Coulson's Doubts

Afternoon sunlight slanted into the Xiang family living room, where the aroma of coffee mingled with the scent of disinfectant—the trace Lin Wei had left for her "recovered" son. Xiang Haishan sank into the sofa, his brows knotted tight as his fingers restlessly rubbed the financial report on his knee. Several newly sprouted white hairs gleamed harshly beneath the light.

Xiang Yi curled up in a single-seat armchair with a copy of Advanced Algebra spread open before him, the pages rustling as he turned them, every bit the bookworm. No one saw his fingers moving so fast beneath the book on a miniature touchpad that they left afterimages, his mind clamped tightly onto Guiguzi's encrypted channel. A three-dimensional map unfolded in his consciousness: Lanling King's green marker was sweeping past the steel framework of a suburban warehouse, tagging a newly "acquired" dirty-money den; A Ke's red marker remained frozen in the distance, locked onto the remnants of the Zhang family.

[Spiritual Power: 78/210]

The number in the corner of his vision was his only calming pill. The Kunlun Mountains upgrades and the intelligence network had raised his limit, but spiritual power was his life. Whenever a hero moved, he had to carve flesh and bleed for it.

Ding-dong—!

The doorbell rang with stopwatch precision.

Xiang Haishan abruptly raised his head, irritation blazing across his face at having been interrupted. Lin Wei poked her head out from the kitchen. "Who could that be at this hour—" Before she could finish, Old Chen the butler had already pulled open the heavy oak door.

Two people stood outside.

The leader wore a dark gray suit pressed sharp enough to cut, his smile measured as though with a ruler, his hair slick and gleaming. He carried an ordinary black briefcase and radiated the air of an "establishment elite." Half a step behind him stood a Black man built like an iron tower, his suit wrapped around bulging muscle, his eyes cold as ice picks as he stood there like a stone.

"Mr. Xiang Haishan?" The leader's voice was warm and magnetic. "Sorry to disturb you. Phil Coulson, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. This is Melinda May." The eagle-emblem credentials flashed brightly, his movement smooth and mechanical.

Xiang Haishan and Lin Wei's expressions changed sharply. "Strategic... what bureau?" Lin Wei's voice tightened.

Xiang Haishan rose to his feet, his brows locking into a dead knot. He casually tossed aside the financial report, assessing Coulson with a businessman's scrutiny. "Strategic Homeland Defense? Agent Coulson? We're legitimate businessmen. What can we do for you?"

Xiang Yi's heart stopped. Coulson! S.H.I.E.L.D.! The name pierced his brain like an ice pick. Memories from his past life exploded—Nick Fury's top lackey! Earth's deepest shadow! Why had they come to his door? Satellites? The factory fire? Or had they... found a deeper thread?

He forced his fingers to slide across the touchpad. In his mind, an encrypted alert shrieked toward the Kunlun Mountains' Stardust Workshop: [S.H.I.E.L.D.! Coulson + May! At the house! Level-one alert!]

Lanling King and A Ke's surveillance signals were cut off at once, slipping into silence.

"Routine investigation, Mr. Xiang. Don't be nervous." Coulson's smile did not change, but his eyes were like probes as they swept over the luxury of the living room before settling on Xiang Yi for two seconds. "We mainly wanted to ask about the fire at your company's components factory. There were some... unusual details."

"The fire?" Xiang Haishan froze, then anger surged up. "The police closed that case ages ago! Arson! The culprit was fucking cuffed and taken away! The evidence was ironclad! I was planning to settle scores with certain people myself, and now you—" He took a sharp breath and suppressed his fury. "Sorry, Agent. That incident nearly broke us and terrified the whole family. It's over!"

"Understood." Coulson nodded, his tone flat as water. "We reviewed the police report. The arsonist confessed—commercial retaliation. The procedure was clean." Then his tone abruptly shifted, and his gaze sharpened. "But during our secondary examination of the ruins, we found some... little things omitted from the police report."

He tilted his head toward May. Expressionless, May removed a transparent evidence bag from a metal case and slapped it onto the coffee table.

Inside were two bizarre metal fragments. Triangular pyramids, with razor-sharp edges and pitch-black bodies that shimmered ominously beneath the sunlight. On one fragment was a tiny, twisted beast-head relief, protruding in a vicious snarl.

Ninja dart fragments! The Hand's mark!

Xiang Yi's pupils contracted violently! His heart hammered against his ribs! Guiguzi's intelligence had said Zhang Hao's father had connected with the Hand, and Lanling King had photographed the Beast totem worshipped by the Zhang family... but how had this deadly thing ended up in the factory that had burned to rubble? Had the Zhang family planted it? Or had Lanling King fought ninjas in the Zhang family's secret room that night, gotten a fragment stuck to him, and dropped it later when he went to warn them at the factory?!

