The Ghost in the Box

The Laboratory wasn't far away, normally a ten-minute drive.

Robbie was an amateur racer, after all. The Hellfire-modified Dodge Charger had plenty of power and didn't fear wear and tear, so Robbie didn't hold back. He overtook whenever he could and cut in whenever there was an opening, earning honks and a whole roadful of resentment. They arrived in just five minutes.

If he had Lord Lu Wang next door's Golden Finger, Robbie would definitely be raking it in. He'd never have to worry about training or leveling up.

"Looks like Coulson and Black Widow aren't as fast as us!" Old Wang got out and looked around. No one was there.

He turned back and gave Robbie a thumbs-up. Impressive!

Robbie lifted his chin, rather pleased with himself. Piece of cake. Ghost Rider was no joke. The legend of the Spirit of Vengeance would live on forever.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. will reach the scene in half an hour." Skye had been staring at her phone. She had hacked the road surveillance system and gained top-level access. A bright red spot stood out on the screen—Coulson's red sports car, Lola, was impossible to miss.

Flamethrowers, the world's first GPS, a flying sports car—one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s antique collectibles, and Coulson's favorite.

He drove it himself and wouldn't let anyone else touch it. Even when he wasn't driving it, he still wouldn't let anyone else drive it.

The key was that his driving skills were average, yet he'd given the red sports car a woman's name...

Come to think of it, was he even married?

Did he usually take care of things with his car?

Which part, exactly?

Just thinking about it was thrilling!

"Not much time. Let's move."

Old Wang didn't waste words and walked straight to the entrance.

The Laboratory's main door was quite something. It looked ordinary, but it was incredibly sturdy—nothing like those flashy things outside that were all looks and no substance. One of these could buy a hundred of those.

After all, this was a laboratory researching black technology. Roxxon Corporation had poured who knew how much money into it, openly and secretly. The equipment inside was expensive, costing hundreds of thousands or even millions of dollars at a time. If some thief stole it, the monetary loss would be nothing. Technology leaks were what truly hurt.

"I'll do it!" Skye and Robbie said in unison.

The two looked at each other, sparks flying from their gazes.

Are you stealing my job—my spotlight?

"This is a high-tech combination lock with iris recognition. Wang, give me thirty seconds and I can crack it." Skye rattled the words off as fast as raindrops, pulling out her phone, opening an app, and getting to work.

A lock of this level was truly nothing. For a Rising Tide member, it didn't even count as beginner-level.

Robbie's eyes glowed red with fire. "I only need one second!"

Hellfire wasn't natural flame, but burning out a few circuits would be child's play.

Ghost Rider possessed strength far beyond ordinary humans. Even S.H.I.E.L.D.'s high-strength fiber containment cells couldn't hold him. What was this door by comparison?

A hand stopped him.

"...Don't wreck it."

One needed thirty seconds and the other one second. Women really did last longer than men... Old Wang rubbed his temples. What kind of people had he recruited?

One was a freelance hacker who could enter the intranets and databases of major organizations as though no one was there, possessed countless online identities, and frequently exposed information hidden by the government, covert projects, or evidence and hideouts of certain criminals. Yet she was also constantly challenging the law herself, making the government, military, and police both love and hate her.

The other looked like an ordinary, honest mechanic during the day, but transformed into Ghost Rider at night. No matter how serious or minor someone's crime was, or how many years they should have been sentenced to, he killed them all without leaving survivors—a cringeworthy, stain-covered Ghost Rider.

Didn't they know that doing this would leave clues behind?

Old Wang sighed helplessly and placed his left hand against the door.

Strands of True Qi flowed out, manipulating the lock cylinder.

With a pleasant series of mechanical clicks, the door opened.

Skye and Robbie: "..."

You had a way to open it, so why wait until we finished talking? You did that on purpose, didn't you?

