First Encounter

"Have you finished researching it yet?" In the underground laboratory, Kingpin watched through the reinforced glass as several scientists placed a tube of green serum inside a massive electronic instrument, analyzing it and recording data.

Beside Kingpin stood a man who looked to be around thirty. He carried himself with an air of composure and nobility, and spoke respectfully. "Not yet. We can analyze its genetic components, but we can't figure out how it was made. Our current method of gene implantation can't produce a serum like this."

"That bastard Connors has been under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s protection all this time..." Kingpin turned to look at the man. "Train, what happened to those idiots who caused this mess?"

"They've become new test subjects for 'Tyrannosaurus,'" Train replied without hesitation. "The new results have been very effective on them."

Kingpin laughed at that, a hint of vindicated pleasure flashing in his eyes. "I'm looking forward to these new results. I hope they won't disappoint me again."

By the end, a trace of coldness had crept into Kingpin's voice.

Train lowered his head slightly and said nothing.

Kingpin glanced at Train, then simply stared at him without a word, his eyes devoid of emotion. Though Kingpin said nothing, cold sweat began to bead on Train's handsome face.

Suppressing his panic, Train clenched his teeth and endured Kingpin's stare without speaking. Only after a long while did Kingpin finally speak.

"Bring him here. Tell him there's a job for him."

"Yes, sir," Train replied hastily, as if granted a reprieve, then slowly backed away. He knew he had been spared—for now. The most powerful and ruthless crime lord in the United States had let him live.

The scene shifted to Dilos.

Over the past week, Dilos had gained a basic handle on his enhanced muscles and senses. He no longer had sudden lapses of control over his abilities. Now, he was at a small restaurant, ordering several delicious dishes to treat himself.

Looking at the fragrant dishes spread across the table, Dilos rubbed his hands together and prepared to dig in.

"You're not welcome here, you filthy yellow-skinned freak!"

Just as he was about to take a bite, a furious shout filled with hatred and disgust reached Dilos's ears.

Crack.

With a crack, the veins on Dilos's forehead bulged slightly. The fork in his hand had been crushed in two without him realizing it.

"Which son of a bitch is asking for trouble?" Dilos couldn't help cursing. Even though the body he had been reborn into was no longer Chinese, hearing this kind of abuse still stirred anger in him.

Annoyed, he turned toward the source of the voice. Near the entrance stood a pale Asian girl, facing a middle-aged white man with an unkempt beard. The man was fat, wore a white kitchen apron, and stared at her with undisguised loathing.

"You're not welcome here. Get out of here right now! Get lost!" the middle-aged man shouted, abruptly gesturing toward the door. But Dilos had clearly seen that the man had first tried to shove the girl away. For some reason, though, he seemed to get scared, and pointed her toward the door instead.

"I've already ordered food. I'll just take it to go and leave," the Asian girl said. Fear and hurt flashed in her eyes, and her voice turned timid. Dilos could almost see that she was on the verge of tears. Yet, though she was terrified, she still stood up to the middle-aged man and spoke.

"A-and I'm a customer. You-you can't kick me out. Besides, please apologize for what you said earlier. It was racist!"

"I agree," Dilos suddenly said. He got up and strode over to the Asian girl, meeting the middle-aged man's startled, angry gaze.

"Honestly, sir, your behavior just now was deeply disappointing. If you don't want to ruin your reputation over this 'racism' business, you'd better apologize to this lady and fulfill your obligations as a business owner by selling her the food. After all, she's already paid. You're the one at fault."

By then, quite a few people had gathered around, whispering among themselves as they watched. Most of their comments, of course, were condemning the middle-aged man. After all, plenty of people in the United States opposed racism.

Seeing the onlookers whispering, the middle-aged man took several angry steps backward. His face flushed bright red. He clenched his teeth and shouted at the crowd, "You don't even know what she is! She's a mut—"

"Hey! Watch what you say, sir."

The moment Dilos heard him begin to say "mut—," a bad feeling came over him. Reacting swiftly, he cut the man off and said sternly, "You're attacking her personally again, sir. You know what? I've already recorded you."

Dilos raised his phone. Its screen had somehow already lit up, displaying the recording interface.

"If I hand this recording over to the police, you'll probably be spending quite some time at the station. And I'm sure all the justice-minded people here will spread this online. I doubt your restaurant will stay open much longer after that." As he spoke, Dilos looked toward the onlookers behind him.

"Friends, tell me—are you willing to let this kind of injustice happen?"

"No!"

Several people answered in unison. Then a Black man stepped forward and faced the middle-aged man. "You're in the wrong. You need to apologize for what you've done, sir."

A young boy stepped forward next, pulling out his phone as he added,

"Or we'll post this on YouTube."

"You—you people!" The middle-aged man was so enraged by the scene Dilos had stirred up that his face turned livid. He tried several times to continue defending himself and finish what he had been saying. But every time he tried, Dilos interrupted him. Worst of all, the onlookers behind Dilos always backed him up.

In the end, the middle-aged man could neither speak nor stay silent. His face darkened, and he shut his mouth.

Now's the time, Dilos thought, a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. In the middle-aged man's eyes, it was utterly infuriating.

"Please apologize, sir."

"I'm very sorry." At last, under the gaze of the gathered onlookers, the middle-aged man walked up to the Asian girl and apologized, his face twisted with humiliation and anger. He packed up the food she had ordered and handed it to her.

The sight of his eyes, reddened with humiliation, made the Asian girl feel a little sorry for him. But remembering what she had been through, she straightened her back and accepted this satisfying outcome.

And that was the end of it. Though he had resolved the situation, Dilos no longer felt like eating there. He packed up his food and prepared to head home.

But just as he was about to leave, a pleasant female voice called out from behind him.

"Please wait, sir."

Dilos turned and saw the Asian girl hurrying toward him with her food packed up. Her pale face had taken on an unnatural flush from running, but that did nothing to diminish the heartfelt smile she wore.

"Thank you, sir." The Asian girl had a very sweet smile that made her seem warm and pleasant.

"It was nothing. It's a gentleman's honor to serve a lady," Dilos said with a smile, lifting his chin in a little show of vanity. His smug expression made the girl laugh.

The reason the onlookers had been so supportive of Dilos wasn't just that many of them genuinely hated racism. He had also taken advantage of their mindset, secretly using telepathy to nudge their thoughts and hypnotize them to a certain extent. Otherwise, how could they have cooperated so perfectly?