scared of?"
"What if we get surrounded?"
"Do you really think they can contain me?"
Hong Fei's voice turned icy.
"Are you overestimating them or underestimating me?"
Ulysses looked down, his shoulders slumping. He didn't dare respond.
"Lift your head," Hong Fei commanded. "You're supposed to be a major international arms dealer. Act like it. You're the boss tonight—don't disgrace yourself."
Ulysses swallowed nervously.
"What should I call you?"
"Zhang San," Hong Fei said after a moment's thought. "Call me the Outlaw."
The group piled into the waiting bus, its one-way glass ensuring their anonymity. Jessica took the driver's seat, her foot pressing hard on the gas as the vehicle roared onto the road.
The British Museum loomed ahead at Russell Square. As one of the world's four major museums, it housed over eight million artifacts—though 99% were hidden from public view. It was common knowledge that most of its collections were stolen. Hong Fei had no intention of taking everything—not yet. For now, he was focused on Wakanda's Vibranium weapons and a few other select items. The rest could wait.
The bus should have stopped as it neared the museum, but Jessica didn't slow down. Instead, she floored the accelerator. The vehicle surged forward, smashing through barricades and plowing past startled onlookers. It crashed through the iron gates, screeching to a halt right in front of the museum's entrance.
Ulysses was the first to step out, his thin mask doing little to hide his confident demeanor. Hong Fei and the others followed, guns in hand. Pedestrians nearby stared in shock, though their confusion kept them rooted in place.
To clarify matters, Hong Fei raised his weapon and fired a rapid volley into the museum's main entrance. The gunshots echoed, and debris flew as bullets tore into the pillars. Panic erupted, and the crowd finally scattered.
Inside, security personnel scrambled into action. Armed guards rushed toward the entrance, shouting orders to seal the doors. In the control room, frantic hands pressed buttons, but the doors remained stubbornly open.
In New York, Big Head leaned back in his chair, sipping tea as he watched the surveillance footage with a satisfied smile.
Ulysses spotted the armed guards and barked, "Kill them!"
Gunfire erupted again as the team split into two rows, advancing into the museum with Ulysses shielded in the middle. Inside, chaos reigned. Staff and tourists scrambled in every direction, their screams blending into a deafening cacophony.
In New York, Big Head was watching the surveillance footage while sipping tea comfortably.
Ulysses fired three rapid shots into the air.
"Shut up!" he roared. The museum fell silent instantly.
"Round everyone up!" he barked, turning to his men. The thirty operatives fanned out as doors throughout the building slammed shut. Just then, the surveillance monitors flickered ominously.
The museum sprawled across acres of space—thirty men couldn't possibly cover it all. The Vibranium weapon was housed in the African Artifacts Hall. Hong Fei headed straight there. As he stepped through the corridor gate, a figure lunged from behind the door, thrusting a gun barrel into Hong Fei's face. Hong Fei froze mid-step.
"Who are you?" the man demanded. "Your daddy," Hong Fei shot back.
The man cursed, but Hong Fei moved faster. A sharp slap cracked across his face, sending him sprawling. The man hit the ground unconscious, blood trickling from his ears and mouth. Hong Fei slung the submachine gun over his shoulder and drew a pistol from his thigh holster.
He moved methodically, turning corners and firing without hesitation. Each gunshot claimed another life. Though faint, Hong Fei felt the surge of energy with each kill. Nothing fueled his growth faster than death.
His boots clanged against the polished floor, the sound echoing like a funeral bell beneath the domed ceiling. Moments later, he reached his destination. The door slid open as if expecting him. Screams erupted from inside. Hong Fei fired into the ceiling, bringing down chunks of plaster and debris.
"Shut your mouths!" he snapped. Silence followed. Hong Fei scanned the cowering crowd, then strode toward a display case. Inside lay a Vibranium weapon, its surface rusted and ancient. The case was reinforced, but Hong Fei shattered it with a single punch.
He snatched the weapon and infused it with Qi. The rust flaked away, revealing gleaming silver metal beneath. Turning, he herded the crowd toward the main hall, where dozens now knelt with hands clasped behind their heads.