A chill crawled up his spine. One tiny flaw, one accidental fragment, had become a thread S.H.I.E.L.D. could seize and refuse to let go!

Xiang Haishan and Lin Wei leaned closer, their faces filled with bewilderment and alarm. "What... is that?" Lin Wei asked, her voice trembling.

"A specialized throwing weapon, ma'am," Coulson explained, but his gaze remained welded to the Xiang father and son as if trying to dig something out of them. "Special materials, distinctive craftsmanship. Not street-vendor junk. The key is this mark—" He tapped the beast head. "It points to an international criminal organization. Old, secretive, and extremely dangerous in the Far East."

He leaned forward slightly, and beneath his gentleness came the weight of an invisible anvil. "Mr. Xiang, has your company—or you personally—ever had contact or conflict with this organization? Any detail, no matter how small, could help us see the real source of this 'arson.'" His gaze drifted toward Xiang Yi again. "After all, it seems Young Master Xiang was also... involved in a school conflict? With a classmate surnamed Zhang?"

The study!

Xiang Yi's nerves tightened into steel wire! Coulson was stabbing at him! Applying pressure! Watching! Mentioning Zhang Hao was no accident! S.H.I.E.L.D.'s net was closing—factory fragments, the Zhang family and the Hand, the feud between himself and Zhang Hao... an invisible noose was tightening!

At that moment, Xiang Yi caught sight of the study door left ajar from the corner of his eye—the computer screen on his father's desk was still fucking lit! The encrypted interface of "Cygnus Holdings" blazed on the screen! Stark stock charts, position analysis, cash flow! Beside it was a document with a glaring title: Market Crash Risk Assessment After Stark Shuts Down Its Weapons Division!

Cold sweat instantly soaked his back! The old man had been reading financial reports and forgotten to shut off this death warrant! If Coulson or May found any excuse to wander into the study... Cosmos, the ghost that had only just emerged, would be incinerated beneath S.H.I.E.L.D.'s searchlights! Lying low? It would all be over!

Time seemed to stretch and freeze. Coulson's words kept grinding on, while May's knife-like eyes scraped across every inch of the living room. Xiang Yi's mind overclocked as plans flashed into existence and collapsed—have Guiguzi hack the device remotely? Too suspicious! Have Lanling King start a fire outside? Suicide!

In that flash of lightning, Xiang Yi moved.

"Cough! Cough-cough-cough—!" He suddenly erupted into a series of gut-wrenching coughs, curling into a shrimp as Advanced Algebra smacked onto the floor and pages scattered everywhere. His face turned deathly pale, cold sweat poured down him, one hand pressing hard against his chest while the other reached wildly for a water glass, nearly overturning the coffee table with the force of his movements.

"Xiao Yi!" Lin Wei screamed and rushed over.

Xiang Haishan was startled as well, his attention instantly torn away from Coulson and the evidence bag. "What's wrong? Feeling sick again?"

Using the cough as cover, Xiang Yi bent down to pick up the book and twisted his body just enough to block the study passage. As he picked it up, his fingers "accidentally" pulled a metal student ID from his pocket. It clattered onto the polished floor and slid precisely to the study entrance.

"It's... it's nothing, Mom," Xiang Yi panted, his voice weak as a broken bellows. "My throat... suddenly got itchy... maybe I caught a chill studying last night." He slowly bent to pick up his student ID, moving clumsily like a child who had just learned to walk. The instant he grabbed it, his body tipped sideways, and his elbow slammed into the half-open study door.

Creak—

The gap in the door opened wide.

Like a startled rabbit, Xiang Yi hurriedly straightened up, panic written all over his face as he clutched the student ID tightly to his chest like a shield. His gaze swept quickly over the glowing screen in the study before immediately dropping, long lashes casting shadows across his pale face and concealing his racing heart.

His whole body, along with that cheap student ID, became a wall of flesh—not airtight, but eye-catching enough—firmly sealing off the study doorway and the life-threatening computer behind him.

Coulson's gaze was indeed hooked over. He looked at Xiang Yi's pale, sickly, flustered nestling appearance, at the shabby student ID stamped with a middle school emblem, then toward the study. Xiang Yi's body and the thick book blocked most of the view, leaving Coulson able to see only a half-dead pothos plant on the corner of the desk. The sharpness in his eyes seemed to soften beneath the boy's "natural" clumsiness and frailty.

"Has Young Master Xiang not fully recovered yet?" Coulson asked with timely concern.

"Ever since this child was struck by lightning, his body's become weak as straw. He gets sick every other day." Lin Wei patted her son's back with heartache, her face full of worry. "The doctor said his nerves were damaged and he needs time to recover. We gave you a fright. I'm terribly sorry."

