At the Top of New York, Sunbathing Was Serious Business

New York's clamor seemed to be blocked a thousand meters below by an invisible pane of soundproof glass. Atop the Empire State Building's sword-like spire piercing the sky, there was only the howling high-altitude wind, fierce enough to tear an ordinary person's skin apart, and... the almost extravagant, utterly unobstructed blazing sunlight.

Xiao Han was lying at the highest point of this city landmark.

A beach lounger that looked utterly ordinary, even somewhat faded, had been casually placed at the edge of the smooth spire. He sprawled in it, wearing a washed-out gray T-shirt and loose beach shorts, barefoot, his toes wiggling contentedly in the cool air.

Sunlight poured over him like molten gold without reservation, every inch of his skin greedily absorbing the light and heat.

Every ray of sunlight was like a warm current flowing into the bottomless "sea of power" within him, stirring faint ripples and silently raising its surface another fraction.

Sunbathing allowed him to grow infinitely stronger—after crossing into this bizarre Marvel Universe, that was the only "serious business" he needed to worry about, and the only one worth enjoying.

The city below looked like a miniature model, its traffic like ants and its crowds like grains of sand. Occasionally, terrified screams or piercing police sirens penetrated the clouds and drifted faintly upward. Xiao Han did not even lift an eyelid.

His super hearing covered the entire city like an invisible radar net, filtering through countless noises. The police commissioner's roars, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents' tense reports, street punks' arguments, lovers' whispers... to him, they were merely background white noise, far less interesting than the wind whistling past his ears.

Bzz—bzz—bzz—

Several helicopters bearing the NYPD emblem, like hornets whose nest had been disturbed, clumsily yet stubbornly pushed through the gale and hovered not far away. The roar of their rotors instantly drowned out the wind, while violent air currents swept up tiny metal fragments, yet failed to stir even the corner of Xiao Han's clothes.

"Sir on the tower! I repeat! This is the NYPD!" The voice from the loudspeaker carried tightly suppressed tension amid bursts of static. "Your actions are extremely dangerous! Please cooperate immediately and return to a safe area! Otherwise, we will be forced to take coercive measures!"

Xiao Han finally lazily opened one eye. His deep black gaze swept across those noisy "iron dragonflies," holding no panic, only the pure annoyance of someone whose pleasant dream had been disturbed: You're so annoying.

He slowly sat up and stretched. His bones crackled like frying beans, as though a sleeping dragon were flexing its limbs. Then he stood, as casually as if he were in his own backyard. Under the fixed stares of countless eyes watching him through binoculars, cameras, and helicopter windows, he took a step forward.

He stepped into empty air!

A tidal wave of gasps instantly erupted from the streets below.

Xiao Han stood steadily... in the void. It was as though transparent glass flooring lay beneath his feet. He even calmly stomped on it twice, as if testing the quality of a new floor.

"Coercive measures?" With both hands in his beach shorts pockets, he looked up at the helicopter broadcasting orders, an intrigued expression appearing on his face. His voice was not loud, yet it clearly pierced every noise and reached every listener's ears, carrying a hint of teasing. "Like what? Giving me a ticket for high-altitude sunbathing? Or charging me with illegally occupying the Empire State Building's best viewing spot?"

The officers aboard the helicopters were left speechless by the utterly inappropriate joke, while the commander's face turned liver-red. This was completely outside their script!

"Fire! Nonlethal weapons! Immediately!" the commander shrieked in furious embarrassment.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Several high-voltage stun darts and powerful tranquilizer rounds shot out with sharp whistles.

Xiao Han did not move. Half a meter from his body, the weapons seemed to strike an impenetrable wall, letting out dull thuds as they twisted out of shape and fell helplessly.

"Wow," Xiao Han said, raising an eyebrow in an exaggerated tone, as though reviewing a terrible magic show. "Did the NYPD spend its entire budget on coffee and donuts? These little 'gifts' couldn't even knock out the squirrel downstairs from my place that keeps trying to steal my sandwiches."

That naked mockery instantly ignited the commander's anger and fear. "Fire! Live ammunition! Open fire! Shoot him down!" he roared hysterically.

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat—!

A blazing metal storm instantly swallowed Xiao Han's figure! The helicopter-mounted machine guns roared, tearing open the sky as bullets poured madly toward the hovering figure like Death's scythes.

On the ground, the crowd screamed and scattered in panic, despair spreading everywhere.

At the center of the metal storm.

Xiao Han still had both hands in his pockets. Dense warheads struck his invisible bio-field, producing crisp, rapid clangs like torrential rain pounding on a tin roof.

Under their tremendous kinetic energy, the bullets instantly crumpled out of shape, then bounced away from around him like scrap metal casually discarded by a child, clattering as they tumbled into the abyss. As the smoke dispersed slightly, sunlight fell over him once more, and his gray T-shirt remained spotless.

He raised a hand and pinched between his thumb and forefinger a red-hot, deformed bullet that had bounced right in front of him. He examined it carefully, as though appraising an antique.

"9mm Parabellum?" He whistled, his tone as relaxed as if discussing breakfast. "Classic. But people still use this against 'unidentified flying objects' these days?" He shook his head, wearing the regretful expression of someone thinking, You people are so behind the times. "I suggest upgrading your arsenal. At least get something that can make me feel a little itchy."

The instant he finished speaking, his figure blurred where he stood, like a television screen with a bad signal.

