Stark's Redemption and the Petty Archdemon

Tony Stark's disappearance only caused Wall Street a morning of panic, and the "Red-Clad Thugs Murder Incident" only threw Wall Street into chaos for a while.

Inside the stock exchange hall, forensic scientists were collecting remains, evidence personnel were taking photos, detectives were questioning people, and cleaning staff were sweeping up blood and flesh...

Traders, however, were answering client calls as usual, discussing the day's stock market trends. Old investors gathered around, occasionally glancing at the busy police and the scattered remains and blood on the ground, then staring intently at the public display screen on the wall.

The two groups occasionally interacted but did not interfere with each other.

Even if there was a world war or aliens invaded Earth, the New York Stock Exchange would not cease operations. This heart of capital might only stop beating when capital itself lost all vitality.

Stark Industries, under pressure from the Securities and Exchange Commission, was forced to publicly disclose the fact that Tony Stark had been kidnapped. Shareholders frantically sold off their stocks, cursing the playboy who had gone to a dangerous place to seek death, causing them immense losses.

Aside from Pepper Potts, "Producer Hero" Happy, and his friend Rhodey, no one else in the vast city of New York truly cared about Tony Stark's life or death. Instead, it was a doctor, whose family was destroyed by weapons manufactured by Stark Industries, who extended a helping hand to him, not only saving his life but even sacrificing himself to cover his escape.

Afghanistan, Kunar Province mountains.

Inside a deep, secluded mountain cave, dim light flickered.

A man wrapped in bandages lay on a metal bed. A long tube was inserted into his nostril, and a magnet was embedded in his chest. Two wires were connected to the magnet, with the other ends attached to a car battery salvaged from a vehicle.

Beside the bed, a bald man wearing glasses was shaving in front of a mirror. In the dim light, he shaved meticulously, his hand steady, as if performing surgery.

Suddenly, the man on the metal bed's eyes snapped open. He looked around blankly, seeing the dim hanging lamp and the messy cave.

He pulled out the tube from his nostril, which caused him to cough twice. Likely feeling pain in his chest, he quickly lowered his head and saw the bandages and the foreign object beneath them.

Terrified, he fumbled to tear off the bandages, finally seeing the magnet embedded in his chest. Following the wires connected to the magnet, he saw the car battery.

Waking up to find a magnet suddenly shoved into his chest would make any normal person collapse.

The man panted heavily, letting out a weak roar.

"You're awake?" Yinsen, who was shaving, glanced at him in the mirror.

"What did you do to me?" Tony Stark asked, a mixture of fear and anger in his voice.

"What did I do?"

Yinsen smiled, as if he had done something trivial.

"I saved your life."

"Although I tried my best, there are still many fragments inside you, and they are moving along your blood vessels towards your heart," Yinsen said, putting down his razor. He picked up a small glass bottle from the table, shook it, and tossed it to Tony Stark on the metal bed.

Tony Stark caught the small glass bottle. Holding it up to the light, he saw tiny fragments inside.

"I've seen many such injuries in the village. People call them 'living dead.' In about a week, the shrapnel will enter their organs, and no one will be able to save them."

"Before they die, they will experience extreme pain, as if thousands of venomous insects are gnawing at their bodies. They want to live, but they can only watch themselves die."

Yinsen seemed to recall the past, his expression turning cold.

"How does it feel to be injured by the weapons you created?"

Tony Stark was speechless, but at this point, he hadn't begun to reflect and still held the position of a weapons manufacturer.

He touched the wires, following them to the car battery, and began to think.

Yinsen took a frying pan, placed it over the fire, and started cooking porridge. Seeing that the other man wasn't paying attention to him, he brought up something else: "We've actually met once before, at a technical seminar in Bern."

Tony Stark glanced at him again and shook his head, "I don't remember."

"Of course, if I was that drunk, I wouldn't even be able to stand, let alone give a lecture on integrated circuits," Yinsen said, stirring the porridge in the pan.

Tony looked up, saw the surveillance camera on the wall, and asked, "Where is this?"

Just as Yinsen was about to answer, footsteps were heard from outside the iron door.

"Quick, get up!" He put down the frying pan and urged Tony, "Follow what I do, remember!"

A group of armed men with ferocious expressions burst in.