"It's no trouble." Coulson smiled and nodded. His gaze made one final sweep around the study entrance, found no flaw, and returned to Xiang Haishan. "Mr. Xiang, this mark and these fragments..."

Xiang Haishan's thoughts were entirely on his son. Coulson's words went in one ear and out the other, and his answer became even harsher. "Agent Coulson, I, Xiang Haishan, conduct business openly! What criminal organization, what ninjas? That's movie nonsense! My son had a spat with a classmate? It was nothing, and the school settled it long ago! That factory fire was just a competitor with a black heart! If you really want to investigate, go arrest the bastards who did it! Stop harassing us victims!" Sparks flew from every word.

The conversation froze. Coulson maintained his smile, fingers tapping lightly against his knee. May remained silent, but her eyes were like an X-ray machine, dismantling and reconstructing everything in the living room.

Just then, Ming Shiyin's weary voice sounded in Xiang Yi's consciousness: [My lord, the formation is complete. "Guard the heart and steady the mind; let dust cloud memory and sorrow." Move.]

The fingers gripping Xiang Yi's student ID loosened slightly. Far away in Kunlun, Ming Shiyin was using Guiguzi's Xuan Weizi to scatter the power of the Mind-Guarding Formation toward Coulson and May like invisible dust. It neither attacked nor controlled; it merely passed over them like wind, blurring short-term memories and softening doubts. Against seasoned veterans like Coulson and May, its effect would be diminished and easily exposed. But with Xiang Haishan stubbornly holding the line and Xiang Yi's "sickly" act providing cover, it was the only move in this dangerous game.

Sure enough, Coulson's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, as though sunlight had flashed into his eyes, and he unconsciously raised a hand to rub his temple. May's gaze stalled as well, for a fraction of a second.

"Very well, Mr. Xiang." Coulson's smile remained, though the blade in his eyes had dulled somewhat. "Thank you for your time. We understand. If you remember anything, or encounter anything strange again, call this number." He placed a blank business card beside the evidence bag.

He did not press them further, nor did he mention entering the study.

"May, we're leaving." Coulson stood, gave the Xiang couple a slight nod, and glanced over the pale Xiang Yi curled up on the sofa, his expression calm and unreadable.

May silently packed up the evidence bag and case, following behind him like a shadow. Old Chen saw the plague gods out.

The moment the door shut, Xiang Haishan heavily dropped back onto the sofa and let out a long, foul breath. "Fuck! What kind of bullshit bureau has that much free time?"

Lin Wei touched Xiang Yi's forehead. "Xiao Yi, are you really okay? Should we call Doctor Zhang?"

"Mom, I'm fine. Just got choked by the wind." Xiang Yi shook his head, his voice still weak, but his eyes frozen over. His mental tendrils remained glued to the retreating shadow of the car outside.

The black Chevrolet Suburban drove away from the villa district and merged into traffic.

Inside the car, silence reigned. May drove with a cold face. Coulson leaned against the back seat with his eyes closed, fingers lightly tapping his knee as he reviewed everything.

"What do you think?" Coulson suddenly asked.

"Xiang Haishan is an ordinary businessman. His anger and vigilance were genuine, and his unfamiliarity with 'ninjas' and 'criminal organizations' did not seem feigned." May's voice was as flat as AI. "His wife's attention was entirely on her son. Her reactions were normal. Xiang Yi..." She paused. "His frail constitution, sudden coughing fit, and panic all fit post-traumatic aftereffects. The student ID falling and him hitting the door appeared natural. No signs of training."

"Frail constitution..." Coulson repeated, a faintly amused curve appearing at the corner of his mouth. "A weak twelve-year-old with neurological damage, with Advanced Algebra spread out on his desk, along with..." He opened his eyes, and all warmth vanished from them, leaving only icy scrutiny. "...a professional-grade market analysis brief on the collapse of Stark Industries stock?"

May's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the steering wheel.

"You saw it?" Her voice remained steady.

"When he held that student ID to his chest and lowered his head in panic, the angle of the door gap was just right for me to glimpse a corner of the screen." Coulson's voice was soft. "The title stood out. The contents... I caught several lines of data and charts. It wasn't a child playing pretend. And that fund name—Cygnus Holdings. Unfamiliar, but its moves were precise and ruthless. It had thoroughly grasped Stark's collapse." He frowned, his confusion deepening. "The strange thing is, why did I only remember this now? While I was in the Xiang family living room, that suspicion seemed... smeared over by something. It only became clear after I left."

"Cognitive Interference? Psychological suggestion? Or... maybe you're just tired? The weak radiation readings left at the fire scene were a little strange. They might be affecting people."