I really didn't do it on purpose. Who told you two to be in such a hurry... Old Wang ignored them, clasped his hands behind his back, and strode through the door with the bearing of a dragon and tiger.

That was the air of a grandmaster. It couldn't be faked.

The moment he entered, he felt a chill.

This chill had nothing to do with temperature. It was a sensation that existed on the spiritual and soul level. It reminded Old Wang of his experience purifying Stratholme. The main thing wasn't coldness—it was yin.

The yin of a ghostly soul.

There was the aura of ghosts here, but it had been isolated by something strange. Forget ordinary people—even demons or other undead might not be able to sense it.

If he hadn't dealt with undead so often in his previous life, and destroyed no fewer than eight or ten thousand of them himself, Old Wang might not have sensed it even vaguely.

Of course, that wasn't important.

Because from the very beginning, he had known what this damned place contained.

They went down the corridor, opened several doors, and arrived at the laboratory's most important room.

A massive Reaction Furnace stood at the far end. Beside it were two laptops and five boxes—

These things were actually batteries.

Cables connected the Reaction Furnace to the boxes.

The Reaction Furnace was still running. Azure light shone through it and illuminated the entire room. Clearly, it was supplying power to the boxes.

"What is this?"

Skye and Robbie caught up and saw the scene before them. "Wang, is the Darkhold inside these boxes?"

"No. It's something terrifying."

Robbie's eyes began to burn again. The Spirit of Vengeance was stirring.

Whatever was in the boxes was connected to the Dark World, to that damned place it had barely escaped from. It loathed it—more than it loathed criminals who had massacred dozens of people.

That was another dimension, one that existed in the realms of magic and quantum mechanics!

"Ghosts," Old Wang explained casually.

He had expected Skye to scream or mock him, saying ghosts didn't exist and that they should respect science.

But she didn't.

Perhaps seeing Ghost Rider had given her some immunity and psychological preparation. Of course, the bigger reason was that the girl was genuinely brave. Who knew whether she had inherited that from her Inhuman mother, who had been dismembered and revived, or from her madman father?

In any case, not only was she unafraid, her eyes lit up. She hurriedly asked, "Ghosts really exist in this world? Can you let them out so I can see them? What do they look like? Are they like how Americans describe them, or how Japanese people describe them? Or how Chinese and Indians describe them? Does hell really exist?"

She fired off several questions in a row, then turned to Robbie with an expectant look. "Have you—or the Spirit of Vengeance inside you—ever been to hell?"

"Ghosts exist, and so does hell." Old Wang smiled. I've killed plenty of them.

He wondered whether the ghosts of World of Warcraft and the ghosts of Marvel World were the same thing.

They probably were. At least, they felt similar to him.

Only one hell?

The Marvel Universe not only had hells, it had more than one. Otherwise, where did all those hell lords come from?

So-called hells were actually extra dimensions. Kamar-Taj definitely knew a great deal about that.

Come to think of it, the Kamar-Taj mages had always protected Earth and monitored those who might cause massive destruction. Did they not keep an eye on Ghost Rider?

Or did those mages simply look down on Ghost Rider?

Their leader, the Ancient One, seemed to be on the same level as Dormammu and Odin...

Old Wang glanced at Robbie.

The Spirit of Vengeance inside him was actually an entity that had escaped from hell.

For certain reasons, the Spirit of Vengeance had to merge with people who possessed an intense desire for revenge, turning them into Ghost Riders. Only in this way could it survive.

To the Spirit of Vengeance, the desire for revenge was food, nourishment, the sustenance that allowed it to continue existing in this world.

When a Ghost Rider lost the desire for revenge, the Spirit of Vengeance had to find another host.

That was how generations of Ghost Riders were replaced.

Old Wang walked over and wrenched hard.

The topmost box opened.

Orange-yellow light, invisible to ordinary people, rose out and condensed into a ghost as gloomy as could be.

As though it had stayed awake cultivating for three days and nights straight.