By making the competition rules public and confirming the news of the White House match three days later, Russell laid down his hand, radiating outwards from New York to the rest of the world.
In an instant, the screens in New York City returned to normal: the giant screens in Times Square started playing shampoo commercials again, the electronic screens in subway stations started displaying train timetables again, and the TVs in the restaurant private rooms started playing American TV shows again.
Everything was as normal as if nothing had happened.
But everyone knows that the country beneath their feet will not be at peace, and perhaps the whole world will never be at peace again.
At this moment, they all clearly remembered that three days later, the White House would hold a competition with no rules, and the winner would receive a hundred years of life and a billion dollars.
"My God! This somewhat handsome Mutants is incredibly audacious, holding a competition at the White House! Where does he think he is, the President?"
"A slap in the face, a complete slap in the face. The White House isn't the Statue of Statue of Liberty; it represents a nation's symbol and its face."
"Does he... think he can fight a nuclear-armed nation all by himself? He's insane."
"I don't know if it's crazy or not, but the safest option is still immigration. Speaking of immigration, does anyone have any good recommendations?"
This incident caused a great stir. The lower classes were worried about the future, while the truly wealthy capitalists were considering emigration to escape the danger.
Jean looked at Russell, and there was an unusual light in her green eyes, not the flames of the Phoenix Force, but the light that one would have when they discover something interesting.
"Are you serious? A hundred years of lifespan, can you really give that?"
"How will I know if I don't try?" Russell shrugged easily. "In the history of known science, longevity drugs and elixirs have not been developed due to technological limitations, but that doesn't mean I can't."
Russell, confident and composed, watched with admiration. The handsome man's voice before her exuded a strong sense of self-assurance.
She can easily absorb someone's life force and use it for herself, and she can also try to extract someone else's life force and give it to another person, but longevity potions are not her forte.
Qin tilted her head to look at him, and her green eyes seemed to light up briefly in the darkness.
"Aren't you afraid that if too many people come, you won't be able to control the situation?"
Russell looked at her, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Even if I can't win, I still have you, right? This is a team effort, not just mine alone."
Qin paused for a moment, then smiled.
That smile lacked the coldness of Dark Phoenix and the gentleness of Jean Grey; it was as if the two had transformed from adversaries into something somewhere between allies and friends.
"What about the person I took in?" Qin pointed to the trembling Mexico girl. "The competition doesn't start for three days. You need to at least arrange a Training Ground."
"Hmm... you can stay in a hotel, but let me make it clear first, you choose to train, and I will not be responsible for anything else."
"Actually, I'm not very good at teaching people," Qin said with a sly glint in her eyes.
Russell shrugged and turned to fly towards the hotel. "That's none of my business. You were the one who suggested the competition, so you can start learning now."
"You can admit defeat if you want, but from now on you'll have to listen to me and train with me."
Qin shook her head. "That's wishful thinking. The word 'admitting defeat' doesn't exist in my dictionary."
The girl stood there, looking at the two people who seemed like Gods, her gaze conflicted.
Dusk is approaching.
A cold wind blew across the Hudson River, making Jean's red hair flutter. The girl followed Jean blankly, her heart pounding, her mind filled with thoughts of being granted superpowers and the competition.
"What's your name?" Qin didn't look up.
"Camilla ..."
"Camilla," Jean repeated, a slight smile playing on her lips, "From today onward, you are mine, and those who hunted you are dead."
They... are all dead!
Camilla's tears welled up beneath her smoky makeup.
"Follow me."
Qin didn't look at her; she simply turned her head, her gaze fixed on the direction of Downtown Manhattan.
Do you know who made you stuff that thing in your stomach?
Camilla's lips trembled slightly. "I know, I heard it from the men who were escorting me."
"Then we'll go and address all your concerns."
Camilla instinctively took a step back, not out of fear, but out of the instinct to run away that comes with facing something one has feared for too long.
The zither did not urge her on; the golden embers flickered at her fingertips, like a slowly beating heart.
"I don't know their exact location, and... they'll kill me." Camilla's voice was soft.
"You don't need to know, I know where their headquarters is." Qin turned her head, her expression unchanged. "And you don't need to do anything, you just need to keep an eye on things."
Camilla looked into those green eyes, which shone with a light—not an ordinary light, but a pale golden light, like the last star before dawn.
She suddenly realized that perhaps death wasn't so terrible. Perhaps being with this person was more important than living.
"They seem to be in Brooklyn." Camilla's voice trembled, but this time it wasn't from fear.
"It was a luxurious estate. I don't know much else, except that they shipped drugs from Mexico, hid them in shipping containers, and then transported them into the city using human transport."
Qin nodded and extended her hand.
Camilla looked at those slender fingers, fair skin, and golden embers at the fingertips.
She slowly reached out and grasped it. The hand was warm, like the warmth of sunlight on your skin, the kind that makes you want to close your eyes.
The next instant, they vanished from the skies over Manhattan.
Riverside Estate, Brooklyn.
The white walls stretched as far as the eye could see, and two imposing stone lions stood beside the black iron gate. Behind the gate was a long driveway lined with neatly trimmed holly bushes, and at the end of the driveway stood a three-story Baroque-style villa.
This estate belongs to a man named Samuel Gray, the head of the Gray Consortium and one of the largest drug distributors on New York's East China Sea.
On the surface, he is the CEO of the Gray Family business, which involves import and export trade, real estate, and logistics.
Behind the scenes, he smuggled dozens of tons of drugs from Mexico and Colombia, distributing them to New York, Philadelphia, Boston, and Washington, with annual turnover starting at billions of dollars.
The manor's main hall was brightly lit, and the top executives of the Gray Consortium were holding a meeting.
The oval-shaped table, made of mahogany, is said to be over a hundred years old. On the table are red wine, cigars, and a fruit platter.
There was an oil painting on the wall, depicting Samuel Gray's great-great-grandfather.
He is the old man who made his fortune selling opium a hundred years ago, and also the founder of the Gray Consortium.
Samuel Gray sat at the head of the long table; he was in his fifties, with half-gray hair and deeply etched wrinkles on his face.
His fingers tapped lightly on the table, a slow rhythm, like someone calculating a very complex account.
"Is the supply to New York cut off?" His voice was hoarse.
"No," the person next to him replied nervously, "It's just that there was a small problem with the transport chain this time. A girl named Camilla went missing at the rendezvous point. Our people went to look for her, but they've gone missing too."
"Missing?"
"Yes, it vanished into thin air. There were no security cameras in that alleyway where it disappeared, so we don't know what happened."
Samuel stopped what he was doing and looked at the unopened document on the table.
What about the goods from other cities?
"It's still running, but we must move as soon as possible. That Mutants Russell and that redhead are too powerful, and they've caused a lot of trouble. What if they come looking for us?"
"They won't come looking for us," Samuel said calmly. "We haven't provoked them, so why would they come looking for us? Business is business, Mutants are Mutants. We'll keep to ourselves."
"But..."
"No buts." Samuel picked up his glass, took a sip of red wine, "But starting tomorrow, business in New York will be suspended. Everyone will evacuate to Philadelphia and we'll talk again once things calm down."
No sooner had he finished speaking than the hall door opened—not by pushing, but by violently slamming it open.
The heavy door slammed against the wall with a dull thud, and the wine bottle on the table tipped over, spilling wine onto the white tablecloth like a spreading pool of blood.
Everyone turned to look at the doorway at the same time. A domineering figure in red stood on the threshold, with a timid girl with smoky eye makeup behind him.
Camilla stood behind Qin, peeking out half her head. She saw the long table, the men in suits, and the old man sitting at the head of the table.
She recognized the face; it was the same person in the photo on the contact's phone at the freight yard in Mexico.
She didn't know what was in that shipment at the time, but she knew that after it was shipped out, she was taken to a basement where someone took a needle and thread and stitched her abdomen up, one stitch at a time.
"Who are you?" Samuel's voice was steady, but his hand had already stealthily reached for the pistol under the table.
Qin didn't answer. She walked into the hall, her high heels clicking crisply on the marble floor like the sound of a pendulum.
"You don't need to know." She paused, looking at the oil painting, at the old man who had made his fortune selling opium a hundred years ago.
"In my eyes, you're nothing but a dead man."
Samuel didn't answer; his lips trembled. At that moment, he realized that the red-haired woman in front of him looked remarkably like the one in the video.
The fact that his heavily guarded manor had been broken into without any prior notice made him feel like he'd been slapped in the face.
"I haven't done anything to you. If you want money, just name your price, and we'll cooperate." Samuel's voice was hoarse.
"You didn't provoke me, but you provoked her." Jean pointed to Camilla behind her.
"You stuffed something in her stomach, made her travel alone from Mexico to New York, and made her a victim of drug trafficking."
She doesn't know you, you haven't harmed her, so why did you hurt her?
Samuel opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
Qin raised her hand, and everyone in the hall felt suffocated at the same moment. It wasn't that the air was sucked away; it was that they themselves stopped breathing.
Their lungs still had air, their hearts were still beating, but their bodies wouldn't obey them. Their muscles were stiff, their blood had congealed, and even their eyeballs couldn't move.
Camilla hid behind Qin, watching the men in suits fall one by one.
Their bodies went from existence to non-existence, from birth to death, without bloodshed, without screams, without struggle.
Samuel was the only one left at the long table, his wine glass still in his hand, the wine spilled.
"You... you are the devil." His gun had long since turned to dust.
Qin walked up to him, looked down at him, and remained silent.
She reached out and placed her hand on Samuel's head, using only one ten-thousandth of her strength, or even less than one ten-thousandth.
The old man's body began to dissipate from head to toe, like a candle being lit, burning down from top to bottom and disappearing.
A few seconds later, the entire chair was gone, leaving only a small clump of grayish-white powder.
Camilla stood in the doorway, staring at the pile of powder, tears welling up beneath her smoky makeup, leaving two clean streaks.
She wasn't afraid, but relieved. The thing that had been weighing on her heart, suffocating her, and giving her countless nightmares, was finally gone.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"You're welcome." Qin turned and walked towards the door. "I'm not helping you, I'm helping myself. Don't let me down next."
The Gray Consortium had many rival financial groups, and their surveillance agents quickly discovered the deserted manor and spotted the Red-Haired Witch. The news spread like Pestilence through New York's underworld.
The Red-Haired Witch single-handedly wiped out the Gray Consortium.
Some people are applauding, listing the dirty deeds of the Gray Consortium —drugs, human trafficking, bribing police, bribing judges, tearing countless families apart.
Some people were afraid, afraid that the red-haired woman would come knocking on their door, afraid that their names would be on her list.
At the Four Seasons Hotel, as Russell descended from the sky, the Mutants waiting downstairs saw the towering figure they had always longed for.
A large, dark mass of people knelt on the ground, many with their hands clasped in prayer.
"Om Messiah, Om Messiah."
A teenager stood in the crowd and shouted, "Lord Russell, lead us to establish a nation for Mutants!"
A woman holding a child squeezed to the front of the crowd and echoed, "Please, great Om Messiah, let us no longer be hunted, no longer locked in Laboratory, no longer treated like monsters."
Russell landed on the hotel steps, his hair slightly disheveled by the wind. He looked at the people kneeling on the ground, his expression unchanged.
The idea of establishing a nation suitable for Mutants seems to be the hope in the heart of every Mutants. Professor X thought about it, Magneto thought about it, and even in the comics, there is Mutants nation called Clark Kent.
He could do it, but it would be meaningless; that wasn't what Russell was looking for.
"Get up, everyone." His voice wasn't loud, but everyone heard him clearly.
No one dares to disobey the Gods oath of their own Faith.
Russell glanced at Felicity, who was standing beside the steps. The brown-haired girl was looking at him with intense eyes and her cheeks were slightly flushed.
"Felicity, you handle this."
Felicity paused for a moment, then pointed to her nose, "Me?"
"Yes, you. Tell them to stop saying they're Mutants and not the same race as humans."
In fact, all humans on Earth have the X-Factor within them, the only difference being whether it is dominant or recessive. Therefore, there is absolutely no need to rebuild Mutants nations, as there are already existing ones.
Of course, if they want to stay, they can stay near the hotel, as long as they don't make a big fuss and disturb my training."
He turned and walked into the hotel, the revolving door slowly closing behind him. Everyone nearby was stunned by the news that all humans on Earth were Mutants.