Iron Man

Foreword:

He gazed silently at the world, plotting his revenge.

Black Sabbath

[Part 1: The Devil's Gift]

The syphilis spirochete in the mother's body can be transmitted to the fetus through the placenta. For newborns infected with human immunodeficiency virus (HIV), this is a terrifying disease that cannot be completely cured.

Let us regain the power of the [Regret Pill] and let time fly forward 365 years.

Fret Caesar was born in Senles, on the continent of Amitlan, in a small fishing village under the Regent Bridge by the sea.

His mother was a prostitute and his father was a thief; they still gave birth to this child under extremely primitive conditions.

The fact that the mother and son survived is a miracle in itself. Little Fret was abandoned by his mother in a valley near the village to be eaten by wolves as soon as he was born.

As the great devil said-

His mother had genuine tertiary syphilis; she had rashes and sores on her face and nodules and lumps on her body. Her appearance was quite reminiscent of Captain Quack's exotic features.

Little Fret was born into a hellish world, which seems to foreshadow his fate in some way. The devil will eventually return to hell, and simply surviving is the beginning of endless suffering.

He was born with meningitis and syphilitic Heart disease, and the limp caused by bone and joint pain meant he hadn't learned to walk by the age of three.

Born blind in one eye, and with redness in the retina of his slightly healthier eye, the world Fret saw was completely different—everything was bloody.

But he survived, in the freezing cold of early February.

In a small valley outside the village, a friend who had returned from visiting relatives in Amitlan found this strong but sickly child by following the loud cries coming from the mountain stream.

He is Wood Plark, Mr. Fret's adoptive father, a teacher at Galahad Magic Academy, and a meddlesome time traveler.

Heaven would not pity Fret Caesar and would not intervene to save the baby, but Wood Plark believed that human will could overcome fate, so he decided to change little Fret's destiny.

He used the miraculous Magic Power of modern medicine to fight the pale spirochete of syphilis. In that era, 365 years ago, there was no Universal Elixir to help Plark. His clinical trials were slow—perhaps this baby was the best test subject.

Tetracycline and erythromycin, along with a series of organic compounds, need to be put on the agenda. This is a good thing for Mr. Wood and for the entire Shambhala. Regardless of medical and health care or all aspects of chemical engineering, these drugs alone can save countless lives.

He gave the child a hopeful name—Hope Plark (in English), taking the surname of his professor at Galahad Magic Academy—and adopted the child as his son.

Initially, the matriarch and eldest daughter of the Plark family did not accept this adopted bastard child. This was not only due to the issue of the family inheritance, but also a series of safety and hygiene problems. The baby's illness was a curse in the Shambhala continent at that time, a vicious spell similar to that in mythical legends, used to punish the unchaste and unclean. It could not be cured by medicine, the pain it brought would last a lifetime, and it could be contagious to close relatives.

If we were to ask Fret to recount this story, we would need the devil himself to give his assessment.

He might say--

"--If I had known, it would have been better to let it rot by the roadside and be eaten by wolves."

The story continues in this way; Wood Plark is a man with a sharp tongue but a kind heart. This immortal old monster has an inhumanly harsh and critical nature towards everyone.

Including in the education of his adopted son, he not only wanted to cure little Fret, but also to help him succeed, to let him see the wider world, and to make him a real man.

This was Wood Plark's stubbornness, and also the standard he subtly established in the process of transforming the kingdoms of Shambhala and dealing with cannibals.

The long treatment process was often accompanied by pain. As Fret grew up, he followed his father, Hope Plark, to improve his physique and study science. He not only had to learn fencing and horseback riding, but also magic and spells.

The time traveler from the "future" brought young Fret a completely different set of values. In his heart, his father was a legend, an absolute authority, and an invincible being. His timeless concepts of good and evil gave Fret a kind of spiritual fastidiousness—he believed that everything in Shambhala was dirty, intolerable, and a primitive, wild land that needed to be regulated and corrected.

This feeling had been hidden in Fret's heart, even though Wood Plark had already told his son about it.

Bloodline origin is not a person's soul or physical form. We have many ways to change ourselves, many tools, such as knowledge, to change our destiny. Little Hope, your birth in this world and your growth on this land are the best examples.

But Wood Plark couldn't enter his adopted son's inner world—

This political elite also lacks the devil's ability to read minds.

Imagine Fret Caesar growing up smoothly, reaching the age of fifteen or sixteen. After reading the Zizhi Tongjian (Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Government) and Roman history, and after reading about the life of Julius Caesar, he looks at the world through those bloodshot eyes. He feels a burning hatred spreading through his body.

