How to Make a Sincere Apology

Money—probably no one ever thought they had too much of it. This was especially true for Justin Hammer.

But when he imagined the iconic scene of grinding Tony Stark into the dirt and spitting on him, Justin got ridiculously egg-cited.

Besides, Justin believed that the core competitiveness of Stark Industries' weapons division lay in the weapons Stark had personally developed. Without Tony Stark, what could Stark Industries use to compete with Hammer Industries?

Justin finally agreed. For the sake of appearances, he proposed a few inconsequential conditions. Obadiah naturally agreed to them.

Obadiah did not think Hammer Industries was anything special. Weren't they just playing dirty? It was not as if he was any less of an old schemer.

"Happy cooperation!" ×2.

The video call ended, and the two smiling men sneered disdainfully at the same time.

A kidnapping plot targeting Pepper was quietly moving forward, while Stark remained completely unaware, busy tinkering with his Iron Armor. He was improving the joint mechanisms to make the armor more flexible.

"You don't approve?" Stark could tell Mike was distracted.

"Not really. I just think the armor doesn't have much need for close combat." Mike felt that the Iron Armor's greatest value lay in the Arc Reactor and the strategic support provided by artificial intelligence.

With those two trump cards, the Iron Armor could be completely modularized to handle the ever-changing battlefield.

"Heh heh, it's just for fun." Stark suddenly looked Mike up and down, smiling maliciously. "Don't tell me you're afraid you won't be able to beat me in the future? Well, if you can't beat me, you can't beat me. Who told me to be a genius? Losing to a genius isn't embarrassing... Besides, as generous as I am, how could I possibly laugh at you? Right?"

Mike finally understood Ming's point about why Stark was so obsessed with the Iron Armor's fighting ability. He simply wanted to beat Mike in a fight, then mock him for it.

This reason sounded childish, didn't it?

Was Stark really that childish?

That oversized man-child really lived up to his name. Mike could not help but complain inwardly.

"I told you before, didn't I? The limitations of traditional combat."

"You did. So?"

"What I mean is, since there's traditional combat, there must naturally be nontraditional combat."

So-called nontraditional combat was a broad term. Wolverine fought by relying on a wolf's ferocity and instincts. Spider-Man fought using the changes to his physical abilities brought about by his spider genes. Iron Fist relied on all kinds of China martial arts, combined with the superhuman power of the Immortal Dragon... This kind of combat had already transcended the realm of ordinary humans, and its power exceeded the limits of normal people.

"I took fifty thousand Yuan from you. Out of professional ethics, I'll let you see something special."

"Use card." Mike silently used Zoro's Possession Card.

Observation Haki...

The attack trajectories, which had not been fast to begin with, looked like slow motion in Mike's eyes. The alloy steel of the armor seemed to have a strange rhythm to it.

"Too fast!"

With his naked eye, Stark could not see Mike's movements with Qing clarity at all. He only felt a slash strike his chest.

It did not feel particularly different.

Just as he was about to counterattack...

JARVIS issued a warning. "The armor has sustained severe damage!"

Stark lowered his head and discovered a gash across his chest. He could even see his T-shirt through it.

"Ah!"

Stark was stunned. Ming clearly had not felt that the slash carried much force at all.

He raised his hand in disbelief, intending to touch the gash, but the moment he lifted it, the armor's shoulder joint gave out.

The first sleeveless Iron Armor was born. Confetti...

Stark: "..."

Ming had clearly only seen Mike make one slash. This... this could no longer be described as mere shock.

After a moment of silence.

"JARVIS, replay Mike's movements at one thirty-second speed." Fortunately, the armor had high-speed capture cameras installed.

Even at one thirty-second speed, Mike's movements still did not have the sluggishness of slow motion.

He seized an extremely tiny opening and delivered an utterly ordinary Kesa Slash to the armor's chest plate. Then, following through with the blade, he crouched down. After that, like a fully compressed spring, he shot upward, using the momentum of his body to reverse-slash the shoulder joint.

Next, the blade traced an arc and severed the shoulder joint on the other side.

The movements flowed like water, and they were so fast they did not seem human.

"Amazing!"

Even someone as arrogant and self-confident as Stark had to admit it.

"Wait a second."

Stark took Mike's katana. "This sword... it's pretty ordinary."

"How is it ordinary? It's much better than an assembly-line product."

The system-produced "Sharp Katana" could chop through steel bars without even chipping its edge.

Stark decided to ignore Mike. "JARVIS, create a new document: Mark III. Filter for new materials and place the orders."

"Also, we need to consider how complex and variable the battlefield can be. What if the enemy is underwater? The armor needs to dive and move quickly underwater. What if the enemy is ten thousand meters in the air? Shouldn't we consider low-temperature resistance and oxygen production? What if the battle takes place at a volcano crater? Shouldn't we consider heat resistance and insulation?" Mike reminded him from the side, lest Stark turn into an ice block and fall out of the sky someday.

"Not a bad idea. You're almost as wise as I am." Stark could not resist running his mouth again.

Mike rolled his eyes at him. "I can't be bothered to stoop to your level."

The matter of Mark II came to an end. All that remained was to wait for the ordered materials to arrive, and the system notified him that the mission was complete.

Soul Energy +1.

Destiny Energy +1.

Satisfied.

"I'm leaving. Going home." Mike had stayed at the cliffside villa for three days. The ocean view had been nice at first, but after seeing it for too long, it was just that.

"...Fine, go then. It's not like I'm stopping you."

"Don't tell me you expect me to take a taxi home?" Mike was about to draw his sword.

He got helicopter pickups when needed, but had to take a taxi when he did not?

Heartless!

"Oh, I forgot. Take a helicopter, or pick a car and drive yourself back." Stark pointed at the row of cool sports cars behind him.

Mike did not stand on ceremony and chose the golden Saleen S7.

"Woohoo~"

With one press of the accelerator, the golden sports car shot forward. The engine roared, and the powerful push pressed him into his seat. No wonder so many people loved sports cars—the feeling of racing into the wind made his blood boil.

He returned to New York right around noon.

The phone rang.

"Tracy, long time no see. I've missed you so much... Of course. More accurately, how could I possibly forget? Oh, oh, all right... Send me the address."

Tracy Walker had invited him to lunch, probably wanting to apologize in person. In truth, Mike did not mind. The main thing was that Jessica Jones had not done anything excessive.

Following the address Tracy gave him, Mike parked beneath an office building.

While parking, beautiful women kept throwing flirtatious looks his way. The bolder ones approached him directly, saying they were available and asking for his contact information.

As expected of a television station—beautiful women were everywhere.

When he entered, Mike saw a poster—"Tracy Says." Beside it was Tracy in a business suit and skirt, smiling sweetly.

Mike arrived outside a studio and knocked on the door.

"Why is no one here?" The entire floor was empty.

"It's lunchtime."

"Oh." Mike looked inside. "This is where you work?"

"Yeah. Want to take a look?"

"Sure." Mike was a little curious.

Mike sat in the anchor's seat, sitting upright and pretending to be a host.

"I think I should apologize to you."

"Uh, you've already apologized. It's not as serious as you think, and your sister acted on her own initiative..."

Tracy suddenly crouched down. "I think an apology should be sincere."

Mike swallowed. Whether it was sincere or not aside, it was certainly very moist.