Yinsen put his hands on his head, and Tony followed suit.

"Tony... Stark!" The bearded leader raised his hands, his tone exaggerated, "Welcome, America's most notorious mass murderer."

Immediately after, the bearded man rattled off a string of incomprehensible languages. Yinsen translated from the side: "He wants you to help him build missiles, the Jericho Missiles you demonstrated."

Yinsen took a black and white photo and showed it to Tony.

Headstrong Tony flatly refused, and then he received a rather "enthusiastic" spa treatment, which included water and occasional electrical sparks from the wires in his chest.

A double dose of water and fire, but unfortunately, the service staff were not the lovely technicians from Room 88.

After the "business reception," the "client" covered Tony's head and led him out of the cave, showcasing his power to the employee.

"See?" The bearded man spun around in front of Tony, pointing to the weapons and ammunition piled up outside the cave. "Here you have all the materials you need."

Tony Stark was astonished. All he saw were weapons produced by Stark Industries, yet he had only supplied these weapons to the U.S. military.

Although Tony was an arms dealer, he wasn't as mature as the great demon Lin Hao. He naively believed his arms were only supplied to the U.S. military to maintain the peace of the free world, failing to grasp the principle that "an arms dealer who doesn't sell to both sides of a conflict is not a good arms dealer."

How could the free America not have arms dealers who sold weapons to the enemy?

"Start working immediately. Once the job is done, I'll let you go!" the "client" promised.

Tony Stark, however, had become more mature. He was confident in his talent and intellect. Terrorists who got their hands on him would only force him to manufacture weapons and would never let go of this golden goose.

Therefore, he had to save himself. Fortunately, he had a good idea in his mind before the incident and had even practiced it once.

For a genius like him, having something versus not having it were two different concepts, especially with prior practical experience.

Tony finished the sketch in the shortest time possible. The prototype was more streamlined than in the original work, with a more rational design.

While Tony Stark was struggling to save himself, Lin Hao had already contacted the surviving agents near New York State. Each time, he assumed a different identity, with each identity being a real alias.

To be honest, in the ten years since joining S.P.E.A.R., Lin Hao had used the bureau's resources to do quite a few things behind Zheng Xian's back. For example, Zheng Xian didn't know Lin Hao possessed android technology; he merely thought Lin Hao had developed some of his own subordinates. For a senior agent, this was standard operating procedure.

If there were traitors among the people he contacted, then the corresponding alias would be exposed, and Lin Hao would be able to identify the traitor.

This was a fishing expedition using aliases as bait.

When no more clues could be found, he could only resort to this clumsy method. Ordinary agents would suffer losses using this tactic, but Lin Hao didn't care.

After contacting the last surviving agent near New York State, Lin Hao received a Den Den Mushi video call. On the screen was a man with a weathered face and a bitter expression.

"Director, I've scoured Xiangxi, Xiangnan, Chuan Dong, and Gui Bei multiple times, but I haven't found any legends about Taro Village. Jia Ying's village was destroyed eighteen years ago during a mudslide, so it didn't attract the bureau's attention."

"Also, I searched the plateau but didn't find any villages inhabited by Inhumans. They might be in another dimension."

"As for Kamar-Taj, the Director should have a few moles there. I... I can't get close!"

"Oh," Lin Hao responded calmly.

Seeing that the Great Demon King was about to hang up, the man nicknamed "Sabre" hurriedly pleaded, "Director, I want to go on an external mission!"

"I didn't even get a chance last time they attacked Wakanda..."

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Lin Hao reprimanded with a stern face. "That was resource development, peaceful coexistence!"

Sabre was speechless and forced out an awkward smile. "Director, civilian personnel can also investigate such matters. I'm from the Special Operations Team, a distinguished Level 7 agent!"

"Oh?" Lin Hao casually retorted, "Who can you defeat? You can't even take down a single Pacifier, and you have the nerve to ask for an external mission?"

"..." Sabre had no words.

Out of the bureau's 150,000 personnel, how many could go one-on-one with a Pacifier?

He regretted it!

He shouldn't have been so foolish back then and volunteered to "guide" Director Lin in martial arts. He was sent flying with a single palm strike and had held a grudge for so many years.

The Great Demon King was indeed petty.