His body was ravaged by illness, and he couldn't hold his head up in front of his family. Everyone knew that Grand Secretary Wood Plark had a deformed child as an experimental subject. No matter how refined and witty he appeared at family gatherings, people would only be concerned about Mr. Wood's reputation and force a smile for this one-eyed freak.

Along with puberty came increasingly severe periostitis. His long-term limping and awkward gait made him increasingly distorted and self-conscious, even with a heroic father supporting him.

The kingdom of Amitlan in the western continent regarded Wood Plark as a liberator and a god of agriculture and industry, seemingly enjoying boundless glory.

Even when facing Mr. Wood's relatives, young Fret still had to wear a hood and mask to prevent the curse within him from spreading to his family.

Only Wood Plark could have close contact with Fret without taking any protective measures.

The father was not afraid of death, and Fret had long known about the Hell Pact.

--It is common knowledge that Wood made a deal with the gods of Amon, and people believe that Wood Plark is the chosen one of the gods of fertility, the creator of grain and mead.

He gains the power to resist death on every Sabbath (Saturday) and possesses extraordinary foresight and remarkable talent.

This close contact sparked a series of thoughts in young Fret's mind—

He's not gay; he has normal male desires.

Because of this physical body, Fret had to say goodbye to lust. His father's moral precepts warned Fret that this blood curse was being spread through love.

[Part ② - So filial]

Hope Plark's story ends on her seventeenth birthday.

Mr. Wood made a whole set of prosthetic eyes for his son, and seventeen years of medical research made some progress, but still could not cure little Fret's terminal syphilis.

Fret's organs were overburdened, and he had been battling the disease for so long, relying entirely on his will to live and his pure love for his father to sustain his belief.

It was this set of fake eyes that broke through Fret's defenses. Mr. Wood personally polished pyroxene for his son, allowing him to choose from various colors and shapes of eyeballs.

This limping young man occasionally received some praise at Galahad Magic Academy—as a psyker, he possessed an extraordinary tenacity and exceptional psionic talent.

This set of pyroxene jewelry was more like a token of love from her father, which completely changed the familial affection in Fret's heart. At this moment, he wished he were a poor girl who had fallen to earth and was rescued by a hero.

He wanted to leave everything to his father.

Twisted love became a guillotine, severing the bond between father and son completely.

Wood Plark couldn't understand why the child he'd taken in would develop such an incestuous relationship with him and have such unrealistic fantasies.

What about young Fret, who was firmly rejected?

Like every challenger who gives up after hitting a wall—

He quickly gave up; after all, brave men who break through walls are rare, while cowards who turn back early are plentiful.

He began to doubt himself, doubt others, and even doubt his father.

He began to wallow in self-pity, even though he had made some progress in Galahad's psionic sciences, and even though his terminally ill, rotting body seemed to be salvageable with just a little patience.

He learned path dependence, burying himself in the ancient Galahad concept of the unity of staff and stone, and following his father's rise to power, he became obsessed with demonic knowledge, seeking an opportunity to completely transform his physical body, remaining steadfast in his devotion to the Original Seed.

Four years later, twenty-one-year-old Hope Plark has acquired Soul Might and possesses a [Mage's Hand]—but this ridiculous trick seems unable to change his fate.

He lost his real name, transforming from a promising young scholar of Lapis Lazuli into [Deva Pher Grey Butterfly] of the Nine Hells.

The temperature exceeding 1200 degrees Celsius completely killed the Pale Spiral within Fret Caesar's body, and incidentally, also completely destroyed his Homo sapiens body—recreating a demon's body. He utterly lost the rationality and wisdom of the Blue Stone People, and like his adoptive father, became a slave to the devil.

More than three hundred years later, Fret Caesar is still running his business, having transformed from an unknown little devil into the powerful and powerful Marquis of the Nine Hells. His ledger of human flesh is filled with grudges and debts, and his henchmen and followers are precious gifts given to him by Gaia's mother.

He still believes in what Wood Plark said: knowledge changes destiny.

However, this process requires a touch of humanity; it needs to be people-oriented, just like Mr. Wood used him for experiments. Using the guise of saving others to achieve one's own goals—that's how religions often do it.

Transcending the constraints of time and space, we return to another lapis lazuli, pushing the camera into the dam, into the oval-shaped sewer tunnel.

Jason Megan waded through the sticky slurry, stepped onto the solid concrete platform, and groped her way forward in the dark, sweltering cave.

"It stinks horribly!"

Katusha followed behind her employer, grumbling, "I'm about to throw up! Good heavens! My sir! Couldn't you have found something simpler and easier? Couldn't you have left this to Daniel and the others?"

"That won't do!" Jason replied. "For the devil, the Demon Pool is of paramount importance—either it's a strategically important and easily defensible location, or it's heavily guarded and riddled with traps. These young people don't understand the hardship of overcoming difficulties, and I don't want to see meaningless casualties."