"Maybe." Coulson did not deny it, his brows still tightly locked. He pulled out a notepad and pen, preparing to write: "Xiang Yi - precocious? - Cygnus connection? - investigate thoroughly" and "Factory fragments - Hand mark - Zhang family conflict."

The pen tip touched the paper.

At the instant he was about to write, an irresistible exhaustion mixed with an eerie sense of "reasonableness" swallowed his mind like a tsunami.

"Urgh..." Coulson grunted, his fingers twitching as the pen scratched a worm-like line across the notepad. He shook his head hard, trying to dispel the dizziness and the sticky sensation in his memories. Those doubts that had been clear only moments ago—Xiang Yi's computer, Cygnus—became sandcastles swept flat by an invisible wave.

He desperately concentrated. Stark... stocks... analysis... The thought flickered past, leaving nothing behind. The boy... genius? The impression remained, but the image supporting it—that fleeting glimpse of the screen—blurred away, leaving only the label "good at math." Fragments... mark... dangerous organization... The core remained, but its direct link to the Xiang family, especially that pale boy, was rapidly evaporating.

He lowered his head to look at the chaotic lines in his notepad, then looked out at the streets flashing past the window, his eyes filled with confusion. What had he been planning to write just now? Oh, right. Trace the origin of the factory fragments. Yes, the Zhang family line needed to be dug into relentlessly.

He set pen to paper again and rapidly wrote: "Target 1: Thoroughly investigate the social network and dirty-money flow of the Zhang father and son pair (Zhang Hao's father); pursue connections to Far Eastern underground forces (Hand mark). Target 2: Determine whether the Xiang family factory fire involved undeclared special materials/technology (strange residual radiation at scene; await technical report)."

Anything about Xiang Yi and that stock analysis, about that instant of cold suspicion, vanished as though it had never existed.

May glanced at what Coulson had written through the rearview mirror—Zhang father and son, factory radiation, no mention of the boy or the computer—and the hard corner of her mouth dipped almost imperceptibly. She felt a slight sluggishness too, but her will of steel crushed it and blamed it on exhaustion from nonstop work. That sickly kid from the Xiang family? Just an irrelevant passerby.

The black SUV suddenly accelerated, tearing through traffic toward the Triskelion Building with a report that invisible scissors had "trimmed."

Xiang Family Villa.

Only after confirming that the black car had disappeared did Xiang Yi's taut nerves finally loosen. His back was soaked, cold and clammy. He opened his fist and saw deep red indentations in his palm from the student ID.

"Xiao Yi, you must have been terrified, right?" Lin Wei held him close. "Those people were so strange..."

"Mom, I'm fine." Xiang Yi shook his head, exhaustion leaking into his voice. "I'm just tired. I'll go lie down in my room."

"Go on, go on. Get some proper rest." Lin Wei hurriedly urged.

Xiang Yi rose, his steps unsteady as he went upstairs. He slipped into the study and locked the door.

The smell of gunpowder had not yet faded. He rushed to the desk, fingers trembling slightly as he erased every trace of Cygnus and Stark, cleaning them away completely. When he finished, he slumped against the cold edge of the desk and gasped for air.

[Warning: High-intensity mental stress! Spiritual Power consumption accelerating! Current: 63/210]

The system's red light stabbed at his eyes.

In his consciousness, Ming Shiyin's voice was as faint as a thread: [My lord... the formation's strength is exhausted... Coulson's doubts are temporarily obscured... but this is not a long-term plan. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s net... has already covered us. Their intent... may not stop at the fragments...] The connection abruptly cut off. Clearly, forcibly activating the formation over such a distance had drained him dry.

Xiang Yi closed his eyes, veins throbbing at his temples. He understood—the interference had worked, but only barely. He was dancing on a knife's edge. Coulson had temporarily been diverted toward the Zhang family and the factory radiation, but the label of Xiang Yi being "precocious" remained. Sooner or later, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s enormous machine would grind its way back.

"Dust of delusion" could blur things for a while, but it could not destroy the root.

Outside the window, the setting sun was blood-red. Xiang Yi walked to the window and stared in the direction the black SUV had vanished. His youthful face remained expressionless, but his eyes were colder than ancient ice from Kunlun.

A storm was bearing down on the city. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s shadow had already settled heavily over the Xiang family, and even more tightly over the Hidden Star Court that had only just broken through the soil. He lowered his head. In his palm, the metal edge of that cheap student ID gleamed with icy cold beneath the blood-red afterglow.

On the chessboard, the hand moving the pieces had made its move. And he had to use this twelve-year-old body and the few pieces in his hand to tear out a path to survival beneath the fangs of a beast.