Battle of New York (End)

Chu Hang did not look back at the ground.

Like a meteor flying against the current, he plunged headfirst into the black hole in the sky.

The wormhole was not a pleasant place.

Space was chaotic, like a pot of boiling asphalt—thick and violent.

There was no up, down, left, or right here, no gravity, only distorted light and spatial rifts that could appear at any moment.

A piece of armor that had fallen off a nearby warship was accelerated by the chaotic gravity here. It carried the force of an artillery shell and could tear a person in half if it brushed past them.

Any flesh-and-blood body would not last even a second here before being crushed into its most basic particles.

But around Chu Hang's body, space was forcibly smoothed by an even stronger will, forming an invisible membrane.

[Spatial Curvature Barrier]

All the deadly fragments and turbulent energy currents rushing toward him were smoothly flung aside by the warped force field the instant they approached his body, as if they had struck an absolutely smooth bar of soap.

Like a fish swimming upstream through a waterfall, he shot straight toward the heart of the storm, toward that bizarre exit.

On the ground.

The battle had reached its worst point and was on the verge of collapse.

"Left flank! The left flank needs support!" Steve's voice roared through the comms channel.

He smashed his shield viciously into a Chitauri Soldier's face, then drew the pistol at his waist and emptied the entire magazine into the enemies surging forward.

Shell casings clattered across the ground. Only then did he barely force the enemies charging up the bank steps back half a step.

Leaning against a broken stone pillar, he gasped heavily. He was covered in soot