A Hao laughed loudly, "Hahaha! So Uncle Jason! You kept me by your side! I'm the best one!"

"No," Jason denied vehemently, offering a reasoned analysis. "The devil always prefers to leave the refined and respectable butlers on the surface and hide the vicious monsters underground—you are more suited to dealing with monsters Daniel."

"Is he praising me?!" A Hao exclaimed excitedly.

"He doesn't seem to understand what I'm saying at all," Jason rolled his eyes.

Upon reaching the bend in the underground waterway, the group squeezed into a vent, where their view immediately opened up.

This is a vast space, seemingly an ancient relic extending from the early Queshan burial complex, which, after simple modifications, became a key hub for the underground waterway valves and passageways of East Horse Port.

Mr. Jason, with his Inspiration intuition, immediately noticed the unusual situation.

--The air smelled not only of feces and urine, but also of bitter almonds.

This odor characteristic is described in detail in the "Great Rift of All Things: Volume on Extensive Knowledge and Strong Memory: Chapter on the Devil's Claws and Teeth".

"They are the devil's minions; there are nocturnal beasts nearby, with large venom glands and no fear of bullets."

Before Jason could finish speaking--

--Ah -A Hao drew his gun and fired!

The rough-looking man appeared to be in his early twenties, but in the flash of the gun, his innocent expression immediately turned cautious and serious.

After shooting down the fledgling eagle with four bullets, Jason straightened up from his hunched, crouching position. To see the night beast in the shadows, he quickly reminded A Hao.

Don't do anything reckless.

"Did I miss?!" A Hao asked anxiously.

Jason: "No, conventional firepower won't kill them. You need to follow the [Thunder and Fire Law]."

The so-called Thunder and Fire Law is also the content of the Great Rift of All Things, and this part was written jointly by Old Bones and Gunsmith.

Apart from the spirits and bodies associated with underground volcanoes, most other Spirit Calamity are unable to withstand lightning and fire. Humanity's mastery of fire and lightning ignited the flame of civilization.

The massive sound and light shocks, the sudden changes in electric and magnetic fields, and the high-temperature, high-pressure explosions are all common methods for slaughtering calamity beasts, eliminating Vita Imprint derivatives, and dealing with monsters.

If conventional firepower cannot inflict effective damage, then we must find ways to add other damage to the bullets.

Before Uncle Qingjin could finish speaking, A Hao switched to his main weapon, drew his gun, and fired again!

Meanwhile, Liu Xiaomin, who had been observing the situation, finally snapped out of her daze and joined the vanguard in firing in coordination.

The two men pointed their guns at the sky, firing at an almost 80-degree angle. Despite this disadvantageous firing position, their accuracy was astonishingly high!

Both men's primary weapons were ordinary, custom-modified Akm guns, gifts from their gunsmith teacher to his students. Sixteen shots rang out, and three charred corpses tumbled down from the complex network of pipes and tunnels.

Armor-piercing incendiary bombs shattered the heads of these monsters, and when they fell into the light, their true forms resembled puppets pieced together from human flesh, nocturnal beasts with the size of servals and sharp teeth and claws.

"There's more!" A Hao, with his sharp eyes and quick reflexes, turned the gun around and repositioned it.

In the blink of an eye, Jason Megan didn't even have time to react.

Four targets suddenly pounced from mid-air. Hao Bro firmly pulled the trigger and began a continuous barrage of fire, while a purplish-red spirit arm emerged from his arm, forcibly stabilizing the rising gun barrel.

The incendiary bombs streaked through the air in brilliant flames, striking the smaller targets squarely and causing the nocturnal beasts to explode in mid-air, turning into a rain of blood.

"--hiss!"

Jason watched with trepidation, gasping for breath. With Wendy Mills not around, it would be quite difficult for him to deal with these monsters using firearms. These demonic sentinels were small and fast, making them hard to aim at.

When A Hao saw Jason's expression, he thought there were other enemies.

"What's wrong?! Uncle Jason? Your Inspiration is pretty sharp! Are there any fish that slipped through the net?"

Liu Xiaomin, gun in hand, positioned herself low to the ground, protecting the VIPs behind her.

"Tell me the directions!"

Katusha counted the corpses on the network platform. Under the light, the solid muscles of these nocturnal beasts gradually loosened, lost their magical power, and turned into fragmented pieces of flesh.

Sensing no other unusual spiritual pressure, the chubby girl uttered a playful remark.

"What a filial son!"

A Hao asked in confusion, "Filial piety?"

Jason suddenly felt relieved.

"--My little waiter is praising you."

"A student taught by the gunsmith and the General of Tears."

"That marksmanship, that positioning, it's just too good!"