Overhead, White's invisible aircraft hovered, dropping empty crates into the courtyard. A handful of men guarded the hostages while the rest ransacked the museum, stuffing artifacts into the crates. Hong Fei grumbled silently. Why hadn't he acquired a skill card with spatial storage? Even the Space Stone hadn't granted him such an ability. Watching this chaotic heist, he felt oddly unimpressed.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the tension.
"Shameless thieves!"
Every head turned—Ulysses, his men, even the hostages. The speaker was an elderly man in a tailored suit, his gray hair immaculate. His sharp eyes betrayed a vigor that defied his age. Ulysses sneered and raised his gun, but Hong Fei signaled toward the surveillance cameras and stepped forward. Ulysses hesitated, then stood down.
Passing through the crowd to the other side, Hong Fei asked bluntly, "Have you lived long enough?"
The old man rose to his feet, his gaze unwavering. Three young men—his bodyguards—stood abruptly, forming a protective circle around him. Hong Fei's voice was ice.
"Move aside."
The young men's eyes flickered, but they remained steadfast in front of the old man. One of them spoke up, his voice firm yet cautious.
"Sir, we have no intention of interfering with your actions, but we urge you not to harm him. His identity is... quite special."
"Special?"
Hong Fei burst into laughter, his tone dripping with mockery.
"Haha, tell me, compared to you and the others, what exactly makes him so special now?"
Before the words had fully left his mouth, Hong Fei fired several rapid shots. The three bodyguards crumpled to the ground, clutching their knees. Seizing the moment, Hong Fei leveled his gun at the old man's forehead. The old man's expression shifted instantly, his voice trembling with a mix of defiance and fear.
"I am a noble! My bloodline is noble!"
The young men beside him scrambled to their feet, shielding the old man as they pulled him back.
"Noble?"
Hong Fei sneered.
"In my world, there are no nobles. Bloodline? Honestly, I always thought only livestock cared about bloodlines—after all, breeding affects the price."
The old man's eyes widened in outrage. Spotting someone still moving the collections, he pointed accusingly.
"Isn't this shameless robbery?"
"You're allowed to rob them and display them openly, but I'm not allowed to take them back to sell?"
Hong Fei shot back, his voice icy.
"Those are our things!" the old man snapped.
"Now they're mine," Hong Fei replied with a cold smirk.
"Shameless!"
"Learned it from you."
The old man's face twisted with fury.
"Damn it, you'll never get away with this!"
Slap! Hong Fei's hand struck the old man's face with brutal force, sending him sprawling to the ground. Hong Fei stepped forward, pressing his boot against the old man's cheek.
"You've got quite the nerve."
The room fell silent; no one dared to speak or even glance in their direction.
"You claim to be a noble," Hong Fei said, his voice dripping with disdain.
Bang! A shot rang out, and blood sprayed from the old man's thigh. He let out a piercing scream.
"Oops, my mistake," Hong Fei said mockingly. "I thought nobles were invulnerable. Oh, and you mentioned noble blood?"
He ground his toe into the wound, causing the blood to surge like a fountain.
Amid the old man's agonized cries, Hong Fei shook his head.
"Same color, same smell. Tell me, where exactly is your blood more noble?"
The old man could only scream, incapable of forming a coherent response. Hong Fei's dissatisfaction grew. He stomped on the man's ankles and knees, each blow accompanied by a demand.
"Speak! Where is it noble? Show me!"
Behind him, Ulysses watched the blood pooling on the ground, his eyes twitching uncontrollably. His heart grew colder with every action Hong Fei took. Jessica stood with her arms crossed, her expression icy as she regarded the screaming old man with disdain.
A person's detestability doesn't diminish with age; some only grow more intolerable.
After a while, Hong Fei finally withdrew his foot. The old man's lower leg and foot were grotesquely twisted, yet he still managed to speak.
"Please... don't hit me anymore. I beg you."
Dragging his mangled leg, the old man waved his hands frantically, his body drenched in cold sweat. Hong Fei felt no pity, no sympathy—only amusement.
"I imagine the original owners of these things probably begged like this back then," Hong Fei said softly, his voice laced with venom.
"Yet here these items are. Can you explain that to me?"
The old man remained silent for a long moment before finally muttering, "That... that is history."
Bang! Hong Fei fired another shot.
"I'm creating history."