Chapter 44

Chapter 44

Sarah and Tyler had already used the Summoning Stone they had prepared in advance to pull Evenson back to the shop's basement. A spell like the Summoning Stone was truly indispensable for a Sorcerer at home or on the road. The only thing comparable to it was the pot used to hold Healthstones. That was how Sorcerers got the nickname Sugar Roll.

Evenson changed out of his aloof black suit, folded it neatly, and handed it to Sarah. "Return it to the tailor shop when you have time. If I keep it too long, I'm afraid they'll deduct my deposit."

Being poor for too long made people stingy. Someone as frugal as Evenson would never spend a fortune on an expensive black suit just to show off once, so he had rented one instead.

Next, Evenson washed his hair and changed it back to its original style. That slicked-back look really did not suit him. Then he came out rubbing his eyes. "Sigh, using Magic to change your eye color is really uncomfortable."

"Tch, just admit you got shampoo in your eyes." Sarah mercilessly exposed Evenson's pathetic lie.

"Ahem." Evenson coughed awkwardly, then hurriedly changed the subject. "Hubbs should have arrived by now, right? It's about time to start."

Sarah took out a paper bag and placed the suit inside. "Before you came back, I asked Hubbs. He said that if he got lucky, it could be done tonight."

Evenson looked at the sky outside. It was already evening. "Tonight? That's cutting it close. But whatever. If we settle this today, we can rest for a while afterward."

It was evening in New York, but dawn in Afghanistan.

Over the deserts of Afghanistan, a formation of three Black Hawk helicopters flew through the sky. They were flying at an altitude of only around eighty meters, presumably to make it easier to search for something.

The pilot of the lead helicopter complained as he flew. "You know, half a year ago, one of my comrades went missing. Those damned authorities searched for him for only a week before giving up. But this time, one person went missing too, and we've been searching for twenty-two straight days."

The copilot beside him had been watching the night-vision feed. Hearing the complaint, he quickly jabbed him with an elbow, then subtly tilted his head back to indicate that someone was sitting behind them. The pilot immediately shut his mouth, not daring to say another word.

However, the helicopter engines were far too loud, and the crew communicated through headsets. The pilot's complaint still went over the radio and reached the ears of the person seated in the back, word for word.

"It's all right. I understand. These things are unavoidable." The person everyone had been wary of was surprisingly amiable. "Relax, boys. This may be your first time patrolling with me, but I'm a nice guy. I won't badmouth you to your superiors."

"Really? That's great. Still, it's surprising that people like you who came from back home adapted to this harsh climate so quickly." Sensing his friendliness, the copilot turned around and began chatting with him. Night searches like this were exceedingly dull and tedious. Having someone to talk to was more than welcome.

"Actually, I've been to worse places," the man in the back said.

"Really? Can you tell us about them?" The copilot was immediately intrigued.

"Sure. I'll call Washington for permission first, then I'll tell you." The man in the back was clearly joking.

"Agent Coulson, S.H.I.E.L.D. really has a lot of rules." The copilot sounded disappointed.

That was right. The man seated in the back was Coulson. He had come to Afghanistan as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, but instead of remaining at the base, he had gone straight to the front line. First, he took his mission seriously. Second, Hubbs was with him, and he did not dare leave this Husky in someone else's care. So this Black Hawk carried only the pilot, the copilot, Coulson, and one dog. And at the dog's request, the cabin door had been left open, supposedly so he could smell outside better. This was the desert at dawn, with temperatures below freezing. Everyone else could only wrap themselves in heavy coats and grit their teeth.

"Seriously, Agent Coulson, how did S.H.I.E.L.D. train a Husky into a military dog?" The copilot curiously asked as he looked at Hubbs lying by the open cabin door.

Huskies had held the throne as the king of idiots for years, famous for being impossible to keep on a leash. Yet this kind of dog had somehow been trained into a military dog. S.H.I.E.L.D. really was insanely impressive.

Coulson could only smile and shake his head helplessly, because he did not know how to answer either.

"Genetic modification?" the overly curious copilot continued.

Coulson still shook his head, while wondering whether a magical creation counted as genetic modification.

"You people have so many secrets." This time, it was the copilot shaking his head. In his view, Coulson's refusal to explain probably meant it involved another secret.

"But he doesn't look special to me. He's just as stupid as any other Husky," said the ever-complaining pilot.

Hubbs, who had been lying still, immediately pushed himself up at those words and stared in the pilot's direction. Seeing this, Coulson moved with lightning speed and stuffed a handful of dog food into Hubbs's mouth. With something to chew on, Hubbs returned to his previous position.

Whew. Coulson secretly breathed a sigh of relief and thought, You should thank me, kid. Otherwise, you'd probably spend the rest of your life in a mental hospital.

Coulson knew this dog's temperament well. Aside from Evenson and the people in his shop, anyone who dared call Hubbs a stupid dog would be taught a lesson that sent them home to contemplate life—unless they could immediately produce premium dog food as an offering of apology.

The copilot soon found another topic to discuss with Coulson. This time, he wisely avoided sensitive questions, and the two chatted happily. Although the pilot did not join in, he listened with great interest.

None of them noticed Hubbs, lying by the cabin door, twitch his nose slightly before opening his mouth and spitting a dark green liquid sphere outside.

The sphere fell straight onto the desert. Though it was made of liquid, it did not seep into the dry sand. Instead, it spread outward until it formed a one-meter-square green Magic array.

"They finally flew away. Annoying American dogs." Twenty meters in front of the Magic array, five people suddenly crawled out from beneath the sand. They removed the silver thermal blankets draped over themselves and stuffed them into their backpacks, revealing what they were actually wearing. All five had typical Middle Eastern features and wore typical desert clothing. Clearly, they were no ordinary people, because each of them carried an AK47.

"Damn Americans. Not only do we have to search this desert for that damned Tony Stark, we also have to avoid those damned helicopters." One of them, a bearded man, complained as he lifted his canteen and took a drink.

"They really are annoying. They won't let even the smallest thing go."

But all five froze, because none of them had said that. These were terrorists who lived with blades at their throats, so they immediately spun around and aimed their guns behind them. Then they could hardly believe their eyes. A white man stood there in a white T-shirt and jeans. Damn, this was the desert at dawn, and he was dressed like that?

The white man sniffed. "Oh, maybe I am dressed a little lightly. So please cooperate, and I can get back quickly."

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