The next moment, he was standing steadily outside the command helicopter's cabin door. The thick bulletproof glass might as well have been nonexistent before him. He extended one finger and gave it a light poke.

Crack—shatter!

The bulletproof glass shattered on impact, turning into a shower of glittering ice crystals. Inside the cabin, the commander and officers seemed frozen by a spell, their faces filled with nothing but absolute terror as they looked at the man descending upon them like Death.

Xiao Han's gaze settled precisely on the commander, whose face had gone deathly pale and whose entire body trembled like a sieve. He could not even be bothered to ask the man's name.

"Hey, buddy," Xiao Han said with an odd calmness. He still wore that amused smile, but his eyes were as cold as blades. "You know, your biggest problem isn't that your aim sucks, or that your gear is trash."

The commander made choking sounds in his throat but could not force out a single word.

"It's that you're too loud." Xiao Han's tone was that of someone stating an obvious fact. "And you are very, very... disruptive to my sunbathing."

He moved as fast as a phantom. No one saw how he acted; they only heard a metal-twisting screech that set their teeth on edge!

The assault rifle still hot in the commander's hand, along with the glove gripping it, was instantly seized by an ordinary-looking palm, compressed, and kneaded!

Creak—squelch!

In less than half a second, the killing machine forged from refined steel, along with half a tactical glove, was crushed into a smoking lump of mangled scrap, dripping molten metal and utterly unrecognizable! The heat instantly seared through the commander's palm, and the agonizing pain made him release an inhuman scream as he collapsed to the floor.

Xiao Han released his grip. The twisted ball of scrap hit the cabin floor with a clang, scorching the steel plating until it hissed. He did not even glance at the commander rolling on the ground and wailing. Instead, his gaze swept over the other officers in the cabin, who looked as though they had frozen solid.

"Next time," he said, his voice returning to that lazy drawl, as if he had merely crushed an empty soda can, "if you want to chat with me, remember to make an appointment in advance.

And," he paused, looking down at the still bustling city of New York, the corner of his mouth curling into an unmistakably mischievous grin, "try a quieter method. Like... email? Or maybe clean the floor-to-ceiling windows in your commissioner's office. I might consider going there to enjoy some afternoon sun."

After saying that, he ignored the deathly silence inside the cabin and the even greater panic spreading through the city below. He turned and stepped out through the cabin door. His body hovered in the air for a moment in defiance of physics, then floated upward, light as a feather drawn by sunlight, yet incomparably steady.

He did not return to the top of the Empire State Building.

Under countless horrified stares and the frantic pursuit of countless cameras, Xiao Han rose higher and higher, piercing through the clouds and leaving noisy New York completely beneath his feet. He flew directly to an altitude below the stratosphere, high enough to overlook all of Manhattan Island.

Here, the sunlight was purer, fiercer, and completely unobstructed.

He smiled in satisfaction, stretched out his body, and simply hovered more than ten thousand meters in the sky! Like an enormous human-shaped kite that required no tether.

The powerful high-altitude currents blew over him but could not shake him in the slightest. He spread his arms, faced the sky, and completely exposed himself to the boundless heavens and burning sunlight.

"Mmm... now this is more like it." He sighed in satisfaction and closed his eyes, as though fully merging into the painting of interwoven azure and gold. Sunlight washed over him like a tangible warm current, and the sensation of his power increasing was clearer and more surging than it had been atop the tower.

New York, even the entire world, could only look up at that tiny black dot floating in the sky. Fear, shock, absurdity... they spread like a plague.

And in that dimly lit secret room.

Nick Fury's single eye was fixed on the high-definition satellite image—the figure "lying flat" and sunbathing ten thousand meters above the ground. The pen in his hand had already been unconsciously crushed into two pieces.

"Director... he... he's ascending! Hovering... hovering..." The technician's voice was as dry as sandpaper scraping against a surface.

"I know!" Fury's voice was frighteningly low, carrying an unprecedented gravity. He stared at the figure bathed in golden light on the screen, as though he were looking at a walking, incomprehensible cosmic mystery.

That absolute power, seemingly contemptuous of every rule, and that utter freedom to do as he pleased made even a battle-hardened man like him feel a chill creep up his spine.

"Energy readings?"

"Off the charts! Every detector has overloaded! The physical parameters... cannot be analyzed! Director, he... he really seems to think he's part of the sun!"

Fury fell silent for several seconds, his gaze landing on a close-up of the commander clutching his scorched palm and howling. He picked up his communicator, his voice as cold as a Siberian wind.

"Natasha, highest-priority mission revised. Target: the one sunbathing ten thousand meters in the air. I need the most detailed assessment possible.

Remember, put away all your little tricks. This person... is extremely dangerous, and... completely unpredictable. He might crush your gun in the next second, or invite you up there to sunbathe with him. Engagement strategy... adapt as the situation demands. Top priority: come back alive."

From the other end of the communicator came a cool female voice, carrying a trace of barely perceptible gravity. "Received, Director."

Ten thousand meters in the air.

Xiao Han's super hearing caught that encrypted communication. The corner of his mouth rose almost imperceptibly, holding a trace of amusement and... anticipation?

Black Widow? I wonder whether she can handle the sun?

He rolled over and assumed a more comfortable floating position, letting the sunlight fall evenly across his back. Power flowed into the boundless sea within him like a surging river, ceaseless and endless.

Sunbathe, grow stronger.

Everything else? Just seasoning for life.

Trouble? Just crush it and move on. As long as... it did not block the sunlight.