The Balanced Scales

The old bartender trembled as he drank, fumbling with the bottle cap several times before Donnie helped him open it and urged him to continue.

During that period, the old bartender's father went truly insane. He secretly captured vampires for experiments, working by night and sleeping by day, hoping to research the secret to vampire immortality and the possibility of transferring that ability to himself.

Following the content deciphered from the Human Skin Parchment, he captured large numbers of vampires and ordinary people for his experiments. He had become completely hysterical, abandoning everything in his pursuit of godhood.

"I was only a few years old then. By rights, I should have been marked and become a member of the Ha-Ghost Clan. But back then, no one cared about a little kid who didn't understand anything. Everyone was captivated by my father," the old bartender said.

The vampires finally discovered the abnormality at the old bartender's home and secretly sent people to investigate, eventually getting their answer. To obtain the truly deciphered content, they pretended to know nothing, even creating various coincidences to provide convenient hunting grounds for the old bartender's father and deliver more experimental subjects.

Finally, when he deciphered the last of the text, the vampires made their move. They stormed into the old bartender's family home under the cover of night, slaughtering them indiscriminately and annihilating the entire clan in a single night.

Only the old bartender survived, having been sent away by his father through an escape tunnel beforehand.

"That old man knew he was being watched all along. He knew everything," the old bartender said. "He was deliberately conducting his research, deliberately showing the results to the vampires to lure them in and aid his research. He was aware of the vampires' actions, otherwise, he wouldn't have sent me out in advance on the night of the attack. The timing was too perfect."

"But you just said your father had gone mad in his quest for godhood. It wouldn't make sense for him to put himself in danger," Donnie said, feeling the old bartender was hiding something.

The old bartender shook his head, a look of confusion on his face. "I've been trying to understand this for years. He knew everything, he wanted everything, so why did he seem to give it all up?"

Donnie glanced at him, remaining silent. He thought of many things.

Someone had manipulated him into a fierce confrontation with the vampires. He had initially thought they merely intended to use the vampires to eliminate him, or use him to weaken the vampires. Donnie had even suspected S.H.I.E.L.D. or Hydra was behind it, but now, he realized the implications ran much deeper.

Donnie was led to a vampire stronghold to find the old bartender, then to abduct him, thereby learning about the vampires' God-Making Plan.

The vampires had captured the old bartender and thrown him into their stronghold; they needed him. However, the old bartender was now in his possession, and Donnie wouldn't hand him over unless absolutely necessary.

Thus, two perfectly opposing sides were formed, with the old bartender as the fulcrum.

Donnie asked the old bartender what that important figure from the Thompson Family had taken from him.

"It was the last piece of Human Skin Parchment. It was in my necklace, which I wore as a child. I only found out it contained something so important when they found me," the old bartender said. He had lived a hard life these past years, constantly hiding and living under false identities, fearing the vampires would find him, but they eventually did.

Donnie's expression turned extremely grim. He had been completely outmaneuvered from start to finish, utterly passive.

The mysterious individual knew his abilities and had analyzed a great deal from just a few battles, understanding what he needed. At the same time, that individual also knew about the vampires' internal God-Making Plan—such confidential information wouldn't be common knowledge.

This was terrifying. The mysterious person held an overwhelming advantage in intelligence, obtaining information that even only the vampire higher-ups knew. This allowed that person to calmly formulate plans and manipulate Donnie and the vampires, pushing both sides into irreconcilable opposition.

"Since you're so important, why didn't the Thompson Family keep you under secret confinement? Instead, they threw you into a stronghold?" Donnie's mind was filled with doubts, and he felt a surge of anxiety. He had never been so cornered, so completely at a disadvantage.

He had no prior experience or knowledge of this situation, and it was very troublesome.

The old bartender said he didn't know. That important figure had sent subordinates to search him, taken his necklace, and then dumped him in that bar. They had told him they would come back for him later and warned him not to try to escape, or he would face a terrible, terrible end.

"In exchange for food and drink, I started working as a bartender in that bar. I've been hiding for decades, mostly in various small bars and back-alley establishments, which is why my bartending skills are so good," the old bartender explained. He opened a third bottle of beer. He hadn't had such a satisfying drink in a long time, unlike when he was with the vampires, constantly on edge, even sleeping with one eye open, afraid a vampire might come in the middle of the night and treat him as food.

Donnie paced back and forth with his hands behind his back, agitated, even breaking a sweat on his forehead. Some of the details were chilling upon closer inspection.

The key to the situation was that murdered administrator. New York City was vast, with more than one junkyard. So the question was, were all the administrators compromised or swapped out, or was it only the one who was killed?

Fine, even through psychology and psychological modeling, that person had estimated, based on Donnie's usual habits, the junkyard he was most likely to go to—this wasn't anything special in modern psychology. That murdered administrator had specifically waited for Donnie just to give him this address, guiding him to find the old bartender. But what made them so sure Donnie would go?

Donnie could have used the most basic method, buying scrap cars and assembling and upgrading them himself, instead of looking for a modification master. Or, upon arriving at that small bar, Donnie might have cautiously observed for a few days and noticed something was wrong.

In reality, he hadn't. Donnie had walked right in carelessly.

Donnie was covered in sweat, forcing a wry smile, and opened a bottle of beer himself, drinking it down.

The choice was simple. How many bars were there in all of New York? And that was just for those with business licenses and connections. How many small, private, or mob-run bars were there?

Donnie had arrived driving Optimus Prime. His phone and watch had all been meticulously modified by the AllSpark, and their combined assembly could withstand rocket attacks. Would Donnie hesitate or be overly cautious because of some insignificant little bar?

Impossible. There were countless bars in New York. Was Donnie, a dignified senior Mutant, a Mutant who carried an army with him, supposed to observe every single bar for days before entering? To be hesitant and overly cautious?

If bars were like that, what about KTVs, shops, and restaurants? Should he just not go out at all? It would be best to find a secluded mountain dwelling and live in seclusion. Not to mention, Donnie was a young man, full of youthful vigor, impatient, and prone to acting rashly.

"I finally understand why so many master's and doctoral graduates are scammed out of their money and commit suicide every year. They specifically prey on those who lack relevant experience and are prone to acting rashly," Donnie said, filled with anger. In both his lives, he had never been so passive, so used as a pawn.

The worst part was that he didn't even know who was manipulating him.

The old bartender lay in a corner, fast asleep, with a pile of empty beer bottles around him, some only half-finished, spilling onto the floor and gurgling.

Donnie looked at the old bartender, his expression shifting between various moods.

He and the vampires were like two ends of a scale; both had reasons to obtain the old bartender. The vampires needed to interrogate the old bartender for details and information, while Donnie, having already clashed with the vampires, certainly wouldn't let the old bartender go to reveal his own intelligence. He also needed to hold onto the old bartender as a bargaining chip to pressure the vampires.

The old bartender was the balance on the scale, destined to prevent any transaction between the two parties through him.

Now, Donnie had another option.

Kill the old bartender and break the scale completely.