"You fighters spend far too much time killing and fighting. You're always so careless and impulsive."
Brad beckoned, drawing the strange lump of metal, fully the size of two fists, into his hand.
"Let me take a look.
."
Brad examined it closely for a while and figured out what the metal did.
Electrum precipitated from an inferior dionysium factor.
It can lock onto the human psyche. When bodily tissue is damaged, it draws on naturally occurring magical energy and universe secret energy to stimulate cellular regeneration indefinitely, restoring the body to whatever condition the human subconscious considers appropriate.
Brad looked up, somewhat surprised. "Not bad. This metal can make someone immortal-and very hard to kill. Judged solely by Earth's standards, you could call it priceless."
"If you want more money than you could spend in your lifetime, I can find you a Pure Gold Meteorite or a Pure Gold Planet out in space."
Deathstroke's expression twitched beneath his mask. He carefully studied Brad's face, because a claim that outrageous made it hard not to suspect the man was bluffing.
Just casually offering to fetch a Pure Gold Planet? Who was this guy?
As a top mercenary, Deathstroke possessed an extensive array of professional skills, including those of an assassin, spy, and agent. What shocked him was that Brad's microexpressions showed no sign of lying. He seemed to regard that offer as something perfectly ordinary.
As though he had actually done it before.
Of course, Deathstroke had no idea that his so-called "cousin" had received his wages that way while working for Brad.
What impressed Deathstroke even more was that Brad showed none of a crooked merchant's tendencies. He clearly explained the strange metal's effects, which sounded downright intimidating and would certainly tempt someone on Lex's level.
Yet